Heaps Decent is what happens when committed folks who love music set out to change the world. It started back in 2007, when Sydney promoter & DJ Andrew Levins and Nina Agzarian (better known as triple j’s Nina Las Vegas) began putting on workshops for disadvantaged young people, under their own steam. “We do a lot of workshops, and that means going out to jails, community centres and schools out in the suburbs [to reach] indigenous youth, or kids with behaviour problems and learning difficulties” explains Levins.
“They’re usually music based workshops – DJ, song writing, beat making, recording – the aim is to raise the self esteem of the young people involved in the workshops. We get them to do that by writing lyrics about themselves or a situation they’re involved in and sharing that with everybody.” The results have been impressive, the workshops often providing the catalyst for lasting change in the lives of those who need it most. “It’s all about keeping them interested and expressing themselves in ways other than getting in trouble” says Levins. “It’s about giving back to a community that you’re a part of – or that needs you to be a part of it.”
To this end, Heaps Decent acts as an intermediary, developing songs written through workshops, often with the aid of high profile touring artists like M.I.A, Diplo (‘Smash A Kangaroo’) or A-Trak (‘Anywhere But Here’). Helped along by some famous friends, the finished tracks are shared with the broader music community and the media (check out the Parklife 2010 DJ Mixtape for two choice samples), before feedback was delivered to the kids who were originally involved. “[That way] they can see that being creative, you feel good about yourself, you get your voice heard by other people – that’s what Heaps Decent is all about,” says Levins.
In order to reach those young people who need the most assistance, Levins and other Heaps Decent facilitators regularly travel to far-flung corners of the state like Broken Hill, Wagga Wagga and most recently, the red-dirt surrounded hamlet of Wilcannia. “It’s an amazingly beautiful town, with big sense of community” Levins enthuses. “That’s where I really want to go back – I want to find appropriate people in remote areas, give them training [and] equipment and set up this Heaps Decent hub, so that they can encourage young people to keep making music with them, and pass on the knowledge that we’ve given them.”
Making Heaps Decent as self-sustaining as possible is the plan as far as Levins is concerned, the goal for 2011 being to open more permanent regional facilities as well as a Heaps Decent studio space somewhere around Redfern – providing former students with a place to come and continue to make music, and facilitators with a greater ability to self-finance the project. Things have gained considerable momentum over the last year, the philanthropic enthusiasm of guest facilitators such as Diplo, Jack Beats, Sinden and A-Trak leading Fuzzy to step up as the organisation’s official benefactor, providing staff, equipment and helping raise funds through Parklife and Field Day.
But all things cost money – sound equipment and long-distance travel, especially. Which is why Heaps Decent is throwing a huge fundraiser on Saturday night. Featuring live sets from artists from the Heaps Decent workshops and members of the family, as well as a wealth of DJs including Ro Sham Bo, Beni, Kato and Dizz1, it looks set to be a pretty mad bash – and there’s a raffle happening too. “We rarely have an opportunity where people can come and support us like this,” says Levins with characteristic enthusiasm. “It’s going to a really awesome fundraiser, it’s cheap and I really hope that tons of people come and show their support.”
The Heaps Decent Spring Bash is this Friday the 3rd at Oxford Arts Factory, with attractions including (but not limited to: Kween G & Belizian Bombshell, Stunna Set, Miracle, Young Nooky, Tweak, DJs: Bag Raiders, Beni, Kato, Sham Bo, Nina Las Vegas, Dizz1, Wax motif, Disco Punx and more. Be there or be somewhere else!
First published in The Brag, Iss. 377, August 30th 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
Grinderman - Grinderman 2
Grinderman
Grinderman 2
***
The second round of Grinderman mayhem opens with Nick Cave in midlife crisis mode, announcing to the universe, ‘I woke up this morning and I thought “what am I doing?”’ With the first Grinderman album (Cave’s sideproject with a few fellow Badseeds, principally Warren Ellis), many were left asking exactly that, dismissing it as little more than an exercise in grossly indulgent whining from a bunch of aging lotharios. But those who managed to discern the blaring self-parody underscoring the lewd posturing of songs like ‘No Pussy Blues’ will find much to enjoy in this sequel of razorbacked blues and whirring psychedelia.
