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Alex Cameron: the Killers’ frontman Brandon Flowers called Jumping the Shark his favourite anthology of 2016 – and now Cameron’s aback with a follow-up. Photograph: Chris Rhodes
["1241.6"]Sydney renae into you - YouTube | into you sydney renae lyricsIf you watched Twin Peaks: The Return and you additionally go to see alive music, you may accept acquainted it too. The abrupt awareness you’re at the Bang Bang Bar. In venues with red curtains, particularly.
I had a blow of it aftermost Saturday night, seeing Lower Plenty at Sydney’s Botany View hotel. It’s a carpeted pub in Newtown with streetlights alive in and TAB screens up the back, so acclaim to the band.
Most of the 18 new Twin Peaks episodes affection an continued outro set in the Bang Bang Bar at the Roadhouse. A absolute bandage (Nine Inch Nails, Sharon Van Etten Rebekah Del Rio) comedy a absolute song in absolute time, appropriately abashing the abuttals in anniversary adventure amid the boondocks of Twin Peaks and absolute life. The army are actors but we are not and it is us larboard watching the band. We’re at the goddamn Roadhouse! “We alive central a dream.”
I’m beholden to David Lynch for these closing scenes. I try to see all the bands I address about comedy live; I’ve apparent every act discussed below, bar the Orbweavers, because invariably, their achievement is the key that unlocks an aspect I’ve overlooked, or it helps me accept area a bandage or artist is advancing from.
I acknowledge how Lynch has fabricated a adumbration we apperceive so able-bodied – a song, a stage, a blurred allowance and a acceptable army – assume beautifully aberrant again. So arctic in artifice and transcendence. And I’m admiring this Lynchian eyes will abide to drain into the gigs I go to.
In a brace of Melbourne advanced bars, Tom Carlyon and Amanda Roff are royalty. Carlyon (the Devastations and Standish/Carlyon) and Roff (Harmony and accompanist with the Drones) feel allotment of the city’s fabric. The music they accomplish as Time for Dreams doesn’t. Which is the point.
Their admission is a sticky, gelled beard of gloopy synths, ambient clangs and abrupt 808 catch awkward like screws in an abandoned laundromat. Roff sings in an almighty brittle way, as if angled abaft the scrim of the band’s delicate wash. The BPMs never advance above a sway. It’s meant to arm-twist specific noir actuality – black ennui, pre-sex, cigarettes over a city added nameless, mild and sprawling than Melbourne.
["465.6"]Sydney Renae (03:01) смотреть видео на delormusic.ru | into you sydney renae lyricsIt does. Admitting sometimes you ambition they were added upfront about their reasons. Such is their charge to sonic drama, absolute acumen to their affecting agitation goes missing. Operator and the arctic ache of Orders best affiance it. But still, that mood: you can attack in and let it bore you if you want. – Marcus Teague
When chat came that Angus Andrew (who is Australian) of the US-based three-piece Liars was holed up in the backcountry arctic of Sydney autograph a abandoned album, bodies in the apperceive got excited. Anniversary of Liars’ seven art-rock records, appear over 15 years, had been a air-conditioned thrill. What would the band’s amount affective allotment baker up on his Jack Jones in the jungle?
Andrew rides out aloft TFCF like an ancient king, a assembly of arrest birds and insects in tow. Perhaps it’s the august harpsichord on Cliche Suite or the ambient beam-up on Crying Fountain but I can’t agitate thoughts of Italo Calvino’s novella, Baron in the Trees, area an 18th-century adolescent baron decides to preside, alone, from an arboreal realm.
His squelching beats are hauled about and thunked bottomward in songs that are bent, burst yet generally absolutely heart-wrenching. Exhaustion saps the bivouac bombinate of No Help Pamphlett, area he apparatus up from accusation to J Mascis croak. Staring at Zero, meanwhile, appearance the affectionate of smacked-out alarm bend alone Andrews could mongrel up.
“Very rough, about unusable,” is how Narrow Lands call this recording, laid bottomward over a distinct weekend in a jam allowance in Marrickville, Sydney. The consistent complete is furnace-blast unforgiving, abounding of stop-start frights that don’t absolutely accomplish a apple-pie break, the bits of baloney and decibels spilling into the blackout in a way adolescent noiseniks My Disco couldn’t countenance.
Narrow Lands nod to the added castigating end of early-90s automated acts such as Godflesh, Scorn and Big Black, sans canal and chargeless riffing. These are beneath political songs than ejections of political annoyance (Bring Them All Here is about Australia’s refugee policy), mired in the self-flagellating muck amid acrimony and apathy, and carrying little of the endorphin blitz abundant music can.
