Music: Blog

The feelings of frustration and slight depression abated this week, maybe it was a lunar thing, there was an eclipse here last week, and maybe a seasonal thing, who knows...

The gaps between my personal posts gets longer and longer, I'm going to try and take more time to do a few more things that I want to do over the coming weeks and months, been spending far too much time doing things for work or to achieve something, and not enough frivolous fun, so here's a blog post about not a lot in particular...

Politics in Folk music, part 1...

It's been a while, I've moved countries, got a new band together, got my feet under the table and now it's time to tell everyone what's been going on.

Eddie Current Suppression Ring (Henceforth ECSR or this review will go on for ever) do things their own way. Despite rising to the heady heights of 'buzz band' status, they book their own gigs, promote their own gigs, manage themselves and still find the time to write some damn good material. Roxanne's is packed tonight with a crowd biting at the bit and raring to go, Dead Farmers, resplendent in checked lumberjack shirts (Grunge dead? Never!) Don't quite seem to ever get going, stopping and starting and making adjustments to gear and when they're finally getting into the swing of things and the set is beginning to take form and take shape, they have to finish. However the crowd are up for anything that's thrown at them and love it.<br>After a brief changeover with the room and the crowd bustling ECSR take to the stage with an unceremonious and unassuming manner, just sort of slowly appearing there and starting as opposed to any great entry. No sooner have they emitted the first note of the first song does the crowd starts jumping, dancing, smiling and flying about the room, eventually some security appear, and as usual for venues such as Roxanne's, don't really know what to do apart from stand there and look imposing, but no one cares anyway. Brendan Suppression (vocals) paces the stage in a pair of curious fingerless black gloves, looking almost awkward to be there, Eddy Current on guitar just sort of hovers on stage looking equally out of place thwacking out jangly, garage riffs over Rob Solid's massive bass sound and Danny Current's frantic drumming. It doesn't make any sense, ECSR are a great band, but the music isn't that fast and danceable, at times it's even a little slow, unyet the crowd go wild for the band's entire set, never relenting. The band look somewhat uncomfortable on stage, rarely making eye contact with the crowd and even discouraging them from becoming too raucous, but the crowd is hanging off their every word and action, ready to fly off into a frenzy at any given moment. How do the band do it? Do they even know themselves? ECSR are a band for the rejects and the outsiders of the music scene who have somehow managed to trick the cool kids into thinking that they're part of them, they don't look right, they shouldn't be, but are, the best sort of Rock stars.

Gym Class Heroes are perhaps one of the oddest, biggest bundle of contradictions, confusions and concerns you may ever witness in a music venue, which is a bold statement considering how screwed up a lot of Hip Hop generally is. The 'backing band' is a bunch of highly proficient musicians with very decent equipment, which always smacks of 'manufactured' session musicians, despite what the bands biography might tell you. Travis on vocals bounds around the stage attempting to perfect a sort of cutesy little boy lost image, whilst simultaneously churning out lyrics about women and how much he wants to have 'relations' with them. This same desire also applies to the female members of the audience, bearing in mind that most of the audience are under 18, you can't help but feel that encouraging them to all make out with each other (and him) is slightly in bad taste. He also goes out of his way to inform the audience that a song containing the lyrics 'Glamorous White Girlî and 'Razorî is not about an (rumoured) addiction to Cocaine, but an addiction to music. Frankly the whole set up is all a little perverse, but the kids love the big marketing machine behind the band and aimed squarely at them, infiltrating their media sources and ways of thinking (i.e. MySpace, the band have a song called 'Friend Requestî), whooping in the right places, dancing throughout and playing along with all the bizarre and vaguely obscene games thrown at them, e.g. 'Hands up who's not here with their Boyfriends?î receives a worrying response.<br>The music is generally in the minor key so prevalent in modern Hip Hop, giving the songs that slightly sinister and ominous feel that again contrasts with the lyrical content, creating yet another concerning contradiction. However the music isn't bad, the songs are funky, tight and live which is a nice novelty in the genre, providing a good solid musical bed for the lyrical tomfoolery and for the kids in their best frocks and oversized tracksuits to shake their booties to, hopefully without quite thinking about why they are.

