The Wombats sold out their show at St Kilda’s Palais Theatre in a matter of mere minutes earlier this year, with an overwhelming demand for tickets resulting in an upgrade to a more sizeable venue: Margaret Court Arena. If that doesn’t demonstrate the amount of love this city has for the trio out of Liverpool, then perhaps the sheer aura of exhilaration radiating from the crowd as they anticipate the hour and a half long set to does.
Fellow Liverpudlians Circa Waves have kept the stage more than warm; they might be the support act, but they make the stage their own, occupying every bit of space afforded to them for their half hour set. Having opened with Young Chasers (the song of the same title as their debut LP), Circa Waves play a tight set proving to be a refreshingly dynamic act live and a top notch choice of support act. Fossils, Stuck In My Teeth and Get Away are highlights, but it was Good For Me and My Love proved to be the stand outs of the set. A set which, judging by the cries of “no!” Circa Waves they said their farewell and launched into the downright raucous T Shirt Weather, could have been extended.
The intermission before the main act take the stage is brief and the crowd still buzzing from the previous set when The Wombats slink on stage. Opener Body Is A Weapon should have been a great way to kick things off but felt strained due to some issues vocal issues (a result of Splendour In The Grass and previous sideshows, no doubt). Still, Dan Haggis is a powerhouse behind the kit and a sing-along ensues. Equal parts entertaining and professional, front man Matthew Murphy acknowledges that his voice is somewhat worse for wear tonight and enlists the audience in assisting him with his duties following a slightly rocky rendition of Jump Into The Fog. The Melbourne crowd is more than happy to oblige, which garners an earnest compliment on the collective singing voice from Murphy.
It is with Be Your Shadow and a static-filled 1996 that the band hit their stride, Murphy now having adjusted adeptly to the post-Splendour situation. This Is Not A Party and Techno Fan fire the already excitable crowd up further with waves of bass and synth-dripped riffs bursting from the stage.
Bassist Tord Øverland Knudsen has been silent for most of the set aside from his backing vocal duties. Instead, he has opted to allow his action to speak for him. He darts from one side of the stage to the other with a seemingly endless reserve of frenetic energy. He spurs on the crowd, ensuring that the pit looks something akin to a wonderfully turbulent sea, which only calms for Little Miss Pipedream. The track slows down the set, is complete with a harmonica solo curtesy of Haggis and sees the entire arena alight with smart phones and lighters. Murphy has dedicated the song to “anyone who has followed us from the very begging”. It seems that just about everyone present falls into that category and they’re singing back every single word.
Both Murphy and Haggis have made a point of chatting with the audience throughout the set. At one point, Haggis describes Melbourne as a home away from home for the band, which Murphy reiterates, stating that perhaps they should just move here, if not for the audience reception, then because “brunch is the best meal.”
The trio of Kill The Director, Tokyo- Vampires & Wolves and Give Me A Try together form the other major highlight of the set. With each song featuring on a different album from The Wombats’ catalogue, the reception these three get is testament to Australia’s (and indeed, Melbourne’s) love for the band. That love is evident as the band slips from the stage for a brief reprieve before their encore.
Emoticons and Let’s Dance To Joy Division make up the thudding encore, along with a surprising and wonderfully brutal rendition of Rage Against The Machine’s Killing In The Name. Cheeky, charismatic and all together entertaining, The Wombats have a great connection with their audience here, pretty much negating any complaints from early on in the set.
Maybe the Wombats should move to Melbourne. In the meantime however, Murphy hints that perhaps another visit down under is on the technicoloured horizon: “You’ve been outrageously kind, thank you. The word in my inbox is that we’re going to be here a lot sooner than you might think, so we’ll see you then.”
By God, it is already June. That means we are halfway through yet another year, and what a year it has been so far in terms of good music. And while it is important to reflect on the good times, and we here at Howl and Echoes like to think we cover as much of the good as we possibly can, it is equally as important to reflect upon the bad. Music that is just silly with awful actually. So as we hit the midpoint of 2015, we’re taking a look at the worst of the worst thus far. Be warned. Be very warned. Here are six of the worst songs of 2015 so far.
