The return of Everett True | 55. Duck Duck Chop
Goddamn. A two-piece from Melbourne who remember This Heat with the same fondness as me. Probably not so old as me, though – so they’ve never had the privilege of arguing with skinheads heckling This Heat playing live, nor of having the person next to them stabbed for being too lippy. But they sure understand the energy, the excitement, the vigour and vim obtained by pushing rolling hills of percussion forward in the mix, by ramping up the sound with a well-placed vocal. I mean obviously I’m projecting here. They may never have encountered that glorious Camberwell confusion of adrenalised intelligence. They may never have imbibed at the font. Maybe they’re just No Anchor fans. Maybe there’s a My Disco connection in there somewhere. Maybe they’ve never listened to music whatsoever before forming their glorious collision of sound and fury and drums battered the shit out of. That’s just fine; actually, that’s even better. Understood is the necessity of throwing the listener off-balance but not letting your cleverness intrude in the way of your dancing shoes. They say:
2 piece experimental art art rock drums experimental guitars melbourne no core noise rock punk weird Melbourne
I mean, yeah baby. Yeah. Here, have a listen and a free download. (Warning: you need to turn this up to full volume in your headphones at the start. It’s very quiet.)
In the interests of full disclosure, I should reveal that I only listened to Duck Duck Chop because they are going to be playing at what is shaping up to an awesome bill in Brisbane, Sunday week arvo. Here, quick. Here’s the poster. Roll the die and if it’s a 6 you get in free. Roll the die, and pay a buck multiplied by the number shown. Or something.
They hold back.
This is the one simple trick that this Melbourne three-piece pull on their third album, repeatedly – and it’s a devastating one. Guitars and drums and the occasional vocal are repeated over, and over, and over again: they make an art out of repetition that has more parallels in the trance/dance world than in the rock circuit or avant-noise crowd to which they superficially seem to belong. My Disco understand that a wig-out isn’t a wig-out until it’s been pummelled into the ground, unmercifully – the longer the better. In this, they remind me of two distinct bands from two distinct eras, particularly on the former 12″ single, ‘Young’. Over nine dementedly great minutes, My Disco recall the brilliant, surging swansong of London’s early ’80s electronica/psych/dance pioneers This Heat, ‘Health And Efficiency’ – ‘Young’ has the same patterned mannerisms, a similar unforgiving fluid beat that keeps going even when all else bar bass has departed, a rigid dedication to the dance floor. Try not dancing to this. Try not.
My Disco ‘Little Joy’