The New Releases Show

  • Home
  • The New Releases Show

The New Releases Show The New Releases Show, Fri 3pm on 4ZZZ, Sun 8pm on Zed Digital, around Oz on the CRN. We have a nation-wide team. We write longform reviews.

We give priority to Oz music. Contact us via:

[email protected]

Send us your EP/LP streams/DLs for review (we don't cover singles). The more lead time you give us ahead of release date the better your chances. Very responsive on the email, not so much on FB.

Free-flowing, captivating, hypnotising, everything is alive is classic Slowdive and a little bit more, too. Reviewed by ...
11/09/2023

Free-flowing, captivating, hypnotising, everything is alive is classic Slowdive and a little bit more, too. Reviewed by Nick Stephan.

- Six years in the making, Slowdive return with everything is alive, an album which further showcases the band’s diversity and manages to sound both foreign and familiar. everything is alive is a sonic departure from their 2017 self-titled album, relying heavily on the use of synthesisers and atmospherics to produce a dreamlike, gossamer sound. Despite this shift in direction, the album still bears the classic Slowdive hallmarks: reverb drenched guitars, Rachel Goswell’s haunting vocals and a pop sensibility that is uniquely their own.

Ironically, despite the positive connotations of the album’s title, everything is alive suffered a difficult and prolonged birth. Before convening as a group, Neil Halstead composed several demos in his home studio, with a view to create a more minimalist, electronic record. However, initial band rehearsals -scheduled for April 2020- had to be scrapped as a result of the pandemic. Slowdive were finally able to rehearse as a full band toward the end of 2020, and it was then that Halstead’s initial ideas were fleshed out and finalised. Recording took place across multiple studios, but fittingly, everything is alive was able to come full circle, reaching completion in Halstead’s home studio in early 2022.

Lead singles kisses and skin in the game are both immediately recognisable as Slowdive. Neither would have been out of place on the group’s last album, though both tracks contain a lightness and a brightness that has not been immediately evident on previous releases. Whilst Slowdive have always made radiant music, it has usually been tinged with sadness; bearing a weight that, though unspoken, is glaringly obvious.

What is most surprising about everything is alive, is how much it can make you feel with so little. Vocals are often used sparingly, forcing the instrumentation to communicate the emotional weight of the songs. prayer remembered is a wholly instrumental track that builds slowly and steadily utilising a mix of synth, drums and barely-there guitar. It is not unlike Joy Division’s Atmosphere, though not as hopeless or depressing, with a sense of melody indebted to Brian Eno’s early ambient pieces, such as The Big Ship.

andalucia plays is, unmistakably, the album’s highlight and quite possibly one of the single-most beautiful songs released this year. An almost seven minute exercise in simplicity and restraint, memorable for its recall of minor, minute details, such as a treasured shirt or a song on the stereo. andalucia plays’ power lies in the way it voices the human trait of memorising the insignificant details in otherwise significant moments. Something all too familiar to anyone who harbours a treasured memory of time spent with someone they love, or loved.

It would be interesting, for comparison’s sake, to hear Halstead’s original vision for the album. There is an obvious simplicity in the structure of many of the songs and sense of space that has not been present since the stark minimalism present on Pygmalion. Despite this shared simplicity, Pygmalion felt cold, clinical and distant, whereas everything is alive radiates a warmth that embraces the listener, as opposed to pushing them away. Free-flowing, captivating and hypnotising, an album of stark, but striking beauty that lingers long after the last track has ended. This is a record worth spending time with, and one you can lose yourself in.

- Nick Stephan.

Batten down the hatches for some good times with bad time music and a soundtrack to the apocalypse by Schkeuditzer Kreuz...
25/08/2023

Batten down the hatches for some good times with bad time music and a soundtrack to the apocalypse by Schkeuditzer Kreuz. No Life Left is reviewed by Matt Thrower.

- Anyone who has delved into the back catalogue of Schkeuditzer Kreuz will already be aware of the project’s penchant for grinding electronics, disquieting samples and savage, distorted beats, over which mastermind Kieren Hills howls lyrics of anger and despair.

The last long player under this name was 2021’s Isolated And Alone, which expanded Hills’ state-of-the-planet address into an unrelenting but sonically satisfying portrayal of a world gone mad.

