How We Lost, last year’s record from Windsor for the Derby is an interesting proposition. While they have made a commendable career from their own brand of lite post rock, more quiet quiet than loud (quite) loud, they have appeared to drop the heavy instrumentation and have fallen into what they love.

Opener “Let Go” is sparse in its rhythm section, leaving gaping space for the guitar to waft in like a moth on the wind. Drawing the listener in, craning to hear what may be missed, the restraint that from the outset is glaringly obvious.

This release seems to be more thought out than previous; and is even, dare we whisper, structured? “Maladies” is a proper indie rock gem and “Fallen off the Earth” could be an out take from any number of early ’90s bands. Never ones to completely rock out like some of their peers it seems like they have went back to their influences. Taking two parts Tortoise and adding one part Yo La Tengo now seems to be the recipe for success for these guys and it works well here.

What really sets this release apart from its predecessors is the use of vocals. While previously these have been low in the mix, reduced to another mere instrument to be discarded at will, these are used effectively here and are almost pop like in their delivery. None more so than “Forgotten”, which combines all acoustic guitars with beautiful teasing vocals that sweep you away.

The lush atmospherics are still there, ambient flourishes pop up constantly and it still seems to be that the whole instrumentation is greater than the sum. The sprawling “Troubles” is awash with feedback but reigned in with hushed vocals and pounding drums allowing it to glide on where once it would have dissipated away.

The final triplet of “What We Want”, “Good Things” and “Spirit Fade” are magical, full on unembarrassed blatant shoegazing. The like that’s not been seen round these parts for many a year, it’s the sound of a band doing exactly what they want. It’s not hard to imagine where Windsor for the Derby are coming from with this record. We can however be thankful that, while in the past they were reduced to also rans — swept up with a number of bands doing infinitely better work in the same field, here they look to have settled into their skin and who can deny them that?

Garry Thomson

2008 was without a doubt an exceptional year for music. Without revealing too much from our list below, there were outstanding sophomore efforts by Beach House and Long Blondes, debut albums by a stunning array of new acts like Crystal Castles, Glasvegas and Fleet Foxes, and albums from iconic acts like TV On The Radio and Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds that cemented their standing in modern music.

There was some belief that since so many of Webcuts favoured acts had released albums in 2007, that 2008 was going to be something of a layover year, but even a few months in as the new releases begin to flood our desks we knew we were in for a treat. Now here for your reading pleasure is Webcuts class of 2008.

An album of unexpected pure pop delights, She & Him was a collaboration between the delicious actress Zooey Deschanel and singer-songwriter Matt Ward. This collection of 60s inspired tunes written by Deschanel were sugar sweet and lushly rendered. Traces of the Beatles and the Beach Boys were caught lurking beneath Ward’s arrangements and the strength of Deschanel’s voice only added weight to the credibility of this project. This wasn’t just another Hollywood actress trying her luck as singer. Their duet on Smokey Robinson’s “You Really Got a Hold On Me” was only one of many highlights. We can only hope for an expedited Volume 2 in the near future. (Craig)

Brooklyn’s Santi “Santogold” White had the kind of year most artists only dream about, as a decade of working in the music business, the savvy utilisation of MySpace and the support of bloggers bore prodigious fruit. Her debut album Santogold impressed with its myriad styles — from Ska and Dub to 80s new wave — themes of empowerment and good old fashion boasting. (Caleb) Full review.

The darkly titled Oceans Will Rise did much to address the balance between The Stills of Logic Will Break Your Heart with The Stills of its disappointing follow-up, Without Feathers. From the menacing beauty of the gold-painted skull on the album sleeve to the buoyant melodies that weave through the songs in waves, there was much more to this album than met the eye. The Eastern European feel of “Snakecharming the Masses” built around a tribal-sounding rhythm that paired with the subtle swell of Fletcher’s vocals found The Stills in the grip of self-discovery and invention. (Craig) Full review.

