Supported by: Sleepyhands, The Tourist

Photo: FasterLouder

Shuffling in from the blistering cold, punters were met first with the sounds of The Tourist, clearly chuffed to be playing to their biggest crowd yet. The partnership of acoustic and electric guitar, and the total lack of bass, created a pleasantly dreamy atmosphere, but the vocals formed this band’s main problem area. The two singers often fell short in hitting the right notes harmonically, causing a subtle dissonant clash, and the backup vocalist proved a stronger voice than the lead, who struggled to project. The band’s admirable ideas will be able to be executed with ease once they have more shows under their belt.

Seven-piece Sleepyhands started off averagely, with the boy-girl vocals failing to properly gel, but soon drove into an energetic and instant set with musical ideas reflecting the growingly popular bluegrass-pop smarts of Mumford & Sons. Their stage presence was excitingly vigorous, with impassioned yelling puncturing most songs (sounding out of place at times but just right at others) and providing a much-needed adrenaline rush to the audience. Conveying organic emotion and looking like they were having a hell of a lot of fun on stage, Sleepyhands were the surprise hit of the night, despite some occasional off-key moments.

Ernest Ellis is doing mighty well for himself – his debut album Hunting dropped only two weeks ago, with no EPs preceding, and yet the venue was packed. Backed by a three-piece band, the hirsute mountaineer opened with ‘Want for Anything’, the driving drums and ghostly vocals drawing immediate Temper Trap comparisons, before making the brave jump into cover territory only two songs in with a rendition of The Doors’ ‘The End’. It seems that Ellis is able to take these risks, though – he turned the room into a throbbing dance hall with extended upbeat song jams, something you wouldn’t expect that from hearing his recorded material, and played plenty of non-album tracks. His voice sounds spectacular both in its falsetto form (the heartbreaking ‘Loveless’) and its sustained brood (acoustic solo number ‘Valley Song’), though some recorded immediacy was dampened with the sheer number of people present. The evening ended with audience members jumping up on stage to joyously dance with the band; though the set list was uneven at best, Ellis and friends are wonderful performers and this is just the beginning for them.

For a while now I’ve been thinking about making a post about why pop punk actually has merit, why it shouldn’t be discredited. It’s incredibly hard to explain to people who have already made their minds up – to them, it’s a bunch of middle-to-high-class kids whining about their first world problems to a similar audience. And I guess there is merit in that conclusion, to some degree, but I really do think that nobody can understand the impact of this kind of music unless they experienced it themselves.

I don’t talk about it much any more, but when I was younger I suffered from both obsessive-compulsive disorder and clinical depression. It was hard for me to accept, largely because I felt too ‘different’, ‘abnormal’, ‘weird’, you name it. A lot of people used it as fodder against me, which made it even more difficult – if I’d known the things I know now, it would have been much easier.

This was one of the songs that kept me from doing anything I couldn’t take back. I realise how stupid it sounds; of course I do. I’ve been amongst the people having a quiet lol at those who say “x band saved my life”, but the truth is that for so many people, that was the exact case. And sure, I did have a pretty flawless upbringing compared to other people, but everyone has their demons, everyone has their bad days, and coupled with mental imbalances, sometimes it feels like you can barely make it out alive. I remember nights holed up inside my blankets when things felt so bad that I could barely breathe, and yet putting this song on repeat through my Discman did a world of good for me, telling me to just stop for a moment, think about what I was thinking about, and hold on to any good thoughts I may have had left.

It could be a while yet before I finally piece together the right words about why and how pop punk made me the person I am today, mostly because I want it to be perfect in a way that might make detractors finally understand how important it was, and is, for so many people. It gets a much worse rap than it deserves to – anything that has helped to solve anybody’s problems, however insignificant, should be respected in its own way, even though you may not lend any gravity to a 14-year-old girl’s depression. I am thankful every single day that I heard this song when I did, because if I didn’t – and I realise how cheesy this is – there’s a chance that I wouldn’t be writing this at all.

XL Recordings – June 8 2010

When Brooklyn instrumental duo Ratatat burst onto the bustling music scene with their debut album in 2004, they turned a hell of a lot of heads and busted open a hell of a lot of ear drums with their ingenious fusion of equally impacting electronica and hip hop beats, interspersed with fiercely wailing guitars – the sound that became their trademark and made for some genuinely arresting listening. After years of repeating the same formula, though, it seems that the shtick has finally evaporated to reveal that Evan Mast and Mike Stroud are grinding to a creative halt.

