Calm Ya Farm – REVIEW

Uncle Murl’s most ugly and perplexing album art yet gives way to an incredibly cohesive effort – with some of their finest tunes to date.

Coming in a just over 9 months since their explosive 2022 record Rapscallion, Calm Ya Farm sees The Murlocs once again exploring a different variation on their trademark sound. This time, the influences stem from country rock and bluegrass – much like the King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard’s 2019 album Fishing For Fishies (itself one of the tightest and most enjoyable records amongst their endlessly growing catalogue). Frontman Ambrose Kenny-Smith’s late father was Australian country rock/blues legend Broderick Smith, and it would be safe to say his body of work surely give influence to Ambrose during his youth and beyond, and that inspiration is on full display with this latest album.

Slide guitar and tasteful sax solos notwithstanding, the album still has all the hallmarks that create that familiar Murlocs feeling we all know and love, as well as bringing new sonic flavours into the mix that I never knew I needed in a Murlocs song til now.

The album opens with the killer single Initiative,an upbeat and reflective tune which finds Ambrose waxing lyrical about the need to take responsibility for one’s own life and decisions – and declaring he is “mad as a hatter”. The next few tracks tackle subjects ranging from the erosion of so-called “common sense” to superstitions, both in the general and religious sense.

Track 5 – Centennial Perspective – soon rolls around, and it is another infectiously catchy tune lambasting the ignorance and fear-mongering often seen from the elderly citizens we live amongst. Television brainwashing, political mistrust, the quality of today’s music and even the slow death march towards the planet’s eventual untimely demise are all tied together with a hook you’ll find yourself singing for weeks to come.

Queen Pinky comes next, a lovely cut written by Ambrose for his wife.

Following this, a personal highlight – and the 2^nd single released for the album – arrives in Undone and Unashamed. An addictively replayable track that could be interpreted as being about letting your character flaws define you, and embracing the turmoil that comes with that. In an interview with Live for Live, Ambrose himself said about the track (and it’s accompanying video):

“Letting loose all the time comes at a cost. When you choose to not hold yourself accountable for your actions by going on countless benders will only make things worse. People don’t always forgive and forget.”

Captain Cotton Mouth finds Ambrose once again affecting a low narrator’s drawl, much as he tried on Rapscallion’s third act – however this time with much more effective and enjoyable results.

Catfish and Smithereens were two tracks I didn’t pay much mind to on my first listen, however upon subsequent listens my affection for them seems to grow each time.

Catfish deals with the phenomenon (known by its internet-popularised colloquialism) of somebody pretending to be somebody they’re not with the intention of extorting money/goods from somebody else. Whereas Smithereens finds itself utilising a wealth of metaphor and simile to allude to the chaos that people can bring – both intentional and unintentional – into our lives.

Interestingly, for this album The Murlocs decide the second to last track should be an instrumental (a first for the band). Titled Forbidden Toad, it is a largely forgettable cut. Despite being a decent enough instrumental on its own merits, I couldn’t help but feel like it was just missing that extra flair that makes all the other songs on this album really shine.

The closer for this LP is the short and sharp (2 minutes and 44 seconds long) tune Aletophyte. Named for “weedy plants growing on the roadside or in fields where natural vegetation has been disrupted by humans” (yes, I had to look it up), it features classic slap-back vocals, cowboy ballad guitars, organ-like synths and a driving rhythm that just leaves you wanting more.

Calm Ya Farm is another solid notch in the belt and once again proof that The Murlocs are far from running out of fresh ideas and are still making incredible, enjoyable music. Ambrose has once again reached new heights in regards to his songwriting, and it would seem there is plenty of fuel left on the Uncle Murl express, and it’s a train I look forward to riding to the very end.

Lorde // Solar Power – REVIEW

Lorde is probably the most famous pop star that nobody I know really talks about. At least, not without referencing South Park. Having only released a single album since her explosive debut Pure Heroine, Lorde seems to be the kind of artist who is content to take her time in producing new work, and would rather the hype and mystique that only time can bring instead of potentially over-saturating her market. Whatever works for you, Ella.

Lorde’s 2^nd album, Melodrama, completely passed me by, and I was not even aware of its existence until I saw a banner advertisement for this one, splashed across the side of a plywood fence obscuring a multilevel apartment block development site. Melodrama continued to follow the groundwork laid down by Pure Heroine, with heavy production and layered vocal tracks building a Spector-esque wall of sound, however eschewing the somewhat cheap GarageBand instrumental plugins for more organic sounding synth patches and analogue instrumentation.

