Day 94: Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever — French Press
Even without much in the way of new Tame Impala, it’s been a banner year for Australia’s independent artists. Between Courtney Barnett’s joint effort with Kurt Vile, her partner Jen Cloher’s decent album, and four (maybe five?) LP’s from prog rock powerhouses King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard (all of which I’ve been afraid to review up to this point) it’s been a good year to make noise in the land down under.
Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever (which is still a less-intense name than King Giz & the Liz Wiz) are worthy of joining there fellow Aussie bushmates, with a solid EP French Press for Sub Pop that almost evaded my attention this year. It’s hard to say they break much new ground, but it is a perfect distillation of eighties Anglophile post punk with enough elements of the modern indie rock template thrown in that the whole thing feels as welcome and invigorating as a damn fine cup of coffee.
If The Cure, Real Estate, REM, and the Gun Club had a child that they very irresponsibly gave up for adoption to a young Birthday Party-era Nick Cave, you wouldn’t be too far off the general sound of Rolling Blackouts on this one. Somehow that feels inadequate, but it’s Christmas Eve and I’m hiding from my family as I write this, so it’s staying in. The EP’s eponymous opener is a pleasant affair, made fun by a chorus pedal and restrained but uptempo lead guitar work. Their calling card throughout seems to be an insistent forward motion, combining light, airy strums with the kinds of lead parts that would (tonally, at least) make Robert Smith proud.
“Sick Bug” is where that Gun Club stuff I alluded to comes in, with an insistent take on that vague space where elements of country start to bleed into the indie template. The way this one uses arpeggios to transition from the slightly darker shades of the verses and choruses to a bright bridge is something to behold, though, and it serves as ample evidence that these guys know how to write songs.
To put them another way, imagine if Mikal Cronin was Australian, and you have another way of getting the picture. These songs find that sweet spot where acoustic and electric guitar can peacefully coexist, making for an easygoing vibe. While there isn’t a ton of deviation from that established template here (nor is there a lot of dynamic variance), this EP is perfectly suited for social gatherings among hip friends, or at coffee shops that intentionally don’t have wifi. You won’t hear anything that’ll blow your mind, but this brief journey is an enjoyable one.
This is Day 94 in my 100 albums in 100 days series, where I review a new album or EP I haven’t heard in full before every day through December 31st. Check out yesterday’s post or see the full archives for more.
