No Indignation In The Age Of September

Dublin's Gothic rockers September Girls have come back stronger than ever on new album Age of Indignation. Following in the darker, louder footsteps paved by their Veneer EP of last year, the ten tracks here are not only brimming with confidence but with bristling energy and intent. The opener 'Ghost' is a six minute powerful dirge, elevated in the final third as guitars build on each other and coalesce, a menacing caterwaul. The organ is prevalent here as it is throughout the album, haunting and instilled with lurking insistence, a choral clarion call to the Underworld. The bass growls on 'Jaw On The Floor', underpinning the disdain and sneers, kicking against the literal pricks, adamant that no one will "keep us down/And falling". The lyrics step up further, moving from feminist screeds to a funereal diatribes against religion and church ('Catholic Guilt' and its oscillating chapel organ is the obvious example here, with lines such as "You say this is for our own protection" and "You put us in this vessel/Built from our own fears" a clear swipe at systemic lies, cover ups and abuse). Vocally, again the harmonies are top-rate, and it is interesting to see the girls still alternating lead but tonally assimilating into an overall "September Girls sound". It screams of clarity and cohesion - the quintet are laser-focused here, cutting through the dark to incisively stamp their presence on the world. Their Gothic post-punk take on garage rock has evolved into something more definitive, and done with power and conviction. Age of Indignation can be bought through Fortuna Pop here. The girls hit out in May, playing Islington O2 on the 19th.

September Girls Love No One

Irish brooders September Girls are back with a new album, Age of Indignation, coming out in April through Fortuna Pop. The first cut from it is 'Love No One', which is expectantly propulsive and gothic, with some nice Morricone undertones, and the film clip evokes Jodorowsky, Argento, Warhol, Polanski's (namely his Playboy-backed Macbeth cut), Strickland, and the pagan rituals of Summerisle, all within the confines of a luxurious art deco building. It's beguiling, darkly beautiful - so great to have the Girls back from the dark, even if they are thrive in the shadows

Pete's Right To Cry Over Spilt Milk

Last year I saw a gig at the Old Fire Station in Stoke Newington, headlined by Slowcoaches. I bumped in to fellow Brisbanite Susan Milanovic, who used to drum for the excellent Feathers (which also featured Roku Music/Deafcult/Tiny Spiders/Thigh Master/etc genius and all round dude Innez Tulloch). She mentioned she wanted to get back into playing, and was jamming with this guy who used to be in a few indie bands some time ago. That guy is Pete Astor, of The Loft and Weather Prophets fame, and the result is Spilt Milk, coming out on Fortuna Pop. It's a classy affair all round - recorded by James Hoare (Veronica Falls, Ultimate Painting) and playing most of the instruments, ably supported by Pam Berry (Withered Hand, Black Tambourine), Robin Christian (Male Bonding), Alison Cotton (The Left Outsides) and Jack Hayter (Hefner). The first sip at the chalice is 'My Right Hand'. Spilt Milk promises to have a pastoral motorik undercurrent driving Astor's esoteric guitar pop stylings. 'My Right Hand' is an ode to all best friends, through thick and thin, with a twinkle in the eye. Flying Nun and McLennan/Forster shines brightly in the background.

Cosmic Comet Ritual

Here is some late night light psych from stalwarts Comet Gain. Their four-track EP Fingerprint Ritual opens with a twelve minute ‘Breaking Open The Head Pt 2’ (a continuation and tangent from the part 1 found on their seventh LP Paperback Ghosts), using a slow, soft oscillation and backwards guitars to build a mist-like mantra that envelops and engrosses. ‘That Lucifer Summer’ feels more garage-lite, taking the psych into the basement, draped with velvet curtains and amber lights, lounging around and jamming. Something that continues into ‘To The City’s Core’, which purportedly features the abnd’s first funky break and a farfisa organ played through a mangled fuzz pedal. Its insidious insinuation of the city as a virus belies a late 60s Blue jam vibe. ‘The Insignificant Dignified’ ends it all, a hushed protest that plays along with the Animals/Troggs rousing template, getting properly fuzzed out and jammed to the edges and beyond. Feeling vintage and straight from the source, Fingerprint Ritual sees the veterans remaining on course for the sun. 
Get it (in red vinyl) here.