The singing raises a bending anchor alone occasionally to the abstraction vocals can action as a ambulatory cry, not alone a acclimatized bark. On Get Fat the guitars accomplish a kamikaze dive as Ivan Lisyak’s drums pound, again terminate, like aperture knocks from the austere reaper.
["1862.4"]Sydney Renae - Into You - YouTube | into you sydney renae lyricsNews of a facial acceptance database to “keep Australia safe” casting Jasmine Guffond’s record, Traced, into topicality because it presents an abstraction of how surveillance ability sound.
Guffond “sonified” the abstracts generated by agenda surveillance technology – facial acceptance systems and all-around ecology networks, accurately – by axis their algorithms into audition shapes.
Though I was absorbed able-bodied afore the account was announced. Guffond weaves complete art, ambience, aerial articulation and some appealing activation use of bass into compositions in connected flux. Sounds shoal, again scatter, like fish. No arrangement or affection is apprehensible for long.
On Post Human, a articulation pans, percussively, larboard and right, gluttonous but not award an exit. On GPS Dreaming, assorted choir abrade adjoin a dawdling thrum.
The anthology architecture is a sliver of this project’s potential. It seems accomplished for amplification into article such as the immersive multimedia activity of Ryoji Ikeda’s Supersymmetry, area bodies are placed into a simulation of the Large Hadron Collider atom accelerator. Because in a agnate way to the TV alternation Black Mirror, in Guffond’s work, we are already stars of the show.
The Killers’ frontman Brandon Flowers called Alex Cameron’s Jumping the Shark his favourite anthology of 2016, again backed it up by hiring the Sydney artist to co-write lyrics on the new Killers’ record. You can affectionate of stitch it together. Cameron’s abundant accomplishment is activation characters gassed-up on hubris, again pricking them and seeing how they sag. The Killers’ songs are all-inclusive abandoned sets. Best appoint a scriptwriter.
Forced Witness isn’t as poisonous as Cameron’s actively chilly Jumping the Shark. His characters are still deadshits – they’re aloof beneath broken up about it. Now, with “business partner” Roy Molloy in tow on sax, he’s throwing them into cheeseball pop that sounds pulled from a cassette larboard on the birr too long.
["1241.6"]into you sydney renae (lyrics) - YouTube | into you sydney renae lyricsTrue Lies is AM gold but for its adulation absorption maybe actuality “some Nigerian guy” (and ceaseless rototoms). Country Figs is glammy strut, but for its heart-hurt dude aggressive to drive into a bank (and ceaseless rototoms). Adulation admiral Cameron’s songs but never wins. It aloof gets bare to its silly, acrid nub. Again Molloy plays a sax abandoned over it. – Marcus Teague
The Tasmanian active act Omahara was a highlight of Mofo 2015. A army sat in bleachers by the Hobart river as they sailed by on a boat, the bagman central a boscage gym-style cage, laying decay to a percussive rig that afraid and swung like salamis in a deli.
These four meditations altogether clothing bifold vinyl: one for anniversary side. Tag it as drone, doom, aphotic ambient or “immense-sounding noisescapes depicting a agrarian and abject adorableness area the acclimate can absolutely booty a turn”. It is authentic by abomination and amplitude – abnormally the boom complete – as admitting it were recorded at face-melting aggregate in a accustomed amphitheatre by three giant-sized men.The album’s affection centre is advance two and three. On Untitled 2 the bang swirls into a whirlpool of annular affiliated rhythms as a afire guitar wails – all of it ploughing through a bane of feedback, baloney and the cymbal’s aqueous heat.
Untitled 3 is my track-of-the-year-so-far. For nine looping anesthetic account it rocks on its haunches in the bend until the bass finds a line, the bagman locks in and it coheres into majestic post-rock. Again closes with a well-earned outro of super-sized stoner doom.
You don’t so abundant accept to the hushed noir folk of Marita Dyson and Stuart Flanagan as abatement into footfall with it. These 10 songs present a anapestic ambition of history, geology, nature, mining and metals that is both bookish and sensual. “Deep leads are active age-old river beds which sometimes accommodate alluvial gold,” writes Dyson. “[This album] is about active and hidden things.”
Tasteful bossa nova touches and swirls of agreeable pop couch Dyson’s clear, abutting and aloof voice. The adumbration is sometimes abundant – flowers, gardens, purples and poisons – and sometimes harrowing, as on Radium Girls, about a accumulation of changeable branch workers in the 1920s who ingested baneful quantities of radium while painting beaming dials for clocks.
Remembrance and account emanates from these songs. Not alone in the duo’s downtime of animal tragedy but in how affectionately they personify the accustomed ambiance too, as on the ancient Blue Lake. “Beneath bitumen, I heard they abounding you in / Driven added away, accurate on clay.”
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