Gig Review: Bin Juice @ The Lansdowne 5/10/14

Last night got rolling with an acoustic set by Dave “Skinny” Noble of All My Alien Sex Friends. To say it was good would be to place it on a timeline of value of things I’ve seen before; Skinny launched across the topics of skin cancer awareness, eating bad curry, having to drink f***ing light cream milk and who’s got a bigger dick. Armed with only an acoustic guitar, the result was a cross between Jack Black and The Violent Femmes, with both wishing they could have written songs this catchy. Perhaps what was so endearing about it, and is also the hardest part to explain, was the lack of pretension. At no point did it feel like a consciously tweaked projection of self image. The songs were catchy, candid, funny and well-performed, and it created exactly the sort of easy-going and relaxed mood that means the act succeeded.

Up next were Dr Goddard, who played a spacious and psychedelic type of space opera; my initial comparisons tended to fall towards Pink Floyd and The War On Drugs. Their rich, yet borderline minimalist sound was well realised, and to their credit, it sounded as clean and tight as I would imagine it would on a CD. By now the crowd had begun to expand slightly, and as is the testing point for any support act, I noticed more people were paying attention to the band than to their conversations. The inertia of their songs were punctuated by the drummer, which took the airy and melodic music, and injected it with a forceful pound. The result was a great set of some original and fresh-sounding psychedelic music, performed very aptly by a very interesting group.

After a break for everyone to get another drink and have a few cigarettes, it was time for Bin Juice to take the stage. If anybody has ever seen them before, you might have known what to expect. If not, then I’m going to be struggling to describe it accurately here. Put shortly, Bin Juice are still capable of blowing the roof of the venue whenever they play. Crowd surfing, stage diving, singing into the mic; the crowd took to the mostly new set list with aplomb. The band themselves only seemed tighter than ever, though that might be because its been a while since their last show, or it might be because there didn’t seem to be a song over 4 minutes in the entire set. The shorter songs only accelerated the crowd, as if they knew they only had a limited time to lose their shit. The moshpit of mostly topless and (very) sweaty guys linking arms for each chorus so that they could fly around the dance floor together was as infectious as ever. By the time they reached their closing song, everybody, regardless of where they were, was entranced. Then they played Immigrant Song. Yes, by Led Zeppelin. I’d love to explain every glorious detail of it, but I’m sure you can imagine: unbelievable.

At the end of the night, it felt like the end of every Bin Juice show: you’re sweaty, you’re out of breath, you’re getting a beer at last call and mingling with the rest of the fans. Last night was the same, except as Bin Juice prepare to head out on their first national tour, you get the feeling it won’t be this small for a long time. Show’s like this don’t go unnoticed for too long, and as the band continues to out do themselves, it’s only a matter of time. In the meantime, get your ass down to one of their shows.

Garage Land Feature: Some Australian Bands You Deserve To Hear

Some Australian Bands You Deserve To Hear

Depending on who you talk to, the Australian music scene is either resoundingly silent in quality and releases, or oversaturated to the point of white noise. Maybe it depends on who your friends are, what they’re listening to, and which radio station you’ve got it tuned to. Either way, it’s hard to deny that there is a tidal wave of releases coming out of Australia at the moment, across so many genres that it makes it hard to find the genuinely interesting releases.

Especially on the rise is underground rock (yes I release the irony of that sentence). With Violent Soho and ‘Covered in Chrome’, their ubiquitous ode to moshing with a righteous and loud chorus while screaming “Hell fuck yeah!”, it seems reminiscent of a highly localised case of The Day Punk Broke, take two. Instead of Nevermind, it’s Hungry Ghost, and now every kid with repressed anything is itching to pick up an instrument and join the angry march into the capital. With the eventual proliferation of guitar music, it’s worth singling out a few of the special groups who are rising above the rapidly growing pile of (crap) cliches, and playing some good music.

Also, these are clearly bands that match my tastes, so please don’t consider it an exclusive or authoritative collection. If you feel outraged I missed anyone, please let me know, I’d love to check them out.