Nothing Gruesome About Peanut Butter

English twee noiseniks Joanna Gruesome are becoming a stronger band every time I hear them. Their gig at the Dome with Perfect Pussy was quite frankly one of the most fun, exuberant and loud experiences I’ve had in the past eighteen months – and I still feel they haven’t hit top speed yet. They are on the cusp of launching second LP Peanut Butter onto the world (through Fortuna Pop!, Slumberland and Turnstile worldwide). The band somehow manages to imbue their innocent pop hooks with angular aggression and possessive punk trashiness, a concoction that I would have thought impossible had these guys not been in existence. Peanut Butter is a curt, abrasive, yet sunny bolter, out of the gates and over the horizon after twenty-five minutes. The ten songs here are stuffed so full of hooks, hilarity and hellion yells that they each feel like individualised muffins that pulsate from within, ready to detonate in sugary destruction at any moment. ‘Honestly Do Yr Worst’ is the best example of this – the ambling amiability of the majority of this hook-laden is cut with some abbreviated screaming scuzziness, which just further underscores the warmth inherent within. The sweetness of ‘Jamie (Luvver)’ takes one by surprise, being one of the most straightforward pop songs you can expect to hear from these guys. But the acerbic nature of the gang hasn’t dried up – the sardonic serration of ‘Crayon’, the thumping intro to ‘I Don’t Wanna Relax’ and the explosive ‘Psykick Espionage’ kick arse.

Pick up Peanut Butter here. Joanna Gruesome are belatedly launching the album around the place in September - more on that closer to the dates.

8 Bit's Second Wind, For Crying Out Loud

Back in 2013 I became inexplicably enamoured with 'Bodega Run' by NY 8-bit rock wizards Crying. Actually it's not inexplicable - that thing is aural crack. Well the trio are back with new EP Second Wind, and it's more of the same - high octane, euphoric rock with heavy 8-bit overtones, an overdose of sugar and blinding colour palettes. 'Sick' reminds me of Speedy Ortiz if they scored Paperboy on the Sega Master System, while 'Batang Killjoy' is a call to arms that hits me right where my blocky heart resides. Seriously, on paper this is the twee-est of Fortuna Pop and indebted to Weezer University, deepfried in 80s console mania, and could - possibly should - go horribly wrong - yet this stuff kills. 'War of Attrition' even has a beautifully 80s hair metal guitar lick in the middle! My teen self is crying with joy.

Soft Grimacing Waves

Irish label Soft Power ended 2014 and started 2015 in strong fashion with a pair of releases that really impress. In December London duo/trio and SM faves Witching Waves released their debut LP Fear of Falling Down (which is almost sold out already - get one of the last 35 here), which is an absolute corker of a record that broods within garage rock circles yet are more indebted to the Fortuna Pop crowd, and are more reminiscent of Sons & Daughters than their angular brethren. Going from DIY bludgeoning to a label that has coaxed the likes of September Girls and The Spook School into the limelight hasn't changed Witching Waves' gritty-yet-hook-heavy approach one iota. This is an excellent release, and damned if these guys won't be doing something special by year's end. Get along and see them play Power Lunches this Friday.

Then there is I Am Material, the six-track cassette EP from fellow Londoners H. Grimace, which goes even further into the dark, yet hushed, corners. The lurking ambiance is always imbued with unkempt portent, so that when a song like 'Royal Hush' starts out a languid pop malaise (something akin to Melbourne's Summer Flake), its facade cracks and the true beast is unleashed. 'To The Shaggerston' is a punk gnarl of the Seattle backwater variety (and all the greater because of it). To my ears, there aren't many bands in London doing this kind of ragged, languid rock, which makes them all the more important to get behind. Not that we will see them much in March, as they do a frantic tour across the US aided in part by SF label 20 Sided Records.