Truth be told The Kills’ — transatlantic duo Alison “VV” Mosshart and Jamie “Hotel” Hince — third album was an uneven affair. For every perfectly formed relationship drama e.g. “Last Day of Magic” or chilling tale of letting go such as “Black Balloon” there was the dirge-like “M.E.X.I.C.O” or throwaway “Sour Cherry” – but when the dirty drum machine beats, bluesy garage rock and Mosshart’s channelling of Polly Harvey and Karen O gelled it was well worth the price of admission. (Caleb)

Evil Urges is an awesomely confounding record. It’s not quite Kiss Unmasked, but songwriter Jim James without his cloak of reverb, pushing out a falsetto vocal was an altogether unexpected moment. Even with the reassuring knowledge that this was the new My Morning Jacket album, it was one that leapt styles and influences in a way no previous album had. The electro-dance touches of “Touch Me I’m Going To Scream” offered more evidence that My Morning Jacket were breaking away from convention with Evil Urges being their most outward attempt to gain wider recognition and distance themselves from the staid Skynyrd Southern Rock pigeon-holing. (Craig) Full review.

I’m From Barcelona’s first album enraptured many its sing-a-long anthems and cheery demeanor which helped to dispel the notion they were merely a novelty act, but it was one so full of sugary twee pop you could almost feel the calories piling on. Who Killed Harry Houdini? was the sugar rush comedown, an album with soft focus production and an air of detached melancholy. While the elements that made us fall in love with I’m from Barcelona remained – sweet melodies, multi-backed choruses and varied instrumentation – the downbeat tempo combined with vastly improved lyrics full of detailed character vignettes to create a work of greater sustenance. (Caleb)

When viewed next to their debut, “Couples” is of a different class and from a different age. The Long Blondes always seemed hemmed in by their own aspirations and you can only go so far with pop culture knowledge and a keen sense of wardrobe. They had advanced beyond expectation and fashioned an artistic statement that is more than just a magnifying glass on our lives but a cultural and historical commentary wrapped up in one. It was inventive, intelligent and exciting. A rare case of pop music with brains, presented with a conviction that is almost unbeatable. Unfortunately, a paralysing stroke which befell guitarist/songwriter Dorian Cox would sadly bring an premature end to this great Sheffield band before the year was out. (Craig) Full review.

There are some who would consider Brighten The Corners to be Pavement’s best album, which is a contentious throw-down if there ever was one. Certainly it’s not without its charm, arriving in February 1997, the fourth studio album in an unbroken run of classics beginning with the lo-fi art spark of 1992’s Slanted and Enchanted. Brighten The Corners would be seen on arrival as the most direct and polished of Pavement albums. Its twelve songs split down the middle mark the point in which Pavement moved into the mainstream without sacrificing too much of their erratic edge.

First fruits from Brighten the Corners began with the word-associative freak-jam that is “Stereo”, a song that appeared in Pavement live sets in varying forms up to a year before being committed to vinyl (cd, tape, etc). “Stereo” was Pavement at their loosest, from the noodling introduction and free-form lyrics that later break into the power-chord chorus which bore no relation with the rest of the song. “Stereo” and its follow-up single, the solace-seeking blind-dating “Shady Lane” would bring along a new generation fan-set for old-timers to cast uneasy derision toward (and in which those who found Pavement via “Cut Your Hair” could breathe a sigh of relief). “Stereo” and “Shady Lane” formed the opening one-two punch that felt like Pavement meant business this time around.

Brighten The Corners was definitely a more concise and considered cousin when compared to the rampant eclecticism of 1995’s Wowee Zowee. The rough edges have been smoothed out and the manic art-rock they began their career with has all but been removed. It was akin to listening to REM around the time of Green, knowing that the band who’d peaked creatively with Life’s Rich Pageant and Document were evolving into the next chapter of their career (which could then be argued that Terror Twilight was their failed Out of Time minus the career-defining “Losing My Religion”) that bore little to no relation to the Pavement that recorded Slay Tracks in 1989. If anything, Brighten The Corners was to be their victory lap, the last great Pavement album before Malkmus assumed complete control and blame for the mediocre finale, Terror Twilight.