Tame Impala

Let’s start this off with a basic one: if you don’t listen to Tame Impala, and haven’t been living in an igloo kissing people with your nose for the last few years, then you have some serious steps to take in correcting your life. While they’ve been critically acclaimed all over the world, and represent a critical high point for an Australian group, as always, it’s easy to get lost in the hype and hear that instead of the actual music. Not to say that it’s incapable to genuinely just dislike the music, but I’ve found that the more time I devote to Tame Impala, the more I appreciate them. Between Innerspeaker (2010) and Lonerism (2012), there’s a lot to sink your teeth into. I’ve got a bit more to say about them in an upcoming post, so I won’t go into it too much, but I will say that the first time I heard “Apocalypse Dreams” remains one of the most transgressive and memorable moments in my whole time of listening to music.

 

Standout tracks: ‘Runway, Houses, City, Clouds’, ‘Apocalypse Dreams’, ‘Why Won’t They Talk To Me?’

King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard

Here’s a group that is quickly on its way to earning to the title of “Most Prolific Band Ever”. As we all know, however, the speed of release is pointless if the quality isn’t up to scratch. That’s why it’s all the more impressive that King Gizz are on their way to releasing albums five and six, with their first LP, 12 Bar Bruise only being released in 2012.

And if this would normally be the paragraph where I describe their music to you in the hopes that some might be interested to YouTube them or something, think again. With the focus of a maid dusting all those little niches and corners, King Gizz are playing as fast and loose with genres as they are with release dates. With important influences like the garage-rock greats (Sonic Youth, Ty Segall, Dinosaur Jr) combined with an individual psychedelic weirdness, King Gizzard are quickly on the rise, and have safely joined the pantheon on Aussie psychedelic greats like Tame Impala and Pond; if Tame Impala are the older and studious older brother, and Pond was the guy you liked getting fucked up with, then King Gizzard would be the zany and kooky drug dealer who lives down the road. And I mean that in only the nicest, most complimentary kind of way. Listen to “Head On/Pill”. You’ll see what I mean.

Standout tracks: ‘Head On/Pill’, ‘High Hopes Low’, ‘God Is Calling Me Back Home’, ‘Float Along-Fill Your Lungs’

DMA’s

And now for something different. With only a single, 5-track EP out earlier this year, DMA’s are already making a lot of noise around the Australian music scene, with the story of their rise already seeping into myth and urban legend; it seems like everyone I meet who’s heard their single “Delete” wants to tell me how insane it is: how they had only played two or three shows before their national tour, how they have a stash of 100 unrecorded songs, how they got signed to I Oh You on these credentials after only a handful of demo’s in an apartment. While other bands might be overshadowed or enslaved to this hype, DMA’s step through it effortlessly, in the most sensible type of way: by making really good music. Being compared to Oasis, and with a sound I’d like to call AusBritPop (you heard it here first), DMA’s first self-titled EP delivered five radio-ready songs designed to make alternative music popular again.

Meeting the media with their striped-Adidas attire, speed-dealers and Instragram accounts dedicated to ibis’, their signing to taste-maker label I Oh You signals this as a band to keep an eye on. With a blistering live set, unique image (graffiti in Good God Small Club’s bathroom stated “DMA’s are not lads”) and highly infectious music, DMA’s could be the band to watch in the future, if only they would start releasing more music.

Standout tracks: ‘Feels Like 37’, ‘Play It Out’, ‘Delete’

Violent Soho

I have a feeling that people are going to take issue with this entry. After all, I just spoke of their ubiquitous single in my introduction. However, as is the case with such a phenomenon, the rest of the band’s work falls by the wayside. Which is entirely bullshit, because Hungry Ghost is the best Australian album I’ve heard since You Am I’s Hi Fi Way. From the unbearably heavy opener “Dope Calypso” to the understated, underrated and devastatingly effective closer “Hungry Ghost”, Violent Soho stepped up from their under-appreciated self-titled release, and really let loose. And while it seemed like it would involve going bigger and louder, Hungry Ghost shined the most in the quieter moments, with tracks like “OK Cathedral”, “Fur Eyes” and “Saramona Said” proving that there was more than met the eye.

Which is my point. We’ve heard “Covered in Chrome” so many times that they’ll be playing it instead of the national anthem at sporting events pretty soon, but to align Violent Soho solely with the power chord driven hammer of that song would be to discount the far more interesting work that they’ve done. And while they shine in those moments, they still manage to satisfy the moshpit with set lists that balance this mix deftly, and I wouldn’t hesitate to say Violent Soho are the best live band in Australia. When I left the Manning Bar after their show a few weeks ago, I was sweaty, bloody, missing my shirt and wallet, and feeling so battered I vomited when I got home. It was the best show I’ve seen in my life.

