There’s this slightly pathetic, socially inept indie boy, see. He idolises women. He wants to be with the women, understands instinctively that he’d have more fun if he was with the women
This could, I suspect, be called synth-pop without much fear of contradiction.
The video is so striking, it’s easy to overlook how rad the music is. And the music certainly is rad.
I looked down at the pile of vomit shimmering in the gutter, shaking and still feeling nauseous. “That’s funny,” I thought to myself, picking a bit of Jodie Foster out the remains. “I don’t remember listening to that.”
Sounds like The Pastels to me. Magical.
And now I’ve found this, and I’m more than happy. For this is how I remember Olympia, WA. Ask any of my old friends. Magical.
If they charge by the rhyme, you couldn’t afford the Album. If they charge by the joy, it couldn’t even be sold. This is museum quality joy.
People think now that New Wave means Duran Duran or some shite, but in reality it was this: laddish power-pop, with its roots firmly in the Herman’s Hermits and Small Faces of the past, and totally confused about how it should view the present.
This is more fun than three rounds of fun staring at a wall of Jad Fair papercuts. This is more lo-falutin’ than a disco full of Teena Marie fans dancing to your momma’s collection of Minor Threat demos.
Ah now. This is what I’ve been waiting for ever since I moved to Brisbane five years ago. A new song from Misty’s Big Adventure.
Immolation and insulation and isolation and imagination. The opposite of sex. Serious music for serious people.
Regret and defiance and wit will only get you so far. As will the melancholy blues, baby.
More hardcore than Throbbing Gristle, more extreme than most ‘extreme’ punk hardcore and metal hardcore I’ve heard
Have a listen. Go on. FUCKING LISTEN. A feral epiphany right here in your fucking underwear. A dissonant surge.
There’s a whole hidden musical village here that you know nothing about.
The voice is… the voice is like the spring rain beating down on my window outside. Refreshing, and with the smell of pears.
I’m going to slip my fingers inside you. Is that all right?
One day I will have friends like these people, and my life will be grand indeed.
It’s The Darkness rolled into the JAMMS isn’t it? But slicker and more disposable (not an insult).
She’s got the old school flow and shit.
Just fuck man and enjoy yourselves and get wasted and listen to sweet, sweet music all life long because this fucking sweet, sweet music is going to last you all life long.
If only everything had this much grace, and charm, and a piano.
One of the greatest Australian rock songs ever.