Aural Australia #1 - Catching Up On Lost Time

So much has gone by in the past four months that it is impossible to catch up, really. So I am going to give a series of longer posts over the next fortnight, mainly showcasing the music from Australia that I feel needs to be heard. This first one is Brisbane oriented, unashamedly so. Friends, foes, new and old, it's going to be a wild old ride.

I have been a massive fan of no-wave acolytes No Sister since they burst on to the Brisbane scene back in 2013. Their sudden rise and seeming implosion was the stuff of minor legend, the stuff we didn't think we would see again. But they were not dead - Mino and Tiarney merely moved to Melbourne, roped in some more heathens, and now have released in my mind the best Australian album of the year. Their self-titled debut is nothing short of mind-bendingly brilliant. The thing about the band that has been difficult to describe to others is that there is no half-hearted aping or hacksmithery here - they are earnest about their influences, astute in their constructions and desultory in their deconstructions. Hell, they have a song called 'This Heat' - what isn't there to love? But it is more than that - the incessant motorik rhythms that stutter and shudder in and out of focus, the frayed jangle and throttled feedback, the blood-splattered and screwdriver-molested fretboard, the atonal belligerence, the confident leer, the lack of fear. Disconcerting, manic, nightmarish, and very very present. Closer 'Passing The Divide' is the apex of this - a inexorable downward spiral, evolving as it frays and dissipates, eating its own tail. It's hard to say without sounding ridiculous - but No Sister have crafted an album for those who miss Sonic Youth, Arab On Radar, indeed This Heat, and rather than getting a carbon copy, wonder what they might do if they hit the reset button.

(Sleepwalks circa 2010 - they aren't very photogenic...)

Brisbane's Sleepwalks haven't been the most prolific of acts - their debut, The Milk Has Gone Sour, came out in 2011, recorded with stalwart Steve Albini no less. They play sporadically, usually to friends, barely ever tipping over a twenty minute set time, and otherwise life has gotten in the way. In the meantime the Aussie grunge "renaissance" has fully hit its stride courtesy of hometown stalwarts and Footy Show dividers Violent Soho. Even their latest album, Kingdom, has been around for a while, sitting on the shelf - I did a piece on one of the songs off it, 'Dry Gulch', what seems like aeons ago. The boys are sparser, more angular, wonky, darker-hued, and intelligent than many of their contemporaries though, which makes Kingdom a weirder, much more enriching listen. Their Sonic Masala Fest set was rough-hewn and with a Mclusky cover to boot. Someone oughta put some money behind these guys - they could carve their own peculiar niche in the woodwork.

Another act that started out in Brisbane but have winged their way to Melbourne is Dag, headed by lovely stringbean and font of laconic goodwill Dusty Anastassiou. They are about to launch their new album, Benefits Of Solitude, the recordings of which feature members of Bent, Thigh Master and Sewers. This sounds nothing like those bands. It makes sense that Joe and the Bedroom Suck crew would be drawn to this (seeing Kitchen's Floor, Scott & Charlene's Wedding and Bitch Prefect amongst many others have made it through their hallowed halls), but Dusty has an inimitably iconic voice all his own that, if you believe it, reaches higher than these incredible acts manage to climb. A massive call? True - but listen to 'Staying Up At Night', a magical three minute ramshackle amble that manages to shares echoes of some of music's Antipodean heroes (Paul Kelly? David Kilgour?) and look into the grey of dawn with a melancholy eye, while imbuing all with an aura of hope that outshines such downcast musings. Benefits of Solitude won't be out until next year, but rest assured that we will all benefit from the perennial fight for that lopsided smile in the morning light that tells you that everything will be all right.

Grace Stevenson from 100% (which we will hear from in a minute) has burst out into her own warped spotlight under the guise of Rebel Yell, a ice-laden techno trance dirge that remains somehow euphoric, in a synthetic dungeon fever dream kinda way. The "pop" inverse to brother-in-arms Yaws and DNA spliced with Kirin J Callinan, Rebel Yell both invites and repels; violence and eroticism offered simultaneously. Rice Is Nice seems an atypical choice for label, but her debut EP Mother of Millions is stunning in its stark beauty. Eyelids fluttering coquetteishly in the black UV before the gas filters through the bunker dancefloor - Rebel Yell grabs your cerebral vortex and never lets go.

