The Single Life: Courtney Barnett, Eso & More

It tends not to be just a movie anymore - it’s now the multi-media, multi-platform event. Thus, coming soon to a multiplex near you and/or a pirate service on this very screen you’re staring at, the new latest instalment of the Divergent franchise – you know, the movie series some churlish souls may refer to as ‘The Hunger Games you have when you’re not having a Hunger Games’. This, of the seemingly never-ending collections of sequels actually gores by the name Divergent Insurgent. That itself sounding a little like an out-take lyric from R.E.M.’s End Of The World As We Know It.

Naturally, there’s a big soundtrack album to go with the flick with some pretty handy names involved. With the added hook of some potentially intriguing collaborations. Although there’s Kendrick Lamar and your very own Tame Impala colliding, the marketing plan is actually leading off with the perhaps even more commercially approachable intertwining of M83 ft. Haim. Mr Gonzalez constructs a typical churning bed of guitars and other machines for Holes In The Sky (Interscope), then adds his drenching of reverb to sisters’ crystalline warbling for both sides of the equation to be served.

For those of you who can remember riffling through the racks of your local recorded music emporium, you’d come across some labels which suggested a certain quality to the product – even if you didn’t immediately recognise the artiste involved. Melbourne’s has such a grand little cottage industry operation in play with the splendid Milk! combine. Simultaneously one of its curators and figureheads, the splendid and estimable Courtney Barnett. Depreston (Milk!) is her latest deadpan take on the suburban blues. But listen, as what starts as a simple trundle through the endless punching yourself in the face of trying to deal with finding a rental property in 21st century #Straya, finds emotion in the little details of a life found on side-tables and mantelshelves of a ‘Californian bungalow with pressed metal ceilings’.

Labelmate and similarly idiosyncratic artist, Fraser A. Gorman. He too is puzzling on the human condition and the sometimes mundane struggle of it with Broken Hands (Milk!). He hides the thought process (…a bit) with a surprisingly breezy and melodic acoustic swing, and added goats. And magic carpet. And tram. He - and the aforementioned Courts - are just a bit damn special. Be glad we have them.

Mr Gorman once fairly unashamedly took some wardrobe and hairstyling cues from a young poetic mythic figure called Bob Dylan. The stovepipe suits, dishevelled barnet of hair, and permanently affixed Ray-Bans have long gone, and Bob – in one of his stranger moves, in a career often noted for zigging when everyone though he’d zag – lately has him raiding Frank Sinatra’s back catalogue, when he’s noted for having a few good tunes of his own. He’s embraced it to the point of apparently ungrudgingly appearing in concept videos such as this, which local enthusiasts should note is the work of Blacktown boy made good, Nash Edgerton. The venerable Bob sings tunefully somewhere between a croon and a croak through The Night We Called It A Day (Columbia), and in perhaps the greatest surprise of all, seems to be enjoying himself immensely. Kinda.

It’s also apparently happier days for Max MacKinnon. Perhaps better known as the latter element of Bliss N Eso, this first solo turn for the widely-regarded MC is part of a self-celebration where kicking the booze and ‘Just being happy you’re here’ has become part of his new creed. You think about cringing when the song is called Sunny Days (Illusive) but is a man seeing mornings through less bloodshot eyes, and revelling in that. It’s a bit hard to begrudge him his survival and renewal.

Having one of his occasional sidetracks from getting the band back together, Martin Gore has always been in the slightly odd position of being the guy who writes the songs for Depeche Mode, but doesn’t sing them. While for 30 years never much in the way of ‘moon and spoon and June’ sunshine and lollipop romance, his solo work can sometimes tend even more toward the high concept, or just high falutin’. This one, with its own peculiar self-importance, is called Europa Hymn (Mute). Let us stare earnestly into the middle distance, and consider pop music as a serious business – much as he always has.

Similarly, Jim Jones of My Morning Jacket is dealing with some big issues as well. Thing is, the emo generation is growing up (hopefully), and Jim’s realised he’s reached that point when his contemporaries are hitting that adult point of having kids and/or divorcing. These, indeed, are the Big Decisions (ATO). Band approach the subject with due diligence, and hope the audience still can afford to purchase their product after lawyers and/or obstetricians bills are cleared.

The Mis-Made go for the moody monochrome approach, but can be a bit hard to categorise, perhaps depending on which way you come at them. There might be some smudged mascara goth in Enigma (Independent) with its violin counterpoint, before it arcs up some way through for an almost ‘90s grunge/hard rock feel. Whatever, Jess Finlayson (ex-Nitocris) is a helluva guitar player.

Then there’s those bands who seem to forever be getting closer to getting it absolutely right, and you know they’ve got to hit it one day sooner rather than later. The Voltaire Twins synthesised, skirting dangerously close to old-school disco, music comes with assurance and no little style. Long Weekend (Higher Plains) reflects shinily off the mirrorball and will get a few more people to notice.