STACK #130 Aug 2016

MUSIC

REVIEWS

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The Rubens Hoops

Baby et Lulu Album Deux

Francophile Aussie chanteuses Abby Dobson and Lara Goodridge have cornered a rich niche with their French chamber-pop ensemble. Their close, seductive harmonies embrace a saucy and bodice-ripping catalogue on Album Deux ; it ranges from the joie de vivre of Charles Aznavour and Camille to the devastating melancholy of Serge Gainsbourg's Je Suis Venu te Dire Que Je M'en Vais . Goodridge mines that vein to steamy effect on her own Les Mots ; Dobson leads the Piaf-styled heels-up of C'est le Top and the desolate chanson of Adieu . The emotional extremes are matched by an ensemble versatile enough to swing a squeezebox down the Champs Elysees one minute, then crumble in a dejected corner of the Pere Lachaise with Sonny Bono's Bang Bang . (MGM) Michael Dwyer

It’s the difficult second album for The Rubens – except, it doesn’t sound overly difficult. The record opens with a song called Hallelujah . Fortunately, it’s not another cover of the Leonard Cohen classic; instead, it’s a punchy rock track, which sets the scene for an album that’s swaggeringly self-assured. It sounds like the heavy touring behind their debut has added a muscular edge to The Rubens, though the soulful, piano-driven Hold Me Back could easily become the album’s biggest hit. No sophomore jinx here. As the title suggests, they shoot, they score. (Ivy League/Mushroom) Jeff Jenkins

Deaf Wish Pain After eight years of slept-on albums and repeated hiatuses, Melbourne quartet Deaf Wish have signed to Sub Pop to release their best record yet. Pain showcases all the invigorating noise-punk you’d expect, but there’s much more happening too. The Whip opens the LP at a dirge-like pace before hitting a series of short outbursts

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punctuated by the twanging Sunset’s Fool and dreamily driving On . Dead Air is saturated Kraut-psych, powering through six minutes of riotous jamming and then an eerie dispersal. All four band members contribute singing (or screaming), but these varied tracks hang together perfectly. Sarah Hardiman’s simmering vocal cool recalls Kim Gordon on They Know and Sex Witch ; many of the album’s gnarled, surreal guitar threads nod to Sonic Youth as a whole. But beyond the undeniable influence of milestones like The Stooges and Husker Du, Deaf Wish tap into veins more melodic and volatile. The closing Calypso could pass for a Kurt Vile tune with its daydreaming vocal drawl, and other tracks are immediately accessible despite showers of splintered distortion. A devastating brute of an album with surprising subtlety throughout. (Sub Pop/Inertia) DougWallen

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The Jungle Giants Speakerzoid

The Babe Rainbow The Babe Rainbow EP

Jess Ribeiro Kill It Yourself

Visconti and Woodmansey’s Holy Holy The Man Who Sold the World Live in London Drummer Woody Woodmansey and bassist Tony Visconti were half Bowie’s band on 1970 album The Man Who Sold the World , so you can't call Holy Holy merely a tribute act. The strange proggy bridge between Space Oddity and Hunky Dory wasn’t toured then, so the pent-up affection is electric between the guys and a squad of Ziggy’s children (members of Spandau, Soft Cell and more). A second disc of later material is more patchy, but there’s no denying the sense of occasion. Bowiemania peaked as ACMI opened the David Bowie Is exhibition in July, and Melbourne came within a false eyelash of seeing this show. This is a lot better than sulking. (POSSUM) Michael Dwyer

If you only know The Jungle Giants from their irritatingly catchy single Every Kind of Way , the Brisbane quartet’s second album may surprise you. Sure, there are plenty of hummable hooks and cheeky self-awareness – see the “Here comes the drop” line in Lemon Myrtle . But tracks like Kooky Eyes add more muscle to their tinny bubblegum, while Tambourine veers closer to lurid, Beatles-y psych. Memorable hooks pop up everywhere, but what keeps the band appealing are their sudden flights of fancy and a rubbery dynamic variety. (Amplifire) DougWallen

No stranger to a stage, nor owning tales to share when upon it, Jess Ribeiro is fast becoming Darwin’s answer to Bill Callahan via Nick Cave on the way to Neil Young’s bosom. Elongated, sparse and direct orchestral accompaniments – care of none other than Mick Harvey – never hurt anyone; thus here it elevates Ribeiro’s unique niche into dark, almost Doors territory on Run Rabbit Run . The creeping terror and threat that is Born to Ride immediately attached to Rivers on Fire offers sensory landscapes to conjure an Eastwood western of the highest order, with a touch of Morphineesque sax. A gem: you need it. (Remote Control) Chris Murray

A dizzying samba of loungey/ smooth pop greets upon firing up Love Forever , the type that offers déja vu as you’ll swear you already know it intimately. Psyche rhythms abound on Secret Enchanted Broccoli Forest (as you’d expect) and it’s now clear this Byron trio aren’t hiding their ’60s flower-power ethos. That they do it so well, with a mastery of light and shade mixed with a sunset groove, is testament to 'less is more' when you have the power. And yes, they indeed have the power. Expect to be queuing up to see them live sometime soon. (Remote Control) Chris Murray

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