The Single Life: Big Scary, New Order & More

Sometimes, the old ways still work. There was always a slightly mystical quality to having the radio on, not really paying attention, when something would catch your attention and make you put your ear to the tinny speaker, for something magic was seeping out.

This is kinda what happened here, although it was a digital radio streaming through my laptop, with Henry Wagons – whose rather splendid Tower Of Song programme to which I was listening – Tweeting simultaneously suggesting the tune was provoking some reaction. Then there’s the song itself being splendidly ‘old timey’ in its approach. S.O.B. (Stax/Caroline) – and yes, it is an acronym for exactly what you think – comes on a line from somewhere around an O Brother Where Art Thou? chain-gang, via Sun Studios circa 1955, and maybe a Chicago blues dive ten years after that. That Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats make it sound also absolutely of now is a splendid trick in itself – with the eponymous fella out the front looking like he should be either riding the rails of freight train through Alabama, or running a craft brewery in Newtown.

Also claiming their going back to their old ways – although that doesn’t include the return of the bass-player who anchored and made their sound what it was for 20 years – New Order. And yes, through Restless (Mute) some of the traditional elements remain: the bubbling synths are back toward the front, there’s a twiddly little guitar solo, Barney still can’t sing very well. It’s a neat little pop tune, but as someone asked me the other day ‘what made them so important?’ – it’s largely because they did it first, everyone else followed, and some perhaps even improved on the model. Whether they stayed ahead of the pack is up to the listener. 

Case in point, Big Scary. Organism (Pieater/Inertia) with its buzz, and those catchy little blurts of plastic sax is pop music of the sort New Order at least partly invented. But now, even if sounding a little like it was made in a loungeroom, this is still suitable for (digital) radio, TV, or larger rooms where alcohol is served. Whatever its origins, Tom Iansek’s work has been considered good enough for an AMP acknowledgement, which also hopefully suggests Australia has gone beyond meat-and-potatoes rock with guitars as the default musical model. 

Not that there’s anything wrong with guitars. Although Gold Class might be taking some cues from the post-punk era as well. It comes with a more serious intent – as the black & white visuals and suggestions of crucifixion and drawn daggers may suggest. There might be some late-‘70s Magazine or Gang Of Four in this too – you wouldn’t remember the days when calling music ‘angular’ wasn’t just an excuse to giggle. Life As A Gun (Spunk) – even the title seems clenched and a little guilty – even comes with a little of a Morrissey croon in the vocal, although they might be sick of hearing that comparison too after a while as well. 

Magic Bones probably wouldn’t mind being called ‘punk’, though. It’s from a garage, although they’re probably looking for the keys to steal Dad’s Camry for a joyride. Danger I Am (A&R Department) spins its wheels and then whines off (in a good way), the boy/girl twinned vocals giving it a point of difference. The neat little breakdown, before it pulls itself together and has another run at you adds some handy dynamics, and it’s both scuffed and polished enough to make you want to hear some more.

The world is not all going by in an amphetamine rush. Brooklyn’s Here We Go Magic return after a three-year absence, and use the descriptor ‘fidgety prog’. OK, if you insist. But then Falling (Secretly Canadian/Inertia) also claims some reference point in Brian Eno’s gracefully unfurling soundscapes. Yeah maybe all of the above is present in various measures, but there’s even a couple of chorus hooks among it to hold your attention. If you can find your away among the apparent contradictions, you may find something to treasure. 

There’s a bit of a grab-bag of styles in Canary as well. They want themselves filed somewhere around ‘neo-folk’. But that covers a multitude of sins in itself. There’s some mix of humans and electronics in it. Their delight in having Machine Translations as the support to their launch gig another hint as to where their heads and hearts might lead. Women’s Business’s (Independent) saunter becomes a canter, and heads towards a trot - while remembering it has to get there within a certain amount of time. 

Or you can become comfortable in your discomfort. Perfect Couples (Matador) is just about the perfect title for a Belle & Sebastian tune. Stuart Murdoch would look on such an arrangement with a usual mix of distaste, cynicism, and possibly a slight amount of envy. Less grumpy and self-obsessed that the abovementioned Morrissey, it’s more a dispirited sigh and having it illustrated with a world of denials and deceptions in what could be Wes Anderson colours also seems quite right. And you can dance to it. Probably alone, in your kitchen.