Standout tracks: Hungry Ghost– the whole album. Seriously.

 

Adalita

Unlike the previous entries on this list, Adalita isn’t a new artist or new arrival on the scene: it’s the opposite. Adalita, of Magic Dirt fame, is a matriarch of Australian music. In fact, it’s hard not to spend this whole entry telling you to go out and listen to Magic Dirt, because it’s what the good sort of people do. But Magic Dirt seem to have come and gone, with the band declaring themselves on “indefinite hiatus” since the death of Dean Turner, a founding member of the band (and for ten bonus points, he used to manage Violent Soho).

And front-woman and guitarist Adalita could have packed up, called it a day, and still gone down as one of the greats. But obviously she didn’t and here we are: with two fantastic solo albums, a new and more individual sound, and the tradition of high involvement personal live shows.

Her most recent release, All Day Venus (no points for making that joke), was a deserving follow up to her first album, which in itself was unusual for an artist who had spent the majority of her career in the structure of a band. Instead, it feels like a personal imprint of her thoughts and emotions, without the baggage of an overly serious tone. Same for All Day Venus, which is a break-up album that made me laugh out loud a few times, either through her word play or complete

‘Fuck you!” message. I still think the album cover should have been a raised middle-finger; whereas female artists who have recorded break-up albums are unfairly grouped with the Taylor Swift melodramatic neurosis, All Day Venus was equal parts hurt and anger, emotion and thought, looking back and moving forward, with a refreshing lack of sap. So while you’re listening to all the great new bands and artists coming out and around the local scene, don’t forget that they come from a history. With Adalita continuing to make music of this quality, she’s only lifting the bar higher for bands looking to join that history. So long, Australian Idol winners.

Standout tracks: ‘He Wrote’, ‘Blue Sky’, ‘Hot Air’

 

Sticky Fingers

Simply put, Sticky Fingers are one of Australia’s funnest bands. And I know that’s not a word.

With their sophomore release, Land of Pleasure, only a few weeks old at this point, it’s safe to say that we can only expect great things to come from an already very successful band. Their debut, 2013’s Caress Your Soul, was a modern and seemingly effortless reggae/ska update which was all about the small moments. The prolific “Australia Street” speaks to how well this caught on, with it becoming the group’s most popular song. It took something familiar, and made it interesting, which is the best praise you can give a genre album. Land of Pleasure is a steep departure from this sound, and while it certainly does falter under the pressure of its ambition, it works better than it should, given that it ultimately sounds like Sticky Fingers making a dance record, or a stoned-summer soundtrack. You’ve probably heard “Gold Snafu”. Either way, it reveals a band that isn’t content to stand still, and if they can keep this momentum up in the future, they’re looking to make some promising sounds.

Standout tracks: ‘How To Fly’, ‘Bootleg Rascal’, ‘Laika’, ‘Gold Snafu’

Honourable Mentions

Hey Geronimo

I was torn for a while about switching Sticky Fingers out for Hey Geronimo. The only thing that stopped me was Sticky Finger’s larger discography. And while Hey Geronimo’s debut album is just around the corner, for the moment all we have are their two EPs: Hey Geronimo and Erring on the Side of Awesome. To be fair, these are great releases. Hey Geronimo put the fun back in pop music, more interested in people dancing at their shows than moshing, and a small but incredibly tight catalogue of infuriatingly catchy surf-pop gold. If you’re a regular on Triple J, you’ve probably already heard them. Either way, this group come highly recommended

Standout tracks: Co-op Bookshop, Girl Who Likes Me, Dreamboat Jack

Bin Juice

Having seen them play in Sydney four times this year, and having their debut album, Furious George, in my car for so many months, I feel safe in saying Bin Juice are a great band, with great music, who are on the rise. I’d recommend the next time you see the posters adorning Sydney before an upcoming gig, you should spend the $10 on a ticket, bring some friends, have some drinks, and be prepared to have a great time to some deep funk vibes. Plus you’ll have a new and unheard of band to show your friends, which proves your taste in music is the best. And we all like being the best, so check them out.

