Live Review: THE KITE STRING TANGLE, KILTER, LEAKS

Northcote Social Club, 17/02/14

The first of three acts reading from the same rulebook – warm synth chords, compressed drum loops and live percussion – Leaks makes mellifluous bedroom techno and is clearly in his early days as an artist. Thought he boasts warm bass pulses and cyclical vocal samples, this is music better heard on headphones than seen. With an interestingly dissonant use of Autotune and a nice range of reverbs and filters, this set is smooth music for late night drives with Delicate Love and Often It’s You its highlights.  

Kilter is a more upbeat and engaging presence, triggering samples and remixes of his mates' tracks (including Snakadaktal and London Grammar) he pushes a euphoric, percussion-driven summery sound that the audience responds to warmly. Looking slightly dorky, yet sounding ambitious as he mimes along with the sampled vocals, this injection of personality is a welcome edge in a genre that thrives on anonymity.

“I haven’t released an EP yet. This is crazy. It’s so nice!” laughs Danny Harley aka The Kite String Tangle part way through the third of four sold out shows.

Humble, grateful and prodigiously talented, as if all this wasn’t enough, his Dior Homme roguish good looks, fastened top button and adoring crowd is enough to make anyone head home and have their own stab at James Blake-Mount Kimbie style soulful electronica. As dry ice clouds and the crowd clusters a little closer, Harley appears, triggers icy synth stabs, beats drum pads, croons into his microphone and eases into a stellar set.

For a batch of songs that are mostly new to the attentive audience, the response is ecstatic. What If, Commotion, and a cover of Lorde’s Tennis Court shows his knowing way with atmospherics and suggests that this music feels simpler than what he is striving for. Many artists would see this sort of sold out national tour as a validating peak, but for Harley, bigger impulses seem at work. His rich, natural voice finds a great match on Stone Cold with Laura Boland of local duo Back Back Forward Punch who takes the energy up a notch. Words, “from an EP I’m releasing in April, hopefully,” he bashfully intones, sets the audience alight with its honeyed melodies and clicking beats. ‘This is my last song. Take a guess,’ he smiles ruefully as the crowd thrust iPhones aloft, the bass rumbles in a way it hasn’t all night and his Triple J smash Given The Chance sends us up then out.

Live Review: THE STICKMEN, LOVE OF DIAGRAMS, SUMMER FLAKE

Corner Hotel, 16/02/14

Looking a little lost on the not-enormous stage of the Corner, Summer Flake transfixes the small but growing crowd. The trio, lead by the spectral (and Spector-al) voice and imaginative guitar work of Stephanie Crase, push deceptively smart yet slackly delivered pop. Sounding like a vaguely impatient Low, the chunky chording, and deadpan rhythms provide a perfect, solid base for Crase’s subtly engaging confessionals, and coalesce to give a fantastic opening set.

Moving from the fluid lead lines and observations to the urban intensity of Love of Diagrams, the resolutely 90s sounds continue. Antonia Sellbach's rhythmic bass never strays from lockstep with Monica Fikerle's thrilling drumming. New material like Story Up and the closing Forever, taken from their forthcoming Steve Albini-produced album, boast rich vocal harmonies and a fierce cacophony of guitar that echo the rawness of early My Bloody Valentine, but sounds like no one else. After ten years in the game, they still sound like the best is yet to come.

As the crowd closes in around the stage, The Stickmen arrive, with singer Aldous Kelly looking more like Hank Williams in a check shirt and beige fedora, than the Tasmanian post-punk pioneer he’s known as; a look that enhances his distant, transfixed gaze. Musically however, the band is as phenomenally tight as they’ve ever been.

Driven by the powerhouse drumming of Ianto Kelly, the quartet blast through the high points of the two albums whose vinyl release we’re here to celebrate. The songs reek of the cold air and dark streets of a small city; Paradise, Shoot to Kill, Night and a re-imagined Creep Inside seethe with vicious energy that only enhances their themes. Kelly slurs the vocals, plays with timing and seems simultaneously lazier yet more unhinged. High point of their debut album, Strangeworld is as stunning as ever, its atmosphere more powerful for the turntable scrapes of Matt Greeves, whose controlled chaos is perfectly matched to the veering tempos and sudden dynamic shifts of the rhythm section.

The peerless, Without a Clue follows and melds mercilessly into the instrumental 7000 which itself segues like a hurricane into Who Said it Should Be Good, a sequence that proves the band can play with a comfortable strength rather than the manic desperation that fuelled these songs' first outings. The whole stunning set and rapturous responses acts as further evidence that the beatification of the Stickmen won’t be ending anytime soon.

Live Review: ST JEROME’S LANEWAY FESTIVAL

Footscray Community Arts Centre, 01/02/2014

Another astonishingly prescient lineup announcement in October leads to another blazing hot day spent in Footscray bugging out to a raft of killer sets as Laneway cements itself as one of the country’s best festivals. While not faultless (more shade, a closer stage and a lower douchebag count would be nice), festival organisers yet again find ways to make what was already excellent, even better and only part of that is down to the music selections.