Engineered by R.E.M. alumni Mitch Easter and Bryce Goggin and recorded in Easter’s Athens, GA studio afforded Brighten The Corners a relaxed southern vibe, that is perhaps a little too relaxed. “Transport is Arranged” with its woozy mellotron shadowing Malkmus’ vocal is indicative of the pacing on Brighten The Corners. This is carried on into the meandering blues jam of “Type Slowly”, the cocktail jazz of “Blue Hawaiian” and the plodding singalong of “We Are Underused“. Great songs nonetheless, but only “Blue Hawaiian” carries that Pavement spark – the stop/start rhythms, off-key soloing and Malkmus shaking out a few choice couplets. It’s definitely a case of getting stoned to make a record to get stoned to. Only “Embassy Row” and “Starlings of the Slipstream” offer any diversion and intensity from Malkmus’ mellow channelling. If there’s one thing that saves Brighten The Corners from turning into late-nineties background party music is the two contributions from guitarist Spiral Stairs. Given a track or two per album, Stairs has often been the wild card in Pavement’s pack, thrown in to mix things up without fear of outshining Malkmus. This time around, his offerings amount to arguably the best tracks on the album. The R.E.M. jangle of “Date W/Ikea” is a short, sharp pop thrill and “Passat Dream” with its ghostly “ooh-ooh” backing vocals and scratchy wah-wah guitar is Pavement at their grooviest, and a potential remix moment gone begging.

It would be hard to believe that technology has advanced to the point where a 1997 recording could be improved by remastering, but there are some pronounced differences between tracks here that are too obvious to ignore. “Date W/ Ikea“ especially has been boosted with a background of added fuzz and random noise that was barely noticeable on the original. Other tracks benefit from extra clarity and seperation between instruments that were barely present on the original, allowing for a new appreciation to be found (not just a case of ‘like the original but LOUDER‘). The main enticement for Pavement fans on their second or third round of buying this record is the unreleased material and radio session tracks which characteristic of these reissues there is an abundance of. Major highlight is the song “Nigel” which was performed live once and ridiculously never heard of again, and the instrumental “Beautiful as a Butterfly“ and “Cataracts“, two songs which have never seen the light of day before until now (and perhaps with good reason…). If this isn’t enough there’s a session from KCRW’s Morning Becomes Eclectic where they premiere four previously unheard (outside of tape-trading circles) songs. Another unexpected inclusion is their improv freak-jam “Space Ghost Theme” taken from their classic appearance on said cartoon. Well-worth Youtube-ing if you haven’t already seen it.

It’s satisfying to look back on the good old days and be reminded just how good Pavement were. Nothing that Malkmus went on to do with the Jicks, or Stairs with the short-lived Preston School of Industry could diminish what this band achieved in their ten year tenure. In fact, if it wasn’t for Pavement, I wouldn’t be where I am now (and come to think of it, now I know who to blame). An essential album from an essential band.

Questions of fame and fortune aside, If you wanted my opinion where it all went wrong for the Welcome Mat, I’d tell you it had something to do with “Hell Hoping”, the less-than-enticing two minute taster off their debut album Gram. It’s a fact that nothing can quickly end the life-span of an album than under-selling it with one of the least impressive songs (sorry, Mullens) on the record and here was the Welcome Mat literally daring us to give them the cold shoulder to go buy the new You Am I Ep instead. The release of two prior EPs, Fairy dust (1991) and Spare (1992) had accumulated a dedicated fanbase and received a groundswell of radio attention and acclaim. Though ‘acclaim’ in Australian terms means about 2000 copies sold and being able to sell out the Annandale before 9pm, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Everyone was expecting the boys to expand on the buzz and pop of those EPs with hip producers Paul Q. Kolderie and Sean Slade, better known for their golden touch with The Lemonheads, Throwing Muses, Buffalo Tom and Radiohead. It seemed the perfect pairing – up and coming American producers meet up and coming Australian band on their home turf. The Hummingbirds did it with REM’s producer Scott Litt with the sweet smelling pop bouquet Lovebuzz and they had to fly to the States to do it. The Wellies had the home town advantage. Everyone (or perhaps it was just me) was expecting Gram to be their Bandwagonesque – that kind of perfect pop record that is faultless from start to finish. It was an expectation that I felt was entirely within reason.

For those who never had the pleasure, The Welcome Mat were a Sydney-based guitar-pop quartet formed in 1989. They comprised Cory Messenger on vocals/guitar, Wayne Connolly on vocals/guitar, Leo Mullins on vocals/bass and Peter Bennett on drums. Messenger and Connolly were originally the two main songwriters both having met and played together in John Kennedys Love Gone Wrong before going on to form The Welcome Mat. Their first single, Connolly’s “Last of The Great Letdowns” was a rough-hewn glimpse of what the Welcome Mat would become, but even then the key ingredient of the Messenger/Connolly duelling harmonies was clearly in effect. Second single “Cake”, written and sung by Messenger and a was better (cleaner) representation of the band’s sound, though the use of the wah-wah pedal and funky drumbeat dates it somewhat. The Welcome Mat on first glance were like a more fun Teenage Fanclub or a less drunk Replacements with, as their own label claimed, ‘Plenny’o'Hooks’.

