In a genre that prides itself on chewing up and spitting out references, this record sounds refreshingly original. I’m looking forward to hearing more from these guys.
In the dark and spacey reality of World’s End Press, it is 1986. Or 2004. Or 2050. Whatever the year, it’s clear that this is a reality unto itself. A place where romance exists on the dancefloor. And fights are resolved on the dancefloor. And universal answers are found on the dancefloor. It’s a very dancefloor-oriented reality, and I’ll be honest, I want to move there.
This Melbourne four-piece have been kicking arse around the local scene for years, gaining a near flawless reputation as a live act, and building an arsenal of songs for a debut album worthy of the hype. And on this self-titled record, they deliver.
Opener ‘To Send Our Love’ sets the tone with a thudding disco stomp and shimmering vocal harmonies. It’s dark, soaring and groovy. And in the alternate reality of World’s End Press, it is played over the end credits of every John Hughes movie. Also, John Hughes is still alive and directs every film.
DFA’s Tim Goldsworthy gives the record the type of new-new wave sheen we’ve heard on tracks from Cut Copy, Massive Attack, and just about every other indie-dance band worth mentioning. But it’s the songwriting from WEP that lifts this album above most other debuts. The record is diverse in scope, as it snakes from bouncy disco tracks like single ‘Reformation Age’, through spacey jams (‘Deadbeat Sweetheart’), to iPhone-waving ballads (‘Chewing Gum Prayer’) with the ease of a teen rebel played by Judd Nelson winning over the heart of Molly Ringwald. OK, I’m still thinking about the John Hughes thing.
BY CAMERON JAMES
World’s End Press is out now through Liberation Records