You learn a new lesson every day. Today, know this: disco is well and truly alive, but you should now mourn the death of the rock ‘n’ roll vocalist. Wherever you shift the blame – could it be the Neil Young revival? Or the very nationalistic idea of heavily-accented singing (Missy, I’m looking at you… don’t think you’re getting away Kooks) – it’s an inescapable fact that new bands generally look for killer musicians and vocalists with ‘character’ rather than old-fashioned ‘training’ or ‘talent’. Perhaps the Idol phenomenon is to blame. Whatever Idol puts on a pedestal is sure to be hated by the indie scenesters, so perhaps ‘singing’ is now as malignant as the cretins chewed up and shat out by the soulless mugwumps. Whatever it is, the great rock vocalists of the last ten years (Cornell, Maynard to name two) are now doing hackneyed, pretentious craps, putting them on record and selling them to millions. It’s up to the kids with the bass-player vocal chords to sit up and take the mic.
Mercy Arms – Kept Low
There’s been a lot said about Mercy Arms – especially for a band with very little tangible product. Kept Low is their debut EP, and I’m sure it’s satisfying for them to know it doesn’t sound like a debut recording, but exhibits surety and consistency not often found in bands of their humble experience. ‘Kept Low’ is a dark, stadium rock number, not far off the New Wave revivalists Editors but with a hell of a lot more grunt, a bit less of the whining Britishness and a touch more a disco bent. ‘Shot Right Down’, once it gets going, shows off Mercy Arms’ ability to control the dynamics of a song, for the most part through their rhythmic prowess. Blusterous and rhythm-heavy, the EP is a ripper: it may be derivative, 90% of it might be one-paced, but Kept Low is a great product from a truly impressive outfit. And here I was saying Sydney had nothing to offer us but a nice bridge and that silly-looking white thing next to it.
Oh No! Oh My! – Between the Devil and the Sea
You get a nice little home-grown vibe from these guys, but there’s a scary Polyphonic Spree type of playfulness about them that can’t be escaped. ‘Oh Be One’ is a catchy and full, if a tad underdone, love ballad in which the main melody is strongly presented and the harmonised acoustic guitars done to perfection, but the way the singer mumbles his way through the almost non-existent verse melody is an abomination. And it just gets more infuriating from there. The band does its job, creating some impressive, tightly constructed pop music, while the vocals just let the whole equation down (both lead and backing). In ‘Our Mouths Were Wet’ (a song so reminiscent of Modest Mouse’s ‘Float On’ it’s ridiculous) a nice musical feel is ruined completely by overly playful, pseudo-comedic, OTT vocal harmonies. ‘The Bike, Sir’ is most definitely one of the year’s most regrettable tracks: it should be fun with the hand-claps and rambling vocals about being on a “bike, sir”, but the concept suffers when brought to reality. Like those old board games Headache and Trouble, Oh No! Oh My! is just no fun at all.
Oh Mercy – Expats & Eczema
Expats is Oh Mercy as they were to begin with, all but void of the country vibe you’ll get from their live shows. The tracks on show here are the reason these guys played the Big Day Out, and the reason Triple J can’t close their eyes without dreaming of Alex Gow’s tight, tight slacks. Radiohead, Crowded House, Wilco, all the indie-muso’s faves are referenced in this collection; the chaotic distorted opening to ‘Dollhouse’ is perhaps the highlight, and the most off-beat moment here, but for the rest Oh Mercy play the pop/rock card and play it well. ‘Too Far to Please’ is a catchy snippet of a song, proving a nice showcase for Gow’s untamed vocal waver and the strength of their rhythm section; ‘We Shouldn’t Miss the Market’ driven by some very nifty bass and a superb lo-fi chorus. Covering all the bases – ‘A City’ is the piano-driven country ballad, ‘That’s the Point’ the soulful, acoustic number – the one problem might be that they hedge their bets a little with the disparity of genres on show. With all the reminiscences of actual Ex-pats, singing of “old Chinatown” and “Flinders St preachers”, Oh Mercy don’t only condone a nostalgic Melbourne reflex, they compel one.