I arrived on the Welcome Mat scene via their contribution to the Youngblood 3 compilation, which was both a crucial release for this writer and a prescient collection of acts that would later become mainstays of the Australian music scene. This compilation succeeded in showing the doubters (Anglophiles such as myself) what fertile music scenes there were in Sydney, Melbourne, and er, Brisbane. Having been a religious reader of the NME for the last few years and recently acquiring a girlfriend who owned a car, I felt it was time to take advantage and witness what was happening outside of the beachy confines of the Central Coast. Working backwards, I picked up their second single “Cake” and was blown away more by the track on the flipside, the swirling guitar fuzz of Connolly’s “Coming To The Worst” which was in direct opposition to the relative bright pop of “Cake”. “Last of the Great Letdowns” was also quite easy to find. If I recall correctly, Waterfront Records were practically giving them away…

It wasn’t until the Fairydust EP with the lead track “10,000 People With the Same Idea” that the pieces began to fall in place for the band and their live shows around the Sydney circuit began to swell with newfound fans. The video clip I have for “10,000 People” even has an MTV Australia ident on it, so it only goes to show how wide the hype was beginning to travel. The band also had the privilege of opening the first ever Big Day Out in Sydney, not that I would’ve seen, since I refused to pay $45 to see a bunch of bands I could watch on any other night for $5 and bought a Tank Girl t-shirt instead (yeah, shoot me now). Another EP Spare cemented their standing, with Leo Mullen‘s “Landspeed” showing that his songwriting was just as strong as his counterparts. Having submitted to a bidding war which was won by Regular, the band was given the opportunity to make that all-important debut album and break free from the annoying half-an-album EPs that were the trend with bands in the 90′s.

Catch up lesson over, let’s continue.

Roughly a year since their last headline show at the Water Rat in Kings Cross, Baltimore’s Beach House have doubled their output and returned to London on the tail end of a European tour, promoting Devotion, their second album released earlier in the year. Having played support on recent tours by Cat Power and Fleet Foxes, whose very own sudden ascendance stole the thunder from Beach House’s steady rise, it was a welcome chance to revisit this band once again.

On stage Victoria Legrand looks tired, weary, her hair a ragged mess, her dress a sixties-looking pantsuit is unflattering in its shape and style. Her counterpart, guitarist Alex Scally fares no better, flaunting tucked in lumberjack attire and a prominent moustache, which combined make them the oddest looking of couple in the room, and considering this concert is taking place in Shoreditch, London’s fashion zoo, it does say something. But for a band who’ve probably been living out of a single suitcase for the past month, you have to be understanding.

A seductive voice but a staid presence, Legrand is self-effacing but distant as they move through the choicest moments from Devotion, Legrand’s head half-tilted, hair hanging in front of her eyes as the music sways back and forth. Scally drifts around the stage in slow waltzes with his guitar, the audience for the most part is quiet in the quiet parts and appreciative inbetween. An asset of having songs that lull you into a passive stance is that you’re generally rooted to the spot, held under Legrand’s spell. Songs from Devotion form the bulk of the set, from the soothing opener “You Came To Me” to the hawaiian bossanova strains of closer “Astronaut”. When held next to ”Tokyo Witch” and “Apple Orchard” from their self-titled debut they only highlight what a leap forward Devotion was in terms of the bands sound.

In as much that their self-titled debut had pointed the way forward for what Devotion became, it only begs to question what will album three sound like? An untitled new song and recent non-album single “Used To Be” indicate the band to be less reliant on the organ to dictate the flow, pushing toward a more natural, percussive feel. Perhaps Legrand will step away from the confines of the keyboard and embrace the role of the lead singer a little more and give our heavy-lidded eyes something to follow.

There are few bands brave or stupid enough to deliver a debut album so perfectly formed as 2004′s Logic Will Break Your Heart that they feel the need to start again. In what became a game of musical chairs for Montreal’s The Stills, the lead guitarist quit, the drummer became the singer, the singer became the lead guitarist and a band that once crafted stadium-sized pop songs with charm and finesse turned their back on the record that made them.