100% continues the cold synth pop bubbling under the surface of the backwoods heat of Brisbane's musical frontier, and their You Are 100% 12" (out through Moontown Records) manages to both sound intimate, distant, cheesy and otherworldly. Mastered by Roland Hlavka (Cobwebbs, Drug Sweat, Barbiturates), the tracks evoke Angelo Badalamenti, Jenny Hval, Yello, Asylum Party, And Also The Trees, Circuit des Yeux -  but all imbued with a light touch, the drabness eschewed for frosted pastel shadings. Such ebullient touches, rather than make the tracks lightweight, provide a sense of intimate acceptance oft missing from music like this. They are already getting amazing support slots over the course of the year - expect something bigger as this lands.

Finally, and still in the same realm, we have Pleasure Symbols, whose latest release has been picked up for distribution throughout Europe by Avant! Records, so should tell you what to expect. A lethargic coldwave classic, cavernous and clearly at home in Scandi states of mind (ie dark, cold, glittering light shimmering off translucent ice and stylised leather), 'Underneath Your Skin' couldn't be more aptly titled. The monotonous vocals carry an androgynous sensuality to them, the beats a relentless march through the urban gloaming, the guitar pinning down a Gothic tension that is pregnant with foreboding.



This is just the beginning!

No Limits to Jack Lee (And Petersham)

Jack Lee has done it again.

Stepping out of Beef Jerk to do things on his own once more, Lee's record No Limits (out through Osborne Again) is a bruised and battered slab of broken thoughts, moods, dreams, gaffer-taped together to punish and revere. 'Slip On Piss', the opening track, is killer - a dour diatribe on the shitty "adult situations I keep gettin' in". Lee's lip curled, lyrics drawled/spat, pummelling, feeling like shit. It's a self-loathing backwater dirge of brilliance. Of course the album doesn't hold an even keel, going through wonky pop dreams and broken ruminations of getting stuck in Sydney and ukelele/karaoke sessions in Mullumbimby, dog parks, bottle shops, footy and crates of beer, all centred around the suburb of Petersham. It has the downer vocal/lyrical power of Kitchens Floor, the dry spoken-word wit of James Boyd or Nathan Roche (who makes an appearance on 'Sagres'), the wry loquaciousness of  Dag (whose Dusty Anastassiou also pops in to co-write and "star" in the excellent 'Stuck In Sydney'). It has the ramshackle energy of the best hardscrabble bands coming out of Australia like cockroaches abandoning a fiery building. The best parts of Australian outlier downhearted rock then. I love this record. Grab No Limits here.

By The Grace Of A Golden Tongue

I got Blonde Tongues to open up for The Ocean Party back in November 2013 when the boys were launching their third album Split. It was a bit of a strange night, in that only 30 odd people showed to watch what was a superb lineup (also playing was Nathan Roche, Thigh Master and Dag). Blonde Tongues had only played a handful of shows, but they really impressed me that night with their slightly loose, glossy pop noise.

The four-piece are bringing out their self-recorded, self-titled debut, extending from their singles 'SEILU' and 'Hey Good Lookin'. From the shimmering yet cantankerous opener 'Wedding Bells' to the wonky chagrin of 'Beer', the contained maelstrom of 'Glass Cigar' and the brooding 'When You Come Down Blue', Blonde Tongues is a real feat of shoegazing ingenuity. These guys deserve to be playing more shows - they killed it on the Love Junkies show on Saturday (alongside our own Tape/Off).

Wireheads Spend 8:19 In Tenth Court

Brisbane scrappers Tenth Court Records have been pumping out some great releases since kicking off this year - with the likes of Thigh Master, Martyr Privates and Dag (plus others yet to mention) putting out tapes. The newest edition is Country Space Junk, the new EP from Adelaide loose cannons Wireheads. Coming off the back of their excellent record The Late Great Wireheads that came out earlier this year (we loved it), here are seven wonky tracks of - well - cowboy space junk. This clip is for opener 'Eight Minutes & 19 Seconds', complete with "space outfits", "space helmets", "space ship", "cowboy drummer" - Trimboli's lyrics about explosive machines and scientific magazines suitably hypnotic and laconic, whilst his vocals are as scratched and unrelenting as ever. It's a great song, a great film clip, a great band.

You can (and should) buy Cowboy Space Junk here.