The absurd deadpan tone of the first album is carried here by songs like first single ‘Heathen Child,’ Cave mocking the existential quandaries that plague the young with some surreal lyrics delivered with a leer and a snicker. But he’s at his best in the role of arch-seducer (aka dirty old man), like on ‘Worm Tamer’ or ‘Kitchenette’ – with lines like ‘I stick my fingers in your biscuit jar / and crush all your gingerbread men’ delivered in a voice dripping with post-peepshow mank.
Not that the lecherous and the grotesque are the only tones striven for here – they’re just the ones that Cave and co. seem to relish most. ‘When My Baby Comes’ contains all the mawkish desperation of the washed-up flip-side to the Grinderman persona; ditto the rasping pathos of ‘What I Know’.
There are misfirings sure, but if you’re in on the joke then Grinderman 2 is plenty fun. And if not, well, you can clean yourself up.
First published in The Brag, Iss. 377, August 30th 2010
Grinderman 2
***
The second round of Grinderman mayhem opens with Nick Cave in midlife crisis mode, announcing to the universe, ‘I woke up this morning and I thought “what am I doing?”’ With the first Grinderman album (Cave’s sideproject with a few fellow Badseeds, principally Warren Ellis), many were left asking exactly that, dismissing it as little more than an exercise in grossly indulgent whining from a bunch of aging lotharios. But those who managed to discern the blaring self-parody underscoring the lewd posturing of songs like ‘No Pussy Blues’ will find much to enjoy in this sequel of razorbacked blues and whirring psychedelia.
The absurd deadpan tone of the first album is carried here by songs like first single ‘Heathen Child,’ Cave mocking the existential quandaries that plague the young with some surreal lyrics delivered with a leer and a snicker. But he’s at his best in the role of arch-seducer (aka dirty old man), like on ‘Worm Tamer’ or ‘Kitchenette’ – with lines like ‘I stick my fingers in your biscuit jar / and crush all your gingerbread men’ delivered in a voice dripping with post-peepshow mank.
Not that the lecherous and the grotesque are the only tones striven for here – they’re just the ones that Cave and co. seem to relish most. ‘When My Baby Comes’ contains all the mawkish desperation of the washed-up flip-side to the Grinderman persona; ditto the rasping pathos of ‘What I Know’.
There are misfirings sure, but if you’re in on the joke then Grinderman 2 is plenty fun. And if not, well, you can clean yourself up.
First published in The Brag, Iss. 377, August 30th 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Jinja Safari - Jinja Safari EP
Jinja Safari
Jinga Safari EP
***1/2
Sydney’s Jinja Safari don’t seem to be the sort of folks to mess around. The band consists of soulfully-bearded sorts Marcus Azon and Pepa Knight, and has been in existence for less than eight months – yet they managed to swing the rather neat trick of winning triple j’s Unearthed Splendour competition, netting them the privilege of opening the festival a few weeks back. Not too bad for a local group that performed its first show at the beginning of May.
Not that the pair are quite the greenhorns the PR line suggests. 21-year-old Knight released a solo album Start late last year, which stood him in good stead for producing the lush, exuberant sound typical of Jinja Safari’s self-titled debut EP. As with recent stuff from groups like the Ruby Suns or Vampire Weekend, Jinja Safari reeks of the influence of Graceland-era Paul Simon, although the spectre of Peter Gabriel also seems to hover at the edge of the firelight… Cue the sound of synthesized pan flutes.
In practice this simply means: tribal beatz, the twanging waft of sitar and delicate arching harmonies that seem to speak of morning light and crisp mountain air – all very North-Coast NSW really. First single ‘Peter Pan’ is a case in point; bells, chimes and handclaps supporting an effortlessly optimistic lyric (‘love has come at last / leave your sorrows in the past / dancing in the rain’).
It’s all very life affirming, to be sure – and it’ll be interesting to see if the fellas can muster up a bit more depth for the long player which is undoubtedly in the works. In the meantime, go see them live – it’ll be a blast.
