The cellophane-wrapped single rose hurriedly picked up at the servo on the way home is already wilting. You’re down to arguing over who gets the last Almond Cluster in the box of Cadbury Milk Tray, and you kind of accept the postie isn’t going to drop off that card you hoped got lost at the mail centre. But even as that boon to the floristry, confectionary, and guilt industries known as Valentine’s Day fades away for another year you realise that love – lost, found, and/or pending – is still one of the major currencies in the pop song business.
But while that scarily young Ms Yelich-O’Connor (aka, that Lorde person…) has reset the bar for the emotional depth of young adults, you’re probably didn’t really expect the quieter textured longing that our Mallrat has infused into UFO (Dew Process/Nettwerk). It’s quite different than the stuff that got her on the Hottest 100 and increasing international notice. Cruisy, but with some tension, it is pop – but does seem real, and certainly high-functioning for the 19-year-old she is. All of the above, and the guest element of Allday – sweetly, one of the Rat’s early musical inspirations – sets her nicely for an upcoming SXSW appearance, and an appearance on various recommended new music playlists like the NME’s (and mine, of course…) and things seem to be building quite nicely.
Various false dawns like a slightly undercooked EP a year or two back, and rumours of locking themselves in a recording studio with Rick Rubin have tested the love of fans of The Strokes. But ongoing musical differences like “No, it was your mate who brought the heroin in…” means the full-scale revival is more a 2019 hope and dream. So please don’t take the title of The Voidz new thing Pointlessness (RCA) as an omen. But equally, don’t go in expecting Mr Casablancas’ combo to providing you with the guitar buzzery of the original band either. While the voice is the familiar New York City drawl, this is more moody and meandering – built on wandering old ‘80s-flavoured synth noises seemingly searching for a hook. But almost contradictorily, it somehow does linger in your head.
But whatever your age, love remains a puzzlement, and that’s the tone of Totally Mild’s From One Another (Chapter Music). There’s a an almost English retro feeling here, with those awkward questions about love – and trying to convince themselves whether they actually need it at all (Hint: Yeah, you probably do…) having that feeling of an eternal uni student doing a couple of philosophy units as long copyrighted by Belle & Sebastian and adjacent bands. But then there’s that kind of shoulder-shrugging acceptance of avoiding the doubts and emotions, because that’s the Australian way. And they do it increasingly well.
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Love can also be shiny like a mirror ball, or one of those nice galvanised bins you can still pick up at Bunnings. Holiday Sidewinder was obviously left sitting on the lounge-room floor watching old Madonna clips on Rage when she was a babe-in-arms. Growing up through the adolescent angst and self-consciousness of Bridezilla, the slightly ironic disco diva that was always in her now is given full rein. Tra$h Can Luv (Personal Best) even comes with just-stylised-enough spelling and a knowing wink that also fits with her other day-job of the moment as Alex Cameron’s touring keyboardist. But this is all about her, and what a gloriously flashy bit of nonsense it is. Love is disposable, and so is a lot of pop music – but that’s all part of the charm here.
Various trials, weaknesses, and the attempt at conquering same have the latest iteration of Okkervil River coming as an oddly hushed and reverent thing. Not quite hymns, not quite gospel – but a tinkling flow that could be viewed through a stained-glass window. Post rock? No, bit too scruffy round the edges to be that. But the self-explanatory title of Don’t Move Back To LA (ATO/[PIAS]) has main fellow Will Sheff groaning worriedly with the doubt that he might not be able to do it without her, so he throws himself at her feet – while of course trying to be subtle about it. It’s a boy thing. We can be a pain like that. But the longing and need here at least seems honest.
Band name of the week of course must go to Moaning. Surprisingly, they’re American but are another who seem to be taking some inspiration from an English sound of around circa 1982. The guitars cascade down through the equally-perfectly titled Tired (Sub Pop/Inertia), as old mate ponders love and human condition - as you do. Photos have them staring seriously into the camera, but there’s also a feeling there might be a touch something akin to an Eels-like sardonic acceptance of life’s absurdities to them as well – as exampled here by two words: ‘bathing hamster’.