It's always hard to review one track single samplers, especially if you like what you hear and want to hear more! 'City Walls and Empiresî is a jaunty and radio friendly ditty, the 9 members of the band creating a complex interweaving of melodies and counter melodies, complete with a rousing unison of vocals in the chorus. Radio friendly, upbeat, a good tune, what more could you want from a single?

Jeff describe his music as 'City and Westernî which is the best description for the genre of Americana tinged mellow rock that Jeff Strong purveys, so I'm going to stick with it and probably borrow the phrase, if he doesn't mind. The album is home recorded with a lovely warm and familiar feel, which suits Jeff's, comforting and gentle voice down to the ground. Some tracks are pure Jeff, strumming his acoustic guitar, others feature additional instrumentation, and all ten tracks are calming influences on a crazy modern world.

Ninetynine's live show is a stupendous feat of intense musicianship and song writing craft, so how a band takes such a show, commit it to record and lose none of the live buzz is a challenge. 'Worlds Of Space, Worlds Of Population, Worlds Of Robotsî makes a determined effort, and is twelve tracks of finely constructed, arranged and played songs of epic proportions, some beautiful, some inspiring, some fast and frantic, others slower and brooding. The production of the album lacks some sparkle that would have really brought out the songs in their entirety, Laura MacFarlane's vocal sometimes not quite possessing the punch and clarity they deserve and a general desire for a little more 'oomph'. Slight niggles with production quality aside the band's energy and passion for what they play still shines through, with tracks like 'Monsterî grabbing you and hurling your ears against the wall and the sincere, heartfelt strains of 'At the Backdoorî pulling you into a melancholic world and bringing the slightest tear to your eye. A fine album from a fine band, it sounds cheesy, but it's not just an album, it's an experience.

It's hard to mention Tilly and the Wall without mentioning Tap Dancing, they have no drummer, the tapping of toes and heels on a specially constructed 'Tap Boardî produces the only percussive rhythm, and generally only one pair of lithe and active ankles is doing all the work. The lack of solid beats reduces the potential drive and danceability of their songs, there are a lot of bad jokes about extraneous drummers, but as the adage goes, 'You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.î However the missing skin basher at the back doesn't phase tonight's crowd and after a little encouragement the area in front of the stage is cleared of tables and chairs and a small but gentle group of dancers emerges, resulting in an ordered and well mannered stage invasion towards the end of the set.<br>Tilly and the Wall's music is aimed squarely at the fey Indie kid, the bullied, struggling against oppression kid, who shyly stands in the corner turning the other cheek, either disappearing into the cracks of society or one day deciding that enough is enough, following their dream and becoming successful. Tilly and The Wall are trying to turn the former into the later; it's just a shame that for the most part their songs are rather bland, they even make a Rage Against the Machine cover (seriously!) sound like Bright Eyes with girls and Tap Dancing.Because beneath the swearing and the shouting and the rallying calls Tilly and the Wall are a band that America excels at producing, a Coffee House band. A band that sits nicely in the Background without being to intrusive whilst the cast of the OC or Buffy sit around with Cappuccinos or mysterious drinks in coloured plastic cups discussing their emotional and relationship problems. Of course to some people this kind of music is the idea of heaven, and it obviously is to the throng at the front of the stage, to the people in the room mouthing along to every word of every song. A lot of happy, smiling people leave the Toff tonight, it may not be your kind of music but you can't fault artists that have that effect on people.

I think my main problem with this release is it's press release, it's almost as if it's describing the wrong band, I find it very hard to hear a lot of the supposed comparisons and descriptions. I know it's the job of a PR to ensure a band sounds good, but this one makes them sound like the best band on the planet. It's a fine album and Voxtrot are a perfectly competent Indie-Rock band, but fairly generic jangly American Indie, the clean type, very sharp, clear and precise, full of carefully constructed and catchy melodies and hooks, the sort that would sound ideal on American College radio, and prove very popular on it, but personally the album floats somewhat into the background after a few tracks, good but not groundbreaking.

