How NOT to write about music – 133. Eddy Current Suppression Ring


How could I not love the new album from Eddy Current Suppression Ring? This is my heartland music, the music that exists at my core.

Each time I see someone bemoaning how good music is thin on the ground these days, I think how the statement reflects far more upon the ‘observer’ than on the music they are trying to critique. For numerous reasons but not least… oh, so you don’t listen to much music these days huh? And you don’t hear much good music these days, huh? Hmm. There is a new album from Australian darlings Eddy Current Suppression Ring out, their first in nine years – came out in December, mostly unheralded. Least, I blinked and must have missed it. Here is it, January already, and here they are sounding sweetly restrained and laidback and full of poise and confidence, nothing in your face, nothing like that, just rockin’ the good rock. Like Magazine, without the unsettling bits. If there is a guitar solo – and there is a guitar solo – it is sparse and slightly misplayed and all the better for it. If there is repetition – and there is repetition – it is sparse and kept in check and used for emphasis. If there are vocals – and there are vocals – then… wait. Has anyone mentioned the vocals yet?

This is timeless, inasmuch as it could have been released at any point during the last four decades and you would not have blinked; also, it sounds good. Great even. A slow-burner. Part of the dolewave that ECSR helped inspire and that arguably never existed yet did exist because it was identified as such – and well identified too, bit of music critics flexing their muscles there, the type of which I wish would take place more often (and quite possibly does, see point one, paragraph one above). If all you know of Australian counterculture is Courtney Barnett or (shudder) Tame Impala – and damn, I like Courtney Barnett just fine, and even feel the same about (shudder) Tame Impala sometimes – then you are in for a treat. If you feel like treating yourself.

How could I not love the new songs from Eddy Current Suppression Ring? This is my heartland music, the music that exists at my core.

How NOT to write about music – 83. Psychedelic Porn Crumpets

In places it sounds almost exactly like, precisely, you know, similar to although not  plagiarising, I mean you can’t plagiarise a piece of music can you?, reminiscent of, paying tribute to, borrowing heavily from, sampling, lifting, interpreting, moving on from, bouncing merrily upwards, sort of, kinda, a bit like, that song you all liked from several years ago, a while back, yesterday, some distant future, the past, helpless, though not totally, not in a bad way, all art builds on what went before unless it’s Oasis, no, you know, similar to, in essence the same, probably the same city, the same suburb, the same recording studio, the same street, the same musicians, brothers, the same chord structure, rhythms, but NO!, has its own identity, ways of seeing, ways of hearing, ways of balancing, that tune, you know, the one even people who didn’t like this music had to admit they liked, unless they didn’t, and even the people who did like this music had to admit was not bad whatsoever, unless they didn’t, grudgingly, pityingly, knowingly, willingly, I worked out minutes ago which one it is, I wonder if you have yet?, warped, warped-out, delicious, deliciously fuzzy, hazy stoner, hazy stoner grooves, not mind expanding, but why would you want your mind expanded, ain’t it big enough as it is?

Crap name, though.