Standout tracks: Stella, Super Fantastic Adventure, Do Not Run

Album Review: Ty Segall- Manipulator (2014)

Ty Segall- Manipulator (2014) Review

Too often projects are crippled by hype. Whether it’s a film, an album or a novel, people become too excited and what might have normally been a perfectly fine and good release becomes crucified because it couldn’t live up to every expectation people had, and then fix their oven.

So it’s refreshing when something comes out and weathers the potential storm with nothing more complicated than simply being good at what it is. Ty Segall’s newest release, Manipulator, is such an album. Segall’s 7^th solo release (amidst a labyrinth of side projects and other works) is his most consistently strong album, bringing home all of his previous work and tying (ha!) it all together with aplomb.

Perhaps the most immediately noticeable change is the presence of acoustic guitar on most of the songs. Rather than the exclusive and introspective Sleeper (2013), however, it’s incorporated into Manipulator seamlessly, lending Segall’s existing sound a more considered and interesting flavour; it’s reminiscent of a sunny and pleasant Autumn day, as opposed to the “cruising around the boardwalk, music blaring, intimidating old ladies” fury of 2012’s Twins and/or Slaughterhouse. Manipulator still has its moments of sound and fury, including “Feel”, which culminates in what might be Segall’s loudest, most viscerally satisfying moment ever, however, Manipulator is more notable not for what is familiar, but rather for what isn’t. The 14 months that Segall took to write and record it are evident to anyone who has heard any of his previous releases; hearing it alongside Melted (2010), it’s hard to imagine such rapid progress in four years. Each song is meticulously arranged, and produced clearly and crisply, while also retaining the skanky-fuzz that is Segall’s trademark sound.

It’s also worth mentioning how dense Manipulator is; despite it’s 55 minute runtime and 17 tracks, it is absolutely packed with ideas and thoughts, though presented in a more polished form than is typical of Segall. The result is an album that features a steady tracklist of great pop songs. While “Susie Thumb” is a good choice for a single, really, it could have been any of the 17 songs. This isn’t meant as an insult; rather, Segall’s typically eccentric style of composing a tracklist has levelled out and there’s a feel of coherence to the progression of songs. It sounds like the album you should have in your car this summer, from the opening organ curiosity of title track “Manipulator”, to the smoky coolness of “Green Belly”, right up until the sweet smirk of the album closer, “Stick Around”.

While that’s all well and good, the only thing missing from Manipulator are the spontaneous high’s that characterised his past releases, the standout songs from each album. While the album is undeniably strong as a whole, it lacks the punch of that single song that Ty Segall fans are familiar with from each of his previous releases; the lack of a “You’re The Doctor”, “I Bought My Eyes”, “Finger” or “Goodbye Bread” might leave some fans with a strange feeling of hollow satisfaction from the album, though I found that enjoying Manipulator as a consolidated album rather than a mere collection of songs was a nice change. As a way of tying together his output up to this point, Segall certainly covered his bases; as said above, you can feel touches of everything that Segall has released so far on Manipulator, though not to an overwhelming degree.

Which leads to the only real drawback of the album. While it leaves me interested in what’s to come for the San Francisco garage-guru, the double-length and consistency in the songs don’t lend that interest the same sense of urgency that I felt while waiting for Manipulator. By giving us such a sustained and concentrated effort, it seems to leave Segall trapped between recording styles: the previous proliferation that we’ve been familiar with, or the more considered approach that he took with this album. Now that he’s given personality and character to each of those recording methods, it feels like there’s little else for him to do. While I’m more than happy to be proven wrong, it seems like Manipulator is the full stop to Ty Segall’s career-spanning momentum, rather than the exclamation mark it seemed like it would be. Regardless, there’s still too much on this album to love for me to be too worried.

Standout tracks: Manipulator, Feel, The Hand, Stick Around

Album Review: Mac DeMarco- Salad Days

Album Review: Mac DeMarco- Salad Days

Salad Days is one of those records that’s an immensely easy album to listen to, though significantly less easy to review. While the songs present a laidback, exceedingly relaxed atmosphere, it would be wrong to describe them as simple. Between the eleven songs there is enough food for thought and complexity to satisfy a listener for weeks, even months. While it presents a departure from his previous album, 2, the content and progression on Salad Days marks it as a superior work, and more importantly, a better listening experience.