Take a look at my latest Indieoma.com Post.

I shall be on 3CR radio tomorrow afternoon to talk about my Antescene nights, it's the 'Activate' show and is on from 5.30 - 6pm...

2005 was a great year for British music, with several young and energetic acts releasing critically and commercially successful albums, since then some fell by the wayside and some became huge, whilst others remained at a constant level of success and musical ability. The latter applies for Maximo Park; they never quite enjoyed the massive success of bands such as The Kaiser Chiefs or Bloc Party, but have also so far escaped the constant criticisms and monitoring of their material or the trappings and traps of celebrity lifestyle. The band has remained consistent, slowly developing, bettering themselves and gaining experience, 'Our Earthly pleasures' is the culmination of the past few years of beavering away. There is no massive change in direction, fairly bare and sparse arrangements consisting of guitar, keyboards, bass, drums and vocals take us through an album that explores life, in all it's grime and all it's glory, tales of woe, tales of excess and tales of the world, all dealt with in a down to earth manner with little pretension or attitude. The album sparkles, clear and crunchy with pots of punch, dancibility, whistle ready tunes and lyrics to be sung at high volume on Friday nightclub floors. It's not the departure or massive development that the band likes to say it is, but a damn fine album that sets Maximo Park ahead of their competitors.

Art Brut's frantic angular art-rock-pop, with it's lyrical tales to warm the hearts of all shy Indie Kids has been a surprising worldwide success, this is the bands second album, and their first without me. This was always going to be a hard review to write without being personal as the band were such a defining part of my life, I know the people involved, I know what they're like and, most crucially, I can hazard a fairly good guess at what and who most of the songs are about.<br>Some of the reasons for me leaving the band in the first place (which, if you excuse the pun, are a bit complicated) are exacerbated on this album, the music taking something of a backseat to Eddie Argos's unique vocal delivery, so it's strange that the album's production pushes the vocals so low in the mix. There are fewer of the killer riffs, guitar solos or thundering bass lines that were found on 'Bang, bang rock & rollî, and a lot of the biting excitement, enthusiasm and energy found on the first album is missing, but that's to be excepted after a few years spent on the road together and finally tackling that difficult second album, some of the initial vim and vigour will be diminished.<br>'It's a bit complicatedî is a good album and better than many released in the past few months, of course I prefer the first album, it's personal. However there are less stand out tracks, apart from the two I had some part in writing those that stick in my mind are the two singles, 'Direct Hitî and 'Nag, nag, nagî. The album is on more of an even keeling emotionally and musically, Lyrically it is more obsessed with women, still possessing an underdog's viewpoint and elements of awkward realism but not so naÔve. This is the sound of a band maturing and homogenising whilst attempting to grasp a hold onto the strains of what came before, it's the sound of growing up, following many of the bands' fans as they do just the same.

