Terry 
Every few years or so the assembled members of Terry convene and crank out a barnacled gem of Aussie indie. It’s been five years since their last, and, to be fair, the members are plenty busy holding down time in quite a few other bands (Primo!, Sleeper and Snake, UV Race, and Constant Mongrel, among others). Terry pick up right where they left us — offering up jangled and jilted pop that’s strained through a wobbly post-punk filter. Guitars strum and squirm, sparring with itchy organs. The band layers in strings and horns, but as an antithesis to the kind of pristine pop that normally implements such accoutrements, Terry add them to their menagerie of home-brewed mayhem. In the past a slight lacquer of these elements has cropped up, but never in such prominence. The shift pushes the band out of their wrangled-punk bunker, spilling out into the streets, turning pop pirouettes under a wrinkled sun.
Fiddles saw and sway, the sax bleats beneath the blurred barrage of the band’s pop tornado. Even a bit of barroom piano enters into the mix on Call Me Terry. Though, the sugar shock in their tank continues to be the vocal interplay between members. The band throws a slinky into the staid vision of layered harmonies. The members call and respond, letting their vocals all slide over one another just slightly out of sync, creating their own wonderful wriggle of sound. Terry reflect pop’s ideals off of a crumpled tin foil prism, spilling their sound in every direction with the kind of winking glee that always finds them welcome around here.