As the old song would have it, the revolution will not be televised. But it appears some of it may appear in the commercial break. Next week, if unaware – and I was – is apparently World Recycling Week. Doing their bit, with a handy side order of product placement, a certain world-wide clothing retailer offers up a tune to promote the event. Having M.I.A. as the singer of the song/face of the ad campaign has a nice synergy in itself. She’s obviously a fan of remake and reuse philosophy, on evidence of her appropriation of the hook of The Clash’s Straight To Hell for her Paper Planes of those years ago. Rewear It (H&M) has the artist and various young moderns in a range of locations, dressed in a range of items from the catalogue. It’s a worthy message, and a pretty good song – so why do I still have this cynical itch under my fraying jumper?
Another with a reputation of spooling out messages of protest and observation, Michael Franti & Spearhead reappear with something from a somewhat mellower place. Crazy For You (Concord/UMG) is more of the personal politics in nature, a couple’s warming relationship rather than a community shaking its fist at ‘the man’ while dancing barefoot round the campfire. As ever, he’s utterly sincere in the delivery and the emotions, and you can never really knock that even if somebody just got greedy with the last cone.
The festival anthem is also the territory of The Temper Trap. With the homecoming tour already all-but-sold-out, and the awaited album coming in a couple of months, Fall Together (Liberation Music) is a second sample of the new stuff, although their ability to write songs that almost seem purpose built for the holding of iPhones or lighters above the head apparently remains undiminished. New album has them collaborating with outsiders for the first time, this one with input from Sia/Bats For Lashes co-worker, Justin Parker. But the basic, eminently successful, formula remains intact.
One of last year’s most magnificent singles was Shining Bird’s Rivermouth. With a vision that recalled the widescreen sweeping vistas of The Triffids, you kinda wondered if that one was just a fluke. Delightedly, it seems not. Helluva Lot (Spunk) has a helluva lot going for it. It’s the Murray River rather than the Swan that’s flowing by, but this has that shimmering heat haze and weight to it that denotes the most Australian of songs. This is a band that deserves to happen. And we probably need a song to replace GANGgajang’s Sounds Of Then.
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More political with the familiar, even if delivered in another language, from DTCV. It be the vehicle for former Guided By Voices member James Greer linking with French chanteuse Lola G. here with Histoire Seule (Xemu). The guitar noise is big and rolling, the voice typically Gallic in its breathy sourness. Subject matter is the often overlooked role of women through history, with visuals to illustrate the point from no less than Steven Soderbergh – Sex, Lies, & Videotape, and various other much credentialed film work since – who’s a handy man to know to do your video. Even if he seems to mostly have edited together a bunch of stock footage and Ken Burns stills.
The Good Ship were a nicely rollicking alt.folk band from Brisbane who always seemed that fraction away from wider success. So, the band has kinda of failed to proceed, and Brett Harris of the combo has retitled himself with a similar maritime hint as SS Sebastian, with Nightmare Of 1984 (Independent) probably more in an atmospherically haunting line than the sometimes rambunctious racket of former band. Although various of the former band guise are involved in this, suggesting this was actually one of those amicable breakups. Sidebar: Personally, one of my nightmares of 1984 was the fourth Spandau Ballet album.
Further along the Sunshine Coast the memories are of a few years further along. Selahphonic are dealing with the Ghosts Of 1999 (Rare Finds) in a manner we might call commercially indie. Despite their location, things somehow don’t sound that shiny. But the music that results with just enough guitars and just enough older-sounding synths seems the stuff that’ll fit neatly on that national youth network’s playlist.
Along the same lines, The Sugarcanes can possibly be dated to somewhere between around 1966 and Amy Winehouse. Never Call (Cobra Snake Necktie) is tight and loose strolling soul done with the necessary mix of tears and ‘don’t fuck with me again’. Has a beat, and you can dance to it. For some reason, there’s a strain of particularly Melbourne bands who seem able to do this stuff with the necessary strut and style.