Wrapped in slightly Giger-esque artwork, his latest collection of tunes No Life Left is no less abrasive – if anything, he sounds heavier than ever – but the songs here are more visceral and immediate. Opening track No Redemption gets straight down to business with caveman Front 242 beats and a cinematic synth hook, Hills’ voice distorted into a kind of cyber-death-metal growl.

The single Joy is not pretty either, a journey into the vortex accompanied by unsettling laughing, the ever-present crunching rhythms, migraine sonics and Hills gruffly speak-singing into society’s self-created void. The pace picks up to a futuristic rockabilly stomp in Second Life, the samples indicating folks’ tragic obsession with guns, while guitars are let off their leash for some supremely trebly riffing.

While Isolated And Alone reflected the unsettling blend of rage and ennui that accompanied the pandemic, No Life Left seems to critique the fallout that followed and continues to affect our absorption of information in the post-truth age. Album closer Inside World sums it up with a disembodied voice that tells us “Perception is reality, whether it’s true or not”.

In summary, this is an ever-topical soundtrack to the apocalypse, equally suited to noiseniks, industrial music afficionados and anarcho-punks – or anyone who can have a good time with bad time music. A sonic tapestry of fury, if you will. And you can dance to it.

- Matt Thrower.

In a world which finds it increasingly difficult to come together and talk, two musicians remind us just how much there ...
22/08/2023

In a world which finds it increasingly difficult to come together and talk, two musicians remind us just how much there is to be gained from a meeting of ways. Chris Cobcroft reviews Dialogue by Magic City Counterpoint.

- Magic City Counterpoint is the brainchild of two proud parents, Madeleine Cocolas, an ambient artist and composer and Chris Perren, the bandleader for the likes of chamber-pop outfit Nonsemble and cheerfully experimental rockers, Mr. Maps; both are based in Meanjin / Brisbane. It got me wondering where the Magic City, featured in the title to their debut EP, Magic City Counterpoint, might be. Perhaps they’re referring to the old r’n’b club that used to be over where The Brightside is now, in the Valley? I think that’s highly unlikely, but at least the mainstream urban sounds that used to pound through the walls over there are very much in counterpoint to the warm electronica explosion going on here.

It’s also quite different from what Madeleine and Chris have made in the past, although you can absolutely hear every chapter of their different musical histories at work in the six tracks arrayed for your listening pleasure. I feel like the superstructure of the record is the sort of thing Chris would naturally gravitate toward. The lush, often brightly hued harmonies are full of the kind of optimism that often burst out of a Nonsemble record and Mr. Maps too, for that matter - but perhaps the layering of sounds, growing ever more intense and enormous, is even more indicative of the latter’s post-rocking ways. If that is the case, it’s like Chris brought the blueprints and Madeleine built it almost wholly out of the materials from which she constructs her work: highly treated instrumental samples and field recordings turned into shining, electronic facades.

In case my descriptive skills have failed me, MCC have provided a handy list of tastefully experimental beat-makers and electronic artists they’ve been compared to: Holly Herndon, Julianna Barwick, How To Dress Well and Boards of Canada. That all checks out, although when I was listening to the EP’s opening track … it’s not hip hop per-se, but definitely in a similar downtempo world to Flylo, building from unrecognisably altered, ambient harmony, layered with sweet, elfin vocals and given a down-pitched percussion sample for some deliciously textured bass. I can barely hear the spoken word sample that appears halfway through, it sounds like it might be in Hindi? The tone of voice is touchingly jovial, even as the music expands into enormous soundscapes of awe and wonder. Perhaps it’s referencing the unlimited possibilities opened up by just talking? Something we may be in danger of forgetting, contemporarily.

The more beat driven numbers, like Fern Bells, make me think of folks like Fourtet and Caribou. Kinda like dance music for people who remember dancing once, but now are happy to indulge in these more cerebral echoes of the discotheque. I say that, but I understand the kids are still dancing to Fourtet, so maybe they’ll dance to this too. The chimes and vocal samples are certainly already lovely, before they explode into another maximalist soundscape with lashing of very nearly lurid synth colour.

Dream State features some of the least mutated sounds on the record, including the beautifully bittersweet piano melody that drives the song. Madeleine and Chris provide actual lyrics in an equally, sadly sweet duet, which I think -harking back to that idea with Dialogue- is about humanity’s bewildering inability to communicate, to bridge the divide between ideologies and do what needs to be done to save ourselves. After all, we’re different, but “the bones all look the same”; that’s a grim sentiment, but sung beautifully. So we’re already pretty emotional, but the track roars louder and louder with layered harp, strings and ever more of that near blindingly bright synth. It’s like the listener is going on the same rollercoaster again and again, but honestly it’s quite an addictive emotional arc; maybe just one more go?

