This time next week two new releases from R.I.P. Society will be unleashed upon select parts of the world, with further parts to follow as boats pull into harbours and carrier pigeons reach destinations. These two releases are The Native Cats - John Sharp Toro LP and Snake & Friends LP (this Snake is Al from The Uv Race, Total Control, Dick Diveretc). More on Snake soon but for now here’s a substantial taste of John Sharp Toro. As The Cats themselves put it…
Two songs! one beat! nine minutes of pummelling, puzzling, hypnotic, misfit queer punk! listen right now to
🖤 John Sharp Toro 🖤 Nixon Nevada 🖤
🌺from the album JOHN SHARP TORO by THE NATIVE CATS out 16 Feb on RIP Society🌺"
You may or may not believe it, but Sydney’s Bed Wettin’ Bad Boys have defied all odds and perhaps better judgement to produce what is known in the music business as a “new album”. It’s titled ‘Rot’ and critics have called it everything from a “follow-up album” (Marc Masters - Pitchfork) to a “kind of album” (Tim Sendra - Allmusic).
Perhaps the dazzling word of renowned music journalists isn’t enough though. Maybe before forming an opinion on the “rock” (Brian Coney - Loud and Quiet) music created by the group you want to witness it live, in person. Well you may or may not believe it again, but this summer you will have the rare opportunity to witness Bed Wettin’ Bad Boys perform live (for the first time in Melbourne in over 2 years) and not only that, it will be in person.
Better still, also performing on the night are the excellent groups SPOTTING, THE STROPPIES and THE FACULTY. Friday January 19. The Curtin Hotel.
Countering the truly embarrassing news cycle of the past year was the deluge of great new music released upon the world, so much so that I’m leaving a good chunk of more than deserving albums hanging. To simplify everything, this is a compendium of what was played most around here, along with a handful of new-to-me reissues/archival releases.
This unassuming, digital-only gem crept up on me as the months turned cold. Scraps of paper with notes written on them are held afloat by spare guitar lines; elsewhere winds whip in and chaos overtakes clarity. Lots of the lyrics sound like half-thoughts that forced themselves out after extended periods of solitude, sometimes peaceful, sometimes anguished. Screwy rewards patient attention without dragging you through the mud - but it’s there, should you need to cool off.
The intriguing pairing on Dakhla Sahara Session turns out to be one of the best surprises of the year, and easily one of the most listenable. Cheveu’s robotic yet effervescent contributions are immediately recognizable, as are Group Doueh’s swirling guitar lines and sweeping vocals; the two fit in and around each other, explosion welded together into a foundation for a colored smoke tower.
10. Leda, Gitarrmusik III-X (Förlag För Fri Musik)
The two people behind Neutral put out a lot of music this year, most of it well worth hunting down despite its highly limited, premium price barrier. I can’t claim to have heard everything, but by my count the two best were Neutral’s När mini-LP and Leda’s limited-to-100 Gitarrmusik III-X LP. Most of this sounds like King Blood collaborating with Robert Turman, looping machinations mixing with heavily distorted shredding, all of it recorded in a metal-walled bunker. Doesn’t sound like much on paper, but when you arrive at “Gitarrmusik VIII” and “IX,” time just about stops. (If you missed out, “Gitarrmusik I” and “II” are available here.)
The first collaboration between these two heavyweights was a slow grower, both bands clearing the land by seeing how far out they could push their respective versions of extreme metal. Ascending, then, is the sound of the two bands communicating as one. The immediate standout is “Farewell, Man,” exactly what comes to mind when one imagines what kind of song the Body and Full of Hell could write together. But tracks like “Our Love Conducted With Shields Aloft,” all free drumming, violently humming noise and sandblasted vocals, hint at a broader, uglier horizon.
8. Bad Breeding, Divide (Iron Lung/La Vida Es Un Mus)
One of the year’s nastier hardcore records, and a reminder that the shitstorm at home extends across the Atlantic, too. The band’s got enough chops to rip through every track here - check out that stuttering riff on “Anamnesis,” and how it comes roaring back after a quick respite - but the best songs close each side. The screaming of “Now what?” that concludes “Leaving” is chilling, and serves as one of the best summations of this mess of a year.