Catching the last few songs of Mammal's impressive and powerful set, it's easy to see, hear and feel the appeal of Metal even if the music isn't quite to your taste. The brutal, almost primeval beats stir something inside, the raw guitars, screaming vocals and awesome stage presence forcing attention to the stage and the vision of (frequently hairy) men flinging themselves around a stage and motivating the audience with consistent and unlevelled passion, aggression and dedication. Metal audiences are also some of the most enthusiastic and excitable audiences out there, it takes very little to get them warmed up and keep them active for an entire set, no appealing to crowds to come down the front and to stop standing with their arms folded and tapping their feet tonight!<br>Hellyeah are loud, stacks of Marshall and Ampeg amplifier cabinets piled two high by three wide (despite only several being miked up, surely not for show?), Vinnie's excessive drum kit consists of a ridiculous amount of cymbals and of course two bass drums, there are wireless units in operation on all guitars and crowds of roadies and security are poised for this balls to the floor rock show. Bottles fly, beer spills, people surf, heads bang and everyone's having a great time, on and off stage, multiple tributes to Australia, Melbourne, the assembled masses, the crew and to Dimebag Darrell (formerly) of Pantera bond the band to the audience and Vinnie seems an especially popular man as every time he peeks out from behind his figure consuming drum kit, the crowd go wild.It's hard to figure out if Hellyeah are completely serious, and that's not supposed to imply that they're a joke, as they play hard, fast and competently. More that with song titles such as 'Goddamnî and intersong banter about being guys on the road and about being 'in it' for the music they almost feel like a tribute show to Metal itself. The 'Supergroupî line up and even the name, 'Hellyeahî, don't exactly help to contradict that suspicion as the band work their way through an hour long set of rock clichÈs that raise a smile but also raise the roof.

The Wesley Anne is a warm, snugly kind of place this evening, reminiscent of old European style pubs and bars with a roaring fire, long sofa benches full of the chattering classes sipping red wine, cosy and familiar smells wafting throughout the venue lulling everyone into a sedate sense of security on this bitter winter's evening. So how does a relatively inventive and upbeat artist such as Early Gray chip into such a crowd when they all seem happy and reluctant to experience any intrusions? His Pop / R&B / Hip-Hop / Folk hybrid is familiar yet challenging, full of commercial potential unyet equally at home in a small pub back room. Tonight's set is a solo one, the band has been left at home, with an acoustic guitar providing accompaniment, a quiet and restrained intro to The Earl's new material, reinforcing the laid back and lethargic feeling of the evening. Earl Gray adopts an equally non-confrontational attitude, gently progressing through a short set of mellow songs, resplendent in a hoodie, baseball cap and sneakers, his puppy dog eyes beneath his shaggy hair appealing to and twanging the heart strings of all in the audience. His music is simple and uncomplicated, accessible ballads with a few slightly subtle profundities thrown in for good measure. It's encouraging to know that some of those good looking pop artists who go on to massive commercial success do start somewhere, that they're not all manufactured by a Pop Factory and spat out across the land, that there are some Pop performers who can write a decent tune and string some intelligible lyrics together. Earl Gray will certainly not be to everyone's taste, his saccharin sensibilities do get repetitive and drag at times, but lower your reservations, sit back, relax and give the Earl a go.

Melbourne is in the grips of a worrying and growing trend of Latte sipping trendies moving into exciting and vibrant areas, settling down nearby to long established music venues with a fine pedigree and a rich history, and then complaining about the noise. Why move into an area and then completely destroy what makes it just because you fancy a load of nice bars and cafes to ponce around in whilst you read trashy magazines secreted inside copies of Vogue? If you don't want to be disturbed by groups of dirty rock musicians and their fans, then you don't live near a venue, it's perfectly logical! Many venues have already lost their live licenses with others crippled and the Spanish club (combined with a couple of other reasons) is the latest victim of the fashionistas fancying a flirt with the inner suburbs.<br>Enough of that, let's focus on the positive.<br>Little Red appear on yet another bill, how they book and maintain their constant gigging schedule is a mystery and an impressive feat of endurance and energy, their slick sixties sounds have matured and honed by a slew of live shows, the songs and the band sound better than ever. Embers are perhaps one of the most experimental bands you'll ever see in Melbourne, four guys with very little hair between them produce something that resembles noise from industrial machinery from two saxophones, a bass and drums, it's the soundtrack to a headache, unyet strangely intriguing and enticing. Nation Blue are on top form tonight, the soundman has conjured balls and power from the infamously bad Spanish Club PA to match the bands blistering live performance as they scream, sweat and fling guitars about throughout their passion soaked set. The Meanies commence the final segue of fun bands to bounce around to tonight, with their old school rabble rousing Punk warming everyone up nicely whether they've just walked through the door or have been here since 2pm. What would posses a fairly talented bluegrass guitar player to one day think that donning a sparkling jump suit with modified helmet microphone would be a good idea. Judging by his slightly perverse stage repartee, probably a pursuit of women and alcohol as he encourages the audience to dip their breasts into his drink and sit on his knees whilst he plays, of course all of Bob Log 3rd's set is a carefully crafted show, but it's also damn good and a hell of a lot of fun!Finally Labjacd treat the crowd to a unique blend of Hispanic music, Jazz and Hip-Hop, everyone's dancing, everyone's melancholic and everyone's holding a finger aloof to the neighbours. The end of the night comes and we bid a fond farewell to those glorious red walls and vast chandeliers, as Bob Log 3rd put it so eloquently, 'What better way to celebrate the closing of the Spanish club than to sit on your favourite band?î

