Friday, 19 April 2013

What Would Hot Palms Do?

I've been digging the new stuff from freshly-squeezed Melbourne collective Hot Palms. J.C. (out through Why Don't You Believe Me? Records, who have also put out gear from Lehmann B Smith and Velcro in the past) is the new EP, featuring three musical adaptions of poems by Jake Core (from his book Expecting to be Loved for Nothing), with Alec Marshall responsible for the instrumentals, playing and recording it all with Emma Russack writing and performing vocal duties and Jordan Ireland (The Middle East) on back-up. This novel approach is augmented by the band's fluctuating membership - much like England's Action Beat or Brisbane's Secret Birds, shows have been anywhere from a duo right up to the full eleven-person-deep rollout, with variants of this done based on who is available when.

J.C. itself plays like a strung-out mirage, skewed and medicated - Picnic At Hanging Rock with goon bags and paint huffers. 'Sunday In Milan' is a masterclass in subtle eeriness; 'Adelaide' lurks in the corners, a wraith in gossamer synth and gauze; 'Benny and the Jets' a wasted dream that wakes you in an acrid sweat, fearful, yet afraid that you will never fall back into it no matter who long you sleep. The ethereal wafts over everything...

You can buy J.C. in CD-R or digital form from here. Hot Palms aren't likely to play many shows in the near future as they hunker down to write and record a new 7" and hopefully an LP. 2013 is looking like a blistering year.

Normally I'd have a Friday Cover Up here, but in lieu of that, let's use a track off the EP that is named after a famous song. Not a cover, I'm assured. Hmmm...well, Beastie Boys had that covered ages ago anyway. This song is just so damn rad. Enjoy.

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