Album opener ‘Salad Days’ sets an appropriate tone for the rest of the record, with the harmonic melody being wrapped around the self-referential lyrics in which the narrator ridicules himself for acting like “my life’s already over”. It’s a humourous yet genuine way for DeMarco to bring himself down to Earth. Given his quick progression as an artist, and the fact that he’s only 24, the song is nevertheless quite heartfelt and portrays a tired and weary Mac DeMarco: “Always feeling tired, smiling when required/ Write another year off and kindly resign.” ‘Blue Boy’ follows similar lines, though opts for a more stripped back approach, with a more blues-psychedelic influence. It’s the guitar and bass work here that guides the song through, and sets up the song. “Blue boy, worried about the world’s eyes” is another song about growing up too fast, and the dissonance felt within the narrator. For those familiar with Mac DeMarco, and his trademark sense of humour, it’s songs like these that remind us of that he’s just a guy like us, with similar problems. Except while we’re worried about getting older and how to deal with it, he’s doing it in front of the world, and is only too aware of it.

‘Brother’ is a similarly sombre effort, though concentrated in a different way, and rather than focus on personal issues, it is steeped in gratitude. It’s another humane effort, where DeMarco encourages his listener to try and achieve something that makes them happy, rather than work in those dead end jobs that all us can no-doubt identify with: “You’re better off dead, when your mind’s been set from nine until five/ How could it be true, well it’s happened to you, so take my advice.” Despite this, DeMarco never puts himself above the listener, and seems to be saying ‘Hey, if it can happen to me, then it can definitely happen to you’.

‘Let Her Go’ is an interesting track because despite DeMarco’s reluctance to write and record the song, it remains a clear highlight on the album. With some of the most poignant lyrics and well-crafted instrumentation on the album, it’s pop sensibilities are balanced out by the honesty in the lyrics, which I can’t help but think you would never hear in a commercial pop song: “Tell her that you’ll be there, if you’ll really be there/ Separation’s supposed to make the heart grow fond/ But it don’t”. While the music still achieves sailing-your-yacht levels of leisurely calm, it’s words like these that remind us that DeMarco’s self image remains decidedly level headed, possibly more so because of his success. While his label, Captured Tracks, supposedly asked him for a single on the album, I can’t help but be thankful that they did, because ‘Let Her Go’ is one of the strongest tracks on the album. it also begins the exploration of DeMarco’s relationship with his girlfriend that forms a mini-arc within the greater workings of the album.

‘Goodbye Weekend’ departs from the previous song by returning to DeMarco’s more traditional sound, with a song that reflects DeMarco’s return from touring. This song is a defiant middle finger, a protest to people trying to tell him how to live his live: “So don’t go telling me how this boy should be living his own life/ Sometimes rough but generally speaking I’m fine.”

‘Let My Baby Stay’ is a mostly acoustic effort, and another touchingly honest song about the narrator’s significant other, Mac’s girlfriend, Kiera. It’s part of the three songs on Salad Days that DeMarco refers to as “the Kiera songs”. ‘Let My Baby Stay’ a sweet plead that is as simple as its title; at the time of the recording, they were living together in Brooklyn and Kiera was “essentially an illegal immigrant”, as DeMarco said to a Pitchfork.com journalist. The song is simple and not over-thought in either the music or what it is trying to say: “And where would I be, feeling lonely/ Separated from my one and only”. It proves that DeMarco knows how to play on different fields, and participates in his successful efforts to progress from 2.

‘Passing Out Pieces’ continues with the album’s theme of a tired artist, of resignation, though this is the most definitive statement on DeMarco’s part on this topic, and in turn, on the whole album. It opens with an immediately more large and dynamic sound that calls to mind vague hints of Tame Impala, Led Zeppelin and The Beatles. With a synth that weaves in and out of the threads of the song, and a strong keyboard that brings the song thundering down on every offbeat, ‘Passing Out Pieces’ is another album standout, both for the effort on the music and the lyrics. If you had to listen to one song to understand Salad Days, this would be it: “I’m passing out pieces of me, don’t you know nothing that comes free?”

