Thrown In The Mix (25/10/2009)

Track listing for the fans - thanks for all the message love. Shall be returning to the written medium soon! Stay tuned!

I Like Giants - Kimya Dawson
Time of the Season - The Zombies
The Funeral - Band Of Horses
Know Your Onion! - The Shins
Fidelity - Regina Spektor
Fifty In Five - Hilltop Hoods
Stay Positive - The Hold Steady
Club Action (Hatchmatik Midnight Juggernauts Remix) - Yo Majesty
Killer Queen - Queen

Good Artist/Bad Song: Sliver - Nirvana
Genre-Defying Cover: Gin And Juice - Sublime

Thrown In The Mix (18/10/2009)

Our best show yet with the addition of our permanent co-host Andrew Erlanger, who finally joined us on air.
As usual the songs flowed thick and fast, anyone needing the list, here ya go:
Rock And Roll - Led Zeppelin
Fake ID - The Go! Team
Purple Haze - Groove Armada
Thunder Road - Bruce Springsteen
Flex - Dizzee Rascal
Me And Bobby McGee - Janis Joplin
Happiness is a Chemical - Darron Hanlon
Dammit - Blink-182
You Know I'm No Good - Amy Winehouse
Cosmic Love - Florence + The Machine

Genre Defying Cover: Miss Jackson - The Vines
Good Artist/Bad Song: I Am The Walrus - The Beatles

Cheers for all the support - love it.

Thrown In The Mix (11/10/2009)

Another rockin' night on Syn 90.7 - thanks for y'all for tunin' in and sendin' in some love for us in the studio. Anyone hangin' out for set-list. A present for you.

Fader - The Temper Trap
Just Like Heaven - The Cure
Enjoy The Silence - Depeche Mode
Relapse - Little Birdy
Me and Julio Down By the Schoolyard - Paul Simon
Where Is My Mind? - Pixies
Sweet Thing - Van Morrison
The Further I Slide - Badly Drawn Boy
What Else Is There? (Trentemøller Remix) - Röyksopp
The Good That Won't Come Out - Rilo Kiley
Fate (Todd Terje Tynneterje Edit) - Chaka Khan

Bad Artist/Good Song: Bad Touch - The Bloodhound Gang
Genre Defying Cover: Always On My Mind - Pet Shop Boys

Thrown In The Mix (04/10/09)

So for those of you who haven't heard the news,
God Only Knows has moved to radio, and into a weekly mix-tape format.
Hooray! I hear you shout!
I shall still be posting reviews here, there are an avalanche to come, but for those who just can't wait that long, listen in to Syn Fm 90.7 at 11pm on Sunday night to hear a godly mix of aural delights.
For those who are on the ball and listened in tonight, the set-list is below.

Stand On The Word Of God (Larry Levan Remix) - The Joubert Singers
Blood - The Middle East
Kick, Push - Lupe Fiasco
Paris (Aeroplane Remix) - Friendly Fires (ft. Au Revoir Simone)
Kabul Shit - Lily Allen
Shooting Stars - Bag Raiders
Son Of A Preacher Man - Dusty Springfield
From The Ritz To The Rubble - Arctic Monkeys
Thru The Eyes Of Ruby - The Smashing Pumpkins

bad artist/good song: S.O.S. - Rhianna
genre-defying cover: Feeling Good - Muse

No Rage Against The Machine Allowed

Florence and the Machine is the latest power-pop queen to emerge from that cold island, which up until recently was renowned for their shit weather, shitter cricket team and a bunch of average looking women.

These days they're enjoying heat waves, beating us in the Ashes and developing some very lovely girls to look at. Florence Welch happens to be one of these girls. She has joined the ranks of Lily, Kate and Adele and it suddenly seems that the world has gone topsy-turvy.

I must say this album is simultaneously one of the most amazingly gorgeous and disappointingly inconsistent albums this year. Quite the conundrum. Half her songs are simply fantastic, pop gold. The others, well they kinda suck.

