Songs
The beauty of Songs is that they sound like they don’t care – even if they do, writes DOM ALESSIO.
The image of your prototypical ?rock star? may have evolved over time, but ever since Elvis shook his hips oh so provocatively on the Ed Sullivan Show in 1956, we wanted our musicians to exude bravado, recklessness and an air of not giving a shit. Mick Jagger, Iggy Pop, Kurt Cobain, Stephen Malkmus (if you wear a cardigan): all examples of creative geniuses who seemingly couldn’t give a fuck whether you liked their music or not, they just wrote songs because that was their raison d’etre. Somewhere along the line – I blame 1996 – pop music morphed into this gratuitously lacquered beast, garishly gleaming with slick production and contrived perfection. It all culminated with the ?80s revival a couple of years ago, but as we near the end of the decade it feels like there’s a revolt, albeit a passive-aggressive one, from a core group of musicians electing instead to present that time-honoured rock’n?roll facade of ostensible nonchalance.
Shaun Prescott touched upon the unrefined aesthetic of Melbourne’s The Twerps in his review of their debut EP, and while Sydney quartet Songs shares an undeniably similar mentality, their touchstones are quite different. Their self-titled debut opens with the kind of jangly, clipped guitars redolent of The Clean and other Flying Nun luminaries. ?Farmacy? is pop in its roughest form, borrowing melodies from the Dunedin sound, as well as The Velvet Underground’s penchant for drug-lined lyricism. It’s a harbinger for what’s to follow: songs that relish playing with and in the pop idiom, endearingly loose but not sloppy. Vocalist Max Doyle (yes, the same Max Doyle: Photographer Extraordinaire) has his Lee Renaldo going on in ?Something to Believe In? and ?Out With The Curse?. He sings within a fairly limited range, but for Doyle it’s more about tone than pitch, particularly on the latter.
?Songs fit well within the current ?90s revivalist movement, but this band is much more than a fickle throwback.?
Musically, Songs flitter between the proper pop-via-punk of The Velvet Underground, the No Wave atmosphere that an act such as Sonic Youth peddled and, as mentioned before, The Clean. But I’m particularly enamoured of the Songs tunes where the band lends their hands at shoegaze. The lumbering ?It’s Dry? towards the end of the disc is unique for the album because it’s driven by waves of reverential organ, while Doyle and Ela Stiles sing beautifully in tandem. When Stiles takes to the mic solo for the driving tune ?Retreat?, it’s an absolute joy to hear her ethereal cadence floating effortlessly above the controlled cacophony of distorted guitars. Her voice is utilised once again in unison with Doyle’s on the disc’s brilliant final track, ?My Number?. Subtly building over its six minutes, the rumbling bass line, insistent drumming, churning organ and fuzzed-out guitars truly epitomise everything that’s great about Songs? debut.
Songs fit well within the current ?90s revivalist movement, but this band is much more than a fickle throwback. They mightn’t be creating music that’s wildly unique, but their philosophy on pop – that it doesn’t have to be spotless, that notes can be missed and tones don’t need to be unnaturally polished – is representative of a wider shift away from perfection, music-as-commodity and AutoTune. But the real beauty is that it sounds like they just don’t care, even if they do. That’s a real rock star for you.
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Songs? self-titled debut is out now on Popfrenzy.