First published in The Brag, Iss. 376, August 23rd 2010
Jinga Safari EP
***1/2
Sydney’s Jinja Safari don’t seem to be the sort of folks to mess around. The band consists of soulfully-bearded sorts Marcus Azon and Pepa Knight, and has been in existence for less than eight months – yet they managed to swing the rather neat trick of winning triple j’s Unearthed Splendour competition, netting them the privilege of opening the festival a few weeks back. Not too bad for a local group that performed its first show at the beginning of May.
Not that the pair are quite the greenhorns the PR line suggests. 21-year-old Knight released a solo album Start late last year, which stood him in good stead for producing the lush, exuberant sound typical of Jinja Safari’s self-titled debut EP. As with recent stuff from groups like the Ruby Suns or Vampire Weekend, Jinja Safari reeks of the influence of Graceland-era Paul Simon, although the spectre of Peter Gabriel also seems to hover at the edge of the firelight… Cue the sound of synthesized pan flutes.
In practice this simply means: tribal beatz, the twanging waft of sitar and delicate arching harmonies that seem to speak of morning light and crisp mountain air – all very North-Coast NSW really. First single ‘Peter Pan’ is a case in point; bells, chimes and handclaps supporting an effortlessly optimistic lyric (‘love has come at last / leave your sorrows in the past / dancing in the rain’).
It’s all very life affirming, to be sure – and it’ll be interesting to see if the fellas can muster up a bit more depth for the long player which is undoubtedly in the works. In the meantime, go see them live – it’ll be a blast.
First published in The Brag, Iss. 376, August 23rd 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
Menomena - Mines
Menomena
Mines
****
Portland experimental rock three-piece Menomena have a more unusual writing process than most groups of their stature, laying down loops by the dozen before slowly assembling the resulting audio mess into distinct songs in the comfort of their bedrooms. Either they were working to sharper schematics than in the past, or they’ve honed the process to a fine art – Mines is their most coherent yet consistently surprising release to date.
Surprising in every sense, too. A track like ‘Taos’ rolls along quite nicely in alt-rock cruise control before veering through half a dozen musical flourishes – strings, a lone arpeggiated piano, a choir of Loony Tunes extras, slickly irregular drum licks from Danny Seim, sudden Zepplinesque guitar vom. And Brent Knopf’s not-quite-unlikeable yowl provides the pivot on which the whole thing turns; a sweetly unassuming lyrical come-on developing the confessional overtones of a serial sex addict. More exhilarating ground-dropping-away-beneath-you moments in the space of one song than many manage in an entire album.
Menomena draw their emotional oomph by picking through the detritus of failed relationships, and they do it in lyrical style: ‘you’re five foot five, not a hundred pounds / I’m scared to death of every single ounce’ (‘Queen Black Acid’). But Mines pulls together far too much diverse musical territory for it ever to become depressing; more moments of consummate awesomeness include the ascending piano hook and girl-group back-up vocals on ‘Oh Pretty Boy, You’re Such a Big Boy’ or the bitter twist of the saxophone on ‘Five Little Rooms’.
Full of surprises, this is one of the most endlessly listenable rock releases of the year.
First published in The Brag, Iss. 376, August 23rd 2010
Mines
****
Portland experimental rock three-piece Menomena have a more unusual writing process than most groups of their stature, laying down loops by the dozen before slowly assembling the resulting audio mess into distinct songs in the comfort of their bedrooms. Either they were working to sharper schematics than in the past, or they’ve honed the process to a fine art – Mines is their most coherent yet consistently surprising release to date.
Surprising in every sense, too. A track like ‘Taos’ rolls along quite nicely in alt-rock cruise control before veering through half a dozen musical flourishes – strings, a lone arpeggiated piano, a choir of Loony Tunes extras, slickly irregular drum licks from Danny Seim, sudden Zepplinesque guitar vom. And Brent Knopf’s not-quite-unlikeable yowl provides the pivot on which the whole thing turns; a sweetly unassuming lyrical come-on developing the confessional overtones of a serial sex addict. More exhilarating ground-dropping-away-beneath-you moments in the space of one song than many manage in an entire album.