So what am i supposed to do? Focus on the good and leave out the bad? Or just rip them to pieces? Well considering the British media has done a pretty comprehensive job at the latter, i might try to shine some light on some of the coolest pop songs this year.

Kiss with a Fist is a great indie-pop opener that borrows with a heavy hand from the 2001 version of The White Stripes, which is nothing to complain about considering that was their peak, before the 'fat zorro incident' anyway. Though some may doubt Flo's sensitivity in writing such a throw-away pop song that's main statement towards its audience is how staying with an abusive boyfriend is better than being alone. Take that conservative political values! Nevertheless! It is great garage pop nonsense that flies through your speakers in a bit over two minutes, and is charming with every second.

Lead off single Dogs Days are Over ditches the tuned-down guitars for piano stabs and marching beats and the result is a glorious success. A driving force that builds its pace slowly before cantering to a rollicking stomp/clap anthem, its climax has almost euphoric pop qualities making it destined for the "Top 25 Played" play lists of many teenage girls' itunes. Oh and Nova might need new underwear.

Hurricane Drunk provides us with the obligatory ballad, though thankfully and rather unsurprisingly it's not as generic as most female pop singers (cough Kelly Clarkson cough), aided mostly due to Florence's beautifully soulful voice. Her voice has the range of the great Miss Winehouse but without the nasal twang makes you notice the size of her nose. Casting herself as the heartbroken woman who has been broken up with (original huh?) the song doesn't try to be or do too much, which is strangely pleasing. It comes across not only as genuine and real but as a very raw expression of her emotion, again due in part to her lush vocals.

Following from the epic galloping drums of Dogs Days are Over is the similarly apocalyptic Cosmic Love. The song sounds as if the planets are colliding and the finger-picked ukulele underpins Flo's soaring almost screaming vocals, Bjork would struggle to create this amount of drama and keep it so enchantingly beautiful.

Probably the boldest move on the album, and a highlight if for no other reason but ambition, is the closer You've Got The Love, a cover of an old happy-vocal-house track by Candi Station. Its transformation into a piano led desperate plea for love and its earnestness makes quite a simple song captivating and heartfelt. Its mere conception deserves praise yet the execution of the track is delightfully underplayed, an apt finish for an album that blooms and wilts with nearly every track.

The album's biggest treasure paradoxically has the least enticing title, an epic and almost progressive pop masterpiece that is randomly and inexplicably called Rabbit Heart. Despite the initial disgust of a Chinatown restaurant window popping into my head, the song radiates warmth. Its gospel-tinged melody and hands in the air chorus is sure to be crowd-pleasing to the teenage girls and indie hipsters alike, and with this sure-fire single it's only a matter of time before Florence dominates the airwaves of commercial radio and fantasies of teenage boys. Just like Lily and all of their other dainty English friends...

P.S - Any of you disco fiends out there will love the Leo Zero remix of Rabbit Heart, as I am sure you know that piano house is godly.

(Auto)tuned out. A letter to Lupe...

Lupe. Lupe. Lupe.
Are you serious?
After two very successful albums that have given you not only an incredibly loyal following but the title of heir to the throne (Hova's of course), what are you doing to us?
Bringing out some sample-driven, autotuned single with completely incomprehensible lyrics.
What the fuck's with that man?
Whatever happened to your direct, succinct and potent criticisms and observations about the world?
Or your vocal harmonies?
Did you not witness the media execution of one Kanye West after his deplorably monotonous 808s & Heartbreaks?
Obviously not, because the autotune is a rookie mistake and one that has significantly lowered my expectations and anticipation for your coming album Lasers.
Add this production folly to the fact that for a four and a half minute song, you only clock in around 80 seconds of rapping; and most of it is completely indecipherable.
Please. Help me out here. What the fuck does this even mean:
"We can hear the songs from that Opera groomed fat bitch, telling is not the pursuer just the shoe like a blacksmith."
Any ideas? Me neither.
So now not only have you pissed me off in concert but with your come back single. You are skating on thin ice my kick pushin' friend.

