HEAR is the enema your iTunes needs. Bringing you the most thought-provoking and up-to-date music reviews this side of Lester Bangs, HEAR sifts through the ever growing mountain of press releases and promos to only feature albums, EPs, LPs and mixes that we want to, not that we have to. Also, we try and make things make sense in 200 words or less so that you can just listen to the music.
Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be pinned down by a friendly but (obviously) psychotic centaur who is desperately trying to tell you something? Of course you haven't. Clicks, the first track on Sleepwalks' debut EP is this. Well, it's not as terrifying, but equally thrilling and intense.
For those who found a cassette walkman to be an item of private humiliation at the dawn of the Discman, never fear because Golden Staph are here. Resurrecting an all but obsolete technological artefact in magnetic tape, the lightning bolt band of do-it-yourself Perth luddites are one of many independents snubbing the digital era in favour of good old-fashioned tangibility.
Dick Diver sound like underground 80s Australia. Arks Up recalls the best parts of the Hunters & Collectors discography: the songs gather around raw, trudging bass lines that sound best filling the pungent, carpeted rooms of Brunswick pubs.
With clever, multi-member pop songwriting, The Go-Betweens also come to mind: the accents not dropped but accentuated; the guitar work sharp, tonal, puncturing.
Intuition plays a large part in the nature of music. Whether learned on their chosen instrument or approaching it from a new angle, the ability of a group of players to lock into and interweave with each other's sounds is a crucial dynamic. This instinctual nature shines through strongly on Blank Realm's debut vinyl release, Heatless Ark.
The Black Lips just may have finally grown up. Sure Jared threw down and got punched in the face by some shitty Brooklyn band, but those guys suck anyway and that punch won't make them any better. There are fewer and fewer reports of the Lips whipping out their junk unexpectedly and pissing off (and on.
The Black Lips just may have finally grown up. Sure Jared threw down and got punched in the face by some shitty Brooklyn band, but those guys suck anyway and that punch won't make them any better. There are fewer and fewer reports of the Lips whipping out their junk unexpectedly and pissing off (and on.
OTOUTO (pronounced Otto-ootoe) spawn from the Two Bright Lakes fold: a bunch of friends and relatives in Melbourne putting out disjointed records (Kid Sam, Psuche) that push and prod lo-fi pop in all sorts of compelling directions.
The Melbourne trio could be painfully ironic, even childish: pots and pans, a woozy Casio and food references, but this is expertly played, complex music.
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