This year kicks off with a cheesy set of electro from kitsch-tastic duo Client Liason who have ditched the props and drawn the focus to their songs and their peerless production sheen. While not the scene-stealing show of last year's Golden Plains, electro-pop in the early slot suits the assembling crowd (and a noisy core fanbase) just fine.

Looking like a RHCP covers band and sounding like a ticked off Real Estate, the muscular indie pop of Bel Air is manna to the shade-huddled crowd. What they lack in vocal chops they make up for in imaginative song construction and smart way with riffs that promises great things down the track.

Lucky for those worrying about calories from many varied and competitively priced beer and food options available, the Dean Turner Stage is not far shy of a kilometer from the entrance. One round-trip to see Mt Warning's opening set of grittily euphoric blues and you’ve earned yourself another cider. The trio plays as though they done a few dozen round trips already today and seem to draw their energy from a deep inner well. Singer Mikey Bee’s American twang, Springsteen punches and chiseled handsomeness is only the first weapon in the band’s possession and their set makes for a nice gearshift from the rest of the bill.

Autre Ne Veut, whatever it means, he really means it. (Photo: Carbie Warbie)

Opening with your best-known song is a bold move and whenever it’s played, Autre ne Veut’s brilliant Play by Play has the potential to be a golden festival moment. More suited to the underground clubs that gave birth to his dubstep/RnB fusion, the moody tension of his voice, swathes of glittering percussion and flabby bass tones don’t quite transition from bedroom to stage as well as hoped.

With shipping containers, cranes and passing trains behind them, the River Stage is a perfect setting for the country chug of Cass McCombs. Playing mostly new material, McCombs’ warm, languid tones and delicate hooks make his set a sheer joy, especially when he ups the volume and the noodling guitars take on a menacing edge, resulting in raucous cheering and new fans.

Kirin J Callinan - again gently battling his mic stand - this time in make up, a mullet and Ken Done outfit, tears through a brilliant set to a core group of fans and several hundred stunned onlookers. “This next song is called Halo. It’s from my album Embracism. If you don’t have it…fuck you,” he jokes, but not without that lingering sense of unease that threads through his best work.

Back at the Future Classic Stage Run the Jewels provide the most aggressive fun anyone could ask for. Arriving to Queen’s We Are the Champions, and cries of “make some motherfucking NOISE Melbourne!” El-P and Killer Mike’s blistering tag-team rap is full of the edgy theatre that the best shows boast. Enough of the crowd knows when to shout the song titles back (“do dope fuck hope!”) to keep things exciting for newbies and the band themselves are clearly having a sweaty good time.

Sweating over some very different sounds is Youth Lagoon, yet another artist whose profile has rocketed since their last visit. A master of textures and a writer of bizarre and wonderful hooks, highlights from last year’s Wondrous Bughouse album litter the set. While the album is a rewarding listen on headphones, here, the mewling textures are fodder to chat over for much of the audience, though once the choruses arrive we’re hooked.

Savages, lethal...as long as they're not in direct sunlight (Photo: Carbie Warbie)

Up the hill at the Moreland Road stage it’s time to ramp things up. Savages are looking elegantly vampiric and archly focused on their intimidatingly exciting set. Opening with Shut Up they move like a gang none of us will ever be cool enough to join, their music is cavernous yet immediate and songs like She Will, No Face and the searing, closing Husbands mark theirs as a high point of the day. Seeing the band walking amongst the crowds later, people look and point but no one seems brave enough to approach them.

In sharp contrast, Dick Diver act as though they’ve come over to play a house party, laughing and joking with the audience from the get go. Head Back gets a rowdy response with only a brief and warmly echoed political diatribe (“Fuck Chris Pine!”) from singer Rupert Edwards breaking the laconic swagger. It’s hard to dislike a man playing what many bands would regard as one of the gigs of their life, dressed in Rip Curl board shorts. Gap Year, Calendar Days and the closing Alice epitomize the easy charm missing from every other band today.

As the sun crawls across the sky, punters jealously guard shady spots and while Cashmere Cat’s dulcet piano, swooping vocal effects and buzzing hi-hats appeal, the pulsing party jams of Unknown Mortal Orchestra draw the sundazed punters into their orbit. Alligator, Ffunny Ffrends and a blazing take on So Good at Being in Trouble emerge out of extended flurries and squalls of psych guitar jams and perfectly calibrated effects settings. Being this good and Kiwi, it’s amazing we haven’t given them an ARIA yet. 

Parquet Courts, the noisiest highlight of the Festival (Photo: Carbie Warbie)

There is little change in personnel along the front barrier by the time Parquet Courts launch into the set of the day. Blasting through the first four tracks from their Light Up Gold album, half the audience are soon gleefully screaming out lines like “Socrates died in the fucking gutter!” into each others faces while the other half smile in bemusement. Stoned and Starving generates the most noise, and several fresh Parquet Courts t-shirts are spotted before the day is out.

Despite sound problems that bite into a good fifth of their set, Chvrches nevertheless deliver a show resplendent in some of the best sound and visuals of any of the day’s acts. Closing with The Mother We Share, a sense of icy perfection lingers after the final chord dies and is replaced by loud affection from the crowd.