Solar Power, however, is somewhat of a marketed departure from that familiar sound. Self-described by Lorde as her “weed album”, the tracks employ a more stripped-down instrumentation, less abrasive sonic textures, and minimalist approach to percussion. While listening to the opening track, ‘The Path’, I had high hopes for the album. The track employs a lush synth-heavy instrumental, drawing on ambient influences, and Lorde’s trademark vocal layering is present as well, creating an almost dream-like atmosphere that serves as an excellent appetiser to entice you to enter the world she has created. Unfortunately, all dreams must come to an end. The 2^nd track, the namesake of the album – Solar Power, is an underwhelming, more acoustic affair, that only demonstrated to me a reason why Lorde favours the use of layering – to obfuscate the mundane timbre her vocals can often drift toward. This is definitely a stylistic choice, as several songs on the album employ a similar framework and approach to songwriting and production, while others return to the template followed by The Path, as mentioned earlier.

My interest and enjoyment of the album slowly waned, track by track, as the music began to peter out into comforting background noise, rather than an engaging 3^rd LP by an accomplished songwriter. The only time my attention was grabbed in any meaningful way was to cringe at some of the downright embarrassing lyrics employed on the album (Mood Ring being a strong offender, in particular), and then before I knew it, it was over.

Solar Power doesn’t overstay its welcome, which is definitely a point in its favour, but it doesn’t really seem to do much of anything. It feels like its trying to be Tame Impala’s The Slow Rush, but lacks a lot of the substance and upbeat moments that carried that album along, and made it such a strong release of 2020. Whilst I can relate to the musings about loving the summer and the loathing of the ‘winter blues’, the highly plastic manufactured quality of the album really strips away the authenticity, and the laid-back nature of the songwriting – almost basking in its own indifference – transforms it into pop-muzak. Elevator tunes to be played at low volume through all your favourite department stores in the coming springtime and summer months.

Finally, I must mention the album art for this release. This is probably the most baffling choice for an album cover I have seen from a major label release in quite some time. I think I understand what is attempting to be conveyed here: Lorde is skipping along the sand, tying into the lyrics talking about her love of the beach and summertime, but I just cannot comprehend why this particular shot was chosen. It’s such an unflattering voyeuristic angle, that almost looks like the shot that would be taken after somebody had drunkenly barrelled into a self-timed camera while they were chasing after a frisbee.

If you’re a Lorde fan, you’ll probably get a kick out of this album if you’re in the mood for something a little low-key, but don’t go in expecting lightning in a bottle.

Big Bill and The Bigots // Let The Empire Burn – REVIEW

You awaken in a cold, damp basement. A single, dusty lightbulb swings like a pendulum above you, as you clear your eyes of sleep. The four cinderblock walls around you ooze a translucent, sticky gruel, and the concrete slab upon which you sit is like ice. You see a figure standing in front of you, he crouches down to meet your gaze, and holds a cracked mirror to your face. Inside it you see not yourself, but the face of God, and it is weeping.

Let The Empire Burn is a dreary, macabre soundtrack to a coming apocalypse. Reminiscent of Nick Cave or post-reformation Swans, Big Bill & The Bigots use deep, visceral instrumentation paired with a gravelly, drawling vocal to evoke the feeling of being in a cholera-stricken town in the old west – one of dread and unease. You peer from the window of your stagecoach as it rolls through the center of town and see the melancholy on all the townsfolk’s faces, wondering which of their many burdens weighs heaviest upon their shoulders.

Each track on this EP is filled with chugging guitar riffs, feverish drumming and thought-provoking lyricism. Big Bill is a raconteur of high calibre, and across these five tracks he delivers a snarling critique of the poisonous culture that still permeates the minds of our citizens. The production quality is superb, and repeated plays reward the listener with something new to appreciate each time. Humble beginnings, to be sure, but absolutely brimming with effervescence and potential. If this is just the first helping of what Big Bill has in store, you would be remiss to cast your eye elsewhere and miss watching the sight of this new crimson flower coming into bloom. Let Big Bill take your hand and lead you down the spiral staircase into hell, where you will be cleansed by the flames and from the ashes, born anew.

This EP is available on Bandcamp and Spotify. Check out the video for ‘Sunday Mourning’ here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mB6DxXZjXeE