"If that means good, and honest, and worthy of note – yeah, what they said."
Sometimes it seems like it’s almost a matter of ”So, what’s this week’s Tame Impala-related item?” And lo, it be a Pond one. Originally designed to come as part of their last album before the next one, 30000 Megatons (Spinning Top) slipped through the cracks, but they recalled they had it on the hard drive somewhere in light of certain political events in the United States over the last couple of weeks – hopefully not as a prediction of how much ‘advice’ the new administration is likely to drop on Iran. Song unfurls in distinctly old-school Floydian psychedelic kinda way, the layers building towards its inevitable guitar wigout into a beautiful chaos.
The clutching at straws in relation to those aforementioned recent American political events sometimes come down to a vague hope that repressive times leads to a flourishing of music that might actually be saying something. You know, Thatcher gave us punk – that’s gotta be worth invading the Falklands for, innit? So, after three years of drawing breath through the Obama second term, the fabled pissed-off racket of Pissed Jeans heaves itself out of the beanbag, to have a scratch and good look round. They actually hail from Allentown, Pennsylvania – and having Billy Joel write a crap song to try and prove him social awareness should be enough to shit you for starters – but for their return, The Bar Is Low (Sub Pop) they choose personal politics over national ones, pointing out that ‘some men can be real shitheads’. Their suburban music remains surly, even mean, but sadly that’s probably entirely what’s called for now. New album follows early in new year.
Looking further inward, Holly Throsby first work under her own name in some years deconstructs and reconstructs a damaged relationship in What Do You Say? (Spunk). With the forever downbeat tones of Sun Kil Moon’s Mark Kozelek as the other voice, the recently lauded author goes into an oddly resigned discussion/argument with him as whether they’re actually good for each other. There’s a strange awkward tension to the conversation. The fact that you end up not altogether convinced sure if they actually are better together speaks to the quality of her art.
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So, the other side of the ‘you can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your relatives’ coin is this, from Noah Cyrus. Yep, Miley’s sister – or if your mum’s reading this, Billy-Ray’s other daughter. She actually has some of the plaintiveness in her voice that Miley sometimes loses in her need to be stridently heard, but Make Me (Cry) (RECORDS Records) is more electronically-based and maybe subtler than what her big sis is up to. It’s well-constructed pop, certainly but it maybe can’t quite decide what market it’s after, so you’ll probably have to wait and see whether she’s more Sean Lennon or Jamie-Lynn Spears.
Speaking of just excellently constructed music, this is what Michael Carpenter makes. Here fronting his Cuban Heels band guise, he runs his line of somewhere between power pop and country rock in a joyous and assured fashion. Photo (Same Tune) rattles along like the best of one of the better suburbs of Nashville, but still has hints of its soul actually being deep in the heart of Leichhardt. His old-school work ethic has Carpenter respected as producer, sideman, or out-front performer, but his unpretentious just-getting-it-done nature bizarrely might hold him back a bit. Proof again there’s little justice in the world, because this is just tops.
Sticky Fingers also have a distinct range, with Sad Songs (Sureshaker/MGM) tacking more to the baggy-era Manchester side of their style than their sometimes hints of Jamaica through a cloud of ganja smoke. There’s some questioning honesty and feeling in the tune as well, as they kick a can along the footpath having a bit of a grumpy and reflective muse about life, rather than the laddish hijinks they can sometimes default to. Our kids might be growing up. But hopefully not too fast, and too much.
Meanwhile, in Iceland. Well actually, not in Iceland quite so much. Emiliana Torrini made the artistically brave choice a couple of years ago to break up the band and see what happened. And so, a songwriter who’s already collaborated with interesting range names from Smog’s Bill Callahan to our very own Princess Kylie has traversed from gypsy and jazz bands, and from Israel to anywhere ends up linking – for the moment, anyway – with Belgium’s Colorist Orchestra, who recast many of her songs in their image. This new version of her Speed Of Dark (Rough Trade/Remote Control) keeps the bones of the song, but make it a layered mix of the organic and the mechanical – its odd insistence dragging you (and the live audience present) into its world.
Again proving Melbourne’s Luna Park should be the default setting for ‘old amusement park after dark to provide threatening atmosphere’, Bliss n Eso jump out of the way of the dodgem cars to also go for hip-hop with some confessional introspection rather than empty boasts. Dopamine (Illusive) admits weaknesses, and casts around for answers. One of the early comments under the Youtubery declared “This is some dope shit”. If that means good, and honest, and worthy of note – yeah, what they said.