Clever Kewdi Nightmares

Brisbane noisy nihilists Clever burst out of the gutter a couple years ago, wiping the floor with blood-and-sweat-stained alacrity. They started littering stages in 2014, after I had left, and I quickly lined them up to last year's Sonic Masala Fest - an amazing set, one of my favourites across the two festivals thus far. Their visceral gurning and flailing felt brutal and new, at least in these parts - aside from the dour disintegration of Kitchens Floor and gnashed madness of Sewers, this is the kind of sound more accustomed to the diseased denizens of Melbourne mainstays like Cuntz, Mutton and others that spill from the feedtime wellspring. But it shouldn't be a surprise that such arced anarchy was born out of the melding of dark-matter minds from members Per Purpose, Psy Ants and The Wrong Man. And now they have locked horns with Homeless Records (Cuntz, Spray Paint, Yes I'm Leaving) for their first LP Kewdi Udi. First cut 'Your Eyesore's Sweat' may not be the deepest, but it is infected with acrid angularity and fevered spit. Pre-order this denigrated gem here - first 100 LPs are piss-yellow, of course they are.

Forced Cuntz

When it comes to Cuntz, you know what you are going to get. Force The Zone is their third record, and is as raucous, punishing, hilarious and vitriolic as ever from the Melbourne scum, that is, it’s bloody brilliant. There is equal parts breakneck hardcore punk run through a cement mixer with blue metal, glass and viscera ('Chinese Dreamboat', ‘Mould’) and damaged dirges (‘Factory Floor’, ‘Grill’). ‘Nah’ is diseased Wire angular aggression, a coiled purge. The top-and-tailing 'Cooked I/II' take us into the boiled headspace, with these warped ideas floating amongst the desiccated detritus of their minds, the loosest the boys have ever been - so cooked, basically. So Force The Zone gets weirder and murkier of purpose - and altogether more interesting. Homeless have less than fifty LPs left - get one here.

Wetting The Blanket

Melbourne miscreants Wet Blankets launch their debut LP Rise of Wet Blankets this on Friday downstairs at Grace Darling, with Cuntz and Bonniwells in support - shit, what a cracker. I haven't heard the album yet, but seeing as 'Fridge Too Far' is a goddamn blister-buster of a track, clocking in at 83 seconds and melting the walls without breaking a sweat (or getting any sleep, cos it's the middle of the night), I reckon it's going to be excellent. The record is out through Anti-Fade Records too, who have pushed both of the Living Eyes' excellent albums, so quality is assured.

Rancid Mutton

I somehow missed commenting on this brutal bile-fuelled band at the beginning of the year, then again when they supported Sonic Masala Records' own Gazar Strips on their Sparkling EP tour in May. Well I'm sure these guys don't need much of an introduction if you are into gutter noise punk rock outta Melbourne. To the rest of you - introducing Mutton.

I first heard 'In Between The Dirt', the last track off their self-titled EP, and thought of fellow trash Batpiss (one of my favourite breakout bands of last year). But this is even more indebted to Yow and his acolytes than most of the pricks running around Brunswick, and that alone makes them an exciting proposition. you can't state that this is particularly "new" - but what's original when you are flailing on the floor trying to gouge your eyes out with a broken pool cue? Plus they have a band T-shirt of Sam Kekovich being torn apart by rabid sheep - an in-joke for the Aussie AFL/lamb-eating crowd, sure, but that imagery alone buys them miles of shit-stained cred.

Mutton are already aligning themselves with some of the gold-flecked detritus of the Australian underground, playing shows with the likes of Sewers, Cuntz, White Walls, Scul Hazzards, Worm Crown, Bone and the excellent DEAD - but these guys are flaying themselves to the front of the pack. Join in on the flagellation.

Spiralling Down Into Theremin-Fuelled Night Terrors

The Night Terrors are an interesting band in that they manage to straddle the boundaries of tension, murky darkness, and garish monochrome lushness at the flick of a hand at a Theremin antenna. Miles Brown’s infatuation with the much-maligned instrument has gleaned some otherworldly and exciting results, none moreso than the band’s latest opus Spiral Vortex. It goes without saying that a band with a Theremin in it is going to be lumbered with horror score tropes – in fact this is heightened by the vintage synth that permeates each track. But this is never a bad thing, especially when you have such an intense skinsman as Damien Coward (Heirs) propelling things inexorably forward. It also makes sense why Spencer Hickman from famed horror soundtrack enthusiasts Death Waltz Records would be such a fervent fan.