‘Treat Her Better’ is the final part in the “Kiera songs”, and is another acoustic effort lead strongly by DeMarco’s work on the guitar, and his searingly honest lyrics: “Treat her better, boy/ If having her at your side’s something you enjoy/ If having her in your life’s really so important to you now.” It forms the perfect bookend to the trilogy of songs that explored DeMarco’s feelings towards his love, and as with the previous songs, is equal parts an expression of love and doubt, both on his part. Perhaps the highlight of this song though is DeMarco’s ‘solo’. I won’t ruin it by explaining it, but needless to say it works perfectly within the song, while still fitting in with what we understand to be his sense of humour.

‘Chamber of Reflection’ follows the fantastic previous song, and is distinctive for many things. Firstly, it’s easily the best track on the album. Secondly, it’s also the sparsest. It’s essentially just drum, bass, organ, synth and vocals. It creates a spacious and meditative space that perfectly reflects the title of the song; DeMarco said that it was about the chamber that Masonist’s use before they are fully initiated, where they are left alone to think about their life. What DeMarco has created though is his own chamber of reflection, and one for each listener too. There’s a certain feeling of non-empty space, and the idea that’s you’re somehow existing inside of the song. It’s difficult to fully explain, and must be heard. As a departure from any other sound on the album, or indeed from any record released so far by DeMarco, it’s exciting in it’s potential, and affirming in it’s existence. Mac DeMarco proves that less is more, and shows a lot of variation in a small time.

Penultimate track ‘Go Easy’ on the other hand sounds a lot closer to the sound that DeMarco captured on his previous album, 2. It features the same wandering guitar work, matched by the supposedly directionless lyrics. However, given that song is about the same sense of nomadic direction, it works well. By no means unimaginative, it’s remains a pleasant and welcome addition to the tracklist, even if it’s placement after ‘Chamber of Reflection’ takes some getting used to. To be fair though, the same could be said of any other song on the album if it were to follow ‘Chamber of Reflection’.

Album closer ‘Jonny’s Odyssey’ is another standout song, as both the only instrumental track on Salad Days, and as the finishing flourish on what is arguably Mac DeMarco’s finest hour. Alternating between a sweet little guitar riff that wouldn’t be out of place on a Beatle’s album, and with a more traditional DeMarco set of drums, bass and organ sounds, it creates a perfect epilogue to the rest of the album. It’s the essential footnote to the themes of tiredness, resignation, doubt and no-doubt that fill out the album; ‘Jonny’s Odyssey’ is statement of contentment, of happiness, and it revels in these feelings, while proving that Mac DeMarco, for all his quirks and contradictions, is a damn fine musician. The closing seconds of the second feature the only skit on the album, with DeMarco chipping in quickly: “Hi guys, this is Mac, thank you for joining me, see you again soon, bye-bye.” I can’t wait.

Overall, despite what some fans have perceived as too-radical a change, Salad Days is without a doubt a solid step forward for Mac DeMarco, and an exceptional album in it’s own right. The mini-story within the album, the “Kiera songs” feature three of the brightest tracks on the album, while ‘Chamber of Reflection’ feels like a song you could listen to for the whole 34 minutes. However, Salad Days is more than just the sum of its parts; it’s best taken at once, as a cohesive whole, where the individual elements can combine to form an accurate and more intense impression of exactly what this album is. Regardless of what each individual listener picks up on, Salad Days will doubtless be the first truly great album they hear of 2014. It’s a fantastic consolidation of DeMarco’s work until this point, while also a feverishly exciting promise of what his evolution can offer. As with Mac DeMarco himself, Salad Days is a contradiction: the best is almost certainly not behind for this young man.

Album Highlights: Chamber of Reflection, Let Her Go, Passing Out Pieces, Jonny’s Odyssey

 

Live Review: Bin Juice

Live Review: Bin Juice at Brighton Up Bar 23/5/2014

Photo by Ben Lucid

Opening band The Disappointed started the night off in an ironic fashion, by aligning the audience with their group name. While the singer tried his best, and at times injected himself with blistering intensity, the music itself and the songs at large remained pedestrian, and mediocre in the most disappointing way of all; behind the generic, garage-indie-punk-pop stylings of the set, there was a sense of something greater that just didn’t reveal itself. Indeed, the singer seemed to be trying to break through the boundaries of his own band, who responded to his screaming and frantic stage presence with polite nodding and the occasional hard strum of the guitar. While they had a unfavourably small crowd to impress at an early time, The Disappointed seemed unable to truly invest in their own songs.

