The Single Life: Xavier Rudd, Refused & More

Ah, music – tis now an international village. Thus, tunes can emanate from many corners of the globe. Although it could still be questioned how a globe can have corners in the first place.

To pose some further musical, geographical and temporal enquiries, let us first to Sweden where local combo Refused offered up an album called The Shape Of Punk To Come. That being in 1998, it’s apparently taken them 17 years to work out just what geometric shape said ‘Punk’ may take. First hint after this delay of almost Chinese Democracy proportions has the angry Scandinavians offering Francoafrique (Epitaph) – a relentless and rather bloody diatribe as they ponder the various sins of French colonialism, of all things. Obviously, this is not a love song, as some other spiky-haired chap once yelled. 

Or you can take your music back to the source. Seabourne’s electronica of very European coolness is built around the voice and sounds of ‘cryptic chanteuse’ – yeah, I have no idea what that really means either – Larissa Rate, once of Sydney, now of Berlin - where a local label there finds enough points of reference in Oblique (Duchess Box) to release it among their own. The stillness and calm in it gives it a perhaps near-Icelandic accent and class. But moving to Reykjavik might be taking it that step too far. 

Then again, you could just stay at home in Perth and make music for the world. Kucka also veers to a sophisticated synthesised soul (go on, say that three times fast…) that would likely appeal more to that European market than closer to home, but Flux 98 (Midnight Feature) has an kinda sweet, kinda sexy longing to it, that remains defiantly just out of reach – I think you’ll find it’s over there on the mantleshelf, just by the WAMI Awards.

Alternately, you can bring some chunks of the world to you. With his newish multi-national combo, the aptly named United Nations, the polarising Xavier Rudd – for godsake man, how many didges to you need to play at once? – gathers players from Samoa, Germany, and New Guinea among other places and manages to make Flag (Salt X) sound like it comes from one place. That place being Jamaica, circa 1979. It’s absolutely shamelessly and affectionately reggae of the classic Marley model. Apparently, other parts of the group’s album add some more Pacific rather than Caribbean flavours, but you can find that out for yourself if you feel the need.

Then there’s bands who are namechecked by many, but likely listened to by far fewer. Well up that list, Big Star - power-pop heroes to many. Slightly sad unrealised rock and roll story for the ages. The drummer thereof, Jody Stephens, links with one Luther Russell of the widely unknown Freewheelers who together title themselves Those Pretty Wrongs – a line pinched form a Shakespearean sonnet, no less – and offer downcast irony such as Lucky Guy (Burger), much like you’d expect. It’s actually a neat little pop construction, but will gain notice on cultish reputation and myth rather than whatever worth it actually has. 

Better idea, just make good little tunes just for the sheer love of it. Love Parade do just that, their take on what they do well-covered in the self-description as ‘sloppy pop music about feelings, cities, heartbreak and all that’. Pretend (Electric Sun) strolls across your line of sight, waves at you, holds your attention through a nifty breakdown section two-thirds of the way in, and then wanders off, leaving you with a tapping foot and pleasant memories. That’s plenty.

Perhaps slightly more pragmatic in their approach to their music – a pragmatism that will probably help get them on the Triple J playlist next week, I Know Leopard offer Close My Eyes (Independent). It comes with the restrained airy harmonies and subtle hooks of the pop moderne. And add a violin. Listen here, then turn on the various radio stations and hear it repeatedly. It’s good, certainly. But because it fits with the fashionable, or on its own terms? Discuss with others if you wish.