Michael's Gone Gold Class

Here is yet another "new" Australian band to take in and be excited about. I remember seeing the name Gold Class on a poster for a Sunday School show at the Public Bar in Melbourne, I think in April or May? But never really cottoned on to them - and it seems I've really been missing out. Listening to the Michael/Gone release, I have this weird conflicted notion that I've somehow wedged The Smiths' Meat Is Murder and Wire's 154 into the same piece of 7" wax. Adam Curley's baritone does hold some of that Morrissey moan, but the cutting guitar and insistent rhythms does recall his cohorts; whilst the tapered aggression that simmers under the surface evokes Colin Newman et al at the more measured. It is all decidedly dark hued and downer (Brit)pop, which alone lends it an unique place on the current Australian music milieu, but Gold Class exude a sense of literate sensibility that is also very exciting. I can't wait to hear more from the four-piece.



Gold Class release the 7" next month. You can catch them in Brisbane on Fri 24 October at The Bearded Lady (supported by Dag) and the following night at Trainspotters (with Multiple Man and Per Purpose serving props). These will be excellent shows - get along.

Old Mates Is What They Is, Ey?

One band that seemed to both be confined by and outstrip the ill-fated "dolewave" genre pigeonhole was South Australia's Old Mate. It may have been in the name; it may have been in the droll drawl that lead Pat Telfer (Bitch Prefect) delivered his sometimes-weary, sometimes-jacked-up lyrics. But just as many of the bands that were tarred with that brush over the last two to three years have moved on by incorporating stranger tics and tricks to their bag, Old Mate's new album It Is What It Is (out through SDZ Records) explodes, its core aesthetic spreading in every direction like the impact of a paintball on a white wall. Don't let the kangaroos boxing on the cover dissuade you from acknowledging that we are entering a whole new world.


'Medicine Man' is a gargantuan jazz blues number - seriously. Sure, it's used and abused and flung in the corner to dry, but the 12 bars, the solos, the howling space, the husky vocals are all present and accounted for. It's a strange opener - it's a strange choice, considering the band's back catalogue - but then nothing should surprise you with these guys (remember the other half of Bitch Prefect is the chameleonic Liam Kenny...). From then on we are taken to one surrealist vignette to the next, in a battered limousine al Carax's bizarrely brilliant Holy Motors film from 2012, with Telfer the ever-present ringmaster of the macabre. 'Requesting Permission' is back on terra firma, a downer jangle with dour vocals a la Brisbane act Dag, with a melancholy that reminds me of the solo work of Neil Young in his early years - really - or that first recipient of the Grant McLennan Fellowship back in 2007, Charles Curse. But this isn't the needle and the damage done. We step up with 'Something', a vocal that sounds like Macka from The Onyas having a go at an acoustic number. It isn't overtly funny though - the tempo, the backing vocals, the 'hey hey hey hey hey heeeey, hey' lending a desperation to proceedings. 'February' is a lament in a netherworld saloon - the Gothic drawl reminiscent of another dormant Aussie act, Nikko - holding that plodding, maudlin beat for its entirety, and drags you down with it.

Then we hit a sonorous contemplation with 'Stressin'', a lysergic percolation of languid rhythms (for some reason Im tracking back to some of those subterranean grooves the Stone Roses often doled out) in what is generally an instrumental track, except for some growled, rolling-around-the-mouth vocals (and yet another video featuring that post-Soviet kid in the nightclub, which really looks like a sequal to the film Orphan); the sax burbles into the fervour underscoring 'Know What He Wants', a fine addition here; 'Him' re-enters the Young orbit, albeit in a warped fashion, offering layered nuance that promises more than it gives, with lyrics that imply never learning from mistakes; and closer 'Truth Boy' evokes another crooked minstrel of the Australian musical landscape, Nathan Roche, although there are no Sydney references in sight, just some Aussie sardonic sneers...

It Is What It Is is a bizarre and inexplicalby attractive record. The title tells it all, thus making this review, or any really, redundant. Old Mate, Telfer, the music - it is what it is. Deal with it - get it here.

Scrabbled Sewers Are Virtually Cool

Virtual Cool is a new label out of Brisbane that, whilst staying predominantly cassette based, should really reach a lot of people. Why? Because they are intent on putting out records that would otherwise languish in the tinnitus and vagrant memories of hazy booze and drug fuelled nights, a jigsaw puzzle of a sound never to be fully remembered or repeated. The first two releases are cases in point.

An unheralded amalgam of some of Brisbane's best fringe dwellers (members of Dag, Clag, Gravel Samwidge, Extrafoxx and X Wave litter their numbers, among others), Scrabbled's Welcome To Pig City is revving on narcoleptic fumes of disdain at the state of affairs in the Sunshine State and desperation. Everything is slanted and disenchanted - a dissertation to punk politicism in Can-Do Campbell Newman's backwards-leaning regime. Queensland has always had a hard run of it when it comes to forward-leaning politics, hence why the world recognises Brisbane for its punk music of the late 70s and early 80s than any other genre and era. But Scrabbled aren't interested in tapping into old vibes or digging at old scabs - no, these wounds are fresh. The music itself is loose, warped, awkward, defiantly out of step. This isn't a detriment though - Scrabbled have a voice and energy all their own; a purging of pent-up exasperation spilling into abject aggression. You need bands like this - you really do. Get angry and have some fun.

