Avey Tare - Down There

Avey Tare
Down There

****

The problem with getting high is that, by and large, most people have an unfortunate tendency to come crashing down again. Having heaved themselves up to the top of the indie heap with last year’s soaringly optimistic Merriweather Post Pavilion, Animal Collective’s various members seem to be working through the issues brought to the surface by rapid success in their own idiosyncratic ways. While Panda Bear continues to produce stellar solo work, enjoying the odd dalliance with the likes of Deerhunter’s Bradford Cox along the way, Avey Tare (Dave Portner, to his mum) has exorcised any iniquitous spirits that may’ve been bothering him by bottling them in his own solo release, the appropriately named Down There.

“Down there”, announces a cybernetic voice at the start of opener ‘Laughing Hieroglyphic,’ before breaking into maniacal laughter. “One of these might jump out and do you in,” observes a demonic one through the murk at its close, a track that otherwise might be the downbeat country cousin of ‘Summertime Clothes’. It signals the gloom-laden quicksand to follow.

Third track ‘Oliver Twist’ makes good on this promise, sinking down with the gators and squelching methane, as does ‘Cemeteries’, as Tare stares back at the world from the cocoon of a waterlogged grave.While there are more than a few moments of the macabre here, the itchy helplessness of ‘Heather In The Hospital’ is easily the blackest spot as well as the most poignant, leading into the sunny-side up ending of ‘Lucky 1’.

Tare has bared his wriggling neuroses to the light, with results that are oppressive, introverted and weird. Highly recommended.



First Published in The Brag, Iss. 389, November 29th 2010

Mirah @ The Red Rattler, Thursday October 1

Mirah, Shiver Like Timber, The Smallgoods

‘Was, was that a plane?’ asks Betony Dircks, AKA Shiver Like Timber, in the mildly timorous tones of one who’s not as yet quite comfortable stage-side. The rumbles of the flightpath overhead provide permanent competition with tonight’s performers; The Red Rattler has the most appropriate name of any venue in Sydney. Under such circumstances, Dircks’ slight hesitance is unfortunate – her carefully picked guitar lines and striking lyrics (‘Arctic Esplanade’) are delivered in permanently breathless vocals, only building up a real sense of conviction when fed through some enticing loops.

No such difficulties for Melbournites The Smallgoods, the hirsute trio filling up the warmly lit, milk crate-strewn space, with their simply fashioned, richly harmonised old school pop. Songs such as ‘Traipse Through The Valley’ are suggestive of ploughman’s lunches and smoking mugwort, harmonies reminiscent of The Byrds or (lord help us) Simon & Garfunkel enveloping a rapt audience with a sense of ruminative stasis.  Particularly entrancing was ‘City Full Of Sky’, a captivating chord sequence washing away the occasional twee lyric.

Aeroplanes were the cause of more amusing difficulties for an extremely jetlagged Mirah Yom Tov Zeitlyn (observed pre-show enjoying a sack-of-potatoes style cat-nap back stage), who repeatedly, and with effortless charm, forgot the lyrics to her own songs – calling on an extremely well-informed audience for prompts. Although Mirah has now been recording for well over ten years, this gig marks her first Australian visit, numerous requests for older material being cheerfully deflected with a variety of creative excuses.

Her back catalogue was nonetheless widely traversed, more recent material from (a)spera being mixed with much-loved songs like ‘Cold, Cold Water’ or crowd-favourite ‘The Garden’. Her firm and sassy vocals were overwhelming, even with the low thunder provided courtesy of Qantas. A left-field cover of ‘Changes’ rounded out a buoyant night; with luck, she’ll return soon.


First published in The Brag, Iss. 387, November 8th 2010

Ólöf Arnalds - Innundir Skinni

Ólöf Arnalds
Innundir Skinni [Within Skin]

***

There’s a pretty amusing interview with Ms Arnalds (singer, recent mother and ex-Múm member) in this month’s issue of UK street rag The Stool Pigeon, in which she immediately declares her personal life to be off limits – despite the fact that many of the songs on her second album, Innundir Skinni, deal with the deeply personal matter of her father dying. Not that you can tell what she’s singing about most of the time without recourse to the lyric sheet, as most songs here are rendered in her native Icelandic. Indeed, even those few songs which are sung in English are nigh on incomprehensible thanks to her sweetly lilting accent and Joanna Newsom-esque delivery.

There are some lovely moments here regardless. ‘Svif Birki (Tree Love)’ for example, which mixes her creamy enunciation of the Icelandic tongue with an understated acoustic guitar, prismatic vocal harmonisations occasionally rippling through the simple texture. Cloister something like ‘The Sprout And The Bean’ off Milk-Eyed Mender away within a smoke-filled hut while an ash-strewn winter rages outside, and you’ll be close.

Most songs here feature spare acoustic backings that provide a gently swimming complement to Arnalds gentle voice. It’s a delicate balance, the backing vocals provided by an under-utilised Björk on ‘Surrender’ – not quite avoiding the obvious risk of overwhelming Arnalds with her turbo-charged lungs.

An undoubtedly attractive listen, Arnalds ultimately comes off a touch precious – her seriousness is unleavened by any sense of play or release, providing little counter to the weight of her emotions.


First published in The Brag, Iss. 383, October 11th 2010