6. Meghan Trainor – Dear Future Husband
Meghan Trainor means well and all with this insipidly cheesy little jazz number, I’m sure. It’s vomit-y to be as nice as I can about it though. She has written and recorded it as some kind of simpering instruction manual for any would-be suitors to follow should they wish to spend the rest of their (probably significantly shortened) lives with her, but what she has unintentionally done is provide men everywhere a good reason to never call her, ever again, purely because of how terrible this song is.
It sounds like a dreadful original Christmas carol and is twice as infuriating. There’s a good chance Meghan Trainor is a succubus. Or a nest of spiders wearing the skin of what used to be an innocent woman. Nothing that wasn’t on that level of hellish could have produced this, it just isn’t possible.
5: Waka Flocka Flame (feat. Good Charlotte) – Game On
When it comes to unadulterated obnoxiousness, few combinations conceivable to mankind do it quite as well as this. Waka Flocka and Good fucking Charlotte, together at last for the theme song to an Adam Sandler movie so ridiculous in premise that it makes Jack And Jill look Oscar-worthy.
This is rap rock that even Fred Durst would find offensively bad. The Madden brothers, taking a break from being utter nitwits on Australian television and making me seriously reconsider not having a ‘Fuck Off, We’re Full’ bumper sticker on my car, sing as though they physically can’t hear how shitty they are, and Flocka raps absolute nonsense like:
Ah, bought the tour bus like a spaceship
I’m racin’ against nothin’ but time
Probably wouldn’t be so lost if you was watchin’ the signs
They gon’ play me like a PlayStation from playin’ on that station
The Genius annotation for that can be surmised as follows;
4: The Wombats – Emoticons
This whole song is an utter clusterfuck of mess. It’s saccharine to the point of giving mouth ulcers to everyone who listens, over-produced and with lyrics that are just abominably stupid. Sweet fuck on a crust, nobody but a 15-year-old girl is listening to a song that opens with dreadful imagery like ‘it’s tough to stay objective baby, with your tongue abseiling down my neck’ and finding it enjoyable. The chorus:
You need to find a different boy’s heart to chew
Chew
And all these emoticons and words
Try to make it better but they only make it worse
Is about as relevant for those who have seen the last of puberty as sex education is. It’s a musical Jay-Jays t-shirt. If you tried to print the lyrics for this song off you would end up with next month’s issue of Dolly magazine (they still make that right?), featuring a centrefold quiz on how miserable a person you are.
If you liked Emoticons, go straight to incredibly. You are an incredibly miserable fucking person.
3: Kid Rock – First Kiss
I’ll admit it, Kid Rock in his Devil Without A Cause heyday was one of my guilty pleasures. He just had so few fucks to give and I was a teenager who thought his hillbilly-fried rap metal was real neat. I recoiled in horror then in 2007 when he tried to revive the festering corpse of southern rock by bastardising Warren Zevon and Lynyrd Skynyrd in the interminably soulless All Summer Long.
He’s continuing in that vein here, and the results are sickening. I won’t dance around it, he now sounds like Shannon Noll, only if Nollsy had a 20 pack/year history of smoking naught but Marlboro Reds and gargling moonshine after meals. He sings about such nostalgic redneck delights as listening to Tom Petty on the radio and owning a pickup truck, as well as remembering his first kiss from his high school sweetheart, who probably did nothing to deserve such cruel and unusual punishment.
Picture this trying to assault your mouth with his and you will know her terror.
I’m not sure she’s quite as wistful for old Kid Rock, who dresses and smells like what a bottle of Jim Beam would if it gained sentience. Fun Fact: Kid Rock is in an unreleased sex tape with Scott Stapp and I would rather experience that then this horseshit paint-by-numbers country drivel one more time.
2: Eden xo – The Weekend
I’m really, really sorry to do this to you, but I have experienced Eden xo and I’m pretty sure I have to pass her video along to someone else or I’ll die a terrible, terrible death in seven days. I’m so sorry.
She’s coming for you now…
The Weekend goes for two minutes and fifty-two unbearable seconds, and I think I’d rather be electrocuted while magpies swoop at me for that amount of time than deal with this kind of emotional torture. Eden xo’s grasp of lyrics makes Rebecca Black look like Tracy Chapman. The chorus of this clown-dick appalling ditty:
Oh my God it’s the weekend,
Hands up for the weekend!
Oh my God it’s the weekend,
Hands up for the weekend!