Winston Surfshirt then took the stage, a three-piece which is slightly reminiscent of the Midnight Juggernauts and Gorillaz. With a set comprised of mostly relaxed and effortless EDM flavoured indie pop, they succeeded in calming the room and heightening the excitement of the crowd. The consistent and excellent bass player laid down the grooves and rhythm for each song, and their well-chosen samples for their melodic combination of hip-hop, indie rock and EDM resulted in a larger and more interested audience, though the law of diminishing returns found both of these dwindling by the end of the set. Despite this, they proved interesting to be worth following in the future, if only to see what they do next.

Shortly after, Bin Juice took the stage, to a feverishly excited room, now packed to capacity. Their opener, a cover of ‘Crosstown Traffic’ by Hendrix, set the pace and tone for the rest of the set, which was dominated by the energy of the audience, and more importantly, the band. The tightness and chemistry of the band was as apparent as ever, with each member receiving their fair share of worship by the crowd. Playing a well-chosen mix of quick and intense songs, and longer, funkier and more instrumental pieces, they slowly worked the audience into a frenzy, until set-highlight and climax ‘Do Not Run’. Much like the group’s musical style, the build-up of the set exploded into sonic and physical mayhem, with front-man, Eli Kwiet, shedding his guitar and jumping off the stage while belting out the final lines of the song to a crowd who seemed determined to only stop moving when there was nothing left to move to. Finishing out the set with mainstay’s ‘Stella’ and ‘In The Badlands’, Bin Juice held the audience at a dancing and pulsing high, before exiting to thunderous cheers from the many sweat and beer-soaked members of the audience. After the increasing quality of the opening acts, Bin Juice proved to everyone present on the night that they are band worth following, and one of the most promising live bands in Sydney.

 

Set highlights: Do Not Run, Jack Nicholson, Crosstown Traffic, Stella.

Think About It

“Political correctness is intellectual fascism, and moral colonialism.”

Steve Hughes, an Australian comedian, imparted that wisdom to me in February of this year. Of course, it was also said to a crowd a few hundred bright-eyed first year Uni students. Some took it badly, and were quite offended by, apparently missing his point just because it was laced with the occasional ‘cunt’ and ‘fuck’. I personally thought he was hilarious

I’m writing on the topic of political correctness not to provide any answers, because if you think hard enough, there aren’t any. Which is the exact point I’ll be arguing. How can there be a universal standard of what constitutes offensive? Putting aside all the problems associated with subjectivity for a second, why should these incredibly blurry fucking standards affect how the fuck I want to fucking speak? Because of somebody’s fucking preconceptions regarding swearing, content and standards of what constitutes offensive?

Fuck that.

All jokes aside, we all know how political correctness tends to fall on the conservative side, supposedly to better protect the majority of people’s interests. Can somebody tell me when everybody forgot that they didn’t have to worry about offending a minority, and when they stopped thinking logically for long enough to realise they were being played? To be clear, I’m not saying racism, sexism or any other ‘ism” masquerading as free speech is a misunderstanding of political correctness. However, in the context of  when there is no intention to offend or hurt, how can it possibly be deemed “politically incorrect”? And what the fuck do those words even mean?

Last time I checked, politicians were wrong all the fucking time. Since when did “political standards” have to do with street-level behaviour?

What’s been on my mind lately is how I can be considered offensive not for the things I say, but for how I say them. If I were to thoroughly, calmly and intellectually promote Apartheid it would not be considered politically incorrect, but if I say the word “cunt” in public hearing, its a fucking travesty.

Hopefully by now you’re starting to understand why I’m swearing so much.

I’m trying to demonstrate that it doesn’t matter what words I’m using. It’s your personal prerogative if you get offended by something I say. It has less to do with me, than it has to do with your own definition of what constitutes ‘offensive’. There is no problem in such communication, either in me or you. People get offended, it happens so often that I’m surprised that people are still surprised by it. Yet here we are, in this modern age, being told how to go about telling people to fuck off, so we don’t hurt their feelings. Frankly, it offends the fuck out of me.

Besides all of that, how can it possibly be a bad thing to offend someone? You just caused them to think, something we are appreciating less and less as the allure of TV and free pornography becomes stronger. By causing them to think, you have just caused them to either re-affirm or question their own opinion, through thought. No matter which way it goes, they are stronger for it. Yet all they want to do is stop you from doing it again.