The recently expanded and invigorated Peabody have an unhealthy obsession with their guitars. Swapping backwards and forwards after pretty much every song, the band have a guitar tech beside the stage who does nothing but tune their guitars for them, but the band still insist on double checking tuning before commencing each song, putting the dampeners on any inter song banter aside for the pleasantries. Initially it's amusing and charming, as the set continues the habit becomes somewhat annoying and the temptation to shout 'Get on with it!î becomes very strong indeed. So it's a good job the band have a set chocker full of brilliant and finely crafted songs. Songs of incredible depth and texture, clever and carefully constructed layers of melodies, interesting unyet uplifting, deep unyet exciting and exhilarating. Full and rich guitars set over solid bass lines, powerful drums and Bruno Brayovic's heartfelt vocals searing through the mix. The band take the bold stance of playing an entire set of new songs from their forthcoming album that frustrates Peabody's old school fans in the crowd, but to new listeners it's an emotionally charged set, full of dynamics and solid delivery. It's been a tough year for the band, but they seem happy to be back and the crowd are happy to have them back. The East Brunswick club is fairly empty tonight, perhaps due to the Holiday weekend, perhaps due to other gigs and events and after Peabody's set the venue empties even further. Intercooler take to the stage looking like a generic Indie-Rock band, and unsurprisingly they sound like one to. You can tell where the songs are going from the second they start, there are no surprises; it's all been done before. There's nothing being said, no inventiveness, nothing new, the band don't even look that interested in what they're doing, relying on Rock charm to carry them through their set. Intercooler make little pretence at being anything more than a Pop Rock band and it's gained them much commercial success and recognition, it's just a shame that this style of bland rock with no presence or character is always so bloody popular, or is it? The venue is not exactly busy and as someone commented the day before the gig, 'Are they (Intercooler) still going?î

Bit by Bats are a great band, in 'it' for all the right reasons, whilst a vast majority of bands in Melbourne posses some of the most fantastic and expensive equipment but don't do anything with it, Bit by Bats take their average guitars and amps and make some marvellous melodious music with it. No pretension, no fashionable prancing or posturing, just talent, tunes and exuberance. The music ticks all the right boxes to, solid rumbling bass lines and drumming countered with fuzzy guitar lines and Owen's unique fantastic barking vocal delivery, there's even some Theremin thrown in for good measure, even if it's barely audible most of the time. The crowd at Roxanne's are appreciative but not up for dancing, the holiday weekend doesn't seem to have encouraged that many partygoers out and those here are of the fashionable ilk that wouldn't do it anyway. Bit by Bats don't mind though, they're doing it because they love music and love playing their music, everything else is a bonus.

Kicking off Little Red's second Tote Residency night is 'Definite Article' with their first gig under a new name that is not much better than their old, 'Squeaks & Squeals'. Vocalist Mark wears a silly hat and the band have a drum machine so songs never quite get going, but contain enough pleasant harmonies and melodies to maintain interest. As the room fills 'Magnum Gumbo Detonator' take to the stage, vocalist Bernie's slightly inane grin seemingly happy with the crowd. They're a funk band without a lot of funk and a soul band without a lot of soul, unyet their pots of charm and sense of fun carry the show, captivating the crowd, a limbo contest during the last song winning all but the coldest of hearts.