It’s funny, when so much of what’s here screams that term which was essentially made up to describe post-rock: maximalism, but many of the basic components -the rhythmic patterns and chord structures- are actually minimalist. Check out the head-spinning, tightly repeated structure of Sun, which really does evoke the awe of standing a little too close to an unfathomably large, burning orb; the sub-atomic process of nuclear fusion, writ gargantuan.

The final track proper, Main Beach, sounds more like Madeleine Cocolas’ back-catalogue than anything else here, with echoing ambience over serenely dignified piano chords and a field recording of what must be the beach in question. It’s very relaxed, which I thought might help decide whether it was Main Beach in Noosa or the Gold Coast - but, honestly, each is so stuffed with tourists these days, it’s actually more pleasant than either.

There’s an alternate, more synthesised version of Dream State included, which really does make it feel more like a genuine pop song. I’m not sure I prefer it, but there are some moments of synthwave, which, well, if it was all like that, I’d have a much harder time choosing.

Magic City Counterpoint has, I think I’ve already said, a highly addictive sound. It exists between the many different aural worlds that its creators already live in, but juices all of them for the maximum amount of sweetness. Like the other artists mentioned here, they take the building blocks of other sounds and create something different and head-turning. The world at large might be pathologically unable to talk to each other, but that’s clearly not a problem for Madeleine and Chris, because this is a fruitful dialogue indeed.

- Chris Cobcroft.

PIL return in typically divisive fashion, with classic post-punk, angry drivel and, of all things, a touching love song....
18/08/2023

PIL return in typically divisive fashion, with classic post-punk, angry drivel and, of all things, a touching love song. End Of World is reviewed by Nick Stephan.

- Taking John Lydon at face-value has never been an easy task. On one hand he is responsible for creating some of the most earth shattering music of the Twentieth Century. On the other hand, his penchant for inflammatory statements can render him insensitive at best and, at the worst, completely unlikeable. Regardless, he is a creative mind unlike any other and one could easily make an argument that Public Image Ltd.’s second album, Metal Box, is -if not one of the greatest albums of all time- at least one of the greatest achievements of the post-punk era.

Metal Box represented a point in musical history when new ideas ran rampant and music became interesting again. Punk destroyed the foundations of the old and post-punk erected its architecture of the avant-garde upon its ashes. Public Image Ltd. -or PiL- would continue to release groundbreaking music, mixing commercial and critical success, before breaking up in the ‘90s and reforming again in the 2000s. Despite their efforts, nothing could match the idiosyncratic power of Metal Box. It became their Sistine Chapel Ceiling, their Mona Lisa, their Waterloo.

Nearly forty-five years since the release of Metal Box, Public Image Ltd. return with a new album, End Of World. It's their eleventh studio album and the first since 2015’s What The World Needs Now… Surprisingly, for a group with a history of acrimonious departures, the band’s lineup has been unchanged since their 2012 comeback, This is PiL, with Lydon continuing to be backed by Lu Edmonds on guitar, Scott Firth on bass and Bruce Smith on drums.

In recent years, Lydon’s has been struck by personal tragedy, his wife of nearly forty-five years, Nora Foster, was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in 2018, requiring him to become her full time carer before she finally passed in April of this year. This latest tragedy is just one more in a life that has been marred by the untimely deaths of those closest to him.

Music has always proved a sanctuary for Lydon, ever since his early childhood, when he suffered a prolonged bout of meningitis. It is no surprise therefore that he has now channeled his grief into End Of World with Lead single Hawaii being dedicated to the memory of Foster and referencing a holiday the couple shared on the island, several years ago. With its steel guitar and touching lyricism, Hawaii is End of World’s one great surprise: an uncharacteristically lovely song and uncharted territory for a group not known for their tenderness.

If Hawaii is an unexpected detour into the realms of sentiment and sensitivity, it is short-lived. Lydon’s punk sensibilities are clearly yet to desert him, even if his barbs lack the wit and intelligence of his younger years. On Being Stupid Again he rails against the misdirected activism of the student class, coming across as boorish and cumbersome and ignoring his own history as an art school rabble-rouser. Being Stupid Again contains some of Lydon’s laziest lyrics, painting an unpleasant picture of the artist as the very kind of dinosaur his early bands rallied against. Likewise, the track Pretty Awful is puerile at best. Doing it’s best to live up to its title, it contains the lyric, “You smell, like a bag of mice.” Clearly, the author is not even trying, the less said about this bad fart of a song, the better.