I’ve been hankerin’ for more Steven Cogle ever since that self-titled Dark Matter LP, and if that’s one of your favorite records of recent yore like it is mine, you oughta get your mitts on Antiseptic. The long-running band is absent Brian Crook, but he is ably replaced by Nicole Moffat, who also appeared on Dark Matter; her violin seeps into the empty pores, creating a dense, beautiful atmosphere ripe for Cogle’s powerful vocals. The deal’s done by the time “Edge of the Night” hits.
Wrecking crew led by Kilynn Lunsford and Mark Feehan brings the heat, here as two parts of a six-piece ensemble. The ten tracks on here range from caustic to catchy (”Eat or Be Eat” into “Luminous Oblong Blur” for the former, “Multidimensional Spectrum” for the latter), accentuated by sax blurts and ever-present static grime. If that ain’t enough, lyrics acidic enough to melt bone make Veblen Death Mask a complete meal worth droolin’ over.
The Theoreme LP that came out last year turned into one of my favorites this year, syrupy-thick industrial body music from one Maissa D. She fronts Sida, and she turns in the vocal performance of the year on their first LP. She seemed more restrained as Theoreme but that’s all out the window here; “Qu'Est-Ce Qui T'As Pris?” ups the ante and things don’t slow down from there. The band, for their part, turn in a burly and caustic punk/no wave hybrid that does all it can to keep up. An aural steamroller.
It was a real mistake to not include Omni’s deceptively catchy debut Deluxe on my year-end list last year, so when they came back and made an even better record, credit is due. Not sure how Frankie Broyles doesn’t sprain his wrist or let melodies go off the rails, but his snappy drumming and spindly guitar work are the stars of the show. The lyrics slyly present a general malaise with modern romance, and when it all clicks, like on “Supermoon” into “Date Night,” strap in.
3. Bed Wettin’ Bad Boys, Rot (R.I.P. Society/What’s Your Rupture?)
Ready for Boredom was a great album full of weary-headed anthems, and it looks like growin’ up hasn’t come any easier for these bedwetters on Rot. The Boys left their glam rock tendencies (i.e., “Sally”) behind this time, and they stick to making gruff pop songs for people whose weeks slip by uneventfully more and more frequently. Songs like “Plastic Tears” and “Device” are urgent and unbelievably catchy, and whoever did the vocals on “Work Again” needs more time at the mic. The Replacements are still a good reference point for these guys, but after two rock-solid albums, it’s time they get to shed that flattering-yet-overbearing label and lay claim to this sound that they’ve perfected.
Man, Dreamdecay are so good. They’ve softened the edges from N V N V N V but they’re even more potent this time around, figuring out how to include big slow-moving guitar riffs in a nominally punk framework. Songs like “Mirror” just about leave you on the floor with the guitar theatrics, while “IAN” is a one-way ticket to the stratosphere. All of it sounds incredible, and I think Andrew Earles said it best, so I’ll let him do the honors: “YÚ could easily rearrange how someone thinks about music… in that unforgettable way that stays with the experiencer forever.”
What more can I say about The Gag File? I have gushed. Not only a complete statement of an album, but one of the only records to force a localized shutdown when it’s on, keeping everything else at arm’s length. A world unto its own. Clear the cobwebs out.
There’s a good bit of cornball humor present in Anxiety’s lyrics and credited band member names, the sort of thing that has persisted/pervaded a lot of modern punk and hardcore. But these guys sell it, and more: with better (read: less juvenile) lyrics, sly and self-deprecating; a monster vocal performance (”Dumped” especially); and a blistering intensity that oughta put their peers on notice.
Bent’s been on my radar since their Non Soon tape, and this year they dropped the Snakes & Shapes LP, every bit the shifting, shambling and at times annoyingly silly experience Non Soon prepped me for. The Mattress Springs 7″ came soon after, and compressed all the best parts of the LP (including “Mattress Springs”) into several minutes of leaky roof drums, hypnotic bass lines and smothered, frantic guitar parts.