Menomena draw their emotional oomph by picking through the detritus of failed relationships, and they do it in lyrical style: ‘you’re five foot five, not a hundred pounds / I’m scared to death of every single ounce’ (‘Queen Black Acid’). But Mines pulls together far too much diverse musical territory for it ever to become depressing; more moments of consummate awesomeness include the ascending piano hook and girl-group back-up vocals on ‘Oh Pretty Boy, You’re Such a Big Boy’ or the bitter twist of the saxophone on ‘Five Little Rooms’.
Full of surprises, this is one of the most endlessly listenable rock releases of the year.
First published in The Brag, Iss. 376, August 23rd 2010
Ben Sollee - Learning To Bend
Ben Sollee
Learning to Bend
***1/2
Listening to Ben Sollee’s rather lovely debut in the middle of an election campaign is a somewhat bizarre experience. First released in the US in 2008 B.O. (Before Obama), Learning to Bend overflows with deeply felt left-leaning political sentiment generated in the lead up to Bush the II’s ousting from the White House. Not that this dates Sollee’s songwriting in the least; a song like the opener ‘A Few Honest Words’ channels public disgust at political duplicity in a sentiment that’s timeless: “I don’t need no handshake or a firm look in the eye / don’t tell me what you think I oughta hear”.
Sollee is undoubtedly a committed activist – if it wasn’t clear from his own lyrics, which occasionally veer on the side of the overly direct, his decision to cover Sam Cooke’s sixties classic (and Mr O’s spiritual theme song) ‘A Change Is Gonna Come’ confirms it. But the real attractions to be found here are musical; Learning to Bend is, aside from anything else, an invigorating cross-pollination of bluegrass and soul.
Sollee wields his instrument of choice, the cello, with understated skill. His effortlessly articulated pizz provides the foundation for some great contributions from banjo-picking fellow travellers Abigail Washburn and Bela Fleck (from Sollee’s other project The Sparrow Quartet), while he sings in a soulful lilt – think Eli “Paperboy” Reed meets Andrew Bird.
With Sollee’s subsequent LP Dear Companion (written with Daniel Martin Moore and produced by My Morning Jacket’s Jim James) already available, it’s a shame that this debut has taken so long to reach Australian ears.
First published in The Brag, Iss. 376, August 23rd 2010
Learning to Bend
***1/2
Listening to Ben Sollee’s rather lovely debut in the middle of an election campaign is a somewhat bizarre experience. First released in the US in 2008 B.O. (Before Obama), Learning to Bend overflows with deeply felt left-leaning political sentiment generated in the lead up to Bush the II’s ousting from the White House. Not that this dates Sollee’s songwriting in the least; a song like the opener ‘A Few Honest Words’ channels public disgust at political duplicity in a sentiment that’s timeless: “I don’t need no handshake or a firm look in the eye / don’t tell me what you think I oughta hear”.
Sollee is undoubtedly a committed activist – if it wasn’t clear from his own lyrics, which occasionally veer on the side of the overly direct, his decision to cover Sam Cooke’s sixties classic (and Mr O’s spiritual theme song) ‘A Change Is Gonna Come’ confirms it. But the real attractions to be found here are musical; Learning to Bend is, aside from anything else, an invigorating cross-pollination of bluegrass and soul.
Sollee wields his instrument of choice, the cello, with understated skill. His effortlessly articulated pizz provides the foundation for some great contributions from banjo-picking fellow travellers Abigail Washburn and Bela Fleck (from Sollee’s other project The Sparrow Quartet), while he sings in a soulful lilt – think Eli “Paperboy” Reed meets Andrew Bird.
With Sollee’s subsequent LP Dear Companion (written with Daniel Martin Moore and produced by My Morning Jacket’s Jim James) already available, it’s a shame that this debut has taken so long to reach Australian ears.
