Blown Again - Blowers (Spooky Records/Chaputa! Records)

The Spooky Records website asserts; “Capitalising on their triple vocal attacks, blistering guitars and fast-paced tunes, ‘Blown Again’ is a tongue-in-cheek earworm of a ride laced with sick humour and shit-stirs. The album is chock full of “fuck you” themes, with tracks like ‘Shut The Fuck Up’, ‘Wipe My Ass’, ‘Slice’n’Dice’ and ‘Bad 4 U’ that jump off the record and grab you by the throat.”

Spooky also reckons: “For fans of The Spits, Jay Reatard, Wipers, Mean Jeans, Oblivians, The Cavemen, Wet Ones”. Mind, I gotta say I'm somewhat ignorant there.

So, to this bad-tempered old goat, what do Blowers sound like?

FULL-ON FUCKYOU FUZZ HAMMER THOR CHORDS CRUSH DESTROY

The Hypnogogue - The Church (Communicating Vessels/Easy Action Records)

Confession time: never really paid much attention to The Church. Cost of having other stuff to do is that you miss a lot.

Conclusion first, though: you're gonna enjoy this. "Ascendance" is the first track and you're gonna go all gooey and lose it from there, taken as you are into a beautiful, well-sculpted world. The band have put a huge amount into "The Hypnogogue" - the music isn't standard throw-away rawk by any stretch; the more you listen, the more exquisite layers you'll discover.

Let Your Hair Down – The On and Ons (Citadel)

Short on time? Here's all you need to know in fewer than six paragraphs:

“Let Ya Hair Down” is album number five for The On and Ons and finds them exploring new sonic textures and invoking a slightly tougher approach. The hook-laden song-writing, lockstep playing and uplifting harmonies remain intact, but there’s a sense of the band pushing fresh envelopes, too.

Let’s say that thing that every band hopes/strives for, and declare, without hyperbole, that it’s the best thing The On and Ons have recorded.

If you don’t know already, The On and Ons feature singer/songwriter/guitarist Glenn Morris, his brother Brian (drums and harmony vocals) and bassist Clyde Bramley (bottom end and harmonies). The band is based in Sydney and their combined pedigree includes recording and touring internationally with Hoodoo Gurus, Screaming Tribesmen, Kings of the Sun, and Paul Collins Beat. 

Nothing Is For Everyone – Drugs in Sport/Sound of Speed – Lachlan X Morris (Outtaspace)

Split records can be problematic. Too often the vehicles of economic convenience for cash-strapped but otherwise disparate bands who pool their money and patch two sides together in order, just to get a release out. And there are splits like this one where some pop-rock magic works together.

Drugs in Sport and Lachlan X Morris both come from Newcastle in Australia. A onetime hotbed for blue collar rock and roll, the former Steel City has gentrified and diversified. This shared release on Central Coast label Outtspace is five songs from DIS and four from Lachlan X over two sides of 12-inch vinyl, and proves that there’s still rock and roll life in Newie.

The Crisps – The Crisps (Vi-Nil Records)

Pure garage pop goodness and it’s only two decades late. Chances are you’ve never heard of them.

As mentioned elsewhere, The Crisps were a Sydney assemblage of great potential back in the 1990s. The reasons they went nowhere are lost in the mists of time – probably hidden under a floorboard of the abandoned Hopetoun Hotel.

A vehicle for the songs of drummer-vocalist Stuart Wilson (New Christs, Lime Spiders and dozens of others), the band included members of would-be international stars Doomfoxx, road veterans The Johnnys and underrated northern beaches cowboys Orange County.

They recorded these six songs to help rustle up gigs. Ex-music reviewer-turned-bar operator  Mark Fraser heard them while reviving his Vi Nil Records label, loved ‘em and offered to press them up. And the rest is history.    

BuddhaDevadatta - Buddhadatta (self releasd)

Picture it: Rundle Mall, Adelaide, the height of Festival and Fringe, and your scurrying obedient scribe is trying to hustle through the attention-getting non-event nonsense “street shows”, the magic acts, all treating us to the incredibly naff idea that “an event means LOUD IMPERATIVE music”, on my way to the bottleshop and thence to the bus to arrive at a nine-year-old’s netball final.

Out of nowhere appear three Japanese musicians, one with a basket on his head clutching a sort of semi-acoustic six-stringed thing, another bloke with a curly mohawk hunched over what looks to be a child’s drum kit, and a woman with long red dreads, wearing a beaming smile and holding a bright red, headless bass.