Car Chase, however, with it’s throbbing backbeat of synths and funky bass, contains all the disturbed disco hallmarks of the group’s mid-late ‘80's classics, whilst Walls bears a passing similarity to, Albatross, off of Metal Box. End of World’s second half is when the group really hit their stride and penultimate track, North West Passage, showcases a group who has well and truly found their groove and locked into it.

Whilst End Of World may be a mixed bag, there are fleeting glimpses of classic PiL across the album’s thirteen tracks. Where the group really succeed -with the exception of Hawaii- is when they play to their strengths, creating tracks with all the pulsing bass, angular guitar and trademark sneer listeners expect from this veteran post-punk band. Though the album is not without its faults and could have been improved by trimming a few tracks, if one has to endure a Being Stupid Again for every Hawaii or Car Chase, then the punishment is worth the reward.

- Nick Stephan.

Seja is back with a record of analogue synth-pop and thoughtful depth. Here Is One I Know You Know is reviewed by Chris ...
17/08/2023

Seja is back with a record of analogue synth-pop and thoughtful depth. Here Is One I Know You Know is reviewed by Chris Cobcroft.

- Seja Vogel returns. You know Seja, right? A core member of bubblegum pop heroes Sekiden, a latter-day, excellent addition to the Regurgitator lineup and a solo artist with an ever growing back-catalogue of well-received records. She’s also been collecting, as people often do, when they’ve been around long enough in the world. In Seja’s case, quite appropriately, she collects analogue synthesisers. She has, apparently, a vast trove and tries to show off as many of them as possible on her latest, Here Is One I Know You Know. Perhaps this is what the title means, as she pulls out another ancient keyboard, dusts it off and fires it up. This record is about this beloved bunch of instruments as much as anything else. She once said “I tend to feel much more affected by a beautiful melody than a beautiful lyric” and why not? If you have a listen you may recall when an essential earworm in your past was soundtracked by one of these ancient machines and its sweet synthetic timbre.

That’s a pretty wistful sentiment and it’s a good fit for the record. She might prefer tunes to words, but what Seja has to say on Here Is One is far from throwaway. The record captures the woman at this point in her life with a clarity and honesty that she hasn’t always indulged in the past. As is appropriate for a synth-pop record there’s a lot of love-songs and romance here, but Seja reflects on her attachment and analyses her feelings with a philosophical bent and an even-handed maturity.

That’s kind of how the record works in terms of genre, too. There’s the simplicity of the pure enjoyment of pop, given depth and more complex flavour by excursions into things like krautrock, which is still such an all-encompassing playground for experimentation that it covers just about all of the weirdness that subtly wiggles it’s way into the substrates of the record. Sometimes it becomes wonderfully absurd and I can think of no better example than Es Passt with its rollicking beat and delightfully unexpected pedal-steel motif, courtesy of local musician’s musician Danny Widicombe. It’s so country-tronic I was looking round for Andrew Tuttle to see if he was pulling the strings. Completing the oddity of what’s on offer, Seja sings this whole, gentle little love song in German. “In diesem Augenblick / unter den Sternen der nacht / Was anderes weis ich nicht / Es fur uns beide gedacht / Es ist soweit”. At this moment under the stars of the night / I don’t know anything else / It meant for both of us / This is our time.

In the hazy warm hues of both aging, analogue synths and the similarly soft-focus production, which is the work of both Seja and Hotmagnets (that’s Simon from Sekiden), who I believe is another hoarder of keyboards, it can be easy to miss the clever little variations that appear and the contributions by the extensive and star-studded guest list. There's internationally famous folks like Stella from Warpaint and Fred Armisen of all people, who plays tubetoms -or Octobans- on the song Change On The Horizon. The Australians are a veritable who’s-who of stylish musos from the last decade or so, including members of Velociraptor, Ball Park Music, Richard In Your Mind and more. Special shout out to Chris Farrer of one of my faves from years ago, The Quickening, on hand for a sick guitar solo whenever they are (fairly regularly) called for.

