Customers, if you didn’t realise – and it appears quite a few don’t – by weight of numbers of ARIAs on the mantelshelf and tunes in the most recent Hottest 100 (three in the top ten, and another one a little further down…) Gang Of Youths are currently Australia’s biggest band. For those not in the cult, they remain a little problematic: this rock and roll thing just seems such a serious business. Let Me Down Easy (Mosy/Sony) is actually the song that finished as runner-up to the problematic-in-its-own-way HUMBLE. (Oh, Kendrick’s calling himself “bitch” – now, is that psychologically better or worse…?), but as the GoY’s strings and guitars jab insistently at you even attraction seems hard work. That Le’aupepe is utterly sincere in the heart-clutching emotion of what he does is unquestioned – but is there ever a moment where he does just Go Farther In Lightness? Or a song where he’s just musing on packing the dishwasher rather than carrying the weight of the world? Marketing note: despite its poll success, this was actually second or third focus track off the album some months back, but the corporation has decided is still somehow underperformed, and so gets a new promotional kick along for the new year. Does this mean they can go for the gold in the listener vote again on next year’s day after Australia Day, or whenever the radio station chooses to hold it?
Of course, another going talking point in the pop music both locally and internationally is a woman’s place in the band, on the playlists, in the industry, on a festival bill, and everywhere else. Camp Cope’s opening kick to our metaphorical balls, The Opener, was the necessary animal howl to start the conversation but Cable Ties have maybe further distilled the message, and put it in even more #Strayan terms. While covering some of the same philosophical territory as their labelmates, Tell Them Where To Go (Poison City) comes on running-on-rails guitar rifferama of which Vanda & Young would be proud, and the obvious message of the title. You - regardless of gender, gender preference, ethnicity, or whatever else – should just make a racket. Change is coming. Too fucking slowly, sure – but hopefully it is.
Same rules should apply to those who’ve been doing the business for a while, but can still deliver. Eels’ musical timeline over the last few years has been a marvellously idiosyncratic and eccentric thing. Three albums in a year tracking the rise and fall of a relationship, then a more orthodox album that seemed some sort of reset button to take things back to ‘normal’. That has been followed by nearly four years of silence. Then a couple of typically cryptic Facebook posts and tweets last week as a very low-key fanfare, and out pops The Deconstruction (E Works), with Mr Everett pondering on the human condition in the familiar manner of his 20-or-so years of work. This is a good thing. An album is slated to follow, apparently to be billed as ‘Eels Orchestra and Choir’. But on past record (and records…) that could mean a lot of things. We await, as patiently as possible.
Then there’s the law of obviously diminishing returns. No argument, in his heyday Moby made some of the most original and individual music of his time, some of which seemed actually timeless. Similarly, some of his video’s visuals will forever be in the hall of fame. I’m guessing MTV would have such a thing. But now, maybe not so much. Mere Anarchy (Pod/Inertia) is more music as serious business: himself pontificating on big things as CGI effects accompany him across one of your typical post-apocalyptic wastelands that we inevitably seem to be heading toward. Maybe. It’s all very lush and well-constructed, and he looks you square in the eye to prove this is ‘AN IMPORTANT ARTISTIC STATEMENT’. Trouble is, you’re left not really feeling anything much at all - let alone that. Bit of a shame all round.
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Things are often more effective when the emotions are kept more intimate. The feeling that you are part of the thought process, rather than merely being lectured. The hurt, confusion, and mixed feelings are apparent in Caroline Says’ Sweet Home Alabama (Western Vinyl). No, it’s certainly not the Lynyrd Skynyrd ‘70s beers-aloft redneck anthem of the same name. This is smaller, a woman diarising her escape from there to Austin – if unaware, the hippest town in Texas and certainly more the place for the sensitive folktronica singer-songwriter type. There is discomfort, unease, but the chance of a happy ever after. Let’s go with that. Bonus: Artist name appropriated from a Lou Reed song, in case you were wondering.
To be honest, memories of The Ruminaters’ somewhat surreal deconstruction of Hot Chocolate’s You Sexy Thing are forever burnt into my synapses, but they now wander back into more larrikin punk territory with Boys Off Work (Sunball Machine). Again, this is a song of true #Strayan attitude and mood. Noise kicks in and it’s a middle finger to the boss - and off for beers. And worry about the next thing tomorrow. Or the next day. This will come towards the sweaty end of the set, and you’ll hopefully be back from the bar before they get to the chorus. And sing it you will.
And sometimes you just need to watch a craftsman at work. Glen Hansard, from his pimply youth dating back to The Commitments – yeah, that was him in that – through the Irish heartbeat of The Frames has never really been beholden to fashion or trend. But when he rolls out stuff like Roll On Slow (Anti-) why would you? This is Celtic soul music of the classic model, right down to the blurts of Van Morrison brass that stab through it. Throw in a Springsteen reference in the verse, and what more do you need for entertainment?