Yours sincerely,

The Underground Lover

The Overdone and the Underwhelmed

I truly hope that this is Sarah Blasko's 'difficult' third album because golly gosh does it sound laboured. I hate writing this, even now, my fingers are fighting against my heart, struggling to write such words about my one true love. I had always believed that one fine day in the not so distant future, Miss Blasko was going to be my sweetheart, we were going to meet and fall in love, buy a house in the suburbs and get a dog and before too long have little Blaskos running around our white picket fence. And yes of course I'd let her keep her own name, because it would be a travesty to sacrifice such a wicked (and marketable) surname. Am I legally able to take her name? Would my Dad care? Anyway I am rambling and this information is neither here nor there, nor anywhere for that matter.

Apart from my utter infatuation with her beauty, the point is or should be that Sarah has kinda dropped the ball on her latest album, As Day Follows Night. Writing this album by herself for the first time after breaking up with her long time writing/love-making partner; you would expect that it would be filled with beautifully melancholy Blaskoness (Blaskoality?) as she expresses the pain of her recent break up. But no. Instead there is painfully repetitive lyrics and mundane same-same arrangements. I hear you blogreaders! "Say It Ain't So!"



Alas it seems that Sarah has hit the creative doldrums, gone are the lush, experimental, sweeping musicianship that made songs such as {Explain}, Perfect Now and The Albatross so haunting and interesting. In are the sleepy and frustrating repetitious Is My Baby Yours? Where the title is pondered by Sarah no less than 17 times in 3 and a half minutes and the equally draining, Night & Day where its respective title is asserted 14 times in a similar timeframe.

This obvious lull in lyrical vigour is not helped by a grating monotone from the damsel herself that drowns out the entire album. Where in the past the epic and complex nature of her music has made up for her lack of vocal range and intonation, the minimalism employed on this latest outing by guest producer Bjorn Yttling (of Peter, Bjorn and John fame) does her no favours, bringing her singular octave vocals to the forefront of the songs, only highlighting what has always been her biggest weakness as an artist.

However, such production faux-pas and unintelligent pseudo-wisdom sprouting forth from Miss Blasko's mouth has not stopped a torrent of accolades and critically rapturous reviews for the album, most of which are from commercial media outlets desperate to catch up with the Blasko-Band-Wagon, one i feel is in desperate need of a service and some time off the road.

Therefore Sarah's record company, Dew Process, should not be worried. The album will still sell quite well and will most likely receive wider press than any other release to date. This is mostly due to the fact that three albums in, Sarah is at the point in her career where she has created enough buzz with the indie scenesters and adult contemporary aficionados that the wider music community either needs to ignore her completely or heap praise upon her, whether it is timely or warranted. Unfortunately this album gives no such evidence for either, and I am sure I am not the only fan (or worshiper) who are struggling to find something to love.

This desire to find something lovable that just isn't there is not helped by Sarah's drastic change in image that has accompanied the new album launch. We all knew she was a bit of an odd-ball but sadly the elegant, Audrey Hepburn styled gowns and dresses that back-in-the-day were the envy of every 20 something woman in the room and the reason for the starry eyes in every 20 something year old man have been replaced by odd and unflattering costume designs that resemble the Mad Hatter on acid. Sarah needs to learn that only one woman can get away with such eccentricities, and her name is Bjork, and it only because she wrote an aural piece of heaven called Hyperballad.



To be fair, Bird on a Wire provides a glimmer of the good ole days, it is the sole song on the album that twists its melody, (magnificently utilising a brooding bass line)and uses an ounce of originality and narrative it is lyrics. Though even the relative, and i stress relative glory of this track is marred by its crucial line, "Caught in a trap of desire, you got lost, you got shot with a bow and arrow to the heart, you're flashing your life like a battered wife, got some wood and a knife, wood and a knife." Just another example of how lazy repetition allows a song fall into mediocrity after building so intensely and beautifully.