Earl Sweatshirt draws a massive crowd, who he then proceeds to gently diss, with the aid of DJ Taco. While his album Doris is full of inspired rhymes and production, live Earl relies on brief bursts of songs that he swiftly moves between, most around two minutes long. It’s disappointing when comparing it to the seething energy of last year’s Odd Future show.

Down at the River Stage, home of the languid rocker, Kurt Vile is emitting good vibes that entrance all that hear him. The songs are glorious but the man himself remains frustratingly enigmatic. Behind dark glasses, a thick curtain of curly hair and an emotionless voice, Vile switches from acoustic to electric as he eases his way around his glorious Wakin’ on a Pretty Daze album, with help from one of the most hirsute bands in recent memory.

A crowd far more vocal in their appreciation of a band can be found about eighty-two miles away at the Dean Turner stage, watching Haim. Almost unfeasibly exciting, talented and with the most ardent crowd of the day, the Haim sisters chat easily with the crowd between dishing out stellar pop tunes. The Wire garners one of the day’s loudest responses and by the end of the set the crowd is comprised of dancing circles of friends.

For those unable to get close, several screens are situated at intervals between the stage and the rest of the festival. Despite having woefully latent sound, the screens prove popular and help to spread the crowd, most of who are now here to see Lorde. Flipping her hair and gesticulating wildly, Lorde interprets the songs as she sings them. Choice covers of Son Lux’s Easy and the Replacements’ Swingin’ Party go down well, but the set is built around her hits which are nearly drowned out by the vocal appreciation of her fans.

As the night takes over and sunnies and hats are put away, the absence of any trouble, sunburned punters or drunken shenanigans is notable. Closing the Moreland Road Stage, Warpaint stand stoic, bathed in purple and red lights as they introduce the crowd to their most recent record. Love is to Die is a clear high point and a mysteriously sexless cover of the legendarily sensual I Feel Love is a low. While a smart band of producers, their songs come across as disappointingly inert, despite the talent that went into their creation.

Four Tet, pushing buttons, getting results (Photo: Carbie Warbie)

At the Future Classic stage, a bangin’ club set from Jamie XX is followed by a more textured and dynamic show by Four Tet. Emerging from a laser-lit cloud of dry ice, chiming melodies float out over vocal loops and whirring percussion. While the first section of his set is full of enticing atmospherics and skeletal beats, he's soon drawing punters from near and far with an imaginative approach that sets him apart from so many other producers, making this a fantastic close to another triumph of a festival.

Live Review: KING KRULE, NICK ALLBROOK

Corner Hotel, 28/01/2014

At the close of another 40+ stinker of a day, the huge soft slashes of Nick Allbrook’s guitar is perfect balm for the heat-weary. He once of Tame Impala and currently of Pond is no stranger to the stage, and his shy, self-deprecating mumbling between songs contrasts sharply with the lash-like howl of his singing voice. 'I want to get me the fuck off stage and see King Krule too,' he jokes to an affectionate response. Over synth textures and metronomic beats, Allbrook’s stark and observational songs feel almost improvised they're so immediate. That his impassioned lyrics are lost in clouds of effects doesn’t diminish their impact, and the crowd are boisterously on side. 'I wanna suck your dick Nick,' shouts one punter. Allbrook, seeming extra small and skinny in a baggy top and trousers, his red hair matching his guitar, muses blankly and replies 'that's a bit rich', before launching into set highlight 100ks Around Carmel. ‘Ooh I just want to take him home and nurse him back to health,’ coos one punter quietly, as one young, malnourished redhead replaces another on stage.

The crowd swells to capacity as Archy Marshall and band, aka King Krule, amble on. Opening with Has This Hit? and Ceiling the crowd respond emphatically to every shred of conversation between songs, and ape the hooks. Moving away from the slashed dry guitar of his work as Zoo Kid, to the skeletal funk and near-rap from last year’s 6 Feet Beneath the Moon album, songs remain sparse settings for his uniquely hollow and evocative voice. The skittering funk and jazz, so proficiently played by his band, is a strange evolution for an artist who styled himself as a modern-day Gavroche and accompanies the online release of his songs with CCTV footage of his East London neighbourhood and whose no-budget clips feature him mooching around train stations and climbing roofs.

With his personality his biggest asset, the songs that give the biggest insights are the boldest; Baby Blue, Easy Easy and the still-mesmerising Out Getting Ribs. When he stretches out and lets the silence creep in, as he did so arrestingly as Zoo Kid, it’s stunning. The tight, slick upmarket funk of his newer material goes down gloriously though, and the crowd, while never actually dancing (this is still Melbourne readers), clearly love the evolution and it will be fascinating to see what he brings when next he returns having left his teens behind.

Live Review: THE MISFITS, GRAVEYARD ROCKSTARS, THE MERCY KILLS

Corner Hotel, 17/01/2013

Stepping out of Richmond Station to a sky full of bats flapping their way over the Corner Hotel is only the first dark portent of a very dark and portentous evening. 

