Briggs' Rugby League Theme Is About More Than Footy; It's About Pride & Solidarity

As half of AB Original, the estimable Briggs has found a way to open a social and political conversation, the probably otherwise wouldn’t have happened. But hey, let’s move onto the really important stuff: The Rugby League. Here (Bad Apples Music/Sony) is ostensibly a jingle for a pay-TV network’s footy coverage trailer – and that’s fine, but listen closer. It’s about pride, and skill, and solidarity, and done so well it’s proved worthy of more orthodox release. Even as Caiti Baker’s sweeter counterpoint vocal kicks in, the big fella’s urgency and sincerity makes this yet another thing of his that needs to be heard. 

There is, of course, no one true Australia. It’s certainly not the endless heat-hazed red of the travel ads. Most of us, even beyond those of us clinging to coast dreaming of a water view are more of a sprawling grey. Jen Cloher gives Regional Echo (Milk!) her sharp-eyed weariness of those worn down, and those with some hope of escape of a small town’s small thinking. Shot on location in bassist Bones Sloane’s hometown of Goulburn, there are necessary shots of the national landmark that is The Big Merino, but sadly none of the glorious time-warped flock wallpaper of The Paragon Café, famous rock n roll pitstop on those endless trips up and down the Hume. 

And while there’s alternative Australias, somewhere there’s an alternative universe where Spinal Tap really is a documentary, and The Darkness would likely be their support act on their tour of air force hangers. All The Pretty Girls (Cooking Vinyl) is almost the perfect title, the blatant ripping off of an old Led Zeppelin riff an almost perfect reference point. There is much high-pitched keening about nights on the road, and – unsurprisingly – girls, of an age which makes the band pretty creepy in this band having them as objects of affection. To paraphrase an old rock and roll truism: When should a gentleman stop wearing lycra? Simply, a gentleman should never have started wearing lycra in the first place. 

Sensible amounts of denim and leather are more acceptable. The Lockhearts have a touch of retro feeling to them – but because they admit things like the band forming over a mutual love of the first four Van Halen albums, it’s more a genuine historical affection. Ride Home (Golden Robot) comes with an almost southern rock swagger. Possible reference point: Black Crowes, when they were good. Somehow, there’s still a bit of Australian wink and pisstake to it. They go all right. 

Of course, the music can change and even the name can change. Joel & Dan Crannitch were part of early ‘10s local contenders, Leader Cheetah. Then they gave it all away for a while, even moving to different cites to give themselves some distance. Four years on, the siblings reconvene having found something a common interest down the alt.country/Americana line. As The San Sebastians they happily namecheck Band Of Horses and The Avett Brothers as Red River (Spunk) has some space to it, and some strings that burn across it, with Dan’s voice a distinctive thing. 

The Cribs have always been one of those Northern English bands of slightly angry and/or wasted disposition stuck in a middle ground of being better than the second tier they seem anchored in, rather than stepping up to the Premier League. It’s a common problem of certain Yorkshire football teams as well. Back down to the core trio of the Jarman Brothers – after having others involved up to and including Johnny Marr at one point – for this go-round they engage Steve Albini as producer for Rainbow Ridge (Sonic Blew/Arts & Crafts), who takes his usual grunge-era approach of turning everything to the verge of feedback, and then hitting ‘Record’. Your feeling about that formula will probably be your basis for liking or not. 

Born Joy Dead’s make a perfectly indie buzzy, jangly, and echoey noise - although Sinkhole Holiday (Independent) has some dynamic to it as Ben Dalton runs through a range of good - but more often bad - moods. Although you get the feeling he knows those slings and arrows shall also pass. Likely to be heard of your local community radio station in short order. 

Ah Purity Ring, you wonderfully cryptic bordering on esoteric thing, you. Wispy, wafting, but somehow with a sad and oppressive undercurrent. Asido (4AD/Remote Control) is almost Bjork-like in its textures in some places, with lyrics that may well have been translated from the Icelandic as well. It puzzles and yet engrosses. Let’s see if Megan’s description of what’s going on may enlighten us more: “I imagine a tractor digging graves. I imagine crying blood. And I imagine eggs being swept away in it.” Yes, well that clears that up nicely, doesn’t it?