I was hoping this album was to be Sarah's Wuthering Heights, it wasn't. I was then hoping it would be 'a grower', it wasn't. I can now only hope it is a minor glitch in an otherwise stellar career. If Sarah needs to be in love to write her best material, consider my hand well and truly in the air (and i know a nice tapas restaurant), with my motivations lying somewhere between my own personal fantasy and having the best interests of the Australian music industry at heart. Sarah i shall always love you, i just want you to know that for now, I'm not angry, I'm just dissapointed. But isn't that always worse?

P.S - For evidence of aforementioned acid use, check out the film clip for Bird on a Wire.

I heard the news today, oh boy...

At 7.30am (AEST), Michael Jackson was pronounced dead by the Los Angeles coroner, after what appears to have been complications following a cardiac arrest.

It is hard to describe the loss that the music world feels on this historic day. Very few artists have revolutionised music in the way that Michael did, and his influence has permeated through every facet of music since his humble beginnings with the Jackson 5 during the glory days of Motown.

Having sold over 50 million records in the 1980's alone, MJ was not only one of the most prolific artists of all time but one of the most idolised. He transcended what it was to be a musician and broadened the boundaries of stardom, his progressive dancing setting a new standard in music videos and his music was, and in many minds will always be, the epitome of pop music. And while the debate between whether Off the Wall is a better album than Thriller will continue for generations to come, his claim in creating two of the most perfect records is only part of his legacy.

A generation of musicians, whether fronting a hardcore band, trying to make it as an MC or learning acoustic guitar are indebted to Michael as he created a love of music for so many people. In sharing with them the gift of his music he influenced and inspired people across the world, a seed the world is now reaping a generation later, as we now enjoy a generation of musicians who cite Michael Jackson as a primary reason for their success.

If there is any justice in this world, the crass, debasing accusations against him that have lowered his public status in the past decade will be forgotten, as will the pointless and inconsequential controversy over his skin colour and his merits as a father. Michael will be remembered by those who loved him as the biggest superstar of the 20th century, the moonwalking, invincible man who gave us some of most beautiful music ever created.

Personally, Michael was with me throughout the first ten years of my life. Growing up with older siblings i fauned over their copies of Bad and Dangerous, I remember my sister making me watch the Thriller video on 'Rage' on a Saturday morning. I was mesmerised. His ability to move was unlike anything i'd ever seen before and it was a truly significant moment in my musical awakening. When i was 14 i bought a second-hand copy of Off the Wall and subsequently used Rock With You on every mix-tape i made for a girl in the next four years. I believe his music was so universally loved simply because it was life-affirming, and he injected his positive, utterly optimistic view of the world into every one of his songs.

I realise my own imposition that it is impossible to give worthy credit to such a man through this medium, his effect on the history of music is mammoth and cannot adequately be expressed in brevity. It is clear however that today the world lost a beautiful man and a musician who has few rivals. Like Lennon, Elvis and Cobain before him, he was taken from this world unexpectedly and prematurely, but his legacy will live as long as his music does.

Rest in Peace,
The King of Pop
1958 - 2009

Some of Australia's Best Work

You see the beauty in having a blog is that it allows a person to make incredibly subjective comments and state them as fact. So without further ado, (clears throat) The Whitlams are the most under rated and under appreciated group in Australia.

As I have mentioned though, this might be a slightly bias opinion because I hold a very personal connection with The Whitlams, they were my introduction to music. I have vague memories from my childhood, flashes really, of sitting in the passenger seat of my brother's midnight blue '93 Prelude, driving around South Yarra with Triple J on the radio.

These memories are some of the happiest I have, my brother made me feel cool and grown up, he would let me do all the things my mum wouldn't let me do: drinking chocolate milkshakes, eating as much McDonalds as i possibly could and listening to songs with swearing in them. And whilst my age prevented me from consciously knowing and singing along to many of the songs that my brother loved, one song stuck with me like no other had before.

This song in many ways was my musical awakening, had grown up on The Beatles and U2, but somehow I knew this song was different. It was vibrant and obtrusive and everything about it was strange to me; the vocal delivery, the chord progression, and even the piano melody played inside my head, sound tracking my many road trips around Melbourne with my brother.