Operator Please tick all the right boxes, they're young, attractive and every member falls into one of several 'kooky kid' categories, something to appeal to everyone, they also appear to write very catchy songs. All of which begs the question if the band are manufactured, or at least some sort of stage school band. Their 'shtick' is very cutesy, toying with that confusing late teens state of mind where you still want sweets and concession fare on the bus, but you also want alcohol, parties and sex. The band's biography is very vague and convenient, with members just sort of coming together, new recruit Stephanie on Violin talks of getting 'The Call' to join the band, and then after some 'DIY promotion' and a trip to New York City (which of course every teenager can afford!) the band sign to EMI? Hmm, Is the smell of a Rat in the air? Or the smell of Big Management bucks? Probably, but for some reason and for once, it's hard to care because Operator Please are so much damn fun!<br><br>For such a Buzz band The East Brunswick club is not particularly busy, possibly due to being over 18, and it looks like a few minors still managed to blag and bluff their way in. The night opens with Little Red, enough has been mentioned of them elsewhere, next are Treetops, a band who apparently have quite a varied and chequered History, despite possessing an amazing and youthful drummer the rest of the band seem rather tired and lacking, both supports a peculiar choice for the pure slice of saccharin soaked Pop rock to follow. These kids know how to play, the drums may be slightly weak but Timmy's only got little arms, so forgive him for now, Ashley's bass rumbles despite never seeing his face beneath an ample fringe, Sarah's keyboard bloops and fizzes in the modern way, and as well as producing a fine sound from her Rickenbacker / Vox combo, Amandah possesses a powerful and passionate voice, with range and depth. The songs are generally bouncy, upbeat and light in content, songs to scream along and dance to, not change the world with, perhaps 'Get What You Want' showing some hints of song writing maturity bubbling under the surface. Any self-respecting street press reading music fan just shouldn't like Operator Please, they smack of contrivance, of music career by numbers, of a fashionable gimmick. However with their charm, energetic stage show, apparent talent and irritatingly catchy tunes, the band will slowly be working their way on to many serious muso's list of guilty pleasures.

My latest Indieoma post is the second installment of my series of articles on Politics in Music, this time it's the turn of Classical music, read it <a href="https://www.indieoma.com/public_journal.php?d=2a79ea27c279e471f4d180b08d62b00a" target="_blank">here</a>.

Shooting at Unarmed Men (SAUM) strike me as band that have good nights and bad nights that drastically effect their performance, the last gig of theirs I attended was lacklustre and neither the band nor the audience seemed to enjoy it. Tonight however is a completely different story, the band are as tight as a gnat's arse, delivering biting, sardonic lyrics with venom and gusto, rumbling bass lines locked into a booming kick drum, jagged guitar and discordant counter riffs, the chemistry shinning through as the bands' on stage banter revolves around in jokes about everyone's background, Welsh sheep, convict heritage and Gold rushes. The venue is now full (later confirmed as sold out) as Baseball take to the stage and little did I realise we revisit our friend the nuts drummer from NinetyNine, this time on vocals and violin. Once again it's hard to take your eyes off of him as he takes up most of the front of the stage, legs wide apart, feverishly fiddling and screeching incomprehensibly into the microphone. The music is frantic, messy, chaotic and exciting, fusing elements of Punk Rock, gypsy swing and even some hints of Middle Eastern scales and melodies creeping in. Someone has decided to dowse everything with swathes of reverb which makes discerning what's going on a challenge, perhaps the band wanted it, perhaps the soundman just thought it would be a good idea, however it turns a lot of the songs into big balls of noise, lacking in clarity from each other, so whereas SAUM held the audiences attention, aside from the dedicated front row, a few start to mention that band have been playing too long, turning to the bar, the impact poor sound can have.

