To Infinity And Beyond...Hobart

I have written about some of the weird and wonderful noises echoing out of the Apple Isle that is Tasmania, dangling down across the Tasman from the Australian mainland, festering in their own fermenting juices, insular and exciting. One of the main bullhorns spouting the wonders of this places is Wrong Place Right Time Records, and a little while back they released a wrap-up of 2015 in Hobart called Neighbourhood of Infinity. It’s suitably named after a Fall track, and chronicles every facet of warped wonder to emanate from the place. A few you might recognise from these hallowed halls, such as the food-obsessed All The Weathers (the deliciously bent ‘Beans’), Heart Beach (the warmly forlorn buzz of ‘Tegan’), Native Cats (the lyrical staccato/soapbox scree ‘Scratch Act’), Bi-Hour (the downward broken-industrial spiral schooled by an insane headmaster that is ‘Truism’) and Treehouse (jangling and stumbling through the early dawn, a jocular jig and inebriated slip to ‘Hammer At The Door’). But the delights are just as gripping from other quarters – the slow insidious crawl and shadowed incremental cacophony of Wasted Idol’s ‘Seventeen’; the bubbling stargazing spectrum hum of Filthy Little Star’s ‘Keep On Whistling’ (reminding me somewhat of the pastoral experimentation of Soda Eaves and the aforementioned Native Cats in part); the ground-out post-punk bawl and plaintive moths-in-the-wallet despair of Naked’s ‘Beer’; the sneered punk squall of Powernap’s ‘Burn This City’. It’s all wild and weird and necessary. Grab it here.

Going For Gold Weathers

Just to show how skewed the scene is in Tasmania in Australia is Wrong Place Right Time Records. The Native Cats, Bi-Hour, Steven Wright (of Bi-Hour fame), Naked, RBP, Treehouse, Mess O' Reds - they have shone a light on them all. The latest release they have unearthed, excavated, dusted off and thrust into the light is 6 For Gold by trio All The Weathers. Kicking off with the irascible, off-kilter clusterfuck that is the baiting, bracing 'ABC', with Georgia's hyperventilating howl demanding centre stage, things bleed into more sinister realms with elongated tracks 'Wipeout' (with screaming, desperate sax solo) and '1838'. Think of bands like Bent or Girls Pissing On Girls Pissing for a semblance of the desiccated, rural gothic avant deconstructions on offer here. There is even a little of the Raincoats/Trash Kit about their shout-and-response fanaticisms and altered-state percussion, all done with tongue buried alive in the cheek. 'OH And Yes' though is the epitome of the band in my opinion - a heady mixture of chaos, texture, expulsion and implosion. Always deliciously unhinged, regardless of (all) the weathers.

Buy 6 For Gold on vinyl here. All the Weathers play tonight in a church (St George's Church in Battery Point, to be exact) alongside Adventurers, All The Best and Filthy Little Star - sounds bloody amazing.

METRO SCHOOL REUNION FOREVER!

(Post written by Fred Savage Beasts)

Adelaide - home of the severely underrated genius. Right where Australia balances between the currents from the Antarctic and the wide, brown desert. Wide streets, trams, Jamie Siddons, Crows and now this… The Metro School Reunion. This is the reason you’ve been looking for to take your beat up VK Holden on its final legendary drive.

Get a load of the bands on the list, dammit! TV Colours alone would make this worthwhile. Like the Crows say, “FAAARK…” All these bands should be in the test team.

TV COLOURS★CONSTANT MONGREL★HIT THE JACKPOT★NATIVE CATS★LAKES★SCHOOL OF RADIANT LIVING ★BITCH PREFECT★PEAK TWINS★OLD MATE★RULE OF THIRDS★WIREHEADS 

On at the city's stalwart Hotel Metropolitan on October 5. Wind down the windows, rubber band your teas towels round your frozen water bottles and get yourself there. Any way you can.

Believe in Devil World in your Mind

Two songs from south and even further south of the ‘Deep North’ that is Queensland. Yeah, the place where we complain about a winter that would see most people around the world stripping to near illegal limits in order to sun themselves in the nearest public park.

Richard in your Mind’s ‘Hammered’ is this kind of song (the turning your white bits into red bits kind). It’s a bit drunk on life and cheap wine. You know those scenes on the front of goon boxes where the Victorian style people (not Melbourne hipsters, the sex-starved, non-ironic corset wearers of the queen Victoria) sit around having an idyllic picnic replete with parasols and blossoms? Well this is for your backyard version of the same thing. Smile through the burn, tongue in cheek, you’re not drowning, just drinking heavily.

Peter Escott’s (of the Native Cats) ‘Believe in Devil World' is not that kind of song. It’s more the reflection afterwards as you examine your burning skin and chapped lips in the mirror. The tongue here is not in cheek; it’s forked. Devil World is that place on the other side of the Victorian picnic (in both the hipster and corseted sense). Tasmania winters are not the time for picnics with your baby – unless you harbour motives ulterior to enjoying yourself by the riverside. Devil World is that place you try to escape when you knock back that third glass of cheap champagne and wonder whether bodies float or not.

Escott's album The Big O comes out on Bedroom Suck in August; Richard In Your Mind's Ponderosa is out next month too on Rice Is Nice.