Friday 26 July 2013

SCRATCHIN' ROUND - Wire Faces, We Were Heads, The Dead Heads

Most people consider the head a pretty important part of the anatomy. I happen to agree. Imagine how shit the ending to Se7en would have been without heads. Imagine how much less scary Sleepy Hollow would be. Imagine if the Black Knight hadn't remained undefeated. Anyway, here's a heads up about a few bands who found their way into mine.

Wire Faces have made a frenetic album with King Cataract. Desperate vocals counter lunging bass somewhere on the post-punk dancefloor. They roll together over fissures, marched along by refreshingly live drums, all flecked through with the sometimes lulling, sometimes needling, guitars. You gotta believe that this is an album worth listening to the whole way through - like a face you see something new in each time you look.

We Were Heads take to loosening their collars. Bathed in red light emanating from some cellophane covered lamp, they jump, cramp and crunch themselves through till the early morning. Why would you wanna go to the beach when your object of admiration just dyed their hair? Why let waves dump you when you can drink too many beers and hope one day he or she might? There will always be people to carry you home as you roll around on your shoulders. Yeah!

This is What's Happening in Sydney: people are standing around wearing mullets and old jumpers. 'Fuck yeah,' I say. Especially when they are making heartfelt, suburban bedroomite pop. There are some great sensibilities on show here (with a few non-too subtle nods to predecessors along the way). There's also three outros, the third bearing the great name '13 minutes of breakdown'. The whole album funnels lethargy through dreams and kind of waits to see what comes out.

The Dead Heads have a real heart on 'Winnie Blues rolled up in sleeve' feel to them - like they would keep doing the same thing even if nobody ever listened to them. Regardless, I will be giving this a few more spins. Business at the front, party at the back, the Dead Heads are crowned somewhere between the two.

Head over to any of the bandcamp sites to order a mystery box delivered to your front door (or inbox).

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