It’s blatantly obvious that this album was born from the same sessions as 2008’s LP3, meandering along a startlingly similar track that reeks of déjà entendu. There are still some excellent elements here, though – ‘Drugs’ swells from a timid piano/guitar intro to one of Ratatat’s most instantly memorable licks, ‘Neckbrace’ employs a talkbox to synthesise stuttered vocals over heavy blips, and the whole affair is littered with dialogue lifted from the strangest of places (Werner Herzog films and Linda Manz interview bites, to name a couple). But first single ‘Party With Children’ plays like a lazy update of 2004’s ‘Crips’, and unlike previous albums the tracks don’t possess much individual personality.

Dance floors will continue to pulse to beats that are still undeniably contagious but no longer refreshing, desperately lacking any tangible innovative touch. Detractors who have consistently flamed Ratatat for repeating ideas ad infinitum over the years will rejoice in a triumphant “I told you so” – six years down the track, the magic is fading fast on an album that, sounding exactly like its predecessors, is superficially entertaining and barely inspiring.

Dew Process – June 18 2010

Justin Vernon’s retreat into a woodland cabin has become indie legend – heartbroken (and epically bearded) dude enters wilderness, writes down his feelings, and bam, we have Bon Iver’s For Emma, Forever Ago. Ernest Ellis similarly buried himself deep within a Blue Mountains cabin to write his own debut, recording it with three bandmates, but don’t let the comparison deter you – Hunting is far more than just a reflection of its influences.

The chilling beauty of opener ‘Loveless’ cuts straight to the heart of the album’s emotion, with a tilting post-rock guitar beam underscoring Ellis’ Vernon-like echoing vocals as he murmurs “it’s the fear that keeps me here/it keeps me lost and still loveless”. Not the most cheerful way to start a record, but Ellis isn’t all doom and gloom – the brisk but catchy pop melody of ‘Heading For The Cold’ follows with a driving percussive beat, and the interestingly titled ‘When I Feel Like Jesus’ Son The World Will Feel Much Different’ adopts a totally different attitude, culminating in a loose musical freefall marrying dizzying instrumentals with soaring vocals.

The writing on this album draws from a great number of styles – ‘I Am The Beast’ and ‘Want For Anything’ continue on the breathy indie-folk trail, but tracks like ‘Dark Matter’ and ‘Valley Song’ are much more simplistic, with Ellis ditching his wispy enunciation for a strong, solid tone accompanied by guitar strums – and it’s this variety that allows the album to maintain consistent intrigue.

At 55 minutes, Hunting is long for an indie/folk debut, but by ensuring that the songs each have a distinctive personality, Ellis has established himself as a captivating and brilliant local voice.

Rice is Nice – June 26 2010

If you’re already familiar with Richard In Your Mind, you’ll know two things – there is no weirder band in Sydney, and there is no band that does psychedelic nostalgia quite as well. The beauty of their second album is that no two songs fall into an even remotely similar category – an endearingly scattered collection, it pulls influence from every corner of the creative spectrum.

Opening with the sparsely ethereal ‘Tiny Colossus Face’ featuring Richard Cartwright’s high-pitched speak/sing, the record segues into ‘Candelabra’, which showcases a very different aspect of the band, infused with hip-hop beats and slacker rapped vocals. The record’s most conventional moments are showcased on songs like ‘I Will’ and ‘The Sun Broke Into Your Heart’, the former channelling the criminally underrated Ladybug Transistor with surf-rock guitar pops and harmonies, and the latter relying on shyly enunciated vocals speaking of adventure, featuring a rather vanilla guitar-accompanied melody considering the band’s eclecticism, but one that works well nonetheless. The spirit of Richard In Your Mind is captured in tracks like ‘Mongrowlia’, a mostly instrumental cut that builds from a light harp to a soaring euphoria heavy with atmospheric noise, and ‘Birds’, on which a whole list of our fine feathered friends is rattled off in a vague and dreamy extended sigh.

Bursting with whimsical melodies, lyrics that relish in absurdity and instruments from near and far including sitar, raagini and ocarina, what we have here is an album as varied as its creators’ minds. This kind of music won’t appeal to everyone, but for those who can appreciate the sweet sound of genuine musical madness, it’s a mind-boggling trip certainly worth taking.