Whereas Bent are happy to let their songs droop and flow, Crack Cloud come across as almost militaristic in their approach. Perfectly rehearsed, not a hair out of place, and yet as urgent as anything released under the banner of post-punk in the past however-many-years. The first three jagged and dense tracks whip in and cut out, just in time but somehow just too soon; “Philosopher’s Calling” is the payoff.
The Richie Records Summer Singles Series once again distinguished itself in a household where 7″s aren’t really given the time of day. Sure, Writhing Squares Too breathed life into krautrock in 2017, and David Nance’s “Amethyst” is kingdom come on the right day, but Hothead? Their shambling take on two covers (and a quick sketch) netted them the gold.
Mordecai is one of America’s great treasures, ain’t no way around it. Their Abstract Recipe LP on Richie from this year is great, reclaiming the highs of Neil’s Generator while pushing further from their influences - but the two disparate sides of this 7″ compress everything great about the band into a tidy package. The A-side rambles out of the gate in the same way Abstract Recipe does, whereas the B-side goes all Don Howland: low fidelity, downtrodden but toe-tapping. Buy everything they’ve recorded.
“He’s really a nice guyyy” begins the A-side track “He’s Harmless,” and hoo boy you better sit down for this one, because that bass line is not quitting anytime soon. Feeble excuses pile up, a disinterested defense of a friend presented with a mocking snarl until the constant pummel causes the dam to burst. The flip cynically covers comfortable suburban lifestyles and macho hardcore, two new takes on No Trend’s vast influence, but not quite reaching the impossible heights of song-of-the-year “He’s Harmless.”
Neutral, När 12″ (Omlott)
Neutral’s self-titled LP quickly turned into a favorite here in the early months of 2017. The duo kept busy all year, eventually releasing this mini-LP that favors electronics over guitars. The brittle backbone is the perfect support for Sofie Herner’s fragile yet mechanical vocals, a fitting soundtrack for a walk home so cold your eyelashes freeze. Shadow music that lacks a distinct time or place but leaves a flood of sensory overload in its wake.
Scorpion Violente, The Stalker 12″ (Bruit Direct Disques)
“The Wound”’s slow ooze remains one of my favorite musical moments of the year; there’s a reason it’s the only one you can’t stream via Bandcamp. Pay up, because if any modern label deserves your money, it’s Bruit Direct Disques.
Brilliant little single of downer pop from the Shifters, whose self-titled cassette gained them a lot of Fall comparisons and was previously mined for a 7″ by It Takes Two. But it looks like they’ve got ambitions beyond the record nerd cadre: both songs are immediately satisfying without imparting a sticky sweetness - who can find fault with that?
Straightjacket Nation, s/t 12″ (La Vida Es Un Mus)
This is the punk record of the year for me, one that maybe got lost in the deluge of releases from La Vida Es Un Mus. If you wanna learn about effective vocal delivery in hardcore, please see “2021.” Eight tracks, all meat. Please tour the US.
Reissue/Archival
I don’t really feel too qualified to comment on music largely made before I was born, especially since I am the owner of several 2017 reissues with flowery press kits that I will probably never listen to again. But if you’re gonna be a sucker, let a sucker clue you in to these tried-and-true slabs deserving of any and all accolades. Unrepresented here, somewhat criminally, is the Black Editions, a label doing really amazing work reviving the P.S.F. catalog.
The And Band / Perfect Strangers, Noli Me Tangere split 7″ (Look Plastic/Noisyland)
Noli Me Tangere is two sides of barely-music from early ‘80s Christchurch, with this new edition featuring extensive liner notes from George Henderson, he of the And Band (and perhaps more recognizably, the Spies and the Puddle). Both sides showcase a coupla outcasted NZ bands supporting each others’ avant-scrawl, as inspirational as it is baffling.
Freedom music, full of raw intensity (”Byard Lancaster did push-ups when not playing”) and fiery exchanges. The two sidelong pieces are demanding of your full attention, repaid in kind with chills so deep you’ll swear a spirit passed through ya.