This song was No Aphrodisiac, a song that would go on to win the 1997 Triple J Hottest 100. Now before I go further, I believe it is important to note that I was 9 years old at the time, and I'm pretty sure I didn't even know what an erection was, let alone something someone would take to get one...but the pure phonetics of word affected me and I fell in love with the song's lyrical style. It was melancholy but also contemplative, passionate but yet with hints of anguish and despondency at a life of loneliness and sexual frustration.

It catapulted the pub band from their residency at the Sandringham Hotel to gigs around Australia, with their album, Eternal Nightcap earning them plaudits at the 1998 Aria Awards. What it got me was a copy of the Triple J Hottest 100 Volume 5 on double-tape from my brother that Christmas. This present would do extraordinary things to my early musical development, introducing me to bands that to this day are personal favourites of mine, including The Verve, Blur, Blink 182, Ben Folds (Five) and of course Radiohead.

These two tapes were the only thing that got me through a disgustingly boring road trip through Tasmania with my parents, as I listened to the aforementioned classics on repeat and tried to grasp the shocking nature of Marilyn Manson and The Prodigy. I remember thinking to myself that I didn't like the man screaming on that song Monkey Wrench.

But more than anything it was Track 1 on Side A that hypnotised me, the lyric, "I'll be asleep at my brother's house" reminded me of my regular sleep overs in South Yarra, and the song quickly became a symbol of my growing independence. For once I was listening to my own music as opposed to whatever my parents had selected, and whilst I relished our sing-alongs to ABBA, there was a raw and new sense of adulthood that came with having my own walkman and music that my parents were not privy to.

The overwhelming commercial success and media interest The Whitlams received for the chart-topping single and its album were never to be replicated again, spiking briefly once more, two years later upon the release of their controversial plea against the government's radical gambling regulations, Blow up the Pokies. This cry is The Whitlams at their most impassioned and most articulate, damning a government that allowed the financial destruction of its people for profit, as Tim mourns, "Cause they're taking the food off your table, so they can say that the trains run on time." To this day it remains one of Australia's most culturally relative songs, sitting along side The Oils's Beds are Burning and The Finger's Like a Dog.

These songs illustrate and epitomise the eclectic brilliance of the leader and sole survivor of the original lineup of The Whitlams. Tim Freedman's talent as a song-writer and musician is a result of his personal connection to the subject of each of his songs, and it is obvious that there is a story behind every one of them. Whether it be told in the first person like No Aphrodisiac and his ode to an old girlfriend and her city, Melbourne or in the third person like Blow up the Pokies and the polka jangly-pop mess of You Sound Like Louis Burdett; Tim Freedman is a storyteller, he wraps his songs in vivid imagery and his characters absorb his listener into the narrative. He resonates with the state of the nation like other great raconteurs gone-by, commenting on both its innate beauty and the despair of its people, a quality that results in a deeply personal feel in his songs but also a larger and much broader appeal.

The Whitlams, like all of the great storytellers in music including the likes of Springsteen and Neil Young, have no defining or all-encompassing album (Eternal Nightcap if i had to choose) because their catalogue is essentially a journey through Tim Freedman's life. More than anything it is Tim Freedman's ability to find the personal in the general and beauty in the mundane that has led me to associate and characterise many important times in my life with the songs of The Whitlams, a quality in their music that I believe epitomises the importance of their contribution to Australian music.

Now its probably time I got to the point in this self-indulgent rant, The Whitlams launched my 11-year campaign to explore as much music as possible, one that continues to this day in all of its money-draining glory. In all honesty I have probably spent more money on them than I have on any other band, and considering i recently forked out a good $300 for a Simon & Garfunkel ticket, that's a pretty big call; especially considering a 3-hour booze-fest with The Whitlams at The Corner Hotel sets you back around 35 bucks.