First published in The Brag, Iss. 376, August 23rd 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
Twin Sister - Colour Your Life
Twin Sister
Color Your Life
***
Brooklyn’s Twin Sister garnered considerable buzz Stateside on the strength of their debut EP Vampires With Dreaming Kids – which they thoughtfully made freely available through their website. Although their second LP delivers some radiantly chromatic moments – assuring them their place on the ‘ones to watch’ list – it does so without ever becoming uncontrollably drool-worthy.
The tone is set from the get go, ‘The Other Side Of Your Face’ kicking Color Your Life off to a hypnotic start with rippling phased guitars parsing over an unfaltering drumbeat. Singer Andrea Estella’s waifish vocals unobtrusively cut through the texture, before allowing the song to collapse into a post-rock fade out – kind of like a moving light refracting through a steadily held prism. Radio-ready single ‘Lady Daydream’ is beguilingly chilled as is ‘All Around And Away We Go’, which circles around a point of white euphoria and provides the EP’s most memorable moment. But this same moment also makes the group’s debt to the likes of Stereolab abundantly clear – and ‘Milk and Honey’ leans towards the ‘theft’ side of ‘influenced’.
While Estella’s voice takes a little while to warm to, being beautiful in the same way that Charlotte Gainsbourg is (strangely, undefinably so), Twin Sister works better with her than without. The EP’s single instrumental, ‘Galaxy Plateau’, is a piece of sinister ambience straight from the void, which acts as little more than an extended introduction to original final track ‘Phenomenons’ (the actual final track, Australia-only ‘#6’, sounds more like an undeveloped demo’).
Color Your Life is a moody little collection which suggests that as soon as the band shrug away the burden of their influences, only good things are possible.
First published in The Brag, Iss. 375, August 16th 2010
Color Your Life
***
Brooklyn’s Twin Sister garnered considerable buzz Stateside on the strength of their debut EP Vampires With Dreaming Kids – which they thoughtfully made freely available through their website. Although their second LP delivers some radiantly chromatic moments – assuring them their place on the ‘ones to watch’ list – it does so without ever becoming uncontrollably drool-worthy.
The tone is set from the get go, ‘The Other Side Of Your Face’ kicking Color Your Life off to a hypnotic start with rippling phased guitars parsing over an unfaltering drumbeat. Singer Andrea Estella’s waifish vocals unobtrusively cut through the texture, before allowing the song to collapse into a post-rock fade out – kind of like a moving light refracting through a steadily held prism. Radio-ready single ‘Lady Daydream’ is beguilingly chilled as is ‘All Around And Away We Go’, which circles around a point of white euphoria and provides the EP’s most memorable moment. But this same moment also makes the group’s debt to the likes of Stereolab abundantly clear – and ‘Milk and Honey’ leans towards the ‘theft’ side of ‘influenced’.
While Estella’s voice takes a little while to warm to, being beautiful in the same way that Charlotte Gainsbourg is (strangely, undefinably so), Twin Sister works better with her than without. The EP’s single instrumental, ‘Galaxy Plateau’, is a piece of sinister ambience straight from the void, which acts as little more than an extended introduction to original final track ‘Phenomenons’ (the actual final track, Australia-only ‘#6’, sounds more like an undeveloped demo’).
Color Your Life is a moody little collection which suggests that as soon as the band shrug away the burden of their influences, only good things are possible.
First published in The Brag, Iss. 375, August 16th 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
Midlake, Big Scary @ The Metro Theatre, July 31
Kudos to Melbourne duo Big Scary (or the management thereof) for landing the support slot tonight. With their breadcrumb trail of EPs having yet to lead to an album, opening for a Major American Rock Group is no small feat. They certainly deserve the exposure, the pair providing a toothsome showcase of their gentler side – the downside being that Tom Iansek’s sweetly warbling tenor was often overwhelmed by the friendly babble of a restive crowd. While this was mostly the sound guy’s fault, some material seemed a touch tentative, a concern that certainly didn’t apply to an innervating rendition of ‘Autumn’.
Midlake raised eyebrows with their third album The Courage Of Others, songwriter and scraggly troubadour Tim Smith’s fixation on the likes of Fairport Convention and Jethro Tull giving rise to an exercise in ’70s English folk revivalism with a peculiarly American flavour. The turn of the century log cabin shtick of the band’s breakthrough Van Occupanther gave way to ancient woods, fair maids and a deep and abiding melancholy. And such was the tone this evening, Smith performing much of the set comfortably seated whilst intoning lines such as “I will never have the courage of others” with an appropriate amount of gravitas.
