Gaslight Radio Good Heavens Mean Times by: Tom Bradbury Fri:02-Feb-07 Label: Love and Mercy Year: 2006 WB rating 64 out of 100

The indie-rock aesthetic of the early 90s was an obvious retreat from the excesses of 1980s production, much as the alt-country and singer-songwriter movements of the late 60s signaled a weariness of psychedelia’s assault on the senses. I can’t help but wonder if to a lesser extent a similar phenomenon is occurring right now. If so, it would be a lucky break for Gaslight Radio, whose new album Good Heavens Mean Times is straight out of 1993. Emerging in the mid 1990s as one of the second wave of groups to be influenced by the kings of slacker-rock – The Pixies and Pavement – Gaslight Radio may have sounded dated in 2002, but now seem strangely in sync with the zeitgeist. Upon first impression they may not strike as groundbreaking, but their craftsmanship is impressive.

You don’t have to listen very carefully to Gaslight Radio’s early singles to hear the obvious Pixies influence. 1997’s ‘Is By Bus’ has that classic Pixies sound, yet it’s as catchy as it is derivative; imitation isn’t a sin if you do it right. The soft/loud guitar dynamics make me remember why the Pixies are so amazing to begin with. Nothing on Good Heavens Mean Times quite matches the power-pop grandeur of ‘Is By Bus’, but there are moments on this album where you wonder why Gaslight Radio haven’t received more notice beyond the cult following that they command. As is often the case with Australian bands that fail to attract significant commercial airplay, Gaslight Radio have found themselves in the wilderness of the Australian music scene. This predicament is a major influence on the overall tone of Good Heavens Mean Times, an album which lyrically, is greatly concerned with the randomness and unpredictability of life. In ‘One Kid’, Rory Cooke sings, “One Kid, he turns out OK. The other kid, he goes the other way”.

The tunes are subtly melodic – like Pavement, they never sound as if they are trying too hard. ‘No - One Knows Where the Broke Kids Go’, which is really more of a suite than a single song, is the definitive piece on the album. It is a showcase of all Gaslight Radio’s redeeming features, both sonically and melodically. Driving counterpoint guitar parts echo the sound of driving your car down the Eastern Freeway at the height of summer – this is music to listen to hung-over on the beach. Both strung-out and euphoric in equal measure, it is deceptively rocking.

‘The Jewel and the Falcon’ contains shades of Isn’t Anything-era My Bloody Valentine, especially during the verses, where the vocals seem to permeate through the mix in a ghost-like dance with the guitars and bass. ‘One Kid’ also impresses with its lyrical poignancy and the gravity and intent of its vocals. ‘Good Times for Bad People’ (are they familiar with Modest Mouse’s Good News for People Who Love Bad News?) has an achingly pretty guitar interlude, but it could have been more effective if half the length, as the band seems indecisive over whether or not they ever want to finish the song.

Where Gaslight Radio let themselves down is with their melodies, often failing to augment their striking guitar parts with vocals that sustain the tunes inherent in the music. Sometimes sounding like you aren’t trying just leads to lifelessness, and  apathy isn’t impressive if it is dull. Pavement were remarkable because they gave the impression they were so blessed with melodic ability that no effort was required on their part in songwriting or performance. It seemed as though the songs just came to them as they were playing Super Nintendo, or whatever it was they were doing as they were living the Richard Linklater dream. If their songs hadn’t been good, they would have been just another group of American college students caught up in the contrived, existential crisis of Generation X. Lack of effort in itself is not catchy. Sometimes it feels like Gaslight Radio think it is.

Gaslight Radio are at their best when they move beyond the generic slacker-rock posturing of tracks such as ‘The Bitches Of The Poor’ to create moments of fragile beauty. This happens enough on Good Heavens Mean Times to rescue it from Triple J-esque anonymity, but not enough to make it a great album. It is, however, a solid piece of work from a band that has demonstrated over the past decade that they know how to write tuneful indie songs, and one that indicates they may have a great album in them – if only they tried just a bit harder.