Song of the day – 601: Heart Beach
You know me. I only champion the difficult, the lonely.
…at the best of times, it’s going to take a lot of persuasion to get even the majority of listeners to listen to ‘difficult’ music. Someone like Everett True has long held the banner for difficult music, for music which tries to sacrifice communication with the masses for having something new and different to say…
Is Indie Actually Safer Than It Used To Be?
Talulah Gosh — two girls and three boys (including brother and sister), that moment before everything turns sour again, when you’re walking through the rain on the way home from a Shop Assistants concert, when you’re cycling to the newsagents through town early morning and the air’s so refreshingly keen, the tears behind a romance. What do Talulah Gosh do when it rains?
Song of the day – 260: Talulah Gosh (the original interview)
This is nothing – NOTHING – like Boredoms. OK. There’s squealing and freedom and guitars. That’s to the good. That’s a little bit Boredoms. There are melodies just when you’re least expecting them, and also at the very start. Yep. That’s fine. But it’s all subtle and doesn’t make you want to gnaw on your fist in awe. Your arm, yes. Maybe the way the music seems to leap through several symphonies of dissonant sound in the space of two minutes, maybe that’s the Boredoms hook? Yeah, maybe. Maybe the A-side of the 7″ is composed of 10 miniature songs? Dunno. It aims for the stars and over-reaches so easily, so clumsily, it’s brilliant. Throws them away laughing. Frankly, it’s more abstract art absurd than music.
Song of the day – 527: Go Genre Everything
That will be why I keep turning to Tasmania, home of my scariest film experience ever. Oh perhaps it’s because within Tasmania there exists the only fucking person left in the world who still thinks I have influence.
I’m sorry. Am I confusing you? Here. Have some of this.
No no. That’s fine. I know you ain’t gonna listen to any of this, anything which isn’t Grimes or Kanye. I know you’ve just come to laugh at the freaks, the outcasts, those who don’t like their Weet-Bix smothered in sugar and full cream milk, those who pride themselves on searching out routes for themselves. Ah, just throw me the new Game Of Thrones box set and I’ll be as happy with this world of shit as anyone else. Happier. Fucking happier.
Maybe that’s why I’m increasingly turning to Tasmania. I know what it’s like to be ignored.
The band themselves think it sounds like this.
pop feedback sparse surf vocal harmonies Hobart
If you ask me, there ain’t no love in the heart of the city. Don’t we all wish we could get out of this place? Don’t we all wish we could be drinking coffee with the WRONG people (YOU)? Once, I was offered a trip to see Sonic Youth play Hawaii. That, my solitary Hobart friend, was another lifetime, another person entirely. These days, I’m lucky to be offered trips to Chermside. This music, this Heart Beach, is anything but difficult to get into: scintillating shimmering shivering girl-pop pop harmonies, slightly abrasive but only cos they refuse to add the fifth spoon, slightly sparse just so you can recall what a glorious moment in time that first Breeders album was, slightly sexy because all great music is slightly sexy. Melodies and songs and words to immediately love and immediately forget.
Hello? Hello? Anyone still here?