the-toxic-radio

[the-toxic-radio]

Remo Drive - Greatest Hits (2017)

Remo Drive are currently a three piece (edit: their drummer was recently booted from the band) two piece pop-punk band hailing from Bloomington, Minnesota whose 2017 debut record Greatest Hits set them on a path on which the band has garnered many plaudits and successes. Today Remo Drive are one of the most adored, and most exciting up-and-coming pop-punk bands in North America, all based on the strength of their first record and only record.

Greatest Hits mines the sweetest sounds from all your favourite alternative 90s bands. Their guitar tones and overall persona invoke the weedy, affable dorkiness of early Weezer records (these guys are obviously big Pinkerton fans), but the record is peppered with enough intriguing stylistic diversions to save Remo Drive from being “just another Weezer rip off”.

“Trying 2 Fool U” is a bubblegum post-hardcore excursion which plays with tempo changes and instrumental breakdowns. The second half of the sprinting and anthemic ‘Yer Killin’ Me’ slows down significantly, with dreamy, floating guitar lines whisking you off into their gentle lull. ‘Summertime’ is an explosive, catchy and angular punk song which sounds like Remo Drive taking on PUP. Moments like these break up the angst and pop-punk monotony which plagues many bands which write music of Remo Drive’s ilk.

Remo Drive are a self aware band, they know their strengths and they are not shy about flexing them. Greatest Hits is full of crowd-enhanced moments, these songs are designed to be sung back at the band by a hungry crowd of adoring fans. Greatest Hits is pop-punk purity, where Remo Drive set themselves apart is their persona. Their pop-punk snarl is less aggressive than it is joyous, and oddly melancholy. To put it in a way you’ll understand, Greatest Hits is like Green Day’s Dookie if every song was ‘When I Come Around’: effortlessly catchy, and emotionally powerful in a simplistic, stripped back sense.

In the song ‘I’m My Own Doctor’, singer/guitarist Erik Paulson sings about his attempts at treating his deteriorating mental and physical health with cosmetic and health products.

“I’ve been self-diagnosing all of my problems, carrying all my stress in the jaw. I’ve got all sorts of health products, aspirin and robo, and my new skincare wash.” I’m My Own Doctor, Remo Drive (Greatest Hits, 2017)

‘Name Brand’ pokes fun at the concept of coming-of-age, in it Paulson considers buying luxury clothing brands and smoking cigarettes in the pursuit of adulthood, while also acknowledging his own immaturity with what has to be a sizable grain of salt.

“Who’s got money for all my needs? Who’s got pennies to help feed me? Irresponsibility is dear to me. I piss away my money on this bourgeoisie coffe.” Name Brand, Remo Drive (Greatest Hits, 2017).

Remo Drive are a fun band to listen to, they’re energetic and their songs, though undoubtedly whiny, are usually invigorating from a musical perspective. Their lyrics are playfully self-deprecating and carry an aloof sense of sardonic humour even when broaching painful subjects. Remo Drive are part of a wave of bands including Prince Daddy & The Hyena, Mom Jeans. and more who are making pop-punk fun again by marrying the melodramatic and lighthearted elements of their music to great effect. Simply, Remo Drive bucks the idea that emo-leaning bands have to be super self-serious and not-a-lot-of-fun, Greatest Hits laughs at that notion as it delivers heartfelt crowd-rousing banger after banger.

Remo Drive’s Greatest Hits is a very strong overall album, there are few lulls, with each song offering something slightly different than the other, and the shortish playtime (37:13) allows it significant replayability. The songs ‘Summertime’ and ‘Eat Shit’ do struggle to stand out, and perhaps bog down the middle third of the record but are still fine, if unremarkable tracks in their own right.

Greatest Hits is an extremely capable debut emo/pop-punk record for the young Minessota band, Remo Drive have a bright future as their sound will undoubtedly glosson and become more and more pop-leaning given time, the scope for their popularity is anyone’s guess.

FFO: Early Weezer, Mom Jeans., The Get Up Kids

[the-toxic-radio]

Oso Oso - The Yunahon Mixtape (2017)

Long Island band Oso Oso conjure such majesty with so little effort. It’s humbling how nonchalantly frontman Jade Lilitri plucks at your heartstrings; it can be shocking to realise how easily a bittersweet melody and a carefully considered lyric can disarm you - but this is something Lilitri understands too well. He’s been doing it for years under various aliases (he previously released music under the State Lines moniker), but where his previous releases were solid pop-punk records, they only teased at the quality that is present on The Yunahon Mixtape, an album which blends the best elements of punk, emo and indie-rock influences to result in one of the most likable albums of 2017.

Make no mistake, The Yunahon Mixtape is the best set of songs Lilitri has released in his career. The opening three tracks, ‘The Cool’, ‘Reindeer Games’ and ‘The Walk’ act as a three part mission statement for the rest of the record. Each are sweet, propulsive indie rock songs with earnest pop-sensibilities.

‘The Cool’ rattles off bright guitar leads, punchy rhythms and cutely swooned falsettos and immediately sets a high watermark for the rest of the record. The Yunahon Mixtape is endearing from the get go, and it is instantly obvious that Lilitri’s songwriting has smoothened since his State Lines days; it has become more fluent and less rough around the edges.

‘Reindeer Games’ follows suit and brings a punk-infused indie rock sound to the fore, the instrumentation comes off almost like The Strokes but if imagined through a bedroom-punk filter, rather than the scuzzy garage of the 2000’s indie movement.

‘The Walk’ kicks off with an anthemic swagger before devolving into a sweetly fuzzy indie-pop melody; a bright surface belying the deeply emotional lyrical sentiments at play beneath, a trait which has seen Oso Oso enveloped within the emo-revival scene. ‘The Walk’ is everything a rock song should be: fun and exciting, personal and emotional; by the time the “oh, oh, oh!” of the refrain rolls around Oso Oso have you hooked right where they want you, but you’ll happily take the bait.

“You and I walked together on the beach

No shoes on our feet

And you said the sand underneath

Is like the people we might meet

And “every single grain

Will someday be washed away”

And I should’ve felt lucky

Just to have washed up on your beach”

The Walk, Oso Oso (The Yunahon Mixtape, 2017).

At the time of this writing, Oso Oso are on a North American tour with mainstays Tiny Moving Parts and fellow newcomers Mom Jeans., and recently signed to Triple Crown Records who are reissuing The Yunahon Mixtape, putting emphasis on their rapid rise to scene success.

On the day of The Yunahon Mixtape’s release, Lilitri posted to twitter saying that it is “an album about a mixtape. hope it reaches you and touches you in some way”. This clarifies any confusion over the name of the record, as it is actually extremely cohesive sonically and thematically. It’s title lends to the idea that this is an album full of the types of songs you would put on mixtape for somebody special. Song titles like “the walk”, “the slope” and “the secret spot” put vague geographical descriptors to the powerful emotions described within, and allow the music to transport its listeners into the world of the album, and give it a distinct sense of personality.

The Yunahon Mixtape is an impassioned love letter to the intimate affair we all have with music. It draws attention to the way we love and consume the music that matters to us, and delivers it to us in a deliciously edible wrapper. Oso Oso crafted one of the most personal, entertaining and beautiful albums of the year in 2017, it’s an album that will be largely overlooked but to those who discover it The Yunahon Mixtape has the potential to mean something truly special.

FFO: State Lines, Mom Jeans., 00s indie with a poppy/punky twist.

