STACK #184 Feb 2020

REVIEWS MUSIC

Tame Impala The Slow Rush Simultaneously retrospective and prospective ("Eventually terrible memories turn into great ones"), Tame Impala's fourth album opens with One More Year and closes with One More Hour – the passage of time closing in. When Tame Impala premiered lead single Borderline on SNL last March, we were

Black Lips Sing In A World That's Falling Apart

instantly hooked. "We're on the borderline/ Caught between the tides of pain and rapture" – those harmonies! Is Kevin Parker a long-lost Bee Gee? And do we detect synthesised shakuhachi (bamboo flute)? (One synthline calls to mind Peter Gabriel's Sledgehammer intro.) This song's melodic beauty is staggering (warning to listeners: tears of joy will flow). Parker's parents divorced when he was just four. His estranged father passed away in 2009 (before the release of Tame Impala's debut album) and here Parker touchingly offers Posthumous Forgiveness : "I wanna say it's alright/ You're just a man after all." Internal discourse ("Starting to sober up/ Has it been long enough?... I'm a loser/ Loosen up") diffuses The Slow Rush 's entirety, steering crippling self-doubt ( It Might Be Time ) towards hesitant optimism ( On Track ). Elsewhere: Breathe Deeper diverts piano-house toward the rave cave; It Might Be Time 's synth riff tips its hat to The Logical Song ; and Glimmer – a banging, experimental snippet – evokes Underworld/Derrick May. It's impossible to focus on anything else – even Insta scrolling! – while digesting The Slow Rush : an elegant, inventive masterpiece that conjures up sonic stardust with added ripple- dissolve flashback effects. Parker is in a class of his own. (Island Records) Bryget Chrisfield

The Black Lips do exactly what their ninth album proclaims in its title, seamlessly blending garage rock, country and the blues into what has now become their signature sound. Though they wrestle with some big overarching themes, the band also add a dash of humour, with opening lines like "This old middle finger has grown fat and tired from flipping the bird" proving the band still possess spades of good-natured cheek. An album that is a sum of its parts, the instrumental arrangements across the record are some of the best of their discography, with a real sense of cohesion within the five-piece translating into some inspired musical moments.

(Fire Records) Holly Pereira

Tracy McNeil & the Good Life You Be The Lightning Melbourne-based, Canadian singer-songwriter Tracy McNeil sucked me in when I first heard her 2007 debut – and boy, it’s only gotten better. On her fifth album, she’s taken it to another level. This could be called Americana, revealing McNeil's love of the Laurel Canyon country rock of the '70s. They're deeply personal and passionate songs, of old love and new. McNeil’s performance is feisty and fragile, raw and confident, guided by Dan Parsons’ exceptional lead guitar (not to forget the highly talented band that is The Good Life). Already a stand-out album for 2020.

John Moreland LP5 LP5 is, yep, the fifth album from American singer-songwriter John Moreland. It's not hard to believe that Steve Earle was Moreland's 'gateway' to folk music – along with influence from Guy Clark and Townes Van Zandt – and here’s hoping that his name can sit for a reason, Moreland's songs are straightforward, honest, hard hitting and yes, often sad, although he offers himself a little kindness too – he's one of those remarkable songwriters. Moreland has added more of a soundscape to his usual stripped-back style, with more experimental texture in percussion, keys and guitars highlighted by his raspy, achingly beautiful vocals. A real-deal country storyteller who sings from the heart. (ThirtyTigers/Cooking Vinyl) Denise Hylands alongside those greats. Known as a 'sad bastard'

Jeremy Neale We Were Trying To Make It Out A Grant McLennan Fellowship afforded Jeremy Neale the opportunity to spend three months of last year in NewYork, where he attended a songwriting masterclass, collaborated with local writers and regrouped. On his second LP, Neale digs deeper, exploring themes surrounding mental health and

the uncertainty of life as an independent musician. He crafts instant classics with perky, side-stepping tempos that camouflage anxiety-ridden lyrical content (“I’m always tearing myself down, hoo-hoo/ For something I did long ago/ And you’re always kind when I need time, hoo-hoo/ But I’m never kind to myself"). Happy-clapping, bubbling synth and sax flourishes enliven arrangements, with shimmering riffs nodding towards The Cure. How could you not sing along with those irresistible "ooh-sha-la-la"s in album closer, Time !? Neale's songwriting is Maximo Park-level catchy. (Dot Dash/Remote Control) Bryget Chrisfield

(CookingVinyl) Denise Hylands

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