A Guitarist / Vocalist, two drummers, a Tambourine / Trumpet player and a Tambourine player, initially 'Bang Bang Aids' line up seems extraneous, the drummers are just playing in unison and one of the Tambourine players doesn't actually seem to do anything. As the band progress through their set the songs start to take on a looser feel, the drummers counteracting each other, even the tambourine player's incessant chip eating and the band's banter adds an element of charm to the jagged and (I suspect) partly improvised noise. The band don't care the venue is half full and those fortunate enough to be present love them for it. Following in Melbourne's tradition of varied line-ups, 'Young Lovers' are a slick but ultimately uninspiring rock band combining a lot of generic fashionable rock tricks such as disco beats, synths and new wave style guitar and after several similar sounding songs I lose interest. After a lengthy stage set up filled by Streetparty DJ's, 'Children Collide' take to the stage resplendent in a sea of cacophony. Following in the footsteps of many classic Three-pieces the band create a tremendous amount of noise for their number, thrashing and crashing their way through a sucession of crowd favourites and into a series of well received new songs, the audience reaction surprising and delighting the band. 'Children Collide' are a delight and a thrill to watch, bass player Heath bounds around the stage pounding thumping licks and riffs, Johnny's guitar awash in waves of reverb and distortion, screeching and howling into the microphone, sometimes (and I suspect a trick he learnt recently) combining the two by screaming into his guitar pick up. As the set reaches it's all too soon and unwelcomingly premature end, Johnny announces 'Encores are stupid, so we're just going to play the songs nowî and crash into their sets conclusion even achieving the unattainable, a dancing Melbourne Audience.

There's something odd in the air tonight, or to be more precise, probably something odd up the nasal passage or in a pill, the atmosphere at Bootleg is intense and disconcerting, we seem to be the only lucid members of the audience and the only people who don't quite seem to understand what's going on. Style over content is my first impression of Teenager, none of the band seem to know what's going on throughout the set as singer 'Nick Littlemore' rides a lengthy ego trip that might make him look cool, but also a bit of a wanker, regularly insulting his brother handling the visual show and frequently refusing to play until certain conditions are met. The band has some good songs held together by a lot of filler, and even the band admits it. A lot of music press are raving about Teenager and whilst they certainly fit slap bang into the middle of what's currently trendy and fashionable, I'm clearly not sufficiently off my head or cool to understand why. Damn arms take to the stage looking like component parts of completely different bands, fey Indie, Garage Rockers and synth player 'Yama Indra' looks a little like he should be in Goldie Looking Chain. Initially plagued by technical problems and disagreements about what songs to play a solid set of electro rock gradually emerges with frantic drumming, screeching vocals and plenty of heavy riffs. Unfortunately whatever it is 'in the air' pervades throughout Damn Arms set and despite some good tunes, the stage show is flat and uninspiring, the band finish their set, no one seems to care a great deal, and normal nightclub activity is resumed.

Any band who start their set with a ten minute under water puppet show earn Brownie points in my book. Also possessing a drummer who acts like a coiled spring the entire gig, sat staring intently on his drum stool watching everything on stage, exploding into fits of frantic drumming also earns points and I haven't even mentioned that NinetyNine write damn fine songs to. The set is schizophrenic with soft mellow soundscapes, loud raucous pop and even a track in Arabic. The songs are short, sparse and basic, simple but well complimenting melodies, haunting, alluring and completely captivating.

Western Australia has produced some of Australia's most talented and popular artists in recent times and it's not all Indie or Rock Riffage as tonight's WA showcase proved.

When I hear the phrase 'country music' I can't help but imagine either American cowboys scowling through tales of the dustbowl deep south, old English men supping real ale and singing in impenetrable accents or the new breed of wiry alt-country stars who never have a good word for anyone or anything, however it seems that Australian Country artists fall into their own unique sub-genre.

After a surreal party on Saturday night... It had a Gangster theme, Gangster rap... All police tape, chalked murder scene markings, fake money and loud tracksuits.