On the 7th of August, I shall be seeing The Whitlams for the 8th time, not that I'm some crazy obsessive or anything, I just think that for the cost of a few jugs of Mountain Goat, a 3 hour set from a great Aussie band is pretty damn good value. But there's one problem, in the roughly 24 hours that i have spent watching The Whitlams perform live, i have never heard them play my favourite song. This really, really, really shits me. And it's not as if my favourite song is a dud, it was the second single from their album Torch the Moon and peaked at #35 on the Aria Charts, so I'm guessing a few other people in Australia must like it as well.

Best Work is a lovelorn paean to the broken-hearted; and it is pulled off with delicacy and heart-crushing honesty that lifts it above most of the pseudo-break-up songs that are produced. There is a pain in his voice that tells you Tim has lived each one of his words as he admits to his ex-lover, "i still don't wanna know if you're moving on." So while this song treads a well-worn path of the man as a post-relationship trauma victim, Tim manages to evade the usual clichés through the use of his personal idiosyncrasies to bring originality and honesty to his subject matter, confiding, "I never dreamed about you, when we were never far apart, and now that i'm without you, you're here all through the night." But despite the gorgeous sentiment of Best Work, Tim has left it off all of his set lists and drunken encores I have ever witnessed, I do not know if this is just some random coincidence in omissions or if there is a reason for this decision, but i am definitely hoping for the former.

What a way to ask for a favour huh...(awkward laugh) So here is my official request for The Whitlams to play my favourite song when i see them in August. So with a bit of luck, the curse stops here.

Rapper's Delight

DJ Shadow explained on his seminal album Endtroducing, "Why Hip-Hop sucks in '96."
However 2 years in the bussiness is a mighty long time and the Jonathan Levine film, The Wackness shows that Hip-Hop definitely did not suck in '94.

Set in urban New York, the film is an obscure coming of age story following loner and pot-dealer Luke Shapiro through his Summer after graduation, the development of his first real friendship, and his first love. With edgy, unique direction and strangely endearing character development; the film's poetic charm is aided by brilliant acting and an inspiring soundtrack.

Weaving through many of the film's sub-plots, including Luke's escapism from his parents and his romantic pursuit of Stephanie, the film's soundtrack is a showcase of everything there was to love about hip-hop in the early 1990's. From the emergence of Notorious B.I.G to Faith Evans and A Tribe Called Quest, the soundtrack represents the connection between this music and its people, who treated it as life philosophy.

Now that might sound very wanky of me, but the music in The Wackness perfectly encapsulates the naive and innocent journey the protagonist Luke goes through in discovering himself. The music of Ice Cube and LL Cool J was part of a modest hip-hop culture where thier insignificance in the industry next to the grunge heavyweights of the day accentuated the personal nature of their music. Their music was cathartic for the communities they were a part of, the communities that they were writing about and the people who listened to this music knew that the people themselves and their lyrics were not far removed from their own lives.

This connection hip-hop held in society in the early 1990's was not contaminated by the aesthetically excessive and superfluously glorified culture that would consume it in the later half of the decade as the successes of Biggie and Tupac transformed the sub-culture into a stratosphere.

The growing sub-culture is beautifully portrayed through The Wackness, as almost the mirror image or doppelgänger to Luke - without pretensiousness, without arrogance and without the fasçade of worldly wisdom. Just like Luke, the hip-hop culture in '94 was still learning about itself and still accepting what it is, and what its purpose in the world is. This fascinating use of music through out the film is something that sets it apart from the 'indie film with a heart' niche that is becoming so very populated recently; and the way that both the film and its music are beautifully characterised as modest and undeveloped is what makes this quirky coming of age story all the more moving and entertaining.

The Wackness - A
The Wackness OST - A+

Cooler Weather Ahead

After impressing the musos in London and New York for the past few years, our forgotten homespun talent Daniel Merriweather is on the verge of becoming the coolest dude on the planet. The padawan learner of Mr.Mark Ronson who helped him hit the Top 10 last year with the souled out version of The Smiths's Stop Me (if you've heard this one before), Daniel is now about to release his debut solo album Love & War.

