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Dolly Rocker Movement - Our Days Mind The Tyme

Column: CD Reviews | Date Published: Wednesday, 19 August 09 | Author: Catherine Woods | | 2 years, 5 months ago

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[Off The Hip]

These kooky Sydney boys are the result of breeding Bowie with The Violet Femmes and giving birth in the middle of a circus. Just when I think I've pinned down their sound, they go on a wild trip into other eras, other lands, and the only thing that I'm assured of is that it will be awesomely fun. Dandy Lyon is behind the gorgeously androgynous vocals, and the influence of Brian Jonestown Massacre and Marc Bolan is instantly apparent. This is their third album, a flawlessly produced invitation to psychedelic '60s revival. Sunshine, electric pop, garage pop: RSVP now!

	Various Artists - Leave Them All Behind III: [Modular] I'm not going to lie; it's pretty bland. It's awash with the disco sounds that are set to make a glorious comeback in the coming year, but, from one of Australia's best record labels, there's nothing mind blowing. Short but sweet remixes of The Golden Silvers, MGMT and those crafty lads of Van She pick up the beat slightly, but it sounds like background music for public servants on a Friday afternoon. And the second disc is just songs we've all heard on the radio. I thought Rick James left a great enough legacy for people to know how it's done...
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	Divine Heresy Bringer of Plagues: [Roadrunner] Fear Factory were one of my favourite bands of the '90s; their doomsday syntheses of brutal rifferama, automated beat madness and gothic vocal hysteria really soundtracked the end of the century to the Deliria ears, and main songwriter Dino Cazares almost revisits those dizzy heights on this, his second outing with Divine Heresy. In particular, the searing grandeur of Redefine brings back memories of the man's glory days clocking on at the 'Factory, whilst Darkness Embedded is easily the most commercial song the man has lent his talents to - and in a good way, too. Sure, there's a lot of generic grindcore ranting and raving going on by the by - but those two tracks alone make this worth investigating.
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	Patrick Watson - Wooden Arms: [Secret City / Shock] The music in this album showcases amazing imagination and artistry, weaving together a patchwork of sounds. Instrument tones are morphed and vocal effects employed to give the album a mysterious, theatrical character. Some musical combos are intriguing. Strings are mixed with tinpot percussion in Tracy's Water, while piano and bicycle sounds collide in Beijing (Jane Campion's The Piano meets Dresden Dolls). This experimental potion of musical effects delicately embellishes vocals that are even more ethereal than Jeff Buckley's. Whilst, beautiful passages of music appear throughout the CD (often from obscure instruments such as a charango or memotron), the wispy, overly dreamy vocal delivery detracts from the overall result.
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	Jenny Wilson - Hardships!: [etc etc] Not entirely sure whether to blame Rufus, Sufjan or Antony, but someone has to take responsibility for the propagation of highly-affected, fussily arranged, Venus fly trap torch songs. The sort that tricks you into thinking it's more than it really is. Jenny Wilson has an inclination to favour technique and artifice over substance. Take for example We Had Everything - an attention grabbing song, held together by a genuinely interesting hook and bold melody, it displays a restraint and simplicity lacking elsewhere - only to throw it all away with an unnecessary coda diminishing all that came before. Hardships! seems designed to appeal to the all-knowing, insider-y, hip, bon vivant demographic. All up - it's a bit of a chore.
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	Tortoise Beacons of Ancestorship: [Spunk] As an insufferable music snob I take great pleasure in liking things that other people find difficult or outrightly despise. I also turn on bands once they start getting mainstream reviews or attention. I don't listen to music on the radio and refuse to wear denim. I find it impossible to tell the difference between fact and fiction and almost every day is a never-ending stream of pithy, banal observations delivered to no-one in particular. Back in the day, Steely Dan were my band but they confused me somewhat - I didn't know if they were taking pot shots at me or giving me coded messages regarding my superbness. Whatever, their guitar solos killed. Tortoise are my corduroy fantasy but with no complicated wordplay. 'Post-rock' according to my milkman, like I knew what the hell he was talking about. It's all hi-falutin rhythmical sharp edges, synths, blizzard syncopation and un-rusted beats bridging the gap between 1970s Eastern European advertisement jingles and Canadian prog rockers Rush. Beacons of Ancestorship is therefore, tops.
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