Posts Tagged ‘Aarght’

The UV Race

Aussie unease squad The UV Race made the label rounds in the mid ‘00s and now they roll right back to the imprint that birthed them, pulling no punches a decade later on their newest racket for Aarght. Honestly this one’s a bit of a homecoming for me, as The UV Race’s eponymous debut was one of the records that pulled me into the Aussie underground way back in ’09. Truth be told, it’s been an enjoyable ride ever since. Montfort and crew are still acerbic as ever, wrapping their squelch-punk package in the brittle bristle of noise, repetition, and discomfort. They’ve never been a band bred to make the listener settle into any sort of groove and so it seems there’s a crawling itch that spreads out yet again from under the punk pocked veneer of Made In China.

Jangles are buried in pockets of synth, scratched with the woolen wonders of technology. Sax bleats buzz alongside harmonica and tangled twangs. Michael Reichsteiner continues to use his voice as a blunt instrument second only to maybe Dom Trimboli of Wireheads. Still beholden to the Mark E. Smith school of punk and despair the band continue spewing their atonal attack with the force and farce of an Electric Eels inspired Halloween costume. In the wake of their original run the continent has spawned a legion of post-punk pugilists, jilted janglers and pop invertebrates, but The UV Race taught them all how to spew. Eddy Current may have made the kids sweat. Total Control may have made critical darlings out of the underground, but UV Race still poke at the ear drums with a confidence and irreverence that make them true legends.



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Alien Nosejob – Buffet of Love 12″

Following up on his LP from last year, Jake Robertson (Ausmuteants, School Damage) serves four tracks of minimalist dance delirium. Shifted away from the squirm pop of his previous LP, Robertson keeps the emphasis on endless pining and extraterrestrial love but sets the scene amid a backdrop of stripped-down beats and cold-call synths. While he claims a bedridden bout with Italo-disco deep dives on YouTube is at work here, there’s also more than a few shades of German beat mongers in the bones of this EP as well. Echoing the insistent pop predicaments of Monopol and Rheingold, the EP’s four tracks are shorn of the goofy warmth that pervaded his album and zipped up in the icy folds of Nosejob’s new phase.

Whether this is a permanent shift or Alien Nosejob remains a pop chameleon destined to forever shed its skin remains to be seen. The four tracks here serve a potent dose of no-frills dance, but perhaps there are already new shores to be littered with tales of love lost and missed abductions. For now, this acts as a nice document of dance built for isolation – bedroom pop gems that don’t need a room full of gyrating sympathizers to make their Teutonic twists last.

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