Gentle, friendly, wistful, wise: just like the title says, Here Is One I Know You Know, Seja is reaching out with this one. The offer is subtle but when you think about it, quite generous. It’s a record full of personal insight, the sort of thing that’s studious enough, you might want to stop and think what it means for your own life. It’s a bit strange to find thoughtful advice for living in pop songs, but I guess Seja is good at both.

- Chris Cobcroft.

No more nice Deafcult, they're here to shatter your misplaced optimism and explain to you in the bleakest terms, The Fut...
10/08/2023

No more nice Deafcult, they're here to shatter your misplaced optimism and explain to you in the bleakest terms, The Future Of Illusion. Reviewed by Nick Stephan.

- Six years after their last release -debut album, Auras- Deafcult return with a new one, Future Of Illusion. Reorganised, reenergised and pi**ed off at the state of the world, they express their indignation with a sonic assault of distorted, effects-laden guitar noise. Despite slimming down, from four to three guitarists, they still manage to make a hell of a racket, enveloping the listener within their walls of sound. Future Of Illusion is the group’s first release to feature their newest recruit, Kellie Lloyd of Screamfeeder, on bass and vocals and whose inimitable voice adds an edge and an urgency to the group’s powerful new sound.

Deafcult have never been known for their aggression. Both their past releases were rather beautiful affairs: drenched in reverb, chorus, delay and anything else Stevie Scott and co. could cram onto their already-bursting pedal boards. It would appear that in the interim years between albums, the group have cast aside their Slowdive records in favour of The Jesus and Mary Chain, Skinny Puppy and the late, experimental era of Black Flag. There is a darkness entrenched within the fibres of Future of Illusion and where previous releases, Deafcult and Auras, radiated a lightness and a brightness, Future Of Illusion bristles with rage and unfettered hostility.

Is their anger surprising? Our society has changed drastically and irreparably since 2017, when Deafcult released Auras. Since then the world has endured the presidency of Donald Trump, a sharp rise in right-wing extremism and a pandemic that literally brought the world to a standstill. It has witnessed an upturn in political instability in almost every global region and has seen the return of war to continental Europe. Lastly, but not least importantly, it is experiencing the all too real fallout caused by the continual destruction of the earth’s natural resources and a rapidly warming planet. What is more surprising is that so much of society is so willingly apathetic and ignorant of the chaos surrounding them, ignoring the overwhelming evidence that we are all, pretty much fu**ed.

Oppenheimer’s Regret kicks off the proceedings, with a heavily distorted, almost industrial bassline. Waves of distorted guitar soon follow, something longtime listeners will recognise as a trademark of the band, but this time around the pace is faster, frantic even and the guitars have a sharp, metallic edge to their sound, slicing and slashing their way through the other instruments. “This existential mess / That you so kindly left / Are we the repossessed?” chants the group, over a ritualistic, tribal sounding drumbeat. This is not the Deafcult of old: strap yourselves in listeners, it is going to be a wild ride.

Coming completely out of left-field, is the albums’ fifty-second title-track. Reminiscent of alternative hip-hop, it creates an oddly experimental interlude before the final quarter of the album, bridging the relatively slower paced Metamorphosis with the manic Tulpas; the latter referencing the theosophical concept of materialising a thought form through meditation. Ame Solitaire, French for lonely soul, closes out the record. Whatever demons the band had failed to exorcise before this point were surely banished by the song’s close. Ending on a refrain of, “My heart’s aflame”, Ame Solitaire is a final act of catharsis on an album that embodies a musical form of purging for the members of Deafcult.

John Lydon famously sang, “Anger is an energy,” and across fifteen tracks Deafcult certainly harness and harbour their anger, utilising it as a driving force, pushing them further and further into the dark. Negative energies can influence positive change, and by purposefully channelling the powerful emotions of rage and anger, new and beautiful things can emerge; not unlike new growth after a forest fire. Future Of Illusion may be the product Deafcult’s communal discontent, but it is not without its charm. To call it beautiful may be going a bit far. Though there are glimmers of beauty, they are fleeting at best. Deafcult however, are not trying to be beautiful, they are trying to illuminate the predicament of mankind as it wallows in a mess of its own making. This is the soundtrack to an armageddon, where the future itself is an illusion.

- Nick Stephan.

Undertake an epic journey with Fingerless, from one end of existence to the other, stuffing in everything it has to offe...
04/08/2023

Undertake an epic journey with Fingerless, from one end of existence to the other, stuffing in everything it has to offer along the way. Life, Death & Prizes, is reviewed by Matt Thrower.