[the-toxic-radio]

FREE THROW - BEAR YOUR MIND (2017)

If Nashville emo quintet Free Throw proved anything with their 2014 debut ‘Those Days Are Gone’ it’s that they were a band which understood the ravenous, life-transforming pain that one goes through when enduring a painful breakup. Packed with ugly emotions, loud-soft song structures and unfiltered lyrical diatribes which tippy-toed the line between cringe and genuinely endearing, Free Throw bookmarked themselves as one of the most emo bands of the ‘emo-revival’ and wooed fans of newer and older emo brands alike.

Free Throw’s second record ‘Bear Your Mind’ follows closely in the footsteps of its predecessor but feels more polished, more focused, more refined. ‘Bear Your Mind’ is delicately and competently constructed. It feels more professional, which allows Free Throw to align their sound with their ambitions with impressive ease.

The production is crisp; the instrumentation and vocals are vivid and visceral. Dual vocalists Cory Castro and Jake Hughes do a fantastic job at providing each track with a volatile unpredictability which helps elevate Free Throw from the vast flock of similar sounding emo bands.

Heartbreak is still the overriding thematic stomping ground which Free Throw inhabit on ‘Bear Your Mind’, but here the lyrics are less specific, and more open to various interpretations. Gone are the soul-baring admissions of sadness which have been replaced by legitimately contemplative ruminations on the demons which haunt it’s narrators, and it’s not always about failed romances. On album opener ‘Open Window’, Castro sings about his relationship with his father, and his fears that he would emulate the same mistakes and behaviours that he did. Elswhere on ‘Weak Tables’ Free Throw discuss the tribulations of social anxiety whilst ‘Better Have Burn Heal’ is a solemn meditation on negative body image.

My father showed me

What men are truly made of

And that's what I'm afraid of

Now that I'm older I've been

Growing closer with him

You showed me redemption

It helped me forgive him for leaving - Open Window, Free Throw (Bear Your Mind, 2017).

Comparing this lyrical complexity with the relatively simplistic emotions on play on ‘Those Days Are Gone’, it’s hard to deny that Free Throw have exponentially expanded the scope of their emotional output and sharpened their ability to relate poignant negative emotions through their music.

Everything I ever meant to say but always said it wrong

Every day I dial your number I just never make the call

It’s like standing on the edge so I can contemplate the fall." Tongue Tied, Free Throw (Those Days Are Gone, 2014).

Later in the dying seconds of ‘Open Window’, Castro sings: “got to get out of my head and find some happiness instead… I really need redemption, so here’s a window into my own thoughts”.

Compared to the lacerating nihilism present on much of ‘Those Days Are Gone’, moments like this show a more versatile Free Throw, a band more in control of their stories and their messages, arguably the handiest tool in any emo band’s workshop.

On ‘Bear Your Mind’ Free Throw are looking through a window and contemplating how to move forward, rather than staring into a mirror and coldly reminiscing, and their music is better for it.

FFO: The Hotelier, Microwave, Tiny Moving Parts

[the-toxic-radio]

Dad Thighs - The Ghosts That I Fear

Let’s get one thing out of the way. Dad Thighs is a terrible name for a band. I’m sorry, but it’s true. “Dad Thighs” somehow manages to be both a completely forgettable and a disgusting band name. Having to write “Dad Thighs” over and over is a challenge I never thought I’d have to face, writing about bands. Good luck not picturing your dad’s pasty, clammy thighs throughout reading this review, as I did writing it.

HOWEVER… (Capitals, bold, italics and an ellipsis are all necessary for emphasis), Dad Thighs are one of the best and most promising bands to emerge from the emo scene in 2017, despite their name. Dad Thighs carry the torch for hardcore cornerstones such as La Dispute, with their heavy and powerful instrumentation providing the backdrop for inspired, emotional spoken word sections and their front woman Victoria’s harrowing lyrical anguish.

Dad Thighs blend their hardcore influences with twinkly Midwest-style arpeggios, contrasting the huge, crashing guitars and stadium sized percussion thrown throughout the record. Likewise, softly-spoken lyrical introspection gives way to raw, throat rending self-laceration delivered with rare honesty; the delivery is so self-assured and yet so vulnerable, highlighting the complex emotions and intent behind every line. This is a record made by human beings, inspired by their lives; Dad Thighs wield a lived-in warmness that few other bands could muster, least of all on their debut records.

Confidence buoys this record; the music resonates deeply because it is so earnestly, matter-of-factly delivered. Never do Dad Thighs seem laboured on this project. For an album so enamoured with darkness, it’s a surprisingly easy listen. The Ghosts That I Fear is an impressively cohesive collection, with each track’s positioning carefully considered. The track list flows extremely well, and breezes by without a hitch, with some tracks blending intentionally to great effect.

In the dying moments of album highlight ‘My Favourite Valentine’, they sing “we’re all in this together, but we all hate ourselves” and slowly fading reverb transforms into the opening moments of the next track ‘The Shadow That Desires is Left With Nothing but a Relic of Someone Else’s Dreams’, which in turn acts as the intro to the next track, ‘Sometimes’, which contributes a satisfying conclusion to a 3-song sequencing, and to the album as a whole.

Similarly, the two-part opener ‘Going to the Dump to Watch Bears’ parts 1 and 2 open the record with a sense of dramatic timing, a grand gesture of intent where Dad Thighs sound most comfortable, and are maybe the best two songs on the disc.

While the record is tautly composed, the emotions at play are much messier. The Ghosts That I Fear is a difficult listen to for all the right reasons. Victoria’s vocals, though undeniably abrasive effortlessly marry sincere emotional impact with musical focus, and carry the project gracefully. Her lyrics are laden thick with emotional turmoil and startling imagery.

On the opening track, amongst sprinting guitar leads, they urgently ponder “if this is love, then we have learnt nothing, if this is love, then where is life meant to lead us, except in circles?”

While on “Regarding the Walmart Parking Lot on 88th Street”, they lament a lack of beauty in a modern world painted in grayscale:

“We reminisce old meadows, once full of life, now they’re parking lots, abandoned shopping carts, crows picking at discarded wrappers, they were empty and pure, the world hints at our numbered days… and we revel in it”

The images are immediate and striking, and pluck a chord of hopeless defeatism which felt appropriate amongst the pessimism which clouded much of 2017.

The Ghosts That I Fear was a complete surprise and one of the most exciting debuts of the year for me personally. I’ll be keeping my eyes keenly peeled for “Dad Thighs” updates on my social feeds throughout 2018. Don’t let their name turn you off, Dad Thighs are the real deal and, hopefully, they’re here to stay

ffo: La Dispute, Old Gray, I Hate Myself.

[the-toxic-radio]

The Trepids, ‘Quarter Life Crisis’ - EP Review

The Trepids, an exciting young young rock band from Melbourne’s western suburbs release their emotional debut EP ‘Quarter Life Crisis’, writes Gabriel Bartolo.

The Trepids’ bandcamp confesses that they make “the kind of music that makes you want to drink beers whilst smoking a spliff in the shower on a Monday night”. Such a carefree and hedonistic description may be misleading, The Trepids borrow more from the heart-on-your-sleeve confessionalism of folk-punk acts like The Smith Street Band and Jeff Rosenstock than they do from the beer-chugging, party-rock ethos of bands such as Dune Rats.