One band that is neither of those things is The Mercy Kills, a four-piece seemingly invented purely to soundtrack killer nights at the clean and rowdy Cherry Bar. No one comes to a Mistfits gig for anything new and the Mercy Kills don't trouble that premise but they do have fun, even if audience interest levels are low. When drummer Josh Black breathes fire from burning drumsticks and extinguishes them with a drum solo, the gradually growing crowd barely muster a cheer. 

Graveyard Rockstars have the elaborate makeup, hair and black metal look of a band that live and breathe the lifestyle. Which makes the prominent well-enunciated vocals and pop lyrics jar oddly with the heavy riffs and majestic shredding which leaves them looking like Slipknot and sounding like a sub-Rage Against the Machine covers band. Still, their panto-groove metal does what it sets out to.

The room, swiftly filling with an audience dressed almost entirely in black, seethes gleefully like a bikie convention on E. Selling more t-shirts than albums would suggest the image of The Misfits is stronger than their music, but the fervour gripping tonight’s hardcore crowd proves otherwise. Near capacity when they come on stage, the room surges excitedly and with the opening chord of The Devil’s Rain and a brutal mosh ensues. 

The opening ten minutes sees the aging trio pull out the classics Scream, Attitude and Teenagers From Mars, and it seems we'll be witness to a top-heavy set and a band whose energy levels drop fast. Thankfully, we're proven wrong. The sweaty, lanky, pin-balling fans explode with raw gusto as security peel crowdsurfers from the roof of the feral, flailing mass, and the band easily match our fury.

The one original Misfit, bassist and now vocalist Jerry Only, may have less hair to make his famous devilock style than he did when debuting these songs 30-odd years ago, but he never gives less than 100%. Barking introductions and a frantic "1, 2, 3, 4!", songs are short blasts of punk horror metal and we respond with equal intensity. Dig Up Her Bones, She, Skulls and an incendiary Helena are highlights of a set that runs to over forty songs as the band prove over and over that their brand of Halloween punk is far from getting old, and the band aren't about to act their age any time soon.

ANXIETY ATTACKS: An interview with Autre ne Veut

Arthur Ashin aka Autre ne Veut is psyched to be joining the "weird hipster circus" that is the 2014 Laneway Festival. ANDY HAZEL gets a ringside seat.

“I’m really looking forward to Laneway if for no other reason than in the midst of the worst month of our winter I get to experience someone else’s summer,” says Arthur Ashin amiably from his home in Brooklyn. “As I understand it, it’s a weird hipster circus that travels throughout Australia,” he continues with trademark acuity. 

Touring in the guise of his stage name Autre ne Veut, Ashin speaks as though he is the clinical psychologist he was, until recently, intent on being. Leaving the academic world for that of bedroom electro R&B is the first in a long series of brave moves that set his name into rapid ascension among thousands of 'important' blogs. “In the clinical psychology framework of the American academic world you’re not meant to do other things, as this shows you’re not dedicated to being a serious clinician” he says curtly. The weight of this decision informs his acclaimed debut album Anxiety. However, he has no such trepidation about his forthcoming Australian shows.

“For some reason I’m optimistic about Australian audiences,” he continues, “but it’s not based on any logical assumption. I saw Flume play the other month and there were mostly Australians in the audience, so if I get a fraction of the psych he got, I’ll be stoked.” This balance of euphoria and exposed internal pressures is a way of life for Ashin now. Having released several EPs anonymously (“I wanted to avoid Google searches of my name - music disseminates online much faster than a journal byline” he explains), Ashin’s commitment to a musical calling has thrust him into the international limelight. With a Best New Music prop from Pitchfork and countless blogs calling Anxiety one of the albums of the year, Ashin is now finding himself explaining the line between authorship and catharsis.  

“I think of songs and production as being able to be worked with and against each other,” he says quickly. “They’re not detailed personal accounts, they’re not examples of anxiety. [Single] Play by Play is a six-minute meditation on jealousy which is not to say I’m perpetually jealous. It’s not about one moment of jealousy, it’s just a mediation on the idea for me. It plays on the idea of a populist trope in music, but also has a potential to produce social anxiety, in the way Hollywood film perpetuates the same scenes and ideas over and over again; how to be a hero and what constitutes the idea of heroic behaviour. These superimposed, top-down ideas are so deep seated that when we seat them next to our carnal desires or id expressions there’s this inherent dissonance between these two things, or societal expectations,” he says in the manner of Sherlock explaining something obvious to Watson. “The production ideas I use are informed by the broader ideas of society, capitalism and media on which superimposing norms, so yeah it [Anxiety] is both personal and a societal creation.”  

Listening to Anxiety is an overwhelmingly positive experience. Far from being psychological offloading, Ashin is mainly concerned with beats, textures and subverting the overt physicality of R&B into something just as powerful, but more cerebral than sexual. “I was on a life path,” he explains by way of outlining his methods. “I was doing my Plan B 100%. Making records is not just cathartic, you get to curate yourself and you decide what aspect of your catharsis translates well. If I could get paid a modest amount to perpetually produce music I would probably be the happiest I could be. Once in a while I would go to some sort of intellectual salon and have a half-assed conversation about Plan B to keep my academic brain rolling to a passable degree,” he jokes.  

Ashin’s proclivity to anxiety has surprising positives when it comes to touring. “I have the benefit of having a massive amount of stage fright, which creates stress and adrenaline rush. So maybe I’m playing the same shit every night, but I’m still scared to do the same thing. I have a lot of visceral action in my body while performing, so it’s not as mundane as it might be for a braver, more bored individual,” he says, seeming to realise the funny side as he talks. Many listeners have pointed out how 80s-influenced his music sounds, though, as Ashin points out, this is far from intentional. It is possible, he suggests, that the music he makes as a catharsis is influenced by music he heard before his critical faculties developed. 

“I was born in the front end of the 80s and there are musical aspects that are deeply embedded in me, and I guess that comes through on this record. I have never tried to make 80s music, but what I do love about the 80s is the idea of the popular avant-guardists. People like Peter Gabriel, David Byrne, Annie Lennox...they were simultaneously engaged in ideas that pushed against the very foundations they were helping to create and I find that so compelling. I’ll never sit down to make an 80s-sounding song or album, never, but when I’m trying to create a Dr Luke-style gated synth and it ends up sounding more 1987 than 2007, that’s OK,” he laughs. With brains like these on board, this "weird hipster circus" could just be the best yet.

Live Review: JOHNNY MARR, DEAN WHITBY

The Corner Hotel, 04/01/2014

Lanky hair framing his impish grin, Dean Whitby opens tonight's show with a blast of local charisma. Playing his first gig without usual accompanying band Drunk Mums, Whitby has a nice line in chunky garage rock, with big dirty chords and a Paul Kelly-esque speak-singing delivery. Songs are largely unadorned with melody or dynamics and suffer from sameiness without his band, but his self-deprecating humour wins the crowd over; it’s hard to dislike a man who names his guitars Gumby and Pokey.

After a lengthy break during which the crowd stares at a red velvet curtain and makes earnest conversation, lights lower and the curtain parts. Johnny Marr and his three-piece band stride confidently onstage and blast into The Right Thing Right, the opening track from 2013’s The Messenger. Impeccably dressed in a crushed velvet suit smattered with badges, Marr exuberantly prowls the stage. His silver nail-polished fingers run over his white, low-slung Fender Jaguar with trademark fluidity. 
The opening minutes remind you that now, of all times in recent decades, Marr is at the top of his game. Brimming with confidence, making irreverent asides and playing track after track of arresting songs, you could almost forget he has one of the finest back catalogues in music history to draw from. Songs from The Messenger gives the set its drive and thrust – energy that Marr and the band have no difficulty augmenting live – but the Smiths songs bring the euphoric bonding that elevates this show to being something truly distinctive.

Second song, Stop Me If You Think That You’ve Heard This One Before sees the crowd explode with pinch-me-I’m-dreaming glee. “How many of you here have bought the new album?” he asks mid-way through the set to loud cheers. “You lyin’ bastards!”

Album track Upstarts and a searing version of Lockdown follows as the crowd begin to see Marr as not a godlike figurehead of their youth, but a regular geezer you could chat to in a bar and so questions, declarations of affection and requests pepper the breaks between songs. Smiths’ songs like Bigmouth Strikes Again and Panic are reborn with the effusive bravado that makes Marr’s more recent Word Starts Attack and I Want the Heartbeat late set highlights. 

The set-closing How Soon is Now excites us all enough to call him back for an encore that features not only a reverent I Fought the Law and a tender, Rowland S. Howard-dedicated There is a Light That Never Goes Out, but a surprise take on Electronic’s Getting Away With It. Proving himself up to taking on both Morrissey AND Neil Tennant is no mean feat, but then he is, as the t-shirts at the merch table scream in red-on-black bold type, “Johnny Fuckin’ Marr”.

2013: The Year in Review

Every year I do one of these review things, and every year I think really, why add to the overwhelming volume of people ranking and comparing things that have almost nothing to do with each other except that they happened in 2013? And each year I think, well, I'll just do it for me so I can get a semblance of unity to things and briefly look back instead of constantly focusing on what is happening or about to happen.

One theme that stood out from my restricted view seating at the arena show that was music and culture this year is the preoccupation that Australian men have with being Australian men. Artists like Kirin J Callinan and Standish/Carlyon got acres of press coverage, millions of clicks and thousands of views and attendees at their shows as they (along with less bombastic artists such as Jonny Telafone, The Paradise Motel and Geoffery O'Connor) picked apart the notion of masculinity and, intentionally or not, sought to stake their claim as artists by thrusting frailties and weaknesses into the spotlight. Even Fringe Festival performances from Ben Pobje, Sabrina D'Angelo and Grit Theatre seemed to find a wealth of material in this shifting world of gender in mainstream media. 

Quite separately, the inevitability of gay marriage dominated the news, and social media chewed over where the lines for 'too much' were going to be drawn as Miley twerked and Kanye and Kim got incredible milage for their boundary pushing. Kirin J Callinan singing Embracism in the shower is a hard watch for most people, and that discomfort is, for me, 2013 in a sentiment. Is it his hoarse voice, his naked body filmed casually yet edited strikingly, is it the images in the song of child on child violence, is it the crap tattoos and the lack of make up and flattering lighting? Whatever it is, it felt more real and powerful than almost anything else this year.

The pope addressed difficult issues with sensitivity, films like Blue is the Warmest Colour and Only God Forgives provoked strongly divergent reactions due to their content, the sudden spotlighting of the Bechel test - a gauge of feminism in film that has been around for decades, the wild success and 'ironic misogyny' from hair metallers Steel Panther and from the sprawling impact of Odd Future and Kanye; discussions around the boundaries between sex, gender and identity were rarely, if ever, more prevalent in the media. Not to mention the litany of fascinating and complex female protagonists from that still-patriarchal world of Hollywood (Blue Jasmine, Frances Ha, Before Midnight, Frozen). And that, politics and environmental issues aside, is a reason to be positive about 2014.

TOP TWENTY ALBUMS

1. No Blues LOS CAMPESINOS!

2. m b v MY BLOODY VALENTINE
3. Dallas THE NATIVE CATS
4. Light Up Gold PARQUET COURTS
5. Purple Skies, Toxic River TV COLOURS
6. Heavy Flow ABSOLUTE BOYS
7. Silence Yourself SAVAGES
8. Centralia MOUNTAINS
9. Tussles DAY RAVIES
10. Electric PET SHOP BOYS
11. Fade YO LA TENGO
12. Dream River BILL CALAHAN
13. Calluses PIKELET
14. Wakin on a Pretty Daze KURT VILE
15. The Loving Gaze MONTERO
16. Slow Focus FUCK BUTTONS 
17. Tomorrow’s Harvest BOARDS OF CANADA 
18. Slow Summits THE PASTELS
19. Anxiety AUTRE NE VEUT
20. Random Access Memories DAFT PUNK

TOP FIVE MISCELLANEOUS ALBUMS 
1. Community 3 – A Compilation of Hobart Music VARIOUS
2. The Stickmen/Man Made Stars (reissues) THE STICKMEN
3. Solaris (Soundtrack) BEN FROST AND DANIEL BJARNASON 
4. You Can't Hide Your Love Forever (reissue) ORANGE JUICE
5. Only God Forgives (Soundtrack) CLIFF MARTINEZ

TOP TWENTY SONGS 
1. Stoned and Starving PARQUET COURTS
2. Rival Dealer BURIAL 
3. Clear Sailing / Alpha World City #2 MONTERO
4. Alligator SUPER WILD HORSES 
5. Wakin’ on a Pretty Day KURT VILE
6. What Death Leaves Behind LOS CAMPESINOS!
7. Shut Up SAVAGES
8. Nono/Yoyo STANDISH/CARLYON
9. Stay (feat. Hayden Calnin) TULLY ON TULLY
10. Morning PRUDENCE REES-LEE 
11. Embracism KIRIN J CALLINAN 
12. Lost Highway TV COLOURS
13. Play By Play AUTRE NE VEUT
14. I’m Gonna Get Dressed Up TIDY TOWNS
15. I Remember Everyone THE NATIVE CATS
16. Royals LORDE
17. Love is a Bourgeois Construct PET SHOP BOYS
18. Get Lucky DAFT PUNK
19. I'm the Worst CATSUIT 
20. Song For Zula PHOSPHORESCENT

BEST NEW ARTISTS 

1. Absolute Boys
2. TV Colours
3. Day Ravies
4. Prudence Rees-Lee
5. The Stevens

TOP FIVE INTERNATIONAL ARTIST GIGS 
1. ESG HI FI BAR

2. Television MONA
3. My Bloody Valentine THE PALACE
4. Fuck Buttons FESTIVAL HUB
5. The Stone Roses FESTIVAL HALL 

TOP FIVE AUSTRALIAN ARTIST GIGS 

1. Lowtide, The Stevens, Day Ravies, Zone Out THE TOTE
2. The Native Cats THE GASOMETER
3. Ainslie Wills NORTHCOTE SOCIAL CLUB
4. The Caribs FESTIVAL HUB
5. The Night Before Tomorrow STICKY INSTITUTE 

TOP FIVE TV SHOWS 

1. Game of Thrones
2. Media Watch
3. Homeland 
4. Mad Men
5. Top of the Lake 

TOP TEN MOVIES 
1. The Act of Killing

2. The Hunt
3. A Field in England
4. Good Vibrations
5. Cloud Atlas 
6. Gravity
7. Blue Jasmine
8. Frances Ha
9. Before Midnight
10. Drinking Buddies 

TOP FIVE RADIO SHOWS/PODCASTS 

1. Mark Kermode and Simon Mayo’s Film Reviews – Radio Five Live
2. Lime Champions - RRR
3. In Our Time With Melvyn Bragg – BBC Radio 4 
4. Friday Night Comedy – BBC Radio 4
5. Consequential Lyrics - Cassettes & Chocolate Milk

PREDICTIONS FOR 2014 
The government to make a lot of unpopular decisions that serve themselves and their cronies, an apathetic majority to ignore them, great art to be made about their repercussions and Lowtide to release a killer LP that has nothing to do with them. I also predict I will be arrested for peacefully protesting. 

THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES AWARD 

Arcade Fire’s Reflektor 

QUOTE OF THE YEAR 

"A man can meet another man in a bar. On the sportsfield. At his place of work. Or in his own apartment. OR ON THE INTERNET RIGHT NOW." - Kirin J Callinan

Live Review: MAC DEMARCO, SCOTDRAKULA

The Shadow Electric, 16/12/2013

Breathing life into a chilly dusk, Scotdrakula play a particularly incendiary form of messy, Reatard-esque rock, and quickly prove a smart choice for the opening act. Beneath a long, steady stream of bats flying above and a distractingly good documentary about Australian wildlife projected on the massive cinema screen behind them, the three-piece set fire to any preconceptions punters may have about what a three-piece is capable of. 

Guitarist and vocal cord shredder Matt Neumann is a riveting presence and exuberant instigator of the violent fun and lingering sense of danger that charaterises the best garage rock. Avalanche is driven by a sharp, violent melody, Idlewild hellish rockabilly and their latest assault Break Me Up a high point of the night. Kicking goal after goal, the audience respond in similarly euphoric bursts of noisy appreciation.

Described in his promotional material as 'slack rocker and complete charmer', DeMarco is, in fact, anything but. Well, if you're charmed by profuse belching, spontaneous assessments of strangers' penises and generally acting like a drunk uncle, then Mac’s your man.

Opening with one of the musical high points of 2012, Cooking Up Something Good, Mac DeMarco and his three-piece lock straight into a raw and mercurial boogie. With the warmly appreciative crowd already on side, the band ease into Stars Keep on Calling My Name and the system is set. Gone are the gentle, humble songs that make his most recent album 2, so good. In their place are chunky, garage-rock makeovers that really really work. 

"I’m seeing a lot of eyes but I’m not seeing a lot of shaking Melbourne," says self-declared ‘dickhead from Jersey’ and bassist Pierce McGarry. "You’re screwing us over!" DeMarco goes for the old "Sydney gave us more. You guys have gotta top them right?" angle and both techniques work. OH&S goes out the window as shirts are stripped, people climb on shoulders and crowdsurfing kicks off. He’s got us right where he wants us, and we’re rewarded with a killer set. Viceroy, Annie, a rare outing of Me and John Hanging Out and scorching takes on Freakin’ Out the Neighbourhood and Baby’s Wearing Blue Jeans during which DeMarco and McGarry viciously make out with each other ("Hey man, you taste of Taco Bell," says McGarry offhand. "That’s just what it tastes like when a heterosexual man kisses another man," DeMarco shrugs.

McGarry requests to "see some penises", earns several compliant punters complementary assessments from DeMarco. A penis-themed cover of Weezer’s Sweater follows and leads the gig into the band’s divisive but passionate ‘covers’ section. Blackbird, Takin’ Care of Business and phenomenally half-assed versions of Enter Sandman and Stairway to Heaven raise the sloppy party vibe and close the set with a very happy audience howling for more. Charming? Maybe, but anyone who can turn the Abbotsford Convent into a house party has a lot more than just charm.

Live Review: STEEL PANTHER, BUCKCHERRY

Sidney Myer Music Bowl, 08/12/2013

While it's unlikely Sidney Myer would expect his bowl to host such a torrid display of oversexed metal, he'd be chuffed to see just how at home tonight's players made themselves. And they are exactly that; players.

Exploding onto the stage and into our bloodstream like the contents of the Sunset Strip gutter crammed into a syringe and injected into our collective arse (or, ass), Buckcherry take the balmy dusk and make it pitch black. The hard workin’, hard lovin’ and harder playin’ five-piece boast more tatts and leather than a series of LA Ink, and their inherently empty odes to partying and misogyny are made for times like these.

Opening with Lit Up, the agenda is set and the relentless fury and love comes hard and fast from both sides; the crowd bursting to life between songs, the band never taking their foot off the accelerator. The title track from their 2010 album All Night Long follows and singer Josh Todd's Axl-esque voice impales the band's bright hard rock deep into our ears. Epic metal ballad Sorry goes out "to all the sugar bitches", before they rip up the place up with Crazy Bitch and an expletive-laden cover of Icona Pop’s I Don't Care. As a vehicle for showmanship, this show is a triumph, musically it's totally forgettable.

Steel Panther arrive following a live video feed from backstage showing the band playing Strip Battleship with some busty friends, to a 6000-strong crowd ready to party and a batch of staggeringly offensive metal songs to smack us with. Drummer Stix Zadinia, bassist Lexxi Foxx, guitarist Satchel and singer Michael Starr ("it’s as if Meat Loaf and Bret Michaels had a kid" says Satchel) enter to a rapturous reception before letting us know exactly what’s on their minds and why they're here.

On a multilevel stage, beneath a giant screen and between extended breaks of totally hilarious banter, the band never give less than 100%. Full-throttle party metal songs about masturbation (Tomorrow Night), sex with hot girls (Eyes of a Panther), sex with ugly girls (Turn Out the Lights), sex with anyone (Glory Hole), interracial sex (Asian Hooker), fellatio (It Won’t Suck Itself) an improvised song about Satchel’s love of cunnilingus, and heartfelt ballads about anal sex (Weenie Ride), and non-exclusive relationships (Community Property) tell you all you need to know about Steel Panther.

While Foxx is staring into his on-stage dressing mirror and arranging his hair (which he often does), Satchel declares Melbourne "the greatest fucking city on earth. Why? Because the age of consent here is fucking 15! Whose fucking idea was that!?" Getting an even bigger cheer is the first use of their ‘Mötley Crüe Tittycam™’ that gets a workout documenting some of the many instances of boob-flashing and more intimate antics engaged in by the several dozen women who take to the stage during the encore.

A whole thesis could be written about what Steel Panther represent and whether their ironic hedonism goes too far, and it would be a seriously excellent read, but that would be missing the point. Closing with the self-explanatory anthems Party All Night, 17 Girls in a Row and Death to All But Metal amidst a fug of pot smoke, their brand of panto-metal is technically impressive, hilarious and undeniably awesome. As Starr shouts, metal salute aloft, whenever presented with a pair of bouncing breasts in his mock-astonished face: “heavy metal rules!” Tonight, it totally fucking does.

SYNTHETICA AESTHETICA: An interview with Emily Haines of Metric

From the band’s birth in 1998, via sold out arena shows, working with Lou Reed and now making an album into an app, Metric’s EMILY HAINES tells ANDY HAZEL that her motto is still 'be where you doesn’t belong'.

When the call goes through to chat to Metric’s lead singer and songwriter Emily Haines her about her upcoming Australian tour, she speaks matter-of-factly about a milestone that any musician would consider a peak of their career. “Yeah, we’re about to play Madison Square Garden, we’re on in a few hours. We opened for the Stones here [in 2006], so I have great memories of it,’ she says warmly before cracking up laughing. ‘It is crazy though right!?”

Since forming Metric in 1998, Haines claims to be constantly in awe of her life. “You find ‘normal’ within it, but if I ever stop being excited or grateful or amazed, that’s the time to bow out. I would hate to be so jaded or uninspired that I couldn’t appreciate how amazing moments in my life actually are. This tour we’re on couldn’t be better,” she adds keenly. “We’re playing in new places, with new bands and a whole bunch of new people are hearing our music.”

The latest place Metric find themselves in is the iTunes App Store. Not content with releasing their new album Synthetica, and a remix album Synthetica Reflections, the Toronto four-piece created an interactive app that allows viewers to isolate instrumental tracks within songs and effectively remix the album themselves. Crossing paths with app developer extraordinaire Scott Snibbe – mastermind behind Bjork’s Biophilia project - Haines explains that once they began discussing the idea, the chance was impossible to turn down.

“There is no reason to put out an app just for the sake of it. It facilitated an idea we already had, and, just to be clear, I’m making zero comparison with what they [Björk and Snibbe] did,” she says hurriedly. “That was a multimillion dollar project, and it was totally incredible. For us, seeing Synthetica on the App Store, it’s just a beautiful companion to the record. It’s a throwback to the way listening to an album used to be an immersive experience. You’d buy it, take it home, put it on the turntable and stare at the cover and take in all this associated imagery. With the app, I love the swirling visuals and the way you can customise the music…it’s perfect for kids and stoners I guess,” she laughs. “I really want to open it up to people. The whole premise is you get to be in the music and change it. Instead of predicting and pushing something, it would be great to get a sense of what people want and upgrade it to keep it accessible and enjoyable.”

While Synthetica, the band’s fifth album, is their most successful yet, there is never any sense from Haines that this is anything other than a point on a much longer journey. So far, the band’s journey includes scoring the blockbuster Scott Pilgrim Vs the World and David Cronenberg’s 2012 puzzler Cosmopolis, belying a strong work ethic, one that’s all over Synthetica. “I fought for every word on that record,” Haines explains. “I had to defend every idea and phrase, because…well, that’s just the way we work. I do feel like Synthetica sounds confident, but doubt is never going to leave entirely,” she trails off.

This inherent humanity and realism infuses their synth-driven music. As Haines explains, she is fuelled by the tension between the human and the technological realms.

“On this album, we contemplated; where does you as the pure version of yourself end and where does the external world begin? And how much can you inhabit it? These ideas can be applied to a sci-fi film, dance music or an indie rock band. From the beginning our idea was always to make our way into wherever we didn’t belong, to be that one song on the radio where people are like ‘whoah what’s that?’ And in a lot of ways that on Synthetica we’re really in this zone now.”

Festival-goers may know Haines best for her work with Lou Reed at last year’s Vivid Festival. Their long-standing friendship is a topic that is still, understandably, sensitive. However, the mention of his name, after a silence, inspires a potent reflection.

“We can philosophize about ideas and direction, but in the end it’s all music. The power of music is one thing no one can explain, why certain music lasts and how it connects. It’s amazing to think how important this man was to so many people; he had one hit! All those records people grew up on and that kids are still growing up on now, it had the power to create something that people who would be strangers, the contents of a subway car basically, could share. What is that transformative power of music?” She asks before responding. “I don’t know, but it’s something that can’t be cheapened.”