That whole “music used to sound better when I was younger” theory

SEPTEMBER (64-70)

Tangerine – Feel This Way

Every time I play it, I want to play it even more. I want to play it in double time, triplicate, stop after 3 seconds and play it immediately, stop after 30 minutes and play it instantly.

Everything about this. Everything.

Tell everyone.

The Moonrakers – Trashwhore Panties!

The Moonrakers are great if you enjoy listening to bands rehearse when half the members are stoned and railing against the injustice of the local bussing system and the other half are trying their damnedest to drown the whining fuckers out … but. There again (the writer shrugs, and tries to see the bright side of everything), the splendidly titled ‘Inferior Television/Superior Television’ sounds like that bonus Subway Sect track at the end of The Slits’ second (‘bootleg’) album – you know, the one without a title or cover – and, fuck, I love that bonus Subway Sect track at the end of The Slits’ second album. A righteous TORRENT of noise. They say, “rock garage rock new zealand rock rock and roll seafoam the moonrakers New Zealand.” I say, FUCK YEAH TURN UP THE MOTHERFUCKING VOLUME YOU MOTHERFUCKING MOONRAKERS.

Cutss – Odeto

A problem I have, when discussing sexual attraction, is that frequently I don’t have the slightest idea of what people look like that I’m attracted to. I’m forever projecting. Another is that… I was going to type “don’t want to make people feel uncomfortable”, but that’s clearly bollocks. OK then. I don’t wish to dive into the septic tank marked “the banality of male sexuality”. Although now I think about it, I have no real idea what male sexuality is, and suspect it MUST vary from useless drudge to useless drudge. I have been toying with an answer post to that great one Wallace wrote around that sexist throwback Robin Thicke, entitled “the sexuality of male banality” – it would feature artists like The Vaccines, Kings Of Leon, J-Lo and yes, Robin Thicke. I only mention it here as some form of oppositional touch point to the attraction I feel for everything Cutss. Everything Cutss is, by necessity, distorted and repetitive, sensual  and a little blurry. I’m not sure this equates with great sex but I’d like to think it does.

Body/Head – Actress

And then there’s the noise. When the guitars scrape, when they gurgle and pulse and squeal and revolt back against the song in noise, it’s as exhilarating, as jarring, as downright ugly fun, as anything that band ever did. (Scott Creney)

Bitch Prefect – Better Next Time

Beautifully laconic awkward pop from Adelaide: all crushed violet and failed romantic leanings. Guitars jangle morosely but so plaintively. It’s like a whole world grew up defined by loneliness and The Velvet Underground and the comfort of hoodies and Dunedin ’85: suburbia – so little to answer for.

The Native Cats – Cavalier

This is music that is designed to be played live to emptying clubs, the deserted moonscapes of Tasmania. The Native Cats know that the mainstream is turned elsewhere. It doesn’t matter. That’s not the motivation. The Native Cats turn failure into an art-form – their colour-by-numbers electronica might sound unsophisticated when compared to Kanye West, and retro next to Grimes but this is still extraordinary music. (Everett True, from an unpublished Guardian review)

The Creases – I Won’t Wait

There’s a part of me that always likes music like this. It’s the part of me I despise.

(continues overleaf)

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by Everett True

My name is Everett True. I am a music critic. This is what I do. I criticise music. The clue is in my job description – music critic. I do not consider myself a journalist, as I do not research or report hard news. I do not consider myself a commentator as I believe that everyone should be a participant. I criticise people and in return I am not surprised if other people criticise me. It is part of the whole deal of being in the public arena. I am Everett True. Believe in me and I have power like a God. Quit believing in me and I no longer exist.