Footscray, the home suburb of The Trepids, is fast becoming fertile ground for artists of The Trepids’ ilk: usually guitar-based acts musing on suburban life and the societal demands placed on people in that awkward phase between teenagedom and adulthood. It’s evident in The Trepids’ music and posturing that Footscray have played a big part in the development of their identity.

Quarter Life Crisis is an impassioned testament to the bitter sweet urban malaise of growing up in Melbourne and on the trials and tribulations faced by young people all over the world. In this sense, Quarter Life Crisis is a familiar record, rehashing concepts well covered since the invention of the guitar. It’s ideas encompass a common thematic stomping ground for emotionally-driven rock bands, see other Footscray locals Camp Cope, or the less well known Mount Defiance for a similarly minded approach.

That is not to say The Trepids lack originality, it shows that they have a strong understanding of the mechanics behind their music and of the audience they’re batting for. As a teenager, or young adult, it is effortless to relate to and sympathise with The Trepids with the feeling that the world is too big, too hard, too difficult to manage. A ‘quarter life crisis’ isn’t something commonly spoke about, but is something probably everyone goes through. There’s an infectious sincerity behind The Trepids which permeates through their music, through to the EP’s title and album art.

It’s in moments like halfway through the lead single ‘Fiend’, where the song takes a whiplashing transition from softly-plucked, melancholic acoustic-folk into the explosively anthemic second half that The Trepids set themselves apart from the pack they find themselves entrenched in. The latter half of ‘Fiend’ clashes triumphantly against its first half, particularly the guitar lines, which take on a distinctly psychedelic edge with plenty of stadium-ready gusto, not unlike the Philadelphian band Sorority Noise, a group known for its nimble blend of severe introspection and combustible, Gun’s N’ Rose’s esque instrumental breakdowns.

‘Fiend’ is a song you can sing along with, wild eyed, your head stuck out a car window and your tongue waggling in the wind. Contrarily, you can just as easily imagine yourself hearing it in your room alone and being induced into a reflective state of self-absorption. Life is composed of peaks and troughs and ‘Fiend’ navigates them elegantly and is emblematic of The Trepids’ sound across their impressively self-assured debut.

Quarter Life Crisis conveys a comforting earnesty that makes it very easy to like and manages enough genre-bending tricks and nimble instrumental moments to keep you listening. Your quarter life crisis won’t last forever, things will get better. Until then, at least you have this little record to keep you company.

[the-toxic-radio]

Up & Go: Energize - OUTLAST MORNING

6:00 AM

Your alarm goes off. Composed of unsympathetically enthusiastic reggae-inspired percussive breakdowns and ill-placed woodwind instruments, it anxiously arouses you from your beautiful slumber. It sounds more like the hellish screams of a thousand blood-hungry demons than it does real music. Another day on this godforsaken Earth awaits you, you lament while shivering under your sheets trying to come to terms with the reality that is your existence.

6:10 AM

You brush the sleep from your eyes and stumble lethargically to the kitchen. Half-dressed and half-conscious you open your fridge and stare into it, bathing in its luminescent glow and feeling its soft hum vibrating in your feet and toes. A sad looking, lone crumpet and a years old jar of strawberry jam catch your initial attention. As unappealing as they seem you are resigned to this. Out of the corner of your eye you glimpse it: a small, black carton, the same size and shape as a juicebox.

It’s label reads: Up & Go: Energize - OUTLAST MORNING.

You pick it up and hold it in your hand, it’s familiar shape and weight takes you back to the mornings you spent in front of the fridge when you attended primary school, weighing up how to compose your lunchbox for the day. Satisfied by the nostalgic kick, you pocket the Up & Go, collect your things together and head out the door to work.

6:20 AM

You’re more awake now, with your head leaning against the bus window you can feel every vibration of its engine reverberate through your skull. Your stomach rumbles hungrily, and you remember the Up & Go in your pocket. You pull the straw from it’s plastic casing and puncture the circular seal.

You take a sip. The first thing that you notice is the heaviness of the liquid. It’s a fuller texture than a regular flavoured milk. It leaves a fibrous coating in your mouth as you work it over your tongue. The next thing you notice is the chocolatey taste: less Cadbury, more Milo, but not quite as flavorsome as either.

Before you know it, you have quaffed the entire box, gurgling the remnants through your straw like a babe at the teat.

You’re unsure if you enjoyed the beverage, but you feel as if you’ve done something productive.

“Liquid breakfast in a box, what a novel and practical idea,” you think to yourself as your bus makes its way to your destination.

11:30 AM

You’re on break at work. Morning is nearing an end and you begin thinking about lunch. Only now do you notice the empty void in your gut. You only had liquid for breakfast.

“Outlast Morning”.

You did survive the morning, you always do, but did the Up & Go make it easier?

Yes, and no. The convenience of the beverage made it an easy selection, and while its premise isappealing, it didn’t satisfy you the way a regular ol’ non-liquid breakfast would.

Comparing purely the enjoyment factor of drinking an Up & Go you decide it is an inferior milk product, and not worth drinking on the merits of its flavor alone.

Sad crumpets and old jam from here on out, you decide. Deep in your heart though you know, you’re hooked now. You’re already looking forward to your next sip of that thick, sustaining liquid.

Up & Go helped you deal with the existential minefield of the early morning hours. It’s effects may have been placebo, but damn it, sometimes you need all the help you can get.

OFFICIAL RATING: 6/10

[the-toxic-radio]

Is ‘The Needle Drop's Anthony Fantano an alt-right edgelord?

‘The Fader vs. Anthony Fantano’ saga heats up in video response, writes Gabriel Bartolo.

A few days ago, online and print publication The Fader released a scathing piece targeting the now defunct YouTube meme channel ‘That Is The Plan’ ran by popular YouTuber Anthony Fantano, known best for his music channel ‘The Needle Drop’. The article accuses Fananto of “pandering” to the alt-right, and of producing inappropriate, racist content.

Hours ago, Fantano uploaded a 20 minute plus video response to his main channel ‘The Needle Drop’, in which he attempts to debunk every accusation laid against him in The Fader’s article.

In the video, Fantano takes aim at allegations made against specific videos on his channel, such as one suggesting Hillary Clinton had been “triggered” by meme-character ‘Pepe The Frog’, defending it as a satirical takedown of a political topic.

“Hillary Clinton and the mainstream media in general were blowing up the alt right, providing legitimacy to racist internet trolls looking to co-opt meme culture”

Fantano goes on to defend himself from accusations he has become an “edgelord”, the internet’s equivalent of a shock jock. Citing a specific video wherein a picture of African American hip-hop artist Hopsin is hanging - as if from a noose- around the neck with toilet paper, Fantano claims that The Fader is misunderstanding the purpose of the image.

“If you didn't know, has been a pretty viral internet meme over the last year or so where kids have been hanging themselves with toilet paper… So off of sharing this meme you are going to insinuate that I’m an ‘alt righter’ and that I’m racist?.. The article acts like I consciously gained this audience by being some kind of manipulative meme master”.

Is Anthony Fantano a symptom of burgeoning conservatism amongst youtubing communities? Or is has he been wrongly connected to alt right commentators?

In recent times, many members of the media have made pointed observations of a rising trend in conservative and alt right vlogging and conversations being held across YouTube. These observations have been backed up by rigorous and in-depth studies, and peppered by incidents such as PewDiePie saying the N-word in a video, and again by PewDiePie’s controversial videos earlier in the year which garnered many accusations of anti-semitism, most notably from a report by The Wall Street Journal which resulted in PewDiePie and Disney severing their professional ties, and negatively impacting the YouTuber’s brand and business.