- The unhappy child on the cover of Life, Death & Prizes, the new album from local three-piece Fingerless, certainly reflects the emotional turmoil we all go through, from infancy to our final moments. Yet, as the band clearly displays, there’s a richer web of emotion and experience that helps us enjoy moments of respite - and even transcendence.

It all comes together over these surprisingly versatile forty minutes. While song titles don’t get much more direct than album opener You Are Going To Die, by starting the record with such a stark reminder, Fingerless go on to show us that a heck of a lot can happen before we exit the Earth. Even that song isn’t all doom and gloom, buoyed by a pretty folk-ish melody drizzled with picked guitar, analogue synth sounds, lovely sighing vocals and a tinge of Middle Eastern mystery.

The record changes its approach completely in the next song Truth, a fuzzed up psychedelic trudge with a memorable stoner riff, slightly noir-ish twangy verses and a satisfyingly majestic chorus. Scarborough starts out all Ryuichi Sakamoto with its chiming synth intro before unravelling into a melancholic bluesy ballad. The riffs return in Get My Money Back, this time with a head-down jammy vibe that keeps one’s attention over its six minutes. Perhaps the catchiest track on the album is the quite beautiful Leaf Of Stone, a soothing indie-pop melody given haunting touches, like the backing vocals that hark back to The Beatles’ Blue Jay Way.

There’s chilling vocoder and down-pitched voices in the (perhaps ironically titled?) Sympathetic Love, and yet that rich bed of guitars, keyboards, synths and shuffling drums provide both a weird contrast and a reassuring taste of the familiar. The blend of folk, electronics, psychedelic rock guitar and sweet harmonised vocals in Compare The Feelings is more in the spirit of the earlier track Truth but expands the sound palate somewhat into more complex territory, without sacrificing hooks and memorable refrains.

Final track Tambourine Addict Who Plays The Drugs is as weird and forlorn as its title to begin with, but by now Fingerless have established their way with a soaring chorus, and this one goes into slow-burn Besnard Lakes territory. It’s a great way to end the record, and as forbidding as some of these titles may sound, Life, Death & Prizes is ultimately an uplifting and inventive record with a crisp yet warm production. While death is the inevitable conclusion to life, we can chalk up this lovely record as one of those treasured prizes we experience along the way.

- Matt Thrower.

Our favourite sad-sack baritone Jack Ladder goes full synth-pop on his latest. Tall Pop Syndrome is reviewed by Alex Gib...
04/08/2023

Our favourite sad-sack baritone Jack Ladder goes full synth-pop on his latest. Tall Pop Syndrome is reviewed by Alex Gibson.

- Hot off opening the Australian dates for American singer-songwriter Weyes Blood, Jack Ladder (stage alias for Tim Rodgers… not that one) drops his seventh studio album Tall Pop Syndrome. While previous albums had long, dramatic synth epics, Tall Pop Syndrome strips it all back and goes full synth-pop with all songs clocking in at less than four-and-a-half-minutes long. Whilst not indicative of his best work, Jack Ladder still manages to entice listeners with his Nick Cave-like croon and pulsing synthesisers.

The lead single Home Alone sets the mood for the whole album's theme of longing and trudging on through loss, not an uncommon thing for Ladder albums to feature (as well as having, so far this year's funniest lyric “Amy Winehouse is in my house”). While the album as a whole works well together and doesn’t stray far from its synth-pop leanings, this does let it get stale, with lyrical themes and production choices often repeated throughout. There is no better display of this than in the looping song structure which appears in track after track. Whereas looping chord progressions and parts can strengthen the meaning of songs in artists such as John Maus and George Clanton, for Ladder, because of his low croon and detached delivery, it can get tiring.

Despite this, Tall Pop Syndrome Still has some shining moments on it such as Heavy Weight Champion, where Its sequenced synth loop and repetition build to create a moody and somewhat hopeful atmosphere, a welcome change compared to the rest of what's on offer. Although it may seem like I don’t like this album, and while currently, that may be true, I'm still an eager Jack Ladder fan and am looking forward to hearing future albums as well as the imminent Australian tour; and hey, many of my favourite albums I didn’t like at first, so who knows?

- Alex Gibson.