I personally think Spiral Vortex is brilliant. It is the kind of late night spiral (it can’t be helped) into the black hole of feverish lament and Giallo deconstruction (and dismemberment). And the spectral cinematics are evidently something the band revels in – titles like ‘Lasers For Eyes’, ‘Monster’ and especially ‘The Devil Played Backwards’ serves to drive this heavy theme home. Brown’s utterly jaw dropping control of the Theremin notwithstanding, though, Spiral Vortex belongs to the synthesiser and its Master Controllers, Brown and Sarah Lim. There are artists out there on labels such as Not Not Fun or Dark Entries that take these sounds to dark and sensuous places, but never have I revelled in the deliciousness that borderline macabre cheese can bring. 70s/80s expressionism is subliminally evoked in every lush line that flows forth – Prince Of Darkness, Lifeforce, Phantasm, Suspiria, all of these movies that are schizophrenic and ridiculous and yet so seductive in their lurid imagery and use of colour. Spiral Vortex easily encompasses these elements – and at times easily surpasses them.

Spiral Vortex is out now through Homeless Records – grab it here.

It's Live! - Hammered Cuntz in Brisbane 2012 @ Tribal Theatre

I was talking about Melbourne miscreants Cuntz to a couple of Aussie mates here in London on Tuesday night. They had never heard of them. I played them this. They lost their collective shits. It's a live version of 'Hammer' played at Tribal Theatre in Brisbane back in 2012. Mental disintegration write bloody large - you're welcome.

Digging Shovels

I lied - here's ANOTHER post for the day. Melbourne ex-pat in San Fran Michael Beach has landed in the land of Oz for Sound Summit, and is playing a bunch of solo shows as well as a great number with his newish band Shovels. I feel it would be remiss of me, seeing as I'm hosting his solo show in Brisbane on Thursday November 14 (supported by Tape/Off, Tiny Migrants and Soda Eaves), to not list his other shows. And Shovels themselves? Have a listen below. Ill leave it at this - they played at Maggot Mess at Northcote Social Club today alongside Sewers, Gentlemen, Terrible Truths - and Cuntz. And you know by now how much we love Cuntz. If you're from Brisbane - this is like old Turnpike, if they were a little more in check with their flailing feelings, and a little more about deliberately bludgeoning you to death. So yeah - fucking awesome then.

NEWCASTLE – NOVEMBER 7 – WHITE’S RECORDS

SYDNEY – NOVEMBER 10 – SOUND SUMMIT 

BRISBANE – NOVEMBER 15 – GREENSLOPES BOWLS CLUB w/ TYVEK (USA) + BLANK REALM + THE REAL NUMBERS + HYDROMEDUSA + GERALD KEANEY & THE GERALD KEANEYS + EGGVEIN + DAG + THE ADULTS (put on by 4ZZZ A Guilt Retreat - this is going to be fucking amazing...)

HOBART – NOVEMBER 23 – GRAND POOBAH w/ NATIVE CATS + MESS O REDS

These Mates Are Solid Cuntz

I only showed their fake baby handling skills on Monday, but here we are again, talking about Cuntz. The Melbourne devildrivers have polished off a second album in a year (we spoke favourably of their earlier effort Aloha here), and Solid Mates is a excellent counterstrike. It allows more of a focused caterwaul of baseness, becoming more vitriolic in the process. The bitterest pill to swallow - it goes down better, but cyanide is still cyanide. When a song about walking the dog (violently - I think it's a love song) hemorrhages into 'Ation', a song about masturbation, any innocence you were desperately clinging to is ripped from you and crushed into the ground. Bonus points for the song 'Brizbane' having throat-shredder Ben Mackie sounding the most bored and pissed he has been in his life before yelling the title over and over with his eyes bugging out - and yes, the cabs are fucking expensive. Pissed jeans and wet dreams - regardless of whether this is your idea of a nightmare or an orgasm, you're still left with the wet patch.

Pre-order Solid Mates from Homeless Records here. They've just completed their US tour that included an electrifying Gonerfest set. Yep, these guys are cuntz.

VIDEO VACUUM - Scott & Charlene's Wedding, Lee Ranaldo, Angie, Cuntz

Sometimes it's hard to take life seriously. If you get thrown enough curveballs and low blows, you either shrug and laugh and find the stuff that makes your world go round, or you curl up into the foetal position whilst chewing a dogshit-stained shoe. Today could have gone either way. But a handful of Aussie degenerates and one sonic youth on his crystal ship(sss) got me across the line, just in time to neck a bottle of red, watch the new episode of The Walking Dead, and be thankful I get another day to get things right. Maybe these tracks will help you too, hmm?

Craig Dermody of Scott & Charlene's Wedding has a proclivity for suburban malaise and chagrin, yet on this latest video for 'Jackie Boy', he's taking no prisoners. A typically laconic take on the Rocky male fantasy, the clip sees Dermody jogging around NYC, looking decidedly weedy but with a puffed out chest and a decidedly grimy gray tracksuit (hopefully from Lowes),punching wet carcasses and looking to make a difference in this mixed-up world that we live in. And when Dermody mumbles-shouts 'When you've got nothing left you've still got rock'n'roll', goddamn if it isn't a mantra after my own heart. TKO, dude.