If the weekend was exactly how Eden xo wanted it to be, I would spend mine working in a Russian labour camp. And if you thought it couldn’t get any worse, Lil Jon is here to poke his stupid little dreadlocked head in and prove you stupefyingly wrong:
God is dead.
1. Britney Spears (feat. Iggy Azalea) – Pretty Girls
This song is unspeakably crass. It is a turkey slap to the face of good taste. It is pure, blinding, vanilla white trash of the highest order. It could kill every single one of the Avengers, it is so unforgivingly toxic.
Christ, it boggles my mind how anyone in charge of a record label sat down and pitched this as a fine idea. Whoever did could sell fire in hell, because they successfully convinced the producers of this… this evil, to flush their tattered souls straight down there via this musical toilet.
Britney delivers her lyrics like she’s having a seizure after inhaling a balloon full of helium and the regrets of strippers. Iggy is at her culture-appropriatingly grating best. She might as well just cut to the chase and run with blackface already, it’s getting that bad. You would have to be an actual parasite to find anything even remotely good about any of this. Playing the lyrics backwards is an incantation that summons poisonous snakes. Only poisonous snakes. All of the poisonous snakes.
You were warned.
Here’s to the rest of what 2015 has to bring!
Words by Christine Sheridan
It’s been almost a month since our fav Brits The Wombats released their new album Glitterbug, yet I’m still not sick of hearing their songs on repeat. Produced by Mark Crew (best known for his work with Bastille) and following their previous albums A Guide to Love, Loss & Desperation (2007) and This Modern Glitch (2011), it’s sufficient to say the four-year wait was worth it.
Transitioning their jumpy quirkiness down a slight notch, Glitterbug is a more mature album, capturing the band’s experiences over the last few years. The album’s themes focus on a tumultuous relationship with a fictional woman in L.A, and showcases the band’s loveable persona with clever lyrics and dance rhythms.
Opening track Emoticons sets the bar high, delivering layer upon layer of synths, heavy drum beats and a solid guitar solo. Next, we’re met by front man Matt Murphy’s radiant voice, singing about how modern technology can’t describe a feeling. The tune transfixes you, as the easy pace moves, culminating in a splash of dynamics and movement.
Give Me a Try is next, exploring maturity within the lyrical, ethereal world of romanticism and relationships. With deeper meaning and a swift tempo, this track reportedly has a double meaning, relating to their lacking US fanbase.
The band delve deeper with Curveballs, exploring relationship woes with lyrics like, “his clothes on your floor, I’ve been here before/ I can’t keep up with these curveballs.” While it lacks the vigour of A Guide to Love and Loss & Depression, the deeper lyrics show new emotion – tongue-in-cheek as it may be; “there’s no greater sight/than you in your underwear, removing mine.” The stripped-back Isabel is a pained ballad; a leap away from their usual style, it’s a hard listen – it doesn’t feel like there’s much direction throughout the track, and takes a few repeated listens to truly appreciate it.
Greek Tragedy moves along at a place similar to the 2013 single, Your Body Is a Weapon. filled with instrumental drops and drum beats you can only imagine drummer Dan Haggis sweating up a groove to on stage. These two tracks in particular are sculpted into pop explosions, and unlike their previous albums, Glitterbug is void of that rock edge, opting instead for a synths-and-more-synths structure.
Critics are describing the album as lacking in originality, seeing The Wombats veer more towards the indie/pop genre. Overall, it’s hardly groundbreaking. However, it’s fast hooks and pulsating riffs lure you in to a midnight world full of colour and spontaneity. It’s filled with eccentric anecdotal stories and subtle references to their chronically unlucky love experiences, rounding off to possibly be their most impressive album to date.
The Wombats were last spotted in Australia pulsating the Amphitheatre stage at the 2013 Falls Festival playing their energetic set to a cauldron of fans in the rain. If you were lucky enough to score yourself a Splendour ticket for this year, make sure you check them out. They’re also doing a few sideshows for those who can’t make it to Byron Bay:
Thu, July 23: Metro City, Perth (Tix here) *Circa Waves not appearing
Mon Jul 27: Enmore Theatre, Sydney (Tix here)
Tue July 28 Palais Theatre, Melbourne (Tix here)
Thu July 30, Thebarton Theatre, Adelaide (Tix here)