Again, I say, fuck that.

I will speak how I want, around who I want, and if that offends them, they’re not thinking hard enough about why they’re offended. To be clear, I’m not trying to change anybody’s mind. I’m hoping to offend and challenge in equal parts, because I would like more for my readers to think about this, rather than react to it on an impulsive level. And if you think about it and still think I’m out of line, that’s fine. I just want to point out how ridiculous it is to be scared by a word. If all it takes is a word to offend you, then seek help.

And to think we let a fucking abysmal system of standards known as “political correctness” emerge and take away our right to enjoy such treasures are the word “fuck” and “cunt”. We let some unknown hierarchy take away our right to think for ourselves in a thoroughly important capacity. We know we can be better than this.

All together now: fuck that.

Cut Your Hair

I had some fairly interesting experiences in my life because of a haircut. Sounds like the beginning of every good story, I know, but I was thinking about it recently and it started to make me think all over again. So I thought I’d share my thoughts.

It was a platinum blond mohawk. The photo below should save me describing it in unnecessary detail and over-using the word ‘majestic’. Needless to say, I loved that hair cut.

The first time I got that haircut was in the summer of 2011. It was a strange time in my life, one where I found myself feeling distant with most of my friends, and one where punk rock once again surged in to take over my conscience and make these differences only stand out more. So I did what any confused and pissed off teenager would do: I got a drastic haircut.

Of course, it didn’t feel drastic to me, rather, it felt liberating. If you’ll allow me to be overly sappy for a second, it was self-expression in a way I had rarely enjoyed before, and it was a way of showing I no longer cared what people thought of me. While it made me happy, it also apparently came at a price; not many of my friends wanted to be seen with me anymore.

Because of a haircut.

So out went my pre-conceived notions of the importance of hair, and in came the never-ending sideways looks, muttered disapproval and outright disbelief. And while all this made me a bit angrier, it also made me a lot happier. It felt good being myself, and with my few true friends around to enjoy the social circus that was public appearances, it was all great fun. Nobody seemed to like it, a few people seemed to outright hate it, and again even a few seemed to be outright offended by it. Self-expression, right?

Now I’ll give a few anecdotes which illustrate why I found it an interesting experience.

My grandmother, upon seeing it, claimed “Good thing he goes to Church, or people might think he’s a bad person.”

What a positively Christian attitude for a follower of a Messiah who consorted with prostitutes, tax collectors and lepers.

I was with a friend one day, and a lot of his friends were around. I introduced myself to some of the people I hadn’t met before, and was quite thrilled when after saying “Hi, I’m Adrian, nice to meet you,” the girl promptly turned her back and walked away. At least she wasn’t superficial about being superficial. I wish I could have said the same about one of my “closest” friends. Pre-mohawk friend, I should say.

On the few occasions I saw some friends from school, they were thankfully honest in their appraisals. “I think its horrible” or “I like it” were the most common responses, which I respected for their honesty. It was a refreshing change from the usual non-committal shrugs or offensively fake “I love it!”

I was just miffed why people were so worried about offending me. It was just a haircut, but then again, these matters seem to be quite important.

Lastly, I was having dinner with my best friend one night at the pub, and we happened to be seated next to a teacher from my high school. I immediately panicked and tried to hide my beer and cigarette (I was 17 at the time).

Instead, when he recognised me, he came over, warmly shook my hand, told me loved it, and wished me a Merry Christmas. Then he laughed and told me not to worry, because he “Wasn’t going to bust me.”

Legend.

I guess where I’m going with this is that I didn’t really get any of the reactions I expected. Apart from my parents, who loved it, everybody else surprised me. I wanted my friends to like it, my family to not see me differently, and for my teachers to hate it.

Nobody seemed to be in on the joke. I was never trying to look good or impress people; it was more the opposite. It was about showing how I felt on the inside, and illustrating how I saw myself. And it really showed how those who didn’t get it, also didn’t know me that well at all. A lot of strangers took it as an automatic sign that I didn’t have enough self-respect to stand up for myself or respond to their jeers. Their shocked faces are a fond memory that still makes me smile.

And now we get to the punchline: it was just a haircut.