Cracking the Veneer Of September Girls

Irish brooders September Girls brought out the beguiling Cursing The Sea at the beginning of the year, but we have something new already, with whispers of an EP not far off. The first taste is 'Veneer', and it's a spike in the arm. There is a dirgey bassline playing as a cursed undercurrent here, lending a dangerousness to the five-piece's sound that has only ever been hinted at before now. I was not only surprised by this new release, but blown away by the sinister confidence that oozes out of every pore here. A great track that still holds the staple harmonies while hardening and baring teeth.

Veneer will be out through Kanine/Fortuna Pop! in November - can't wait.

Cursing The September Girls

I’ve been watching the progress of Ireland’s lost pop noir rockers September Girls for some time, ever since they dropped their Green Eyed/Danny Wood 7” through Soft Power Records back in 2012. The girls have built up a steady oeuvre of reverbed and honeyed harmonies with a buoyant instrumentation laced with something more sinister since then, and now they arrive with their debut album Cursing The Sea (coming out on Fortuna Pop).

 That undercurrent of darkness has bubbled closer to the surface over time; the quintet busy in the shadows over the twelve track on display here and is never more haunted and suggestive than on ‘Left Behind.’ It’s clear the 60s garage pop resurgence that continues to reverberate some years onward have left its indelible mark on the band – listen to the opening moments of ‘Heartbeats’ and you can hear a sneering Mamas & Papas, pastoral pop dressed in leather – but there are moments that echo further outwards into the early Gothic dourness of The Jesus & Mary Chain, as the broiling post-punk of ‘Ships’ attests. The slight shifts in nuance comes from the fact that four out of five members are songwriters, an evident source of inspirations that allows Cursing The Sea to shy away from the more predictable mores of the genre. September Girls still reminds me of Brisbane band Feathers, which makes me sad, because they were a great band that were really starting to flex their creativity. But Cursing The Sea makes me happy too, as September Girls are here to pick up the slack and run with it. The end result is a dark, seductive whisper from behind you – wind on your cheek, promising danger and desire in (un)equal measure.

Pre-order Cursing The Sea here.

VIDEO VACUUM - September Girls, DZ Deathrays, Surf Friends, Super Wild Horses

No mucking about today - I mean business (as you can tell from the buffaloes, who clearly mean business, and the stolen artwork that I don't give a shit about), so let's forget about everything and lose ourselves in these videos...



Dublin lovelies September Girls have a decidedly dark, dour, Gothic video in store for new single 'Heatbeats', with the bizarre colour coming from the flower tealights floating in the bathtub with one of them (?). It all feels a little Pandora's Box mixed with Psycho and a pinch of Eraserhead around the 1.10 mark, before they venture into the wilderness (A Field In England), and finishes with the gang at night standing in front of a car... I don't know what to think! Am I supposed to be happy? Put off? Perturbed? It's all good though. 'Heartbeats' comes from the forthcoming album they're unearthing on Fortuna Pop! Big things ahead, it seems...



Local party starters/heartstoppers DZ Deathrays have this glitchy little video to go with their decidedly glossier (and slower) newie 'Northern Lights'. The polygon scramble is pretty ace, as is the warped landscape screens. Its a fun little experiment at any case, and makes me want to get drunk at Alhambra to this - now THAT'S not something I say everyday...



Ever jumped into the water with all your clothes on? Surf Friends have. Here under the duress of incessant bullying and in the face of thankless work. I mentioned that idea of drowning under the wait of disappointment in the last post about Astro Children - here it is literally encapsulated for all to see. Surf Friends' new track 'The Sea' off upcoming Flying Nun-affiliated album Endorphins is pretty great, it has a bit of flange on the guitar, and because it's so hot today I would rather be deep in the sea rather than plying my wares on the shitty day job. Speaking of, it's almost knock off time, so I'm gonna hustle to this last song...



