
- Details
- By The Barman
- Hits: 7511

Here's the European edition of the twice-repressed album from Melbourne band Bits of Shit. The message is simple: If you haven't nailed a copy of the Australian version on Homeless, there's still hope.
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- By Robert Brokenmouth
- Hits: 5313
LOST MY HEAD FOR DRINK - Bloodloss (Dirty Knobby/SubPop)
Fourteen years old by now, "Lost My Head for Drink" sounds both ahead of its time and retro, and has an elusive timeless quality. Who else puts out such a fabulous mixture of mellow tunes and stifling ferocity? Rock discovered parallel with caustic, free-flying jazz? This version of Bloodloss is its own genre. Simple as that.
No? Look, you know that famous American painting Nighthawks at the Diner? Well, this LP is like that, but more real, more gritty, less smooth but a lot more emotional and substantially more fucking elegant. Ennui and boredom be buggered, in "Lost My Head for Drink", Bloodloss have a classic LP.
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- By The Barman
- Hits: 4611
If Alive Naturalsound putting out a live album of their current roster sounds indulgent, then so be it. LA-based French expat Patrick Boissel's label has built a stunning back catalogue that presaged and launched today's back-to-basics garage blues-soul scene, harking backwards but always looking forwards.
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- By Pepsi Sheen
- Hits: 5359
RENT PARTY - The Waldos (Jungle Records)
I ain't owned that beautiful Nina Antonia book about Johnny Thunders for years-poor people can't have nice things - ya always have to sell it all to eat and smoke. "Everything is in the pawnshop", you dig? But all those swanky Heartbreakers photographs are etched forever in my mind.
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- By The Barman
- Hits: 5152
This is bass-heavy punk rock from Sydney with an initial "we're-drinking-cans-at-the-football-on-the-hill-so-sing-along-with-us" flavour. This is five, short and sharp songs with names like "No Logo Is A Joke" and "You Want It" so you might suspect that it's all politically incorrect. Of course, first impressions are often wrong. It's punk rock with a left-of-centre social bent.
Super Best Friends (wasn't that a South Park episoide?) have already had the Triple Jay thumbs-up - but don't hold that against them. They knock around with Children Collide and Violent Soho so it's going to work as punk rock for the generation that can't remember last Friday night, let alone the Sex Pistols.
Guitarist Johnny Barrington sings in a broader-than-Sydney-Heads accent without sounding like he's bunging it on( like those worse than awful Australian hip hop acts.) Matt Roberts' bass sound hand playing s more pliable than the GDP of a small West African country and Adam Bridges' fluid drumming kicks things along nicely.
There's a lot of crunch in the guitars and a whole bunch of shouting. Blips of sythn run through "Karma Karma" so it's not just rote punk. The songs are catchy with choruses and drop-outs. All in all, perfect festival fodder. I can hear the kids at the next Splendour In The Grass singing away to "You Want It" or the scathingly anti-xenophobic "The Bleachers."
Fast, furious and fun - and a step above most of the latest wave of what passes for punk rock, Super Best Friends might lyrically fly over the heads of some the people who pick up on them but that's not going to stop anyone having a good time. - The Barman
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- Details
- By The Barman
- Hits: 4470
Here's French garage rock from five guys who have soaked up a fair bit of the output of The Lyres, at a guess. I caught them in the flesh a couple of years ago, supporting a reformed Screaming Tribesmen in France's best rock and roll tavern, Mondo Bizzaro in Rennes, and this four-track 10-inch EP sounds like they do live.
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- By The Barman
- Hits: 1126
All Another Tuneless Racket. Punk and New Wave In the Seventies Volume Four: The American Beat East
By Stven M Gardner
(Noise For Heroes)
The intention was to read this cover-to-cover before penning a review, but time got the upper hand. As it does. You need to know about it before the onset of the Festive Season proper so you can put it on your Xmas shopping/wish list.
I’ve been dipping into and out of this “Another Tuneless Racket 4” over the past three months. It’s a punk rock “War and Peace” at nearly 690 pages but not a hard slog. It’s neatly compartmented into various regional musical scenes, so “ATR Volume Four” is ideal fodder, if your attention span is short or you want to dip in and out.
Notwithstanding it weighs a lot more than a mobile phone, you might find it essential Toilet Reading (or “Bathroom Reading” for sensitive Americans who think a bathing facility is co-located with what we Australians call The Dunny.)
Reading on the loo is probably a Bloke Thing but certainly not exclusively the domain of men or Australians. The bog is one place most people know they won’t be disturbed.
There’s a bonus if you’re getting on a bit and are not, er, as regular as you used to be, in that you can spend a long time combing these pages. The hefty size of “ATR4” (it’s nearly as heavy as one of those extinct things called phone books) means that if you lift your copy past shouilder height a few times, you can skip the gym.
There’s a lot to be said for Toilet Books. A good one takes your mind off the government bowel testing kit that arrived in the mail and is sitting on your sink, unopened. If you’re a Westerner visiting Japan, reading is less taxing than working out what all those controls on the side of the cistern do.
Unlike Jinglish instructions or medical self-diagnostics, however, “ATR” is a labour of love that comes from Steve Gardcner, the same rock and roll obsessive who spawned the American zine “Noise For Heroes” in the 1990s, and the record label of the same name.
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- By The Barman
- Hits: 7333
Headonism
By Peter Head with MJ Cornwall
(BookPOD)
The history of Australian rock and roll is chockablock with yarns about people who had their shot at The Big Prize. Adelaide-born Peter Head (nee Beagley) gave it a better shake than most, rising to prominence as pianist for prog rockers Headband, touring his bum off and playing in a pre-AC/DC band with some bloke named Bon Scott.
This is a man who rubbed shoulders with everyone from Elton John to John Mayall, John Farnham to the Rolling Stones. Adelaide-raised, Head did what a lot of Aussies did in the‘60s and followed his nose to work as a muso in England...only to suffer the same fate as many, if not most, of his peers and have it rubbed in Pommy squalor.
In the ‘80s Head transplanted himself to Sydney and became a fixture in the piano bars of Kings Cross. It was probably a natural progression for a bloke who kicked off his career as a 13-year-old backing bump-and-grind dancers in seedy Hindley Street bars. Along the way, he directed stage shows, toured nationally with the likes of Robyn Archer, carved out a regular place on the bill of the Adelaide Festival, filled in as backing pianist for “Here’s Humphrey”.
- Details
- By Robert Brokenmouth
- Hits: 7237
Night Comes Down
By Bob Short
(Earth Island Books)
Who could trust time when reason was lost?
I got pretty lucky. I did all the dumb things and I'm still here.
First, it's such a delight to read that I've snorked coffee over it several times in my usual cafe, as well as other unpleasant substances on the bus. So, if it's a horror story, it's one where you spray coffee over it, your table, pants and some lady's nice white frock.
Perhaps you could instead think of “Night Comes Down” as an amusing memoir with layers of horror? No, that won't work, there's just too much real horror.
Even the unreal can still feel like it is real. That hunk of meat in our heads is a totally unreliable narrator. We make excuses for things and pretend things never happened and yet weirdness is always nipping at our heels. Is anything true?
Perhaps you'll read it and think it's all made up. Strangely enough, Bob Short is (as usual) one step ahead of us.
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