Earning his scout badges on the road for the last 18 months with Ronson and The Dap-Kings, which saw him return to our shows last December briefly on the haunted Global Gathering tour, Daniel returned to the studio early this year to put the final touches on what is tipped to be the debut record of the year. Speaking of his influence of The Dap-Kings and their even dapper frontman, Daniel admits, "I brought them a whole bunch of songs that they wouldn’t naturally play on and their amazing musicianship really helped those songs evolve..."

Fusing funk and soul with his natural pop sensibility, Love & War, which is on Ronson's own Allido label, features a collaboration with Adele, Water and a Flame and the first single Change, which is already getting heavy rotation on Triple J. Release date is May 25th in the U.K and hopefully we'll be getting one close to that because this guy is going to be cooler than The Simpsons in 1994.

P.S - keep your ear out for two classic covers:
Golden Skans - Klaxons
You Don’t Know What Love Is - The White Stripes

No Forthcoming Story

Yesterday i lost one of my earliest musical influences. In the same classes at high school, the boisterous and rambunctious Nick Buttifant, known affectionately as Butterz, was as inspiring as he was determined. Defiantly suffocated by the conservatism of our private boys school, he found solace in music and our bond was quickly formed. As a musician and a music critic, we did not always see eye-to-eye, (as we shouldn't) but his passion and talent for his craft, both as a guitarist and songwriter was evident, and impossible not to respect. Through Myspace, both of his bands, Forthcoming and later Passendale found legions of fans who followed his constant touring schedule leaving an everlasting legacy to the amount of people whom he touched through his personality and music.

Charismatic, ambitious and fiercely competitive, Nick's self-promotion of his bands earned them gigs and well earned praise, bringing their blend of punk/pop/rock to the Espy, Ding Dong Lounge, Revolver and many other venues around Melbourne and Australia. Nick's self-assurance was infectious and when he told you that his band were "going to be huge", you didn't doubt him, you couldn't, because in his mind he could do anything. One of the strongest and most dedicated people i've ever known, Nick lived for the music he played and the people he played to.

Sadly, the turning of the world was too much for him, and this lovable and gifted man took his own life, ending the story of a person who had so many more chapters to write for himself. What I found today was a promo-paper I wrote for him and his band Forthcoming as they were about to release their first EP. We were the ripe old age of 15 and i still remember the excitement and happiness on the boy's face when he saw that i had (illegally) posted more than 400 of these promotions around the school and train station urging people to buy their CD. So out of respect for someone who i held dear as an accomplished musician and as a loyal friend, here is one of my first ever pieces of music writing, dedicated to a man who i will never forget telling me that we were going to be the best in the world at what we do...Rest In Peace Nick, i'll miss you mate.




Nick Buttifant, Liam Jenkins and Michael Landers, who make up the St. Kevin’s contingent of Forthcoming have had to put up with a lot of doubters in their time, a lot of nay-sayers who have told them at various times that they didn’t have what it takes to make it in this savagely competitive music industry. Now in their final year at school, this three-year-old garage outfit have finally got their act together and are ready to take on the world, one doubter at a time.

Produced at the prominent Studio 52 here in Melbourne which has borne such artists as Jet, Missy Higgins and Alex Lloyd, Forthcoming have transformed their trademark scratchy garage sound into a solid, clean, polished six-track EP, which aims to put the heart back into garage Rock ‘n’ Roll. The band’s post-grunge structures are complimented perfectly by riffs obviously influenced by Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath and Metallica while reaching the minds of listeners through Nick’s thoughtful and often damning lyrics.