Cut Off Your Hands – Blue on Blue
Heavy on the punk and new wave influence, Cut Off Your Hands are a band exceedingly ‘now’. With all the British-isms that make this genre so intellect-defyingly enjoyable (really, no one says “I’m so fond of you” these days, at least not on this side of the world), it’s all so very fun, bubbly and strangely innocent for a band with such a violent name. The top tracks on show here are without a doubt ‘Oh Girl’, which has an almost Weezer sensation to it, and ‘Closed Eyes’; a reverb-heavy ‘80s nostalgia piece, something that The Killers did very well before they bought a Springsteen album and started being shit. Endlessly accessible, undeniably superficial, Cut Off Your Hands are pure radio fodder. This is the sort of stuff Richard Kingsmill dreams about.
Plastic Palace Alice – Empire Falls
In the lead single from their upcoming album, we know exactly what Plastic Palace Alice are up to. With the grandeur of Arcade Fire, and vocals so Bowie it’s terrifying, ‘Empire Falls’ is a tight, anthemic rock number. Filled out with the constant ding of a glockenspiel, atmospheric guitars and a powerful rhythmic drive, the chanted chorus is a fist-pumping gem. It doesn’t quite take off as it should, but you can’t blame an independent band for something entirely production-based really. That would be mean.
Plug in City – Plug In City
Another offering from the ever-popular Modular label, Plug in City are sure to be radio and club favourites, mixing dance and rock in a way that, well, everyone seems to these days. It’s the type of music where ‘eyes’ become ‘ahhs’, ‘want’ becomes ‘wawnt’ and ‘light’ becomes ‘laaahht’. The songs are traditional verse-chorus numbers, filled-out by synth and inexpressive vocal lines. ‘Blank Photo’ is a catchy dance number, but suffers from a lack of dynamics; ‘Broke on a Wheel’ might be just that little bit too messy a concoction of guitar riffs and synth bleeps, but has just enough of a melodically hook-driven chorus to make it palatable to the masses. ‘Electric Lights’ again fails to break that steady monotony, but the bass line is a gloriously filthy funk excursion. But hey, whatever keeps those kids moving, whatever keeps them buying drinks and whatever keeps them paying $20 entry is a good thing… and Modular keeps churning them out.
Tired Irie – Tired Irie
I’m not sure how much room we have in the world for another indie-dance act with twangy British-accented vocals. Tired Irie fit the mould perfectly: the dirty, fuzzy synth bass underpinning ‘Skipteque’; the disjointed guitars of ‘Sumerian’; the ad hoc vocal harmonies through the start of ‘IM Keller’. Unfortunately, though, it’s not a tasteful little equation, as the gloss of production can only cover so much. In the end, the tracks are for the most part repetitive rubbish, offering little more than a beat to which you might tap or wiggle. I’ve known some who think music’s only worthwhile for one of two reasons: either you can sing along to it, or you can dance to it. If you’re one of them, Tired Irie tick the second box, so they’re just your sort of band.
Battles – Tonto
I don’t like being controversial. I’d prefer it if everyone saw the world as I see it. Unfortunately, they don’t, and bands like Battles are lauded as amongst the year’s most profound discoveries. That’s right, I said it: Battles are supremely overrated. Like The Arctic Monkeys, The Vines and whoever else before them, the most convincing aspect of Battles is the overwhelming hype that surrounds them. The unbelievable pretence aside (seven tracks, only two songs… remixes are the bane of my existence), ‘Tonto’ is good: musically, Battles are flawless, executing everything to perfection. There are problems though, the first being the vocal presence: the mess of mock war-chants is nauseating. The second, and most overwhelming, is the ad hoc, jam-type nature of it all. The remixes are disposable; the live tracks extended versions of already overlong, pretentious experimentalism. Really, all you can say about Battles, the only criticism they lend themselves to, is a laudatory treatment of their musicianship. Otherwise, a traditional song is nowhere to be seen, and really it’s not involvement or audience connection they seek, but praise and admiration. They play very well, and make some great sounds, but I’ll leave it at that.
Battles
Cut Off Your Hands
Mercy Arms
Oh Mercy
Oh No! Oh My!
Plastic Palace Alice
Plug In City
Smaller Servings
Tired Irie
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