SINGLE OF THE WEEK

STEREOFLOWER – Cocaine Bebop

(Walking Horse / MGM)

“I want to be the one that makes you want to smile”. Right now it’s just a line from a song written in italics in a review. A cheekily titled song, to be sure, and a fine looking italics, but nothing more. That’s because you haven’t heard Cocaine Bebop yet. Stereoflower are a young as fuck band of brash indie-followers hailing from Perth, based around the songs of 18 year-old Alex Elbery. However, you wouldn’t be the silliest thing in the world to conclude that Cocaine Bebop was a recording of some hitherto undiscovered ‘90s band from Manchester. A band who had taken the psych-groove guitar and drums of The Stone Roses, the impossibly catchy wail and confusing lyrics of Oasis, and melded them into an adorable love song of sorts, with chemical-strength singalong properties. They have done a ridiculously bang up job of it too. A rolling bassline, a tardy drumbeat to the point of sounding stoned itself, with guitar solos and effects thrown in occasionally – this is a band who nail what they do. And then there’s that constant “I want to be the one that makes you want to smile”, repeated ad nauseum, to the point of willing indoctrination. Hey Stereoflower, this week you’ve got your wish.

NED COLLETTE & WIREWALKER – The Pool Is Full Of Hats

(Dot Dash)

If Stereoflower is a new bastard incarnation of Oasis, Ned Collette could be seen as Australia’s Damon Albarn. Not because he’s particularly pasty, or not even because as a stellar “rock journalist”, it’s my sworn duty to not allow a single reference to Oasis pass without lazily referencing Blur, and vice versa. It’s actually much less contrived than that. Ned Collette, at least on The Pool Is Full Of Hats, sounds like the tortured/bored version of Albarn that we heard in selected Blur and more recently, in The Good, The Bad & The Queen. Over Wirewalker’s downbeat electronic thud, drum machine and nimbly fingered guitar (or is that possibly even a harp?), Collette summons into his voice every forlorn atom in the room, making an emotional mountain out of words that could otherwise be twee molehills. Truly, with another approach lyrics like “The trees are so peaceful... / The grass whispers softly / what you mean to me” could suffer the same trivialised fate as Rob Thomas’s tritest hit, but instead Collette imbues these on-the-surface merry lines with a dank greyness that resonates heavily. Despite the fact they’re from Melbourne, it’s all very British. Very Albarn. Very much worth listening to. And after all that, if anyone can explain the title to me, I’d be much obliged.

BRITISH INDIA – Beneath The Satellites

(Shock)

You already know what you think of this song, and you probably haven’t even heard it, you judgemental bugger. The thing is, whatever you think, you’re right. If you’re thinking you’ll love it, that British India are the greatest thing to hit the Australian regular festival circuit since Kisschasy, you’ll be proven right. Or if, like me, you’re rolling your eyes at a band who pissed away whatever promise they initially showed by continually repeating themselves, with less and less original ideas each time, then congrats – your expectations will also be fulfilled. The more songs British India release, the more they sound like a band writing to a template, so generic that it can only exist in theory. Beneath The Satellites is their latest step towards shaking off any idiosyncrasies and being virtually indistinguishable from the rash of other middling rock bands striving to join the Nova playlist. Maybe that’s it – they’re just looking for their one big radio single, to provide them with mythical fame and wealth and sold out tours for years to come, then they can go back to making the music they want to. Fingers crossed this is it then.

HOULETTE – Tee Vee

(Exo Records)

It starts with a Phil Spector / Ronettes drums-and-tambourine beat, but that’s where the ‘60s teen R&B influences end. A five-piece from Melbourne, Houlette have their boots placed firmly in the camp of sweet, articulate folk, sheltered in a tent between likeminded act Luluc, and sensitive Swede The Tallest Man On Earth. The group’s most notable feature though is the shared vocals, traded between the tender-but-blokey Liam Linley and the real star of the band, Felicity Cripps. Cripps has a voice you can’t ignore – feathery and light, with a wink, like a subdued Alison Goldfrapp – and for this reason it’s essentially her band. Tee Vee is a lightly plucked, laidback, acoustic-and-strings pop song that could swing into a bigger hook if it wanted, but it doesn’t need to. It feels like a single ray of sunlight coming through the curtains on a winter’s morning – a reminder that there’s a whole world of sunshine and beaches and parks out there if you want it, but for now, you’re probably most comfy rugged up where you are. A whole album of this, you get the feeling you could sink into it.

AIRBOURNE – No Way But The Hard Way

(EMI)

Oh man, did you see AC/DC last week? AMAZING. Just amazing. The best big stupid rock show I’ve ever seen. They blitzed it, and yeah I know they pull the same shtick in the same songs every night, but isn’t that more impressive then, given that they were so fun and goofy and enthusiastic in their love of rock and roll? They really are one of the greatest rock bands on the planet, sif you didn’t know that already. You know who else knows that? Airbourne. They love everything AC/DC do, from the big booms to the guitar solos to the screechy voice to the songs about hard-drinkin’, hard-livin’ and hard-rootin’. Yep, they love AC/DC as much as anyone. But here’s the thing. They’re not AC/DC. Airbourne, I know you want to be. I know you have two brothers prominent in your band. I know you probably dream in first person as Angus. I know when you wear a black armband on each anniversary of Bon’s death, it’s the closest you ever get to wearing sleeves. But YOU’RE NOT FUCKING AC/DC. No Way But The Hard Way shows that since their first pub rock-inspired album, Airbourne have turned into a full-blown AccaDacca tribute band. There is not a solitary riff, scream or idea here that doesn’t sound like it’s not coming from the fingers, throat or numbskull of AC/DC. Not a split second of the entire song. It’s a new song, but it’s essentially a cover. People obviously love all of that shit – that’s why AC/DC have been so huge for so long. But if we already have AC/DC, why do we need Airbourne? Answer: we really don’t. See ya boys.

SIMON TOPPER

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