The other release is something altogether different - diseased and snarling, more malevolent, and much less serious. Sewers and Rat King split the shit right down the middle on Leather. The Brisbane contingent stomp the fuck out of any nuance anyone thought they might have had on new cut 'Chinese Tommy', a short shotgun blast to the gut. Their dirge-drivel take on Grong Grong's 'Japanese Train Driver' sounds like the best Sewers song they never wrote - the irascible energy is finally unleashed in a more rampant speed, and the whole thing falls apart in a rust-hollowed heap. Brilliant. Newcastle's Rat King don't offer the yin to Sewer's yang though - 'Sick Pills' and 'Browood' somehow slow things down with embalmer treacle yet up the ante with their seething vitriol. The feedback on the former track is still ear-splitting even in recording, a harsh reminder that the imperfections are deliberated, serrated and antagonistic; whilst 'Browood' is a pitch-dark march into the nether regions of listlessness leading to evil transgressions. Hanging out with these clowns will get you killed - if they don't kill you first.




You can get both of these here. There is more to come from Virtual Cool, including a release from Bent, so you will be hearing more from me too.

Lost In The Caprice With The Old Man And You

You might know Michael Whitney from underrated Brisbane brooders Nite Fields (who actually have that long-gestating album on the way - Chinese Democracy mk II!!!) but he has also been floating around in the ether as the incredibly difficult to do anything with moniker, You. The subtle, embryonic pop that Whitney styles as You has brought about some intimate and affecting shows in the past. Having brought on Luke Zahnleiter (ex Tape/Off and The Rational Academy guitarist) though You takes on a new light, with Whitney becoming increasingly bolder in his compositions. His first physical release is coming in the form of a 7" out through Lost Race Records (responsible for Nite Fields, Cobwebbs and Loomer releases), and you can sample the discombobulated jazz blues of 'Caprice' below. The haunting sax is such a beautiful touch here, somehow sparking Whitney's dreary, downtrodden warble into life (just) and providing a shimmering layered sound. Then there is the B-side 'Old Man', which is a studied strum on laconic downer spirals, designed solely to spirit ice down your spine. Breathtaking.


You can get You's limited edition 7" on Friday - pre-order it here. You plays in full band mode (Heidi Cutlack and Alec Tullio round out You) Thursday August 7 at The Bearded Lady in Brisbane alongside SM faves Dag and No Magic.

Eating Me A Dogwood Dag

There is something attractive by the laconic nature of Dag, Dusty Anastassiou's solo/band project (he is also involved in "supergroup" Scrabbled and plays the pivotal rhythm guitar that underpins the shambolism of Thigh Master). The first time I saw them play was September 2013 when Matt Ford (Thigh Master/Black Vacation/Per Purpose/Deadshred/Kids Cryptic/Tenth Court - clearly needs to be busier...) and Curtis Wakeling (The Ocean Party/Velcro/etc - another dude with too much time on his hands) both suggested they support Velcro and Hot Palms. With a lineup that also included Thigh Master, Fred Savage Beasts and The Creases, Anastassiou's drawl and slow-burn crawl really stuck out. Dag has played another Sonic Masala show supporting Black Vacation - here is a clip from that set, with Central Station train times in the background...

DAG - 15.07.2013 from Joshua Watson on Vimeo.

Well Tenth Court have finally coaxed a release out of the bastard, the aptly tongue-in-cheek titled Dogwood cassette. It's the kind of downer pop dreariness that you could mistake for being a mainstay in Australia at the moment - but Dusty's drawl, finely strung guitarwork and the ratcheted energy of closer 'There Is A Power' that truly pushes Dag into the spotlight. Forever a work in progress, Dag looks up through the wires of the Hills hoist with some Fruity Lexia and VBs, looking at chemtrails and skyline cranes and scratching its head with wonder, a crooked grin and a sigh of chagrin. And as far as looking at the travails of the young penniless set, 'Staying Cheap' is still one of the best songs to come out of Brisbane for some time. Pick up Dogwood here.