The events surrounding the PewDiePie vs Wall Street Journal saga pointed toward a clash and divide between old, and new forms of media, prompting some to ponder the moral responsibilities of YouTubers toward their audiences.

Critics of Fantano and of The Fader’s piece are divided.

Many on social media including Twitter, Reddit and Facebook have come to Fantano’s defence, while also noting that perhaps he doesn’t do enough to dissuade the extremely political amongst his fan base.

“Fantano is definitely NOT part of the alt right, and anything that insinuates that is ridiculous. However, Anthony does contribute to and feed alt right culture,” writes reddit user ‘petekMw’.

While other, more extreme reactions to the saga include death threats on Twitter toward Ezra Marcus, The Fader writer who penned the piece against Fantano.

Neither The Fader or writer Ezra Marcus have yet made comment on Fantano’s response.

[the-toxic-radio]

The Babadook - a film review

Jennifer Kent’s ‘The Babadook’ is the best Australian horror film of this decade, writes Gabriel Bartolo. The Babadook is a stellar filmmaking debut for Australian writer and director Jennifer Kent, whose first feature film impresses with its ability to stoke our innate fears with unnerving effectiveness whilst telling an incredibly engrossing monster story, the result is one of the best movie antagonists in recent memory. Despite its modest domestic run at the box office, The Babadook has built a thriving cult fan base following its successes at Sundance and near universal critical praise from horror fans the word over..

The Babadook opens with a scene - a nightmare - in which its main character, the very pregnant Amelia (played by Essie Davis), is being rushed by her husband to hospital to deliver her child, in the rush and the chaos they lose control of the car and Amelia’s husband is killed in the crash. She awakens, it wasn’t a nightmare, it was a memory. The child is now a young and very troubled boy called Samuel (Noah Wiseman) whose insomnia and unhealthy attachment issues have been turning life into a waking nightmare for Amelia.

Things take a turn for the worse when Samuel becomes enraptured with a children's book called, you guessed it: ‘The Babadook’, a story about a sinister character who torments those who become aware of his existence.

The editing and pacing (Simon Ngoo) of the scenes which follow really set the tone for the film, as Amelia becomes increasingly distressed by the concept of The Babadook and by dealing with Samuel’s difficulties. Reality begins to haze for Amelia and with it, so does the film, it’s as if we are watching it through the same frazzled, sleep-deprived lens which Amelia sees the world through, it’s terrifying and disorienting, and it’s great filmmaking.

It is here where The Babadook makes its lasting impact, and is what truly makes it tick: this lingering sense of uncertainty and doubt, when your reality becomes more terrifying than the monsters haunting you and the distinction between what’s real and what’s not begin to blur, it’s the uneasy push and pull of Ngoo’s editing which makes all this so effective.

In this position of disorientation that the piano heavy score by South Australian musician Jed Kurzel is really able to shine, giving plenty of forward momentum to the proceedings and ramping up the tension with its sparse and sinister sonics. Since The Babadook’s successes, Kurzel has gone on to score 2017’s Alien Covenant, winning plaudits and recognition for his ability to craft winning horror movie scores.

The Babadook plays on the fears of both childhood and parenting, and toys with the question: “what if you hated your own child?”, which for many people in the real world is more horrifying than any monster could be. Being a single mother is scary. Being a child without a father is scary. Life is scary. Monsters are scary too, but The Babadook is one of those rare horror films which uses its beasts to enhance the fears we hold in reality rather than distract us from them with frenetic action pacing and flashily edited jump scares. The Babadook is a true horror film, and probably one of the finest to come out this century.

Writer/director Jennifer Kent, and editor Simon Njoo are currently collaborating on a film titled The Nightingale, set in the British penal colony of Van Dieman’s Land about a young woman and an Aboriginal outcast on a mission of revenge. If The Nightingale is half as good as The Babadook then Australian Cinema might have just found its next filmmaking heroine in Jennifer Kent.

[the-toxic-radio]

Lukewarm Iced Tea Discuss The Importance of Musical Communities

Local emo/folk band Lukewarm Iced Tea believe community is the key to a self-sustaining music career, writes Gabriel Bartolo.

Jason Sam and Alex Ratiu, one half of Ringwood East emo/folk band Lukewarm Iced Tea walk into Asian Beer Cafe in Melbourne Central at half past one on a Saturday. They haven’t had breakfast - they left the house in a rush - so they sit down and order two of the same pizzas. The bar is quiet, not even half full, the wait staff mill around aimlessly, trying to look busy. The few patrons are spread out, eating quietly by themselves. Over the next hour or so, it becomes apparent that Jason and Alex’s commonalities go further than their taste in pizza (they are partial to spicy varieties), the two share a genuine passion for their music and the places they think it can take them. Central to that passion is the idea of community, and their belief that bringing fellow artists and people aspiring to work in the music industry together is paramount in forging a self-sustaining musical career.

Lukewarm Iced Tea is, at its core, a rock band, one with folk influences and the sort of earnest, heart-on-your-sleeve lyricism which would see them labelled as “emo”, as their bandcamp tags confess. Emo is a genre, like punk, which lives and breathes within the almost cult-like communities of musicians and fans which cultivate it. In essence, emo is a communal genre, an idea which is prescient in the minds and intent of Lukewarm Iced Tea.

“I don’t think there’s much of an emo music community around here. But I think there could be”

Jason plays guitar in Lukewarm Iced Tea and studies Entertainment Management at Collarts. His passion for music, emo music in particular is palpable and infectious. From behind strands of dark hair he speaks rapidly and excitedly when broaching the topic.

“Emo is a genre that’s really close to me... I remember listening to Modern Baseball and feeling like… their voices weren’t that great but the music is so good and the lyrics are so good that it just came to me that, you know, I didn’t have to be a great singer to write great songs, I could still touch people's hearts in another way”.

Modern Baseball are one of many bands in the U.S.A. who’re responsible for what has been dubbed an “emo-revival” across entertainment media for the better part of the last seven to eight years. The emo-revival has been led by independent bands, often sharing the same DIY ethics and a focus on camaraderie and inclusivity. For example, Philadelphia has emerged as a hotbed for upcoming emo acts in the U.S. led by bands such as Modern Baseball themselves, Sorority Noise, Tigers Jaw, Hop Along, Algernon Cadwallader, the list is extensive. These bands tour, record, and grow alongside each other, and have created a healthy following for emo music in their communities, without which they would struggle to exist.

Jason looks toward the emo musical communities burgeoning across the United States and laments the lack of a similar scene in Melbourne, but is optimistic that one could develop in time.

“I don’t think there’s much of an emo music community around here. But I think there could be, we’re seeing bands such as Zen Haircuts, Camp Cope, Whatever Forever, my mates in Stuck Out who are very heavily influenced by Modern Baseball. I think we’re lacking the sense of community but it could start, that’s kind of what I want to do with music, to build this community.”

That optimism isn’t lost on singer/guitarist Alex either, the two have a clear parallel in their musical ambitions. The importance of community and networking is high on both of their priority lists.

“That’s what the two of us want to do more than anything, I think, that’s kind of why I started doing Lukewarm Iced Tea, just to get into the music industry, into the scene, but then we kind of want to create our own scene eventually.”

For Alex, this all comes down to networking, something which comes naturally to him, he is warm and bubbly, full of laughter and always smiling.