Not that this was a downer in any way; the Texan septet generate a magnetic atmosphere with a decidedly old-school air (aided and abetted by the odd whiff of weed and the high ratio of grey hair scattered through the audience), while building some utterly electrifying climaxes (‘Core of Nature’ as a case in point). But while it’s difficult not admire the conviction and stature that Smith & Co. bring to their newer material, the VO favourites ‘Bandits’ and ‘Branches’ with which they chose to encore were like a ray of sunshine on the woodlands after rain.
First published in The Brag, Iss. 374, August 9th 2010
Midlake raised eyebrows with their third album The Courage Of Others, songwriter and scraggly troubadour Tim Smith’s fixation on the likes of Fairport Convention and Jethro Tull giving rise to an exercise in ’70s English folk revivalism with a peculiarly American flavour. The turn of the century log cabin shtick of the band’s breakthrough Van Occupanther gave way to ancient woods, fair maids and a deep and abiding melancholy. And such was the tone this evening, Smith performing much of the set comfortably seated whilst intoning lines such as “I will never have the courage of others” with an appropriate amount of gravitas.
Not that this was a downer in any way; the Texan septet generate a magnetic atmosphere with a decidedly old-school air (aided and abetted by the odd whiff of weed and the high ratio of grey hair scattered through the audience), while building some utterly electrifying climaxes (‘Core of Nature’ as a case in point). But while it’s difficult not admire the conviction and stature that Smith & Co. bring to their newer material, the VO favourites ‘Bandits’ and ‘Branches’ with which they chose to encore were like a ray of sunshine on the woodlands after rain.
First published in The Brag, Iss. 374, August 9th 2010
Arcade Fire - The Suburbs
Arcade Fire
The Suburbs
****1/2
Two albums down, and Arcade Fire have arrived at the most enviable position; they now have the time and resources to do whatever they want. It’s telling then that what they want is to return to the neighbourhood setting of their groundbreaking debut. Where Funeral was closely focussed on individual angst at the reality of death, The Suburbs takes the long view – the band bring their observant lens to bear on home territory.
For co-vocalists Win Butler and Regine Chassagne, the dormitories of the first world are the site of deeply conflicting emotions. Half-remembered images of after school shenanigans play like a home movie behind the apocalyptic fatalism of reality: full-time employment, mortgages, two-and-a-half kids. The Suburbs is as much an exorcism of personal cobwebs as it is a carefully aimed post-sub-prime attack on American complacency, and Wall St usury.
Butler is less precious lyrically than in the past, though direct as ever – in ‘City With No Children’ he asks, “do you think your righteousness / could pay the interest on your debt?” Musically, things tend towards the steady, complex mellowness of an album that will grow on you – punctuated by radio-ready amphetamine-fuelled, string-orchestra-backed dance anthems (‘Empty Room’), and hyper-accelerated electro whirls (‘Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)’). And there is nothing more exciting than ‘Ready To Start’. All in all, it’s a bit top heavy – and things start to feel flabby at sixteen tracks. The emotional peak of ‘Sprawl’ I and II, for instance, are reached only after some leaden purgatorial dross… But all in all, you’ll pay those dues.
First published, and featured as Album of the Week, in The Brag, Iss. 374, August 9th 2010
The Suburbs
****1/2
Two albums down, and Arcade Fire have arrived at the most enviable position; they now have the time and resources to do whatever they want. It’s telling then that what they want is to return to the neighbourhood setting of their groundbreaking debut. Where Funeral was closely focussed on individual angst at the reality of death, The Suburbs takes the long view – the band bring their observant lens to bear on home territory.
For co-vocalists Win Butler and Regine Chassagne, the dormitories of the first world are the site of deeply conflicting emotions. Half-remembered images of after school shenanigans play like a home movie behind the apocalyptic fatalism of reality: full-time employment, mortgages, two-and-a-half kids. The Suburbs is as much an exorcism of personal cobwebs as it is a carefully aimed post-sub-prime attack on American complacency, and Wall St usury.
