And as the American summer of ‘chillwave’ enters its third phase, whereby the most obvious signifiers of the sound (‘genre’?) – high, saturated keys; condensed vocals; faded album photos of skinny-laughing-girls on jetties, etc – are tacked onto albums that would better stand on their own merits and the label is given to music that bears no resemblance to things that ‘chill’, we’ve got our own shit going on.
In Brisbane, where things tend to get a little bit ‘big-fish’ and yet undeservedly overlooked down south, two remarkable releases appeared last week. The first is the debut album from Disco Nap, the newest band project for former Iron On singer/songwriter Ross Hope, titled Running Red Lights and out independently. Though the sound itself is a fairly subtle update on fuzzy ‘90s indie-tronica, it’s one of those releases where the songwriting and the little ideas that fill it keep you going back; not to mention knowing those ideas are being executed by a band featuring Screamfeeder’s Dean Schwereb, Seja Vogel of Sekiden and The Gin Club’s Jane Elliot on cello. It’s nuanced and blissful (and oftentimes blissfully angst-making) Aussie pop rock, Hope showing he really has reached the point of knowing his voice and using it well.
The second Brisbane brag is BigStrongBrute (pictured), the project of Paul Donoughue that he’s now been building for four years (and for those of us who remember him starting it as a teenager, that’s a very scary prospect). Donoughue is ever so slightly more jam-band than Jens Lekman, which results in his new EP, We Can Sleep Under The Trees In The Morning (Independent), being a pairing of early Midlake horn expresses and some charming, deep crooning. Even his aesthetic is a little bit Juergen Teller meets Huck Finn. Both BigStrongBrute and Disco Nap are out on tour.
Speaking of Lekman, the tall one with the handsome mug has a new track out, awesomely titled The End Of The World Is Bigger Than Love, and available for free download here. Do I really need to sell this one? It’s called The End Of The World Is Bigger Than Love and it’s by Jens Lekman.
Anyone who remembers the very early house-party shows of Melbourne’s Flying Scribble (pictured above) was a) probably not on the same stuff as everyone else in Brunswick in the mid-2000s, and b) probably not thinking the lopsidedly talented, somewhat hopelessly introverted pair were going to become one of the most delicately intriguing pop prospects in the country. The duo call themselves “spook-pop”, and their debut album, We’re A Chameleon (Independent), is full of the kind of broad, colourful synth atmos Bachelorette also likes, along with church organ, live drums and hand-holding vocals that make you want to join a convent. Qua’s Cornel Wilczek is behind the production and the attention to detail and his ability to keep sounds continually pushing forward is at its best. Truly great stuff.
I mentioned it last week, but the new Julian Mendelsohn remix of Catcall’s Swimming Pool is probably the best ten minutes you’ll spend staring at a wall and rubbing your own leg fondly all month. Sydney’s Catherine Kelleher is from the new class of subverted pop (as taught by Cyndi Lauper) and understatedly brings the sexy, slightly off-balanced-ly singing, “This is for my body,” over French post-punk guitars and twinkling synths, Get it free from swimmingpool.catcallmusic.com.
But of course this whole American ‘chillwave’ thing/misnomer is still producing some excellent stuff. The announcement of the Meredith festival line-up last week somewhat surprisingly included new Atlanta hyper-colour-wearing man Washed Out (pictured), who trades in a West Coast version of Roots Manuva’s beats. There’s a great (and apparently ‘fan-made’) video for his track Feel It All Around online, and so far I haven’t been able to find out whether anyone in Australia is releasing his recorded stuff. I’ll keep you posted. Also coming out are San Francisco’s Girls – but if you like them, then also check out Ryan Lynch’s other project, Dominant Legs, who are, unlike the Canadians themselves, excellently furthering Arcade Fire’s trembled fear-pop by adding hand-hit percussion and less obvious (and pretty damn sweet) melodies. Yeah, yeah, AF obsessives, bring it on.
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