“I think the best way of finding the community is just by making it, that’s what we’re trying to do.”

Part of Alex and Jason’s plans to build that community is a project they’ve dubbed Pineapple Reject Records.

“It’s kind of like a label, I don’t know what it is, it’s mainly for the community aspect, getting people together and sharing whatever we can.”

They explain their plan with an unassuming tone but their intent is unquestionably earnest, and their ambitions sky high.

“I just want it [Pineapple Reject Records] to be everything, I want it to be our hub of all the bands we like, like to hang out with, all the artists we like and what they’re doing, what gigs are coming up, what’s going on the scene… I think we want it to be like mostly an emo and folk-punk thing, but you know whatever works.”

This desire for collaboration extends to Jason’s studies at Collarts, where he studies alongside an entire school of musically orientated performers, journalists, managers, creators, and everything in between.

“One thing with Pineapple Rejects that I want to do is have those sorts of people, not just musicians, all people going into the music industry and being able to grow together. That’s why I really want to push having our recording done with Collarts students.”

Alex and Jason see that community of students as an avenue for their ambitions, and a source of talented collaborators for future endeavors.

“Yeah they’re all becoming sound engineers and all that stuff, and as they’re developing, if we do it together then down the line we can help each other out, and that’s what I want to do with Pineapple Rejects, like just have a photographer that we know, a sound person, you know”.

Lukewarm Iced Tea and Pineapple Reject Records are clearly only the first steps in the beginnings of Jason and Alex’s careers toward achieving their musical goals.

“The community is out there…  we just need to find it.

[the-toxic-radio]

I recently filmed one of my closest and most handsome friends Campbell cooking some authentic Carbonara in my kitchen.

I spent a few weeks in Rome in 2015, in that time my host generously toured me throughout his neighbourhood, where we ducked from a deli, to a market and to a butcher grabbing the required ingredients to cook Carbonara, a dish which my host explained to me, is “as Roman as the cobbled stones we walk on”.

The key, he told me, to authentic Roman Carbonara is in avoiding the common misconceptions around the dish. First and foremost: no cream in the sauce. This dish requires only eggs, Pecorino Romano cheese, and guanciale, a strip of fatty, bacon-like meat from the pig’s cheek.

It’s a simple, elegant, and delicious dish which holds a special place in my memory.

[the-toxic-radio]

Live Review: Joyce Manor @ The Reverence + The Forum w/ The Smith Street Band, 2017

Photo credits: Mitchell Gibson-King (http://mgktakesphotos.tumblr.com/). Joyce Manor @ The Reverence Hotel.

In the first week of June, 2017, Californian punk band Joyce Manor played three shows in the city of Melbourne, two as a support act for The Smith Street Band between the ornate, colossal theatre walls of The Forum in the CBD, and one headline gig within the narrow confines of local favourite, Footscray’s The Reverence Hotel.

The venues and their differing qualities played a great part in the effectiveness of the performances. While the grandiose Forum may have suited the theatrics of headliners The Smith Street Band, the smaller, more intimate haunt of The Reverence proved a more fitting stage for Joyce Manor to flex their muscle.

Joyce Manor’s live show is an exhilarating rush of hyperactive energy. They play their songs with a fervent, infectious enthusiasm. Frontman Barry Johnson’s eyes sometimes roll into the back of his skull, exposing their white bellies when his vocals reach their crescendo, such is the passion of his performance. His bandmates don’t let him down either, their teasing banter between each other just as strong as their instrumental ability.

Joyce Manor perform their songs with confidence, sounding both tightly cohesive while the intensity of their performance feels volatile, immediate. It’s all smiles between songs though, it seems clear the band takes great pleasure in performing their music.

The show at The Reverence was a close-quartered assault on the senses. The band room is not overly small, but it is narrow, and there is no separation between the stage and the crowd, those at the front routinely clung to the stage amps for support, within arms reach of the band. The situation led to an incredibly intimate and raucous experience peppered with crowd-interaction (read: “shooey! shooey! shooey!), gut-busting singalongs and one or two mad moments in the mosh.

Midway through the set, guitarist Chase Knobbe pointed his index finger into the crowd and spun a circle in the air, all inhibitions were thrown to the wind:

“Let’s get a fucking circle pit going on right here”.

The already sweaty punters then thrust themselves into action, as the band tore into a blistering performance of fan favorite ‘Catalina Fight Song’ off of 2014’s Never Hungover Again.

Later on in the set, during the band’s 2011 single ‘Constant Headache’, Johnson tossed his mic into the audience during the final chorus, turning his energy to his instrument.

”But I’m a constant headache, a tooth out of line, they try to make you regret it, you tell ‘em no not this time”

The crowd bellowed the words toward the mic in unison, It was a moment which likely cemented the night in the memories of all who attended, a moment of pure electricity which set the audience alight, and left them fevering for more. The enthusiasm endured throughout set-finisher ‘Heart Tattoo’, til the end of their (promptly requested) encore ‘5 Beer Plan’ only minutes later.

That night, Joyce Manor fans found their ways home with smiles on their faces, satisfied by what was a complete, and unique experience with a band which to many of them, means a great deal.

Joyce Manor’s supporting set at The Forum was a very different experience to the one at The Reverence Hotel, only days earlier. Although the band again delivered an extremely well executed performance, the large audience in attendance seemed mostly uninterested. Kitted out head to toe with The Smith Street Band merchandise, the crowd barely moved during Joyce Manor’s set, aside from a contingent of diehard fans causing havoc front and centre.

It was very obvious at The Forum that Joyce Manor were the warm up act, despite being – arguably – the more popular group at an international level. This was The Smith Street Band’s big night in their hometown, where they have spent years developing a loyal local following, winning thousands of fans who flocked in force to see them play the big stage.

“Did you hear that Joyce Manor guy say “this song is about smoking weed”? [mock Californian accent] Cool bro, 420 man.” – Smith Street fan in the smoking area, after Joyce Manor’s set.

Joyce Manor fans would have left feeling slightly underwhelmed by the show. The enormity of The Forum and the relative apathy of the crowd betrayed Joyce Manor of much of their effectiveness. The intimacy and energy of their Reverence Hotel set was sorely lost in the cavernous expanse of The Forum.

The band seemed to sense this lack of audience connection, there was little-to-no stage banter this time around and pummelled with efficiency through the set list with little breaks between songs.

On the other hand, The Smith Street Band took the night to enormous peaks, obviously relishing the opportunity to live their rock star fantasies over their nearly ninety minute long set. There was a dramatic curtain drop, multiple encores and front man Wil Wagner even brought his dad out on stage for a duet at one point, in a moment which seemed to say: “look how far we’ve come”. It was an act of theatrics befitting the venue, and gained more applause than any other song performed that night.

Joyce Manor are an incredibly entertaining live act, and no doubt won over many new fans on their tour down under with The Smith Street Band. Don’t miss your chance to see them if they come to your town, as trips down under for bands of Joyce Manor’s ilk are few and far between, thank god they’re so memorable, though.

[the-toxic-radio]

Triple J's Hottest 100, Gender Diversity

Triple J’s annual music poll, the Hottest 100, is one of the largest music surveys in the world, and is touted as “the world’s biggest music democracy”. It’s a heady title, and one which is undeserved at this point: true democracy flounders without diversity. Triple J’s Hottest 100 has had problems with being a boys club for a few years now, but in 2016/2017, most people are less forgiving about institutionalised sexism than in years past. No system which prioritises one type of person more than another can claim to be functionally democratic, and that is the exact predicament that Triple J’s 2016 Hottest 100 finds itself in as it’s representation and gender diversity has been challenged.

