Beth Keating writes…

As published on Drone Magazine, 5 August 2009.

It says a lot about my taste that I can’t stop listening to ‘Love and Death’ by The Beasts of Bourbon, the second track off their first album, The Axeman’s Jazz. The album is about to be re-released with their following two albums (Sour Mash and Black Milk), remastered, in a special edition box-set. The song itself sounds like something straight off Blood Red River. God I love The Scientists. My love for The Scientists extends beyond belief – Kim Salmon, in my mind you are IT. I can’t stress my adoration for this man, and this particular brand of timeless garage rock. Give me murky western-influenced swamp and clumsy slide guitars, with Salmon’s yelping and gurgling vocals please. It’s wonderful.

I have this quite fabulous sensory build-up of nostalgia – a self-created mythology that began in childhood – about Aussie rock, stemming waaaaaayyy back when I was a little poppet innocently, but voraciously, absorbing as much Nick Cave and Tex Perkins as I could get my hands upon. There’s this beautiful period existing in my mind, merging elements of the 80s and 90s, which belongs to grainy, over-exposed film clips from bands such as the Bad Seeds (around the Henry’s Dream and Let Love In period) and The Cruel Sea. They introduced these impossibly – oh – undeniably cool characters who were imperfectly, incomprehensibly sexy at the same time. Does any of this make sense?

My attraction to this kind of music was instinctive and bang on the buck. My love for Tex and Nick et al, and underground-ish Aussie rock has only grown over the years. Actually, when it comes to The Beasts of Bourbon in particular, instinct is all I really have to go on. Their music is primordial, exploring the baser elements of human nature through profane, homicidal lyrics and evil aural blues experiments. I’ve seen them live numerous times – if you haven’t then DO if you get the chance. Truly, Tex Perkins IS one subversive, naughty, SEXY man when writhing up on that stage, with his black eyes and filthy mouth (… ahem). His intense confidence makes it difficult for me to actually look at the man – he’s so intimidatingly COOL (and God knows what kind of jabbering mess I’d turn into if I met the man in person – all red faced and stuttering and completely frozen, eyes stuck to the ground reverting back to some awkward, pimply teenager).

The Beasts of Bourbon are one of many Australian bands obviously deserving of more recognition. True, their name rolls off the tongue much easier than others, but they still maintain a somewhat underground following. There are plenty of folk (at my age especially) who know the name, but would struggle to actually think of a tune. It’s part of what I love about this style of garage rock though. Their homicidal take on the blues isn’t for everybody; at times it’s beautifully repulsive with Tex’s disturbed tales of desperation, screamed, gurgled, yelped, sworn at with this vice-addled baritone of a voice. The music is abusive, confrontational but so effing sure of itself. The Beasts of Bourbon, along with other similar ilk, managed to create a style of music unique in sound and sporadic in influence, but completely bloody Australian. It’s the sound of our unbelievable summer heat and humidity, obliteration and self-abuse in dark, dingy dens, cigarette smoke and excess, and unspoken, undercover violence that permeates throughout our lives. Music is often used as an antidote to this kind of desperation – it has the ability to cover the bleak. While The Beasts of Bourbon borrow from the blues and western rock mythology, by embracing these darker elements of our society, a brazen honesty comes out in the music.

The best thing about this rerelease isn’t actually the remastering (the three albums do sound great though), or the boxset with the lovely accompanying booklet filled with anecdotes from the band’s original line-up. For new and old fans, this is a collection worth picking up, no doubt. The most striking thing about this release is that it’s a continuation of The Beasts of Bourbon. Like their typically dark explorations – insidious, persistent, terrifying – this is music that isn’t going to go away. It sits, bubbling just below the surface, sometimes unreferenced, but always influential and relevant. Over twenty years on, these three albums are still epically evil, odd, inspiring and wonderfully Australian. Viva La Beasts of Bourbon!

As published on Drone Magazine, 26 June 2009:

Sonic Youth keep their flame strongly lit with their sixteenth full length release, The Eternal.

On Friday morning, it snapped. I’d been listening to The Eternal for a bit over a week by then, trying to come up with some solid angle of opinion. For the first three listens I was unable to get past the opening three tracks, Sacred Trickster, Anti-Orgasm and Leaky Lifeboat (For Gregory Corso). They were decent enough – the way Sacred Trickster led seamlessly into Anti-Orgasm was especially impressive – but something about the songs didn’t sit right. Even now, after the barriers have been broken, I can’t quite put my finger on what exactly misses it for me.

A few listens later, I made it past the barrier. My initial explorations of the rest of the album were mixed. Some tracks were met with the same reaction as the first three – good songs packed with the solid Sonic Youth sound, but not quite hitting the mark. The impact of other songs were more immediately satisfying. The track Antenna, with it’s mellow and restrained Incinerate-like pop direction, was an instant contender for favourite track. The next two songs which followed joined it in immediate impact. Lee Ranaldo’s voice juxtaposed with Kim Gordon’s in the chorus of What We Know – his comparably conservative and straight-forward vocals an interesting mix with Gordon’s epitome of grungy sultriness. The combination of droning, sometimes space-rock howling guitars, a brilliant beat – as well as well utilised noisy bridges and lulls in effects added to its appeal.

Calming the Snakes continued with Gordon’s irresistably imperfect vocals – this time tinged with more desperation than usual. Steve Shelley’s drums pulsated faultlessly through, teaming perfectly with new bassist (ex-Pavement) Mike Ibold’s intriguing and foot-tapping resonances.

Songs such as Poison Arrow, which followed this magnificent trio of tracks, had definite plusses – again, it’s seamless beginnings following on from Calming the Snakes was a complete amalgamation of absolute energy – but it was let down by a chorus bordering on gimmicky. Apart from the small imperfection though, the song soared, with Thurston Moore revisiting his brilliant slacker-drawl in the verses, soothing and comforting in its familiarity and suitability with the clashing riffs and effects.

On Friday, I listened to the entire album again. This time, it fell into place. Unlike previous spins, I got it – it all made sense. On The Eternal, the elements of classic Sonic Youth are all present; discordant and battling guitars, three incredible and different vocal stylings, Steve Shelley’s faultless drumming, and through all the dissonance, an innate funkiness in every track. Is this their best effort? Probably not. It may not be another Daydream Nation, but then again, we’re a long way from 1988. When you’re criticising Sonic Youth though, you can really only compare them to themselves. No-one stands up against them – in both longevity and innovation. And sure, The Eternal may not be contender for album of their career, but look at what other titles you are comparing it against. The fact that this album, despite being their whopping sixteenth release, is stuck-in-your-head solid, and up there with some of the more memorable releases of 2009 is an unheard of achievement in an aggressive and violent industry. The Eternal is a brilliant album – proving once again that Sonic Youth are not just great for what they’ve achieved in the past, but for their wonderful and genuine ability to keep creating relevant pieces of art. Because of this, they’d have to be one of the greatest gifts to rock music.

FAVOURITE TRACKS: Antenna; What We Know; Calming the Snake; Malibu Gas Station; No Way; Walkin Blue
LABEL: Matador