There isn't all that much to say about Melbourne duo Super Wild Horses' video for the latest single to come off sophomore LP Crosswords. 'Ono In A Space Bubble' is a killer chugging garage rager, all to the beat of Yoko's ridiculous bugout beats. Love the yelps too. A little creepy, a little silly, a whole lot of radness.

Normally I would yell at you to get back to work, but I'm done. It's beer time. See you on the beach.

The School of Hard Liquor and High Spirits

The Spook School will teach you how to have fun and how not to pour beer.

After a week spent hopped up on cold and flu tablets, trying to write an assignment on the epistemology of time, I found that I was wasting quite a lot of it (time, that is. No pseudoephedrine was wasted in the passing of it). See though, what I should have been doing instead of reading about the Scottish enlightenment was getting a ticket to Scotland to get some real-time enlightenment. I'll be honest, I'll tell the Spook School what I really think of them, hopped up or not; they are a freaking awesome collection of properties.

And while my bank account probably won't support the whole Scotland idea, at least I can rest assured that us Aussies, thanks to 'Niall's Sexy Calendar 2014', we'll always have our very own little bit of The Spook School love to have and to hold.

Oh yeah, and what's more, there's now a whole album worth of this goodness out for your enjoyment - on cherry cola coloured vinyl, no less! Get your copy of Dress Up (out now through Fortuna Pop!) from their bandcamp, pour yourself an enormously frothy beer and get prepared for your crush to continue!



Karl Flies Kites

The Melbourne-via-Perth duo Sodastream holds a special place in my heart. I was introduced to them by my then flatmate Niall (he also incessantly played Tracy Chapman and Bob Marley to the point of aural cringe, followed quickly by red-mist rage, but that's another story...). The album - 2000's Looks Like A Russian. The combination of Karl Smith's plaintive acoustic guitar and deadpan, oft beauteous lyrics with Pete Cohen's double bass and baritone backing vocals formed a beguiling worldview, one which still sends shivers down my spine. Songs like 'Wedding Day' and 'Done With Everything' still resonate with me over a decade on, and I truly believe that their show at the Troubadour a couple years later (in support of sophomore album The Hill For Company) rivals the Mark Kozelek show there last year (the venue now known as Black Bear Lodge), or even the Magnolia Electric Co show I saw in London in 2009, for reverence and magisterial beauty.


The band split up in 2007, after four great albums, but have since gravitated towards each other - Cohen joined Smith in the band Lee Memorial in 2011, and this year they reformed as Sodastream for some shows. That said, Karl Smith is releasing some material on his own in the form of the album Kites (out now through Fortuna Pop) - and man, the memories came flooding back. Smith's voice was the first hook - that elegant, fragile timbre. Then there are the songs themselves - the gentle, undulating plucking of acoustic strings, the fragile delicate nature of their construction... The songs reverberate with the conflicting emotions Smith was feeling as he prepared for the imminent state of fatherhood, a daunting yet exhilarating process, and songs like the excellent 'Little Lucy' and opener 'After Mr Morrison' perfectly capture such swirling emotions.

For a man who was born in New Zealand, raised in Bangladesh, schooled in India and kickstarted his musical career in earnest in Perth, Smith is not only worldly, but steeped in the intimate knowledge of isolation in its many forms. This echoes through his acute observations, always a pleasure to behold. Welcome back into my life, Mr Smith.

You can (and really should) buy Kites here, now.