 Much has been written about Triple J’s 2016 Hottest 100, how it’s officiated, and how it’s members are chosen. One of the main points of discussion revolved around the fact for 2016’s countdown, 66 out of 100 represented artists were Australian, which is seen as a reassuring notion of integrity in Australia’s music industry. Triple J is an inherently Australian brand and thus, the Australian artists which represent it are held in higher regard, and their statistical dominance of the chart is considered a point of national pride. What this shows is that Australians, and the Australian media do notice and care about how the Hottest 100 is composed, it shows that Australia has a discerning view on who it chooses to represent itself. Why then, are women still so underrepresented by Triple J? 

In a gender analysis of the 2016 Hottest 100, The Equality Institute found that despite the fact that women compose more than half of Australia’s population, female identifying musicians encompassed less than a quarter of the Triple J’s 2016 Hottest 100, in a clear indication that our country’s most revered popularity contest is not an accurate reflection of our society and culture. Underrepresentation of female artists is an ongoing issue deeply ingrained in Australian society, and around the world. So when major musical, and cultural events such as Triple J’s Hottest 100 fail to represent all genders it creates further disconnect and contributes and reinforces the same sexist attitudes which allow men to shine, and talented women to fade from the public eye. 

 An argument sometimes levied against these assertions is one revolving around merit. Jane Caro of the Guardian writes that “if you want to sit at the big table you should earn your place, just like the men did”. Essentially, Caro is implying that the reason women are underrepresented in the Hottest 100 is a case of there simply being more ‘good’ male musicians than there are female ones. This is a ridiculous argument to make, as it suggests that women are simply worse at making music than men, an unquantifiable, and reductive argument, devoid of reason. Music is subjective, and what music people enjoy is defined by what they are exposed to via their own personal circles, and the media circles they engage with. Musical taste doesn't evolve in a vacuum, music, like all art, reflects and evolves with the society which creates and consumes it. 

 The unfounded sentiment of the above type of argument carries onto other contrarian angles on the topic. Many critics, such as Triple J’s own Chris Scaddan have put forth the opinion that the Hottest 100 is decided by popular vote, and thus any outcome in the rankings is merely a true indication of people’s musical preferences at the time. This argument fails to address the gender biases that voters are exposed to on a daily basis which influence their voting habits. If majority of the music that people are exposed to is male made, then it's inevitable then that people will, predominantly, prefer male artists. The oversaturation of male voices in Australia’s most popular musical poll is symptomatic of the lack of opportunity and exposure that female voices receive in the Australian music, and general media. Musical acts with at least one female member receive less than 39% of Triple J’s airtime, this gender imbalance serves only to exacerbate the inequality issues at hand. 

 It is also a factor that there are simply less women making music than men are, Australia’s Council for the Arts reports that “women represent just 20 percent of songwriters and composers registered with APRA, and… represent just 32 percent of musicians and 27 percent of composers currently practising professionally.”. Those same proportions reflect the gender diversity found in industries such as forestry and fishing, careers typically considered highly masculine enterprises. The Council also reports that while 80% of all working musicians in Australia are male, nearly two thirds of all music teachers are female. This, coupled with the fact that almost 50% of Music students are female highlights the total lack of career opportunities available to female artists in the industry. It's important for platforms like Triple J to realise the breadth of their influence, as Eliza Sarlos of Junkee aptly summarises: “It’s a vicious cycle: we listen to less women-made music, because it gets played on the radio less, because there are less women making music. Because less people listen to them.”. 

 I reached out to Music Victoria co-chair Michelle Nichols, a key orchestrator of Music Victoria’s Gender Diversity Policy to gain her insight into the topic, but was unable to complete correspondence with her within the time restraints of publication. However, Music Victoria’s website outlines its gender policies and findings of its surveys can be found there also. Music Victoria’s gender policy dictates that it will “ensure participation of at least 40% women* and 40% men* across its activities, where practicable. Music Victoria will publish annual results to track progress against its gender diversity target.”. It's initiatives like these which are making positive steps toward gender parity, and it's something Triple J could take into consideration for its next Hottest 100 countdown. Triple J’s Hottest 100 is an incredibly influential cultural event in Australia. However, until it addresses and fixes it's issues with gender representation it will never truly live up to its title of the “world's biggest music democracy”. 

There are a multitude of contrarian angles on why women are so underrepresented, from arguments of merit, to defences of the voting method, but none of these successfully take into account the full scope of the issues at hand, and the myriad of ways which inequality is allowed continue marring the musical landscape of Australia.

[the-toxic-radio]

Rhysics @ The Croxton

On a Saturday night, March 18th, a little punk rock outfit called Rhysics prepared for a midnight gig at The Croxton in Thornbury, in the heart of Melbourne’s North. Rhysics’ set was following a stacked lineup of beloved, Australian bands led by Dune Rats, who were performing for their national tour with Australian legends Skeggs and Gooch Palms in tow. Rhysics’ late night, bookend show proved a perfect, pleasant send off for a night full of debaucherous, and free-spirited fun.

Rhysics are a band whose style is self described as “children's music for adults”. With that playful description in mind, Rhysics seem a perfect band to perform as an epilogue to a Dune Rats led lineup of bands who have built a following based around their feel good energy, cool, skater, stoner mystique and commitment to having a good time. They are, in effect, bands composed of adult sized children, which is no knock on their musical ability or quality. It's part of their appeal, it's what makes their music, and the positive vibes it represents so enjoyable, to so many. Bands like these allow us to live vicariously, for a moment, in a different state of mind. One where we are more relaxed, more fun, and face fewer serious, real life challenges, basically, one where we can be big kids and just chill out, bro.

Rhysics’ music exists within the same sort of musical and cultural sphere as just described, though with less of the postured bravado, and Aussie-bro culture traps which many bands of the genre sometimes fall into. Rhysics, led by the eponymous, and hugely likeable frontman Rhys Renwick, exude an atmosphere somehow both cool and relaxed, despite the propulsive, galvanizing power of their music. Their music hits similar sonic beats as other bands in the Melbourne garage scene, but their songs are imbued with a sense of homegrown earnesty, and are anchored by Rhys’ lyrics, which bleed personality throughout the songs, despite their relatively simple narrative focuses. That’s why when Rhysics get the whole room bouncing to songs like ‘Good Dad’, an ode to honest, good fathers everywhere, it feels natural, and importantly, despite the inherent ridiculousness of the scenario, it feels fun. It's entirely possible Rhysics don't think their music is particularly worthwhile, as implied by their descriptions of it as childish, or just “shit”, as seen on their bandcamp website, but it's that casually self deprecating attitude and lack of self-seriousness which makes people seriously enjoy them.

While the Dune Rats spin punk rock bangers from diamonds like the timeless, culture bomb that is: “at a party, who’s Scott Green?”, their lyrics and their music come off as tongue in cheek, fun, but not all that genuine. Bands such as Dune Rats know the role they play and why they're well liked, so while their songs are undeniably a good time, sterile, manufactured ethos like that they can never contend with the personality and warm authenticity of bands like Rhysics.

