It seems some musicians and some of their handlers have realised the promotional video is worthy again of having some money poured into it. Things aren’t going to go back to the halcyon MTV days of “Let’s do the clip on a yacht! In Sri Lanka! With supermodels!” but between armies of Taylor Swift’s various identities, P!nk providing employment for so many recently retrenched from Ringling Brothers Circus, and an hour of Beyoncé celebrating love and betrayal with bonus baseball bat, the filmic budgets have obviously gone up a bit again.
But again, things are probably more interesting one step down – kind of like Sundance Festival indie features as opposed to the latest epic from the Marvel universe. The National seem to be putting in a real effort in pushing the unarguably magnificent Sleep Well Beast, providing pictures for various tracks from it every few weeks, with I’ll Still Destroy You (4AD/Remote Control) being the latest edition. In which they go all quirky and Scandinavian cinematic: a pop-up nightclub in Copenhagen, for a party you’re not sure you’d want to be at. The sound is a little more programmed and electronic than you might expect, but Matt Berninger is still the confused man alone in the middle as some low-key chaos swirls around him – musically and visually.
Meantime, The War On Drugs head off on a discomforting American road-trip with Nothing To Find (Atlantic). Things get a bit surreal as it pitches somewhere between Wes Anderson and David Lynch maybe. They get even more cinematic and youth cred by having Sophia Lillis – you know, this month’s It girl in a couple of meanings of the term – as the girl in the organic car with the organic driver as dancing and shoplifting ensues. What this has to do with the actual content as the song quietly clatters away beneath we’re not really sure, but it all inveigles to an ending conclusion that we all end up as mulch whatever happens. How cheery.
And sometimes the pictures are just right. As the terrific punky girlie rush of Bloods’ Bug Eyes (I Oh You) unfurls, it’s all share houses and waiting for trains - as has been the way of living in Australia’s inner-suburbs near a uni since the last quarter of last century. This is music that you’ll absolutely hear as wake-up soundtrack on your local community radio station, hooky and catchy as an old Hummingbirds tune. And the pay-off of meeting the object of affection for a gig at the Enmore Theatre is almost an assurance this is set to be one of the first feelgood hits of the summer. Although it’ll probably be too warm to wear that perfect jacket.
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Other things can be even more unexpected. You kinda knew – in fact, kinda hoped – that Nic Cester’s return wouldn’t just be a recycling of the recycling that was Are You Gonna Be My Girl?, but the Jet frontman’s embrace of a slightly puzzling mix of Euro retro influences in songs like Eyes On The Horizon (Bloodlines) has yet to be worked out by either his old audience or a potential new one. Does Australia want something that sounds a bit like it was made in Italy in 1971, or will the commercial FM masses look past this until his old band start doing inevitable performances at V8 Supercar events or footy finals? He appears sincere about it, but is that enough?
If you really want to embrace the past, go hard at it. Mark Sultan might be better known to some enthusiasts as the latter half of The King Khan & BBQ Show, and their frayed and bent mix of punk and doo-wop. But under his own name on the marquee, Let Me Out (Wick/Daptone) is pure garage soul plea for release from a love gone bad. Its scratchy guitar and squelchy organ sounding like he’s crept into the carport where Question Mark & The Mysterians just finished up recording 96 Tears, left all the amps and recording settings the same, and just kicked on. All the urgency of 1967, and a slight sneer from 2017. Goes well.
But if you want to announce you’ve recorded somewhere with real history and cachet, consider how the mostly under-the-radar in their homeland Tenderfoot have signed to an overseas label, and ended up at a little recording set-up in London called Abbey Road, complete with orchestra, and knocking tunes out on a piano previously used by some band who thought said studio was good enough to name an album after (Yeah, them…). Good on ‘em. The Balance (Audio Network) is a polished and well-constructed thing. In its slightly country-ish tone perhaps The Panics might be the reference point you need to consider their work and thoughtfulness.
But somewhere in their laidback conversational strum, is the quieter feeling of an Australian suburb’s meanderings. Calling themselves Backyard seems to make it even more right. Royal Park (Habit) comes with Adnan Kadric’s observations and ponderings which are of an absolutely Australian model – Paul or Dan Kelly would be happy to claim him and his band as their long-lost Bosnian nephew or cousin. This is a relaxed music, although never quite comfortable, and certainly not lazy.
There’s a different kind of indie in what MOD CON offer. Please not all-capitals typeface to signify intent. It’s a gumbo mix of Melbourne indie identities, guises, and styles: Sara Retallick’s Jimmy Tait/Golden Syrup pop, Sally Seltmann-sideperson and Fatti Frances’ odd funkiness from Raquel Solier, and Erica Dunn’s Palm Springs alt-ish country falling together to make the fuzzy racket of Do It Right Margo (Poison City) somehow working in the midst of that many moods and many musics.