The darkly titled Oceans Will Rise does much to address the balance between The Stills of Logic Will Break Your Heart with The Stills of its disappointing follow-up, Without Feathers. Conscious to not make the same mistake again, or perhaps reconciling the decision that pushed lead singer Tim Fletcher to lead guitar and minimised his contribution to the previous album to two songs, the opening track “Don’t Talk Down” features both Tim Fletcher and Dave Hamelin trading verses over a vamp-ish organ and bass combination that assuredly sidesteps the past and announces that The Stills have confidently re-entered the game.

Love and death are still the motivating forces for The Stills, making Oceans Will Rise a cornucopia of hope against helplessness. “Snow in California” takes a literal leap into the climactic change hinted by the album title, a song borne and written (as several seem to be) from being on the road. A light and breezy track, Fletcher looking for some meaning amongst the passing scenery – “snow in California/bring me back to life”. The single “Being Here” is The Stills by numbers with a big chorus and chiming guitars that doesn’t match the same sonic thrill of say “Lola Stars and Stripes”. More rewarding is the Eastern European feel of “Snakecharming the Masses” built around a tribal-sounding rhythm that paired with the subtle swell of Fletcher’s vocals finds The Stills at their most experimental and captivating.

The noticeable difference between Oceans Will Rise and previous Stills albums is the amount of invention and variation between songs. Certain instruments will be accented and used as the rhythmic focus to forgo the need for drums and bass to allow further expression and it works perfectly on a track like “Everything I Build”, stripped down to a repeating guitar and keyboard motif, creating the fragile state required. “I’m With You” is in the same anthemic pop arena as “Being Here”, a straightforward song to a significant other with a ringing chorus that bravely cuts to the chase – “I’m with you/if you want me to”.

Given that Oceans Will Rise could easily have revisited the Canadian roots rock of Neil Young and The Band that influenced Without Feathers and forced us to reconcile our first impressions, The Stills have done well to dispel the myth of their demise. From the menacing beauty of the gold-painted skull on the album sleeve to the buoyant melodies that weave through the songs in waves, there is much more to this album that meets the eye, and a feeling that Oceans Will Rise was as much a revelation in the making as it is in the listening.

The Lucksmiths are a Sunday morning band. You put them on while you read the paper, drinking coffee, lounging with your beloved. This is not necessarily a new idea I‘ve posed, but one I’m reminded of each time a new album of theirs is presented to me. They are lovely, considerate people, and a sincere band with a consistent voice that continues to evolve even now, nearly 15 years since their first release.

On their new album, for which they went into virtual seclusion in Tasmania, off the coast of their native-Australia, they depart from their solidly pop catalogue to venture out of bounds with some surprising results. “Never and Always” has a riff that veers into Queens of the Stone Age territory. This is one of Louis Richter‘s songs (the other being “The Town and the Hills”) and it is a solid addition to the mix.

Part of the greatness of this album is that thematically, it really works. Overwhelmingly, I got a Laurel Canyon vibe from the more mellow songs, namely “California in Popular Song.” Moreover, “Who Turned on the Lights” has a pastoral feel with an opening Van Morrison might have done.

“Southeast Coastal Rendezvous” has big fuzz guitars which are a welcome addition, combined with ubiquitous tambourine. “Lament of the Chiming Wedgebill,” a country-like duet with Bec Rigby (The Harpoons) took some getting used to, but there‘s a heaviness to her voice that‘s a good foil for Tali White‘s. “National Mitten Registry” could be a sweet, but not saccharine, lullaby for a friend‘s newborn. “Song of the Undersea,“ adapted from John Steinbeck‘s The Pearl, has a rambling baseline that carries the lyrics along easily.

This is not to say there aren’t moments of classic Lucksmiths on this one – “Good Light” feels like a new incarnation of “Camera Shy” (Naturaliste, 2003). “The Town and the Hills” is jangly pop with cheeky lyrics and a good heart guiding the strum. Three minutes into the song the trumpet chimes in, appropriately. I admit to missing Tali White‘s usually frenetic drums on the majority of tracks, but they would be misplaced here — this is a sit-down album and Mr. White normally plays standing up.

Although the first listen to the album is a little tough if you’re a rabid fan of their uptempo stuff, First Frost is a grower, and The Lucksmiths exploration into new arenas is a success.

As explained in great detail here, Shearwater’s fