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.”

HIS RULES: An interview with Justin van der Volgen

After 11 years as bassist for !!! and the last 6 years building a reputation as a killer DJ and remixer, JUSTIN VAN DER VOLGEN brings his show to Melbourne Music Week. ANDY HAZEL pulls on his dancing shoes.

‘Do I dance in my studio? Yes! For sure!’ Justin Van Der Volgen expounds enthusiastically from his home in Brooklyn. ‘I’m a fan of dance music in general so I try to go out a lot. I still enjoy being in the club and hearing stuff I’ve never heard before; I want to dance!’

As bassist for !!!, member of renown underground electro band Out Hud, and currently one half of production/label outfit TBD with Doug Lee, van der Volgen has been working far harder than his output would suggest. ‘I try to do lots of remixes however I only release the ones I feel come out very well,’ he explains. ‘That’s why I only release maybe two a year. I don’t want to do stuff that is ‘just OK’. I want it to be really good, or at least the best I can do. I try to make it special and have a good feeling about it’.

Plainly, others agree. In an incredibly crowded marketplace for dance music, this quality control lends a buzz to what he chooses to be associated with. As a result, when van der Volgen thinks something works, it usually does. ‘I get good responses from my friends. If they tell me they are playing the stuff or sometimes I hear people playing my stuff out, I think it works.’
 
Though he’s never stopped going to clubs, van der Volgen doesn’t find it hard to switch off and have fun when he’s out. When we chat, he’s on his way to see friend and collaborator Eric Duncan (aka Dr Dunks) play a show at their beloved A1 Record Store, a source for much of van der Volgen’s legendarily large record collection. ‘I’m always trying to learn from what other people are doing,’ he explains. ‘Sometimes I’ll hear a song and think about the arrangement and how I would change it, and then I do! I edit new music for myself all the time. I only do a few mixes a year for blogs and zines,’ he says, reinforcing his quality over quantity manifesto. 
 
Striking out on his own and taking on greater responsibilities characterises the liberation that infuses his music. From the popping basslines that drove his work with !!! via the summery disco of his legendary Try To Find Me 2 mix and acclaimed reworking of Maserati’s pulsing Inventions, van der Volgen brings a hint of his underground electro upbringing in Sacramento to the ‘Brooklyn scene’ that he is most commonly associated with. ‘I was in !!! for eleven years and many things changed over that time,’ he explains. ‘I had achieved my adolescent dream of being in a band with friends and travelling the world, so really I left because it was time for me to do my own thing.’
 
After spending the years since leaving !!! jumping between labels for his releases, van Der Volgen decided now was the right time to start his own. It’s name? My Rules. ‘I’ve worked with many labels in the past, so it’s good to have that experience. Because it’s my label, I can do things as fast and slow as I want. I oversee the mastering and all the costs, so if it goes well I can keep all the profit - what little of it there is in making records now - or all the loss.’
 
No stranger to collaborations, van der Volgen’s individualistic take on naming his projects (Try to Find Me, My Rules) suggests a clear line between working on his own and with others. ‘I like to collaborate, but it’s really nice to have things you do on your own as well. With collaboration comes compromise but it can also get you to a place you may never have been able to go on your own, so I like both.’
 
The ‘Brooklyn scene’ of DJs and producers that van der Volgen often finds himself lumped in with isn’t something he thinks exists at all, but it’s also not an association that bugs him, given he plied his trade for years beforehand. ‘I think many artists here make a lot of music that sounds very different, which is a good thing! I moved to New York in the beginning of 2001, so I’ve been here a while, but I’m not sure if I’d be considered a native New Yorker. Sacramento, at least when I was there from the mid 90s to 2000, was cool in the sense that there isn’t much to do, so you have to find out for yourself what you’re into and go with it.’
 
While My Rules recently released its first 12” (van der Volgen’s own More Fry), with more to come and several buzzing projects on the go (though names are still secret at the moment), this an exciting time to catch van der Volgen live. ‘I’m doing a project with Eric Duncan, Pete Z, Johnny Sender and Aaaron Bondahoff. I’m also getting some more TBD stuff done in Berlin,’ he states effusively, ‘but really, I’m trying to focus on my own productions. All this stuff comes out in a show; all the good stuff!’

Live Review: THE 2013 AGE MUSIC VICTORIA AWARDS

Billboard the Venue

Kicking off the night with victories for the Theatre Royal Castlemaine and the Corner Hotel in the Best Regional Venue and Best Venue categories, it’s hard to recall a better host for anything ever than footy-loving soul man Chris Gill.

Local combo Big Scary regale us with textured cuts from their Best Album nominee Not Art. Those not caught up in chat and schmoozing are seduced by their intriguing, layered take on trip-hop flavoured psych rock.

Back to the awards and Music Victoria’s ever-dapper Bek Duke reads a telegram from Aunty Meredith, accepting the Best Festival award. Best Regional Band goes to Stonefield and the Drones take Best Live Band, both wresting the award from stiff competition. While Vince Peach spins American soul cuts, the night begins to build toward the induction of Renee Geyer into the Hall of Fame. Fellow inductee Michael Gudinski is celebrated in a video outlining the long success of Mushroom Records, and similarly accepts via video.

The EG All Stars and Saskwatch Horns back stabs at soul songs from some of the city’s most noted singers. Kylie Audlist and Lance Ferguson open with Renee Geyer’s Stares and Whispers, Ella Thompson owns Geyer’s Be There in the Morning before Linda Bull and Daniel Merriweather stun with their takes on Paul Kelly’s Sure Got Me (Where You Want Me) and Cold Chisel’s Four Walls respectively. 60s pop hit Simon Says will never be the same now Dan Sultan has had his way with it, and Remi, representing the hip-hop soul connection, reminds us where much of Melbourne’s creativity now lies.

The final awards given see Best Male and Best Album go to Paul Kelly, the Drones collect a second for Best Band, Adalita take Best Female and Vance Joy’s Riptide a surprise but deserving Best Song.

From hear on out, the night is about one woman. A tribute video featuring Bonnie Raitt, one time Beach Boy Ricky Fataar, Ella Thompson and Gudinski highlights Geyer’s easy move between styles and wide influence. Inducting her into the Hall of Fame, Minister for the Arts Heidi Victoria calls for a ‘bit of shush’ to read a quote from Geyer’s father: ‘All modern music is shit. But my daughter’s shit is the best’.

Geyer and her 9-piece backing band are on stunning form. Combining her pop hits with soul classics (and Paul Kelly’s phenomenal Difficult Woman) we are left in no doubt as to what she was born to do, and how lucky we are to see her do it. Her voice, as Gill pointed out earlier, is only getting better. Closing with her 80s hit Say I Love You and the ever-stunning It’s a Man’s World, Geyer brings out Dan Sultan to duet on A Change is Gonna Come. Introducing him as ‘our Elvis Presley’ it’s hard not to see the torch of soul-powered rock legend not be passed from one to another, but shared and redoubled, ending a killer night.

Live Review: PALMS, BORED NOTHING

The Shadow Electric

One of a number of cavernous rooms within the Abbotsford Convent complex, the Shadow Electric is tucked away near several other noisy affairs. Tonight, a Greek wedding and a disco compete with the sounds of the clanging guitars and squeezed, impassioned vocals in the courtyard outside.

Singer and songwriter Fergus Miller (who essentially IS Bored Nothing) has such an affectingly creaky voice and arresting way with hacking at his guitar that you can almost forget you’ve heard much of it before. His tender, bruised lyrics and piercingly vocal melodies betray a youth spent listening to Big Star, Elliot Smith and Triple J and more recent infatuation with Pitchfork-lauded guitar pop. In many hands this would be a bad thing, but Miller has a fascinatingly unique voice that is beginning to find its own way and with him, it’s wholly arresting. The slacker vibe that infused his 2012 debut album is being honed into something compelling, and his homemade band t-shirts, ironically self-deprecatory banter betrays a smart sensibility. Burst of howling feedback are never uncontrolled, and the other three members of Bored Nothing are excellent players, well attuned to the slovenly mess that comprises his secretly confident songs. Closing with a cover of Weezer’s Undone is done with a compelling finesse and doesn’t come across as the lazy choice it may seem.

Channeling the affectionate sneer of Paul Kelly, Palms’ singer Al Grigg opens the band’s set with the largely solo In the Morning, setting the stage for some raucous Rickenbacker-driven clamour. At times reminiscent of You Am I, with their squalid euphoria, Palms are a fantastically effective live band. While the musicianship is fine, it’s the songs that really show the chops at work here. Tracks like I Wish That You Were Mine, This Summer is Done With Us, Rainbow and the closing This Last Year are gloriously ramshackle and more than worthy of the legacy that Grigg and drummer Tom Wallace blazed in Red Riders, one of Sydney’s most underrated bands of recent years. While Grigg’s Dylanesque chewing of lyrics, softens the otherwise blazingly confident delivery, it’s not enough to undo a pithy set from a great band in an interesting and underused locale.

Live Review: THE STILLSONS, THE BASTARD CHILDREN, BILL JACKSON AND PETE FIDLER

Northcote Social Club

Outside, the cold damp streets are devoid of people, but within the bustling Social Club, a very particular type of warmth is drawing in a thickly cloaked huddle. The type of warmth only bluegrass, country and beer can bring.

Compelling duo Bill Jackson and Pete Fidler bawl lonely, heartfelt stories about pilgrimages to Tennessee and how to turn the tables on Jehovah’s Witnesses. Fidler's inspired lap steel and guitar playing seems to draw down streaks of silver rain whenever he drags his slide or slips a sprightly lick between Jackson’s lyrics. Any excuse to hear this man embellish a sorry tale is valid, such is his talent, and it’s a testament to Jackson’s charisma and songwriting chops that he’s not sidelined.

The Bastard Children offer irreverent busker-y bluster to their folk rock. Banjo, mandolin and harmonica push their Celtic soul from middling fare to something that will hopefully be enlivening festival bills throughout the summer. Songs about long journeys with ferrets, whales falling in love with lifeboats and broken hearts intermingle with none seeming out of place. Songs like Come On In showcase their prodigious multi-instrumentalism and songwriting skills and offer and as the set moves from intelligent balladry to knees-up/elbows-out accordion-toting folk dancing, the audience loosen up and move forward.

By now nearly filled, the room is humming animatedly with plenty of drink assisting the warm reception The Stillsons receive as the curtains part and the band’s new album Never Go Your Way is launched. With carefully constructed alt-country ballads and superlative live mixing, the Stillsons have punchy, spacious songs that drummer and vocalist Cat Canteri’s warm tones spread over like hot molasses. Fellow songwriter Justin Bernasconi’s considerable skills as a guitarist and singer never overcome the classy songwriting. 

Occasionally drifting into soft rock territory (Family on the Run), or barroom boogies (Small Things) the sounds are always warm. The acerbic Go Home and Stay Awake tackle racism and tenement living in a Costello-esquely effective way, and lends some gravitas to the mix.

Despite songs falling into predictably wholesome patterns, the band clearly aces everything they set out to do. Pedal steel maestro Ben Franz elevates and distinguishes the band with a gritty grace and a litany of guests including Jeff Lang only reinforces the band’s rare ability to support a song as a collective rather than enhance the product of one ego. The more rockin' Dish it Up shows us the band riled up, and it's a good thing. Closing with the righteous swagger of You Don't Know What I Need, the band return for an encore of Another Lover and the massive Charity & Ghosts to which were are rendered nothing but raucous shouters with massive smiles. Win.

Live Review: TELEVISION

MONA, Hobart  
Occupying a high, narrow room four stories underground, the long-sold-out Void (a bar within the Museum of Old and New Art) is a weirdly appropriate place to see one of the world’s greatest post-punk bands. From the towering concrete walls of New York’s Bowery slums, to the towering concrete walls of a slick bar in Hobart within a world-class iconic art gallery.

‘This is a band confession,’ says singer and arch-icon Tom Verlaine in his only moment of conversation during tonight’s show. ‘We thought Tasmania was 30 miles north of Sydney,’ he smiles sheepishly.

Smiling is something that happens a lot tonight, between chilled Tasmanians and excited mainlanders as they chat animatedly, awaiting the arrival of the band. It also happens on stage as Verlaine, drummer Billy Ficca, bassist Fred Smith and longtime collaborator guitarist Jimmy Rip ease their way through a set that ends up being very different to that bestowed upon ATP the previous week.

Opening with Prove It and weaving a set out of their long history, the foursome seem relaxed without ever actually expressing emotion. Labeled ‘the Ice Kings of Rock' by the British press in their heyday, there is still an arch languor in the way Verlaine spreads his virtuosity across the band’s seething post-punk. Looking like Kasparov mid-chess tournament as he casually throttles a guitar string from one end to the other, drops icy piercing swelling notes, his playing is never less than galvanizing.

Glory, from 1978’s Adventure album follows, before we get the early highlight Little Johnny Jewel, where the interplay between Verlaine and Rip reaches near telepathic heights. 1880 or So from their eponymous 1992 comeback album, and unreleased epic Persia pepper an otherwise Marquee Moon-dominant set.

The cascading bell-like guitar lines tumble over each other with stunning clarity. Arpeggios, spiky chord slashes and fluid lines build, burst and recede, their taut splendour accentuated by Verlaine’s straining neck, and flinty voice.

Closing with a searing Guiding Light and the high point of musical history that is Marquee Moon, Verlaine breaks both a plectrum and a string during the extended solo section yet finishes the song brilliantly. Unsatisfied, and brandishing a fresh guitar, the band return to encore with another, even better take on the plus-five-minute solo (not the song, just the solo). Returning again for a stunning take on Friction the band share another smile and leave the stage to even louder howling, ending a night that transcended the regurgitation of a classic album, instead showing how 30 years of life experience can enhance songs that were already showcase for a rare intellect.