Pop/Rock opener ‘One Boys Life’ jumps along, and with the aid of Jules Zuliani’s persistent drumming, pounds away at the narrative lyrics that make this sing-a-long anthem as catchy as it is up-lifting. ‘Forthcoming Story’ an older song by the band has become an almost biographical introduction to their young rock and roll lives as Nick sings with an epic notion of ambition in his voice, ‘this is the forthcoming story…’ as a sonic crash of guitars proceeds to blow the nostalgia-lined chorus away. EP standout, “Tonight’s the Night’ showcases the boys’ range of musical influences as they toy with the post-Nirvana Seattle music scene contrast of louder metal and finger-plucking effects to enhance a guitar-solo Slash himself would be proud of. Though the maturity of Forthcoming is not seen through their catchy hooks and metal riffs but in the thought-provoking lyrics that speak not only of the boys’ life experiences but grapple with issues in a way that far outstrips their years. Most notably seen in ballad/rocker ‘Don’t Push Me Away’, Nick’s piano accompanying a more melancholic side of Forthcoming which serves to highlight their musical diversity and growth from a young garage band to an important, serious band on Melbourne’s local music scene.

Forthcoming’s debut EP succeeds in expanding their sound while also polishing their catchy garage tunes to a point where any doubter can feel free to adjust their hair in the reflection. An extremely professional and mature record, Forthcoming have grown up and for such a hard-working and determined band the taste in their mouths must be oh so sweet.

For Karz

One music critic, who shall remain nameless, recently said that Lady Gaga is quote unquote, The Future Of Pop Music. Personally, and i think i speak on behalf of the poker playing community of the world when i say this, Lady Gaga is the future of everything shit in the music industry. This observation aside, i would rather give this honour to a lady much more deserving of the title. My pick of the week, flavour of the month, one to watch and every other journalistic cliché you can think of is Sia Furler. Some People Have Real Problems, released in January has already gathered the Chinese whispers kind of hype achieved two years ago by Miss Leslie Feist. And if there is any justice in the music world, Sia will be Miss 2009. She has created a unique and refreshing blend of pop and soul music and her voice has an amazingly unexpected range that can at times have hairs on end with tingles down your back.


Depth and intensity are the two things that set this girl apart from the rest of her whispy, female singer-songwriter clan. Sia well and truly wears her heart on her sleeve, to the point that at times when she sings you think it might slide off. (sorry for the gross mental image there...) Emotionally intense, her lyrics are as cathartic as they are intelligent but are by no means weepy or overblown. Her accomplishment lies in her subtly, these are her dark little thoughts, insecure and brash, regretful and worried; sung in a voice that is as vulnerable as it is softly delicate. There is an attachment to the words as she sings them, as if you can almost hear her insecurities as she confides in you, worried about what you will think of her.


It is easy to see Sia's influences, Death by Chocolate echoes the early greatness of Miss Keys, as Lullaby does Miss Norah Jones, while one can see the song writing shimmer of Tori Amos weaving throughout the entire album. But comparing Sia to these renowned mistresses of pop fails to stress the originality of this album, something that raises it above the recent efforts by most, if not all of the above mentioned artists. Sia is by no means a cover-artist, the depth of her lyrics showing a woman who has matured long before an LP has been put to her name.

The production on the album is lush, but never outplays her voice with the majestic, sweeping strings and minimal percussion, obviously an influence left over from her time spent collaborating with space-pop maestros Zero 7 and trip-hop pioneers Massive Attack. The track The Girl You Lost to Cocaine jumps along with the same amount of nervous energy as the drug itself while Beautiful Calm Driving is an epic serenade that floats like a crisp night wind coming in through the window of your car. The cleverest moment is provided on Academia, a track with welcome guest vocals by Beck that over analyses the breakdown a relationship using academic equations:


"But to you I’m just a novel that you wish you’d never wrote

I’m greater than x and lesser than y,

so why is it that I still can’t catch your eye?

a cryptic crossword, a song I’ve never heard

While I sit here drawing circles I’m afraid of being hurt"


The songs are dense and complex, with several listens needed to fully appreciate their unique blend of sarcasm, melancholy and disturbing honesty. But they are also immediately catchy and memorable; a pretty rare quality these days that gives the album Van Morrison-like longevity. The Australian born lass has definitely found her direction in adult contemporary pop music, and while she may have Feist for competition it's a promising sign that she didn't spend her album telling us that she knows how to count to four.


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