Drinking The Juice of Young Ciggie Witches

The latest in a long line of acts to come out of Osborne Street in Brunswick, Melbourne (although it’s been a week so more may have spawned) is Ciggie Witch, and their debut album Rock & Roll Juice hits all the hallmarks of this highly creative hub. It opens with a predictable summer jangle about languid Melbourne living, 'Long Weekend', before we get the more baritone vocals of Mitch Clemens on 'Broken Nose' – and it makes sense. It's this particular counterpoint of voice, tone and worldview that works on disparities like wondering why you'd bother getting out of bed if you will only surf the 'Net in, er,  'The Internet' or waiting for your brother to come to the servo to pay for your petrol because you have no money in 'Point Cook'.

Resplendent in shimmering beauty (thanks to some wonderful instrumentation from Ocean Party/Zone Out/Alek & the Ramps alumni) and a measured production from Dusty Anastassiou (Brisbane brother in arms from Dag), Rock & Roll Juice is the perfect aural equivalent of diary entries for these guys and gals – the kind of lackadaisical, ponderous, easy-livin’ existences that do indeed exist, seem point- and fruitless, yet are rich in existential whimsy, introverted melancholy, yet an overall love of living life in the moment, as it comes, without worrying too much about where the 2 minute noodles or toilet paper will come from one week to the next because there is a footy to kick, a beer to drink, a Sega emulator to play, a guitar to strum and a smile to crack.

Rock & Roll Juice is available on limited vinyl here.

TONIGHT - Sonic Masala & Spunk Records Presents The Ocean Party Album Launch

We here at Sonic Masala have always been big fans of the somewhat innocent navel gazings of Melbourne suburbians The Ocean Party. Their second LP Social Clubs from last year was one of clarity, brevity, and early-middle-twentysomething malaise - not so rail against the world as it was rolling with the genial punches. The band members are best mates, great blokes, and have an even better record in the form of Split. They played in Brisbane recently for the Spunk Records showcase, but tonight is the official launch party for the album - and Sonic Masala is along for the ride. It's cracking off at the Beetle Bar tonight at 8pm - come early to see local upstarts Dag, Thigh Master and Blonde Tongues, as well as Sydneysider Nathan Roche (he of now defunct Camperdown & Out infamy), all for a tenner. See you there - I'll be the guy propping up the merch bar.



DAG - 15.07.2013 from Joshua Watson on Vimeo.

Spotting Black Trains On My Black Vacation

It's been a while (two weeks to be exact), but I am back from holidays. To celebrate, Sonic Masala is combining with Trainspotters to help launch 'Glazed', the newish single from Brisbane's own purveyors of lackadaisical guitar pop whimsy, Black Vacation. They are growing in stature, and should be huge by the time 2013 tolls its final bell (if there is any justice in the world).

The supports are incredibly stellar too. Shambolic rocktards Cobwebbs have an album of sorts coming out on Long Gone Records, with more potentially on the way. 

Brainbeau are another band that defy categorisation and are so goddamned good that Grimes should be tweeting about them...or something. They are squirrelling out from the underground cracks they have been trapped in, and to see them playing bigger, brighter shows is a true blessing.

Newcomers Dag are something of an unknown quantity, but if this track is anything to go by the trio will safely make a home here on Planet Masala.

It's all happening at the Grand Central Hotel tonight. The band times is below. It's free entry, beers are relatively cheap (most pints will give you change from a tenner - not to be sneezed at in this money-crunching age), Black Vacation have a few more shirts on sale, and it goes into the wee hours. See you there.

Glazed Haze On Our Black Vacation

I meant to get this out sooner, seeing as their first two shows (in Newcastle and Sydney) were this weekend. Better late than never I guess... Local woozy amblers Black Vacation have just released new single 'Glazed', and its a suitably excellent track that doles out nonchalance and whimsy in equal, chiming measures. Its the most concise, crystalline effort that the Ford brothers have slapped their name to thus far (Daniel and Matt are also in Kids Cryptic and Thigh Master), whilst the added gravitas of Helena Papageorg (Feathers) and Michaela Chin (Marl Carx) helps to anchor Black Vacation's sound somewhere between the Australian slacker pop revelation and the Stateside introspective fare that the likes of Beach Fossils and Wild Nothing delve in. Excellence par none.



Black Vacation travel down to Melbourne and the Gasometer on Friday July 5 (with support from SM faves Velcro as well as Legendary Hearts and Aktion Unit), before finalising their launch in their hometown (and a Sonic Masala Presents!) at Trainspotters on Sat July 13. Supports for that one will be Cobwebbs, Stress Waves and Dag.