Prior to Rhysics taking the stage, droves of sweaty, drunken and merch-clad punters swarmed from the bandroom and took to the street to take a much needed cigarette break, to calm their post-mosh jitters. Inside, shattered glass covered sticky floors. Outside, excited groups of people formed dart-circles around the piles of vomit dotting the sidewalk while eagerly, and loudly reminiscing over the shows they had just seen. The look on many of their faces implied that a great and hedonistic time had been had by all. The night was hardly over, though, the eagerness for more was palpable in the air.

I reached out to Henry Osborne, the bassist and backup vocalist of Rhysics, who said that arriving at the venue “it felt clear that a lot of the Dunies crowd were keen to see a bit more of something… It was a pretty good vibe coming off them all” and added that “Dune Rats as well as Skeggs and Gooch Palms facilitate that pretty well, their songs are about having fun and I think our music complimented that”.

Despite the musical similarities between between Rhysics and the bands which played before them, it's possible that they are not quite as aligned in image, and identity as it may appear on the surface. As Rhysics fan, and fellow musician Jordan Oakley eagerly explained to me after the show: “Rhysics does not really identify with the dunies, macho, singlet-wearing audience… Rhys’ (lead vocalist, guitarist, keyboardist) personality and image clashes with other “bro bands”. A guy with a fringe and a bob singing about good dad’s. What a contrast”. He added that the whole event had “had this sort of ridiculous after hours sort of feel to it” and proposed that to Rhysics, perhaps the show carried a element of “we’re here on this stage so let’s just make the most of it, and have fun”, alluding to the band perhaps feeling out of place.

It’s possible that Jordan was correct, but whether or not Rhysics took inspiration from a sense of not belonging is, in the end, irrelevant. What is relevant is that they kicked arse: whether or not they were a perfect fit, Rhysics’ easily won over their crowd, and commanded their late timeslot with aplomb.. As Henry Osborne stated it, it was a night with a “faint hint of delinquency… but yeah, all good fun”.

[the-toxic-radio]

PewDiePie vs The Media

During February 2017, the world’s most famous Youtuber, Felix ‘PewDiePie’ Kjellberg, was called out by the Wall Street Journal over a series of seemingly anti semitic videos. In one of the videos, Kjellberg gives $5 to two men in India, in exchange for them going out into a public space with signs bearing hateful slogans such as “death to all jews”. In another of the videos, Kjellberg pays someone to dress like Jesus Christ while saying “Hitler did absolutely nothing wrong" (‘PewDiePie’, Youtube 2016). Kjellberg exacerbated the media frenzy by insinuating that the out-of-touch traditional media sought to defame him because they hadn’t properly understood his intentions behind the videos.

The consequence of this story was that Youtube and Disney severed ties with Kjellberg and his PewDiePie brand, damaging his overall credibility, and reputation as an entertainer - the debate over whether or not he is racist still rages on across the web.

What I found interesting about this story was not the content of his video, and the debate over whether or not Kjellberg and his ‘jokes’ are racist (the content of the videos is undeniably racist). It was his reaction to being called out by the media which piqued my interest. Throughout an eleven minute vlog reaction posted to his official Youtube channel, PewDiePie went on an offensive against the media, The Wall Street Journal in particular, who he accused of attempting to damage his career and image, and for misunderstanding the context surrounding the anti-semitic content of his videos.

It should be mentioned, that despite prefacing his vlog with an apology: “I’m sorry for the words that I used, as I know they offended people, and I admit the joke itself went too far”, Kjellberg thereafter immediately proceeds to defend his videos, declaring: “I do strongly believe that you can joke about anything… I love to push boundaries, but I consider myself a ‘rookie comedian’” , while adding that “A lot of people loved the video and a lot of people didn’t and it’s almost like two generations of people arguing if this is okay or not” (‘PewDiePie’, Youtube 2017).

Kjellberg is suggesting a disconnect between an audience who enjoy and ‘get’ his style of humour, and the media, who he paints as out of touch; lacking in satirical wit. In some ways, Kjellberg’s suggested disconnect parallels the divide between traditional media sources such as The Wall Street Journal and contemporary social media sources such as Youtube. If a professional, popular journalist were to come out with some racist material, they would be held accountable and risk damaging their careers. Kjellberg does not believe he should be held to the same standards, on blog post on his personal tumblr, he can be quoted as writing“I think of the content that I create as entertainment, and not a place for any serious political commentary.” (Kjellberg, F 2017). One has to wonder, though, at what point should he be taken seriously? As the most subscribed to Youtuber in the world, his influence cannot be overstated. This point becomes particularly salient when, as others have argued, a large proportion of Kjellbergs subscriber base is composed of children (Hernandez, Kotaku 2017), who may or may not possess the emotional maturity to fully grasp the complexity of the racial issues being made light of in his videos.

The disconnect between the two media worlds is shrinking rapidly and the two will continue to rub up against each other more and more as this PewDiePie controversy is sure to bring the gap closer as people begin to ponder and discuss the moral responsibilities that influential social media people have toward their audiences.

[the-toxic-radio]

The Football Club and Georgia Maq @ The Workers Club *updated*

Foreword: This piece was written before sexual assault allegations were made against Ruby Markwell. I have removed the tags from this post, renounce all words of support, and will never feature Markwell, or her band in my writing again. 

“Girls, and non-binary people, to the front. Front of the crowd, front of the stage, front of the fucking industry.”. Ruby Markwell, emphatic in conversation with Oliver Moore of Honi Soit (Moore, 2017).

The Football Club are a folk-punk band from Footscray, Melbourne. Their frontwoman, Ruby Markwell, is a trans woman who is unafraid, and unwilling to be anything less than herself, for herself and her audience. On March 28th, 2017, the final night of a month long residency headlining at the Workers Club in Fitzroy, The Football Club brought the house down in a sold out show, towing Camp Cope frontwoman Georgia Maq along with them as a supporting act.

The Football Club are a dynamic, intelligent and exciting band, and their music is lighting the way for inclusivity and acceptance in Melbourne’s music scene. Much of Markwell’s lyrical content revolves around what it is like to live as a transexual woman in life in general, and in the music industry.

Her perspective, and the perspectives of female musicians like her are vital for the future of our beloved city’s local music scene. Throughout March of 2017, The Football Club performed weekly at a Workers Club residency in celebration of their new single, ‘Ivy’, an incredible song documenting the trials and tribulations that identifying as a woman can bring about when living in a society which refuses to support you.

“I know that I’m changing, And it might seem strange, And yeah, I understand if you don’t want to call me my name. Yeah, it makes me upset, but I try not to let it get to me, I’ve adjusted to the fact you’ll probably never call me Ruby.” Lyrics from The Football Club’s new single, ‘Ivy’.

The final night was a sell out show, and by the time all the supporting acts had performed and it was time for The Football Club to take the stage the band room was packed full to the walls. It felt more like a group hug, than a mosh though.

During her solo, supporting set, Camp Cope frontwoman Georgia Maq’s performance had the crowded room singularly enraptured, the entire crowd hanging on each of her words. Her songs are personal, but their focus is outward: they are a safe place, the comforting hand of a friend who knows, and empathises with what you’re going through. Nothing emphasised this more than her last song, ‘Not All Men’, a powerful anthem decrying the oft-used excuse that ‘not all men’ are to blame for sexism, a cowardly way of shifting blame and focus onto others which every woman in the room would have encountered before.

