Album Review: Kirin J Callinan - Embracism

There will be a lot of talk about whether or not Embracism will justify Kirin J Callinan's reputation for theatrics and controversy. The answer to that question's both subjective and dull. Which is to say, impossible to answer. On the topic of whether Embracism is a good record, matters are a little clearer. It's a great piece of music.

Few will immediately enjoy everything on display. Over the course of the album, Callinan mashes together cacophonous lo-fi electronics (Halo), massive '80s synth progressions (Victoria M), weepy orchestral ballads (Chardonnay Sean) and liberal lashings of Australian post-punk vitriol (Embracism). Many may be put off by Callinan's vicious, proudly Australian accent or blunt, fragmented lyrics. Crucially, though, it all feels viscerally authentic. It doesn't feel affected or contrived. Callinan's been compared to a lot of artists and most of those comparisons are justified. He does howl like a young Nick Cave. Chardonnay Sean does recall Scott Walker. He's not beholden to those touchstones, though. In its weird collision of sounds, Embracism feels like a very honest, very personal work. Urgent and expressive.

Of course, a lot of that does depend on whether you think Callinan is fundamentally full of crap – but even naysayers would be hard-pressed to deny some of the talent on display. The aforementioned Chardonnay Sean – seemingly Callinan's ode to a friend who died in a car crash – is such a devastatingly good song, and of such heartbreaking immediacy, it will almost certainly find itself besmirched by an episode of a middling Australian drama in the near future.

Give it a shot, anyway. It's a great album.