Getting Gruesome And Weird With Joanna

Noise pop can mean so many things. For Cardiff five-piece Joanna Gruesome, though, it is probably the most fitting "label" anyone can give them - they carve out the sweetest sounding tunes before deep-frying them in dissonance, speed and epileptic glee. They have been around for a while, yet Weird Sister is only their debut LP. It's so worth the wait - I put it on being a moderate fan, and four songs in needed them in my life for the rest of eternity. Slumberland records have gone in cahoots with Fortuna POP! to put this one out, and it's the perfect marriage - the soft, lilting vocals buoyed on top of a distorted maelstrom of crashing calamity - The Wedding Present on steroids and sherbet. Its like eating a red-eye pepper chocolate - so sweet and tasty, then the kick has you sweating profusely, your tastebuds freaking out - you are in pain, oh so glorious pain - even as you grab another handful and cram them in your mouth. It swings into straight up punk in parts - 'Graveyard' is the most obvious one there - yet even it flirts with twee plaintiveness before slamming the foot on the gas once more. There have been some electric albums this year, but I'm hard pressed to name one thus far that had me thrashing about with an idiotic grin aching my face muscles. don't get me wrong - some of the subject matter here is morbid and strange - but this is a communal purge, an avenue to let all the bad stuff out. Weird as this sister may be, Joanna Gruesome is without a doubt a cool customer who is a hell of a lot of fun to be around.

You can buy Weird Sister here.

Sliding Down The Honey Flowers

Once again stupid life has gotten in the way of a good time - doubly so, seeing as I haven't been able to write about good shit for about three days (believe me, that is a looooooong time). Back in June I was offered tickets to go to London trio Honeyslide's 10" launch (put on by Critical Heights) at Stoke Newington's The Waiting Room. This sounded serendipitous seeing as the vast majority of Sonic Masala shows have been held at Brisbane's own Waiting Room. Yet I declined, and although I didn't waste my evening - I went and saw William Basinski and Fennesz play in a Hackney church - I felt I was letting the SM side down a little. It was a little more painful when I found out that the supports included personal fave Scott & Charlene's Wedding, pencilled in as a "special Guest". Seeing as I missed their own album launch the following week because I was flying back to Oz, it smarted. Nevertheless, I can't complain - at least I have Drippin/Deep Architecture to listen to. The 10" offers a seven minute sloping squall in the form of 'Drippin'' which bleeds into an untitled miasma of swirling ephemera. It reminds me of Gaslight Radio, one of the most underrated Aussie bands of the late 1990s/early 2000s, albeit without the tongue-in-cheek lyricism. The back side offers more bite-sized versions of the same - 'Deep Architecture' holds sway, whilst 'Sugar Routine' saunters along jauntily, a bouncy, languid ride into the sunset. You can grab the EP here.

The reason I came back to Honeyslide was because of the minimalist yet showy fuzz of another London trio, Flowers. Their Until You're Dead 7" (out on Fortuna Pop - you can grab it here) has been the one link I have had to the world of sanity in the past few days, which bled into the things I found most enjoyable about the Honeyslide release. Admittedly Flowers are a little more saccharine and overtly shoegaze (which makes sense seeing the label they are aligned with), but there is an effervescent yet gritty sheen to their sonorous noise pop that sees them drift markedly further from the twee vortex than others that court this terrain. The titular track is the perfect example of this - a crunching guitar, high, breathy vocals, and a steely mesh of noise underneath that propels everything forward at a bracing pace. 'Clover' follows a similar mode, then 'Stuck' offers a stripped, stark, bare counterpoint. It is all done with flair and aplomb - and with the presser boasting that many Flowers tracks are written within an hour, fully formed, we should hear a hell of a lot more soon.

Spectral Slumbers Left Up On The Mantle

It's funny how people's taste can be so similar yet so different. A good friend James is into the Fortuna Pop!/Slumberland Records camp 4 lyf, loving the twee ambling pop that comes from these stables. I tend to find that I have to tread carefully in this realm, as for every Veronica Falls there is a mortally twee release that just rubs me up the wrong way. So we often find ourselves at odds when discussing records of this ilk, and nothing has polarised more than Yorkshire bro's Spectrals. Whilst I didn't think much of their debut Bad Penny (here's what I put here), James raved about it being one of the better releases of 2011. Sob Story is their sophomore release, and the tide has turned. Whilst James laments the Jones' turns at countrified twang, I find these slower rambles disarming, especially the title track (probably James' most hated song, so there you go). Louis Jones' voice is incredibly stronger, the confidence dripping off every phrase, whilst the jangly guitars are pristine (thanks to ex-Girl(s) JR White's pretty fantastic production work). I was not expecting much from this album, but from the jumpy washes that echo through 'Milky Way' to the college-radio ramble of 'Karaoke', Sob Story barely puts a foot wrong here. If I still had a car, this would be jammed in the player ad nauseum. Great stuff.