At the end of the day though, it only takes one man’s words to contribute to sexism, which is the crux of the ‘#ItTakesOne’ movement, a social media campaign aimed at ending sexual harassment at gigs, which was popularised by Camp Cope, along with other Australian artists Frenzal Rhomb, Courtney Barnett, and others.

In a video released by the band, they make clear the reasoning behind the hashtag: "We started this campaign to bring together artists to create a clear message about our stance on the abuse and assaults that continually arise at shows," (Maq, 2016). While in conversation with Liz Ainsley of Howl and Echoes, Camp Cope drummer Sarah Thompson said that “we are about making girls feel safe to be in the front row of our shows and want people to always feel comfortable telling us if things aren’t safe in the crowd.” (Ainsley, 2016).

The band have a well documented history of speaking about gender issues, and ‘#ItTakesOne’ is just one of many endeavors by Camp Cope to use their platform to prop up the women around them. In 2016, they announced plans to launch a zine featuring exclusively female talent, or as Georgia said "It's about women's voices getting heard and I want to pay the women… I want your voices heard and we have this fantastic platform to do it!.” (Camp Cope, 2016).

"Tonight a guy tried to touch me when I didn't want him to. I wrote this song because it's fucking hard being a woman in this world" -Sommer Tothill quoting Georgia Maq at a Camp Cope show (Tothill, 2016),

Songs like The Football Club’s ‘Ivy’, and Camp Cope’s hashtag, and zine ideas have come about in reaction to a music scene which prioritises the voices of men over women. In study on gender diversity within Australia’s music industry study, Triple J’s Hack discovered a number of startling, troubling truths about the state of our country’s music scene.

They discovered that just one in five registered Australian musicians is female, and the same ratio applying to the gender of employees at independent Australian labels (McCormack, 2016).

If this is true, independent music, being at the forefront of social change, is particularly at risk having an overly male perspective and vital female voices are even more likely to be obscured, before they are ever heard.

In talks with Andy Hazel of The Saturday Paper, Georgia Maq explains that everything they do is “revenge against everyone who told us we couldn’t do this our way. In some obvious and some very subtle ways, people have put us down and undermined us, as happens to women the world over.”.

It’s because of this that musicians such as The Football Club and Georgia Maq are so important. In an industry, and a world which wants to keep them in the dark, their lights shine too brightly, and grows brighter with each new defiance.

[the-toxic-radio]

A Band I Love: Jank

Jank are the kind of band which I love to discover: young, energetic and hopefully with a bright, busy future ahead of them. There’s something hugely unique and incredibly special about following a band from their origins in real time. I don’t mean this in the way that you may gain hipster points for ‘knowing them before they were cool’; I’m more referring to the personal gratification that you feel as you grow with a band and their music – viewing from the front row as they develop as people and as musicians. It is the sensation of going on a journey with the band which appeals to me; it’s a connection between author and audience which few mediums can properly invoke.

So it was with cautious optimism that I embraced Jank upon discovering them, bands like this have a tendency to fly too close to the sun – in my heart – and leave me hanging dry, over excited and under-joyed. However, from my first listen of Jank’s 2015 debut LP Awkward Pop Songs I was immediately enraptured by their spasmodic, earnest brand of punk which seemed to effortlessly meld the styles of many of my favourite music groups and styles. Awkward Pop Songs manages to harness the effervescence of pop-punk bands like Blink-182 and The Get Up Kids while combining it with the wiry instrumentation and introspective lyricism of 90’s emo bands like The Promise Ring and Braid.

However, it was the release of their second LP Versace Summer which convinced me to lower my guard and jump straight on the Jank bandwagon – minutes after finishing the record I immediately tweeted the band imploring them to (pretty please) come to Australia one day, something which I have never been inspired to do before. I can tell you in earnest (you’ll just have to trust me), that this album has been my primary inspiration as a writer and music lover for the past several months. It’s not that the album is miraculously unique or great, it just came around at the perfect moment in my life: a time when I lacked focus, inspiration and generally felt like I was struggling for meaningful direction. It was an invigorating slap in my face, leaving a big and red impression of youthful energy on my cheek. So it’s with itchy fingers and an aching, smiling face that I type these words, and I owe it all to Jank and their music.

It’s as a result of this newfound inspiration I have decided to pursue an education in entertainment journalism, in hope to align my personal and professional aspirations further down the track and give me something to practice and develop in the present. I’m very eager to begin my journey as a writer, and equally as excited to follow Jank on their journey as a band – which is hopefully something I’ll be able to write about as excitedly as I am now throughout its duration.

To summarise, Jank are great, go listen to them. They’re full of life and ideas and maybe like me, you’ll find that inspiring.

Links:

https://ohnoitsjank.bandcamp.com/ - check out Jank’s discography here, and name your price if you’re interested in buying their albums.

http://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/21915-awkward-pop-songs/ - here’s a great review of Jank’s 2016 album Versace Summer by Ian Cohen. Cohen has done dozens of great write ups of bands in this alternative/neo-emo scene and I definitely recommend his work if you’re interested in that sort of music.

[the-toxic-radio]

Joyce Manor - Cody

In the weeks preceding the release of Joyce Manor’s new album Cody, I had carried with me a set of preconceived notions of what exactly I was going to hear upon listening it. I’d already heard the pre-released singles ‘Fake I.D.’ and ’Last You Heard of Me’ many times over and honestly, I thought they were both pretty great songs and at that point as a big Joyce Manor fan, the hype was very much real.

Both those singles carried the sound from 2014’s Never Hungover Again whilst adding a unique flavour to each via their slightly crisper production, singer/songwriter/guitarist Barry Johnson’s improved singing ability and his conversational, even more plaintive-than-before lyrics:

What do you think about Kanye West?

I think that he’s great; I think he’s the best.

Yeah, I think he’s better than John Steinbeck

I think he’s better than Phil Hartmann

                Don’t you agree?            - ‘Fake I.D.’

Now, after listening to the whole track list a bunch of times, those two singles are probably still amongst my top three or four favourite songs on the record and I have to admit that made me feel vaguely disappointed, initially. Maybe because I felt I had already heard the best Cody would offer.

Take my disappointment with a grain of salt though, it’s probably true that I over thought the release and set my expectations too high, and because this album is definitely a grower. To my pleasant surprise, my enjoyment of this album is beginning to snowball out of control. Despite my initial disappointment I can see what Joyce Manor wanted to do with Cody, and for the most part I think they killed it.

The fourth track on the album ‘Do You Really Want to Not Get Better?’, took me by complete surprise at first with its Christmas carol cadence and gentle acoustic melody, I had to check twice to make sure I hadn’t actually played a different artist’s song by mistake. It’s a huge departure sonically for Joyce Manor and the confidence of its delivery makes it an album highlight for me personally.

Similarly, the ninth song on the album ‘Stairs’ impressed me immediately with Johnson’s earnest vocal and lyrical delivery laced on top of the pure, glittering power-pop pulsating underneath. The song patiently unfolds to become Joyce Manor’s longest song ever at a whopping four minutes and two seconds in length. For me, ‘Stairs’ is also probably the best song on the album, of all the songs it feels like the best summary of the albums sound as a whole, and exemplifies the best of everything which makes Joyce Manor an effective band: it’s the honesty, the energy, the hooks. At their best, Joyce Manor is capable of evoking a rare euphoria which many bands strive for but never quite achieve. On Cody they’ve refined their sound and experimented upon it with a confident swagger which suggests that they’re not quite done yet.

 Bonus comment: who the fuck is Cody?