That whole “music used to sound better when I was younger” theory

FEBRUARY (8-10)

Scrabble – Brisbane

This, to me, is David Bowie riding out with the stars. This, to me, is Kate Bush swooping through the lower echelons of motherhood. Mountains tremble. Guitars pretend to be violins.“Chaos, noise, No Wave – fuck the post-prog!” Spontaneous, beautiful and anti-belligerent. A bit of feedback, a basement-load of humanity. I’m sorry but this shit is important. Right now, this shit could be the only shit convincing me to stay in this Fuck You Outsiders, One-Horse White Shirt of a Town.

Greg Boring – Fine Find Fined

This music does not stay static long enough for you, me or Dom Alessio to be able to describe. Not that all of it is good. Are you crazy? Of course not all of it’s good. Define ‘good’. Some of it sounds like off-cuts from a particularly stoned session playing around with Primitive Motion’s keyboard sets. Some of it is squelchy just for the sake of being squelchy. But none of it is dull.

Verity Susman – The Philip Glass Ceiling

Robot love. Robotic love. Love in the void. Clinical and retro-futuristic and – bam! It’s called ‘The Philip Glass Ceiling’. Pornographic poetry with hairy 70s mustaches and oil-slicked thighs attached. Thin, like Berlin. Call it what you will, all I know is I love the way it strangely disturbs and arouses me. Maybe that’s the ‘Homosapien’ element.

(continues overleaf)

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

by Everett True

My name is Everett True. I am a music critic. This is what I do. I criticise music. The clue is in my job description – music critic. I do not consider myself a journalist, as I do not research or report hard news. I do not consider myself a commentator as I believe that everyone should be a participant. I criticise people and in return I am not surprised if other people criticise me. It is part of the whole deal of being in the public arena. I am Everett True. Believe in me and I have power like a God. Quit believing in me and I no longer exist.