Spotlight – 40: Ivy St.
Nasty, in that late 70s/2010 Melbourne way. Full of challenges and silence. Reminds me of awkward Brisbane sweethearts Kitchen’s Floor. The sort of music I would have thrashed around to, angrily, 30 years back. (Christ, I’m old.) The sort of music I might yet thrash around angrily to, if I ever manage to see this Tasmanian 3-piece play onstage and they live up to the promise of their recorded sounds. Ivy St. have an album out, Picture Machine. Don’t be put off by the sterile beauty of its cover (like I have been): this is small-town alienation, disgust weltering out in big, beautiful bruises of sound – degradation and annoyance and hopelessness coagulating together in some sullen kind of beauty. Sure, I’m reminded of the bands hailing from Manchester, turn of the 80s. (Is Hobart the new ‘old’ Manchester? Poor sods.)
The music churns, and turns scarlet in disgust at its own existence.
And sometimes that’s way more than enough.