Spectrals - Karaoke 
Spectrals - Milky Way

Yet James and I kissed and made up over Long Enough To Leave, the second LP from San Franciscans The Mantles. I was quietly confident about this one - their Raspberry Thighs 7" from 2011 was a fave of mine - and whilst it mainly avoids the scuzzy garage leanings of prior releases, The Mantles are becoming masters of their minimal garage pop realm. It's still ramshackle, it's filled with more hooks than Moby Dick, it still feels like it's been recorded in the rickety shed at the farthest reach of the backyard, fuelled with cheap wine and Beatles regalia - and it still enamours endlessly. Again, confidence plays a part here - there is no cacophonous outburst because bluster and subterfuge isn't needed to distract from what are essentially warm, relatable pop tunes. 'Reason's Run' is currently my favourite track on here, with it's more ragged, dangerous preamble ('When you saw me ahead, you should’ve crossed the street… you must be more careful about who you meet"), but it's hard to sit still on this. Think early Paul Kelly, the Feelies, the Clean - think whatever you like. The Mantles are holding the whole room together, and it's about time you noticed this.

The Mantles - Raspberry Thighs
The Mantles - Reason's Run

Both albums are available through Slumberland Records - you can get them here.

Holding Ides Forever In Prisms

Man, I've fallen hard for this song. Whilst Saturday was all about White Hills and Houndstooth, and Sunday was chilling on the Porch(es.) with Baby Birds Don't Drink Milk, I was always coming back to 'Prisms', the new single from Ides (AKA Alanna McArdle from Joanna Gruesome, who also have a new-ish track out) as part of Art Is Hard Records' Postcard Club. The step-up in production values (her earlier stuff is considerably lo-fi, and whilst the earnestness is evident, McArdle's power is somewhat muted) is a huge improvement, and instead of a maudlin curiosity we have a behemoth of heart wrenching capabilities. Think of Low's 'Laser Beam' from Things We Lost In The Fire - McArdle has that haunted delivery that Mimi Parker embodies, so when she sings It was over before it began you are lost at sea, never to return.

I seriously cannot explain how much this track has blindsided me. If Ides only launches this song before Joanna Gruesome swallows up McArdle whole, it won't matter - 'Prisms' is a minor masterpiece.

You can get 'Prisms' from AIH's Postcard Club here. Ides is playing the UK's B's (Bristol, Brighton, Bournemouth) in August and finishing up with the AIH festival in London August 31st.

Big Waves Are Hard

English super independent label Art Is Hard continue to churn out the releases, and the latest one to grab is this AA side cassette (in gold!) from Torquay golden kids Big Wave. It floats on the periphery of the C86-enamoured Fortuna Pop! crowd without succumbing to the more saccharine tropes - an imminently good thing. Big Wave have been in cahoot with AIH for years, appearing on their Dry Route To Devon compilation as well as their Bi-Weekly Pizza Singles Club, and this first full release amply steps up these original slices of jangly pop whilst straddling the euphoric with the morbid a la Veronica Falls ('GW Bridge' being a song about one of New York's most "popular" suicide spots).  I actually prefer this track more than 'Goldmine' - although on repeated listens it won me over. Nevertheless, it's two songs of pristine hooks and melodies, enough to melt this twisted heart at least.

Goldmine/GW Bridge comes out May 20 - preorder it here.

Big Wave - GW Bridge