Lee Ranaldo - "Fire Island (Phases)" from Mouca on Vimeo.

The latest solo album from Sonic Youth alum Lee Ranaldo certainly divided the pundits what with its somewhat traditional mode of songwriting (well, at least for this progenitor of no wave nihilism and explorer of atonal terrains). Between the Times and the Tides is more about looking for more nostalgic and referential ways of telling stories, as opposed to crafting something outside the proverbial box, and in the main I'm a big fan. This six-minute clip for 'Fire Island (Phases)' is an ode to the Berlin winter, an experience that brings goosebumps to my soul, and he also garners help from skronky folk weirdniks Crystal Shipsss, which is pretty ace too. Ive been lucky enough to interview him AND speak to him in person - still one of my all-time highlights - so the bias has only risen, but I really appreciate the guy for forever being honest and subversive (even if that means travelling straight on when everyone else wants him to zig and zag).

ANGIE - PARALLELS from Angela Garrick on Vimeo.

If you want to circle back on the olde days of Sonic Youth, this might be your best bet. Angie is the new project for Angela Bermuda, the outlandish performer who props up the likes of Circle Pit and Straight Arrows. On 'Parallels' she gets the dirty, warbled, hypercolour VHS no-fi down pat, whilst the track itself is both Aussie pub rawk guitar noodling, buzzbin fuzz, and disaffected lyrics. It's a killer track, one I didn't see coming, and spiked my will to live even further. Nice one, Angie.

"Never Felt Better" - Cuntz from Tahlia Isabel Palmer on Vimeo.

And lastly, Melbourne's Cuntz deliver the knockout blow, ensuring that I've never felt better with, well, 'Never Felt Better.' Still giving out dark, despairing punk spirals, all the time. Despite the whole thing is a constant drunken shit-stir, you can't help but get swept up in the nihilistic charm of its atonal wares. This is actually a depressing song, isn't it? Fuck it. Scream to your heart's content, drink a shit tonne of beers, and hold the baby.

NOW GET BACK TO WORK!

Foreign Thieves

I thought I'd end off  Chicago's Daylight Robbery, who I caught playing a no-frills rocking set at The Waiting Room on Friday night (alongside others such as Roku Music and Screaming Match). The trio are no nonsense, clearly doing it for the love of it, and there was something disarming about their throwback garage punk that is often missing from others of their ilk.

I'm closing down for the weekend. I'm a little bit sore from last night's stellar Trainspotters gig (thanks for coming out, by the way), I'm dreading my first day at two of my jobs in three weeks tomorrow, I've done a mountain of washing, and I'm looking at the final day of the Ashes Test with a queasy sense of trepidation. I need to medicate. And their latest release, the EP Distant Shores, is the ticket. Apparently created specifically with this tour in mind (they only released their Ecstatic Vision LP last year, but wanted something "new" to bring with them), the three tracks electrify; fast paced and urgent, with a mirthful glint in the eye, feeling more in sync with MC5, the Jam and X than more recent punk luminaries (which also speaks to their final show being a support of Straitjacket Nation).

You can pick up Distant Shores (in white 7" vinyl), and indeed any of Daylight Robbery's back catalogue, from here. They are halfway through an extensive Australian tour, have been playing with the likes of Deep Heat, White Walls, Cuntz and Native Cats of recent times, and they have tapped another show tonight at the Crowbar alongside the ever-excellent Blank Realm (Yoghurt Blood are also playing a rare set).

Daylight Robbery - Distant Shores

A Farewell (and Hello) to Cuntz

It was my birthday this week. I went to the Planetarium on Sunday morning to celebrate and ended up feeling very fucking small. When I got home I finished A Farewell to Arms and felt even smaller. If there are any gods out there, they're all cunts.

'I'm completely lost, again. Help me?' Cuntz yell into the black chaos of the universe. They get a return volley of indecipherable guitar squall (work that one out Jodie Foster) and crystal meth for their troubles. Yeah, thanks cunts.

But there's other moments on Cuntz new album Aloha (15 physical copies left through Homeless Records as I write this) that brighten the quagmire. Like the meteor that smashed the dinosaurs out of existence only to leave the planet ready for small mammals, aloha means goodbye and also hello.



The best part for me is the knock-off AC/DC riff in the middle of 'Punt'. That, and the fact that 'punt' clearly rhymes with 'cunt', yet they abstain. That part made me feel a little better. Then it made me feel really great when, over the top of it, the neighbourhood amateur saxophonist started to repeatedly and unsuccessfully play the Star Wars theme.

We might be insects, but not all of that sucks.