OXBOW return to illuminate the darkness with fearsome noise. Love's Holiday is reviewed by Nick Stephan.- Just over six ...
27/07/2023

OXBOW return to illuminate the darkness with fearsome noise. Love's Holiday is reviewed by Nick Stephan.

- Just over six years ago, Oxbow released Thin Black Duke, arguably the group’s greatest musical statement. Critically acclaimed upon arrival, it appeared ten years after the band’s previous record, The Narcotic Story. Thin Black Duke was a terrifying tour-de-force of shifting dynamics. At times balefully quiet, with erratic explosions of frightening power and intensity; an unhinged album charged with both menace and beauty. It was both a year highlight and a potential career-ender: the kind of album that can only be followed by disappointment. After all, lightning can rarely be bottled twice.

Released through Mike Patton’s Ipecac label, Oxbow’s new album, Love’s Holiday, further showcases Oxbow’s singularity, a group resistant to being labelled or corralled with a particular style or scene. Three singles preceded the album’s release, Dead Ahead, Icy White & Crystalline and 1000 Hours, with each song showcasing the different sides of a band who could be described as anything from noise rock, to heavy metal or avant-garde.

Dead Ahead and Icy White & Crystalline launch the album with a dramatic one-two punch. Both are indebted to the group’s noise-rock roots, marked with elements of Goat era Jesus Lizard. 1000 Hours sets a more sombre and sinister pace, as vocalist Eugene S. Robinson’s voice shifts from a turbulent shout to a deep wail, reminiscent of the experimental sound of late-period Scott Walker. Despite these sonic variations, the group never sound like anything but Oxbow. This is due, in no small part, to the unmistakable vocal performance of Robinson and the impeccable guitar work of Niko Wenner, with Wenner also acting as co-producer, alongside Joe Chicharelli, the group’s producer since 2007’s The Narcotic Story.

Oxbow have a long history of collaborating with female vocalists. Lydia Lunch sang on several tracks off King Of The Jews, Marianne Faithfull contributed to Serenade In Red and the experimental beat-punk writer Kathy Acker performed spoken word on the stand-alone single The Stabbing Hand. Therefore, the presence of Kristin Hayter, better known as Lingua Ignota, is no surprise. What is surprising is that Hayter’s contribution contains none of the vitriol one would usually expect, instead contributing an almost choral backing to Robinson’s pained vocals, charging the song with a solemn, melancholic tone.

Choral arrangements, courtesy of the fifteen strong Love’s Holiday Choir, feature on several of the album’s tracks, to great effect. Their presence is particularly strong on the album’s distorted, droning final number, Gunwale. No strangers to experimenting with classical musical arrangements in order to impart further depth and complexity into their compositions, Oxbow have utilised such orchestration as far back as their sophomore album, King Of The Jews.

Since forming in 1988 the group have only had one personnel change. Drummer Tom Dobrov was replaced by Greg Davis after 1995’s Serenade In Red, with Davis having contributed additional percussion as far back as the group’s 1989 debut, F**kfest. Despite this long history Oxbow have only released eight albums, further evidence of their reputation as a group that works on their own terms. They record and release music at their leisure and each album is a precise, deliberate statement, rehearsed and refined until it meets the band’s exacting standards.

While often critically lauded, Oxbow have, in a much wider sense, remained unknown and under-appreciated. Their potent and uncompromising approach to music renders them anathema to general listeners and Love’s Holiday is not likely to change that. Brooding, brutal and at times blistering, this is music that is meant to provoke, confront and antagonise. Love’s Holiday is an album that almost suffocates under its own emotional weight and those seeking the superficial and the saccharine need not apply here. Albums such as this are not made for everyday listening, but they are all the more memorable for being so, whilst bands such as Oxbow are all the more brave in willfully illuminating the darkness that most artists lack the courage to explore.

- Nick Stephan.

Address


Website

Alerts

Be the first to know and let us send you an email when The New Releases Show posts news and promotions. Your email address will not be used for any other purpose, and you can unsubscribe at any time.

Contact The Business

Send a message to The New Releases Show:

Shortcuts

  • Address
  • Alerts
  • Contact The Business
  • Claim ownership or report listing

  • Want your business to be the top-listed Media Company?

Share

Our Story

Contact us via: [email protected]

We have a nation-wide team. We write longform reviews. We give priority to Oz music.

Send us your EP/LP streams/DLs for review (we don't cover singles). The more lead time you give us ahead of release date the better your chances. Very responsive on the email, not so much on FB.