Cosey Fanni Tutti, Time to Tell LP (Conspiracy International)
Gorgeous reissue with a foil-stamped gatefold and a huge booklet full of ephemera from the recording period. Less Throbbing Gristle menace than new age shimmer, especially on the B-side; the gentle ascent is the natural conclusion once you’ve lived through the stunning title track. Cosey, take me away.
Die Tödliche Doris, “ “ LP (États-Unis)
Brutally minimalistic post-punk from early ‘80s Germany, painstakingly restored by the Superior Viaduct sub-label États-Unis. The A-side is full of blistering, manic bursts; the flip smoothes things out, allowing ideas to stick around, proving this approach works in both short- and long-form. Call it ZNR meets DNA.
Harry Pussy, A Real New England Fuck Up LP (Palilalia)
Two live sets, one on each side, both monstrous and in shockingly high fidelity, especially given the circumstances detailed by Tom Lax and Tom Carter on the sleeve. The show from T.T. the Bear’s is the performance I always want (”Harry Pussy took the stage and sandblasted the night into oblivion”) and rarely get.
Capping off a brilliant year for Eremite was a beautiful reissue of Drum Dance to the Motherland’s cosmic transmission. All of the hyperbolic reviews ring true when “Inner Peace” stumbles into a groove, but my favorite part is the almost painfully shrill horns on the title track.
Coward Punch Records kept the memory of Brendon Annesley alive with a couple of archival Meat Thump 7″ers this year. The earlier one was good, but didn’t quite hit home; here, “Metal Gun” could be twice its length, and “Left to Rust” rambles down my spine in the same way that still-great “Box of Wine” 7″ does.
I did not have more fun this year than when I was dancing along to this record like a poorly operated marionette, which was every time “Will I Dream?” started. Efficient Space continues to deliver the goods I didn’t know I needed.
BWBB - Rot LP made this excellent list. That Dilloway record may also be my #1 of 2017 B-)
RIP 053: The Native Cats - John Sharp Toro LP (Out Feb 2, 2018)
Tasmanian electronic pub rock iconoclasts the Native Cats have, after ten years, become completely unmoored. Chloe Alison Escott read Nevada, spun out into an unplanned gender crisis, then finally transitioned, changed her name and became one of those true authentic selves you hear about on the news; Julian Teakle read The Big Midweek, stopped writing Peter Hook bass lines and started writing Steve Hanley ones instead. Metamorphosis! Tumult! And a new album: at last, February 2, 2018 on RIP Society, their meticulous masterpiece, John Sharp Toro.
The timeline tells the story. They recorded ten songs in a day at their home studio in South Hobart. They didn’t touch any of it for almost a year while Chloe’s whole life exploded and reassembled itself. Then Chloe channeled some of that personal transformation into the album, retaining Julian’s invigorating bass lines but radically re-recording and rearranging everything else. The end result merges the chaotic urgency of Swell Maps and the Fall with the idiosyncratic production and labyrinthine album concepts of Blood Orange and Kendrick Lamar. There are recurring lyrics, haunting reprises, codes upon codes, foreign voices, personal archive recordings, distorted synths that arrive without warning like floodlights cutting through fog. It’s about queer isolation and loneliness, transfiguration, the ways that lives and relationships continue after they’ve been altered; it’s also about digital spaces, the US Republican Party in the second half of the 20th century, and James M. Cain’s opera-scene noir Serenade, the origin of the album’s title.
But beneath the coils and complications is the most bracing and immediate album the Native Cats have ever recorded. There’s life in every corner of every song: guest drummer Sarah Hennies sends the band twisting and turning into new territory with just a kick and a snare; Julian has never been more animated or inventive in his bass playing than he is here, as he makes each song bounce, swing, or stampede as he sees fit; and Chloe sings mightily and without inhibition at last, with a voice that’s entirely her own, every word lit up in neon, every line rich with meaning. It’s John Sharp Toro, the exhilarating queer post-punk puzzle-box mystery thriller you never knew you needed and you certainly never expected the Native Cats to be the ones to deliver.
