Song of the day – 113: White Woods

There’s a certain strain of Australian music that holds intrigue as its core.

If I cared to look closer, I could probably determine its precursors: psychedelic, feedback-laced, blessed with a sense of distance and alienation, probably rooted in the same basic three or four Velvet Underground chords that once led Robert Forster to believe he could give voice to his poetry, even surrounded as he was by right-wing bigots, schoolteachers and leafy panoramas in The Gap. I don’t care to look too close, though – it would dispel some of the aura and hence the magic. This is music made to distort and oscillate woozily through one too many late-night pints, music to enhance to the majesty of the sullen neon. I’m guessing that White Woods quite possibly hang out at the same clubs and fading record stores as fellow Melbourne sorts Beaches – not such a leap of imagination, really – but, as I say, I love the fact this music retains its mystery for me.

Have a listen at their MySpace. Apologies for not linking to a video, but I can’t find a suitable candidate. The song I’d recommend is ‘Ballet Tea’ (the vocals all subservient and shy, way off in the background), and there’s an album Bellplay just out, on Sensory Projects. It seems like my Brighton sweethearts Electrelane really do have a reach that far outstrips their origins.

It’s one long blissed-out jam, really. Originally from Tasmania.

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.