Butler is less precious lyrically than in the past, though direct as ever – in ‘City With No Children’ he asks, “do you think your righteousness / could pay the interest on your debt?” Musically, things tend towards the steady, complex mellowness of an album that will grow on you – punctuated by radio-ready amphetamine-fuelled, string-orchestra-backed dance anthems (‘Empty Room’), and hyper-accelerated electro whirls (‘Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)’). And there is nothing more exciting than ‘Ready To Start’. All in all, it’s a bit top heavy – and things start to feel flabby at sixteen tracks. The emotional peak of ‘Sprawl’ I and II, for instance, are reached only after some leaden purgatorial dross… But all in all, you’ll pay those dues.
First published, and featured as Album of the Week, in The Brag, Iss. 374, August 9th 2010
Washington - I Believe You, Liar
Washington
I Believe You, Liar
****
I Believe You, Liar has been gestating in the brain of Megan Washington for a while now. Her three EPs over the last eighteen months have seen the former Brisvegan dabbling with various blendings of jazz, folk and pop, with mixed success but always with a quirky twist unmistakably her own. With her LP debut, her patience in establishing herself has paid dividends – it’s not just a collection of the most fully formed examples of a young songwriter’s craft, but an immensely enjoyable pop confection with a kick in the aftertaste.
Perhaps the biggest surprise is how musically upbeat so much of the material is; the extent to which you’ll go for a song like ‘Rich Kids’ depends entirely on how open you are to throwing yourself around the kitchen like a lunatic. It’s immaculately produced, radio-ready pop (congrats are in order for studio mastermind John Castle), tempered by the vicious flavour that is Meg’s fingerprint – lines like “I wonder how you ever made it / Holy shit, you sure can turn it on” (‘Sunday Best’) are delivered with a butter-wouldn’t-melt sort of smile.
Although her voice effortlessly carries the laughing challenge and knowing twinkle required by the songs, she’s just as capable of tenderness, wringing hard-earned eloquence from a line like “maybe people in love are all on the same side when they fight” (‘Lover / Soldier’). At no point is Washington anything less than utterly convincing; the searching self-interrogation of ‘How To Tame Lions’ for instance draws its power from the chastened understanding that can only come from having been there. And that’s a fact true of the album as a whole.
I Believe You, Liar is a strident first effort which promises even better things to come.
First published in The Brag, Iss. 374, August 9th 2010
I Believe You, Liar
****
I Believe You, Liar has been gestating in the brain of Megan Washington for a while now. Her three EPs over the last eighteen months have seen the former Brisvegan dabbling with various blendings of jazz, folk and pop, with mixed success but always with a quirky twist unmistakably her own. With her LP debut, her patience in establishing herself has paid dividends – it’s not just a collection of the most fully formed examples of a young songwriter’s craft, but an immensely enjoyable pop confection with a kick in the aftertaste.
Perhaps the biggest surprise is how musically upbeat so much of the material is; the extent to which you’ll go for a song like ‘Rich Kids’ depends entirely on how open you are to throwing yourself around the kitchen like a lunatic. It’s immaculately produced, radio-ready pop (congrats are in order for studio mastermind John Castle), tempered by the vicious flavour that is Meg’s fingerprint – lines like “I wonder how you ever made it / Holy shit, you sure can turn it on” (‘Sunday Best’) are delivered with a butter-wouldn’t-melt sort of smile.
Although her voice effortlessly carries the laughing challenge and knowing twinkle required by the songs, she’s just as capable of tenderness, wringing hard-earned eloquence from a line like “maybe people in love are all on the same side when they fight” (‘Lover / Soldier’). At no point is Washington anything less than utterly convincing; the searching self-interrogation of ‘How To Tame Lions’ for instance draws its power from the chastened understanding that can only come from having been there. And that’s a fact true of the album as a whole.
I Believe You, Liar is a strident first effort which promises even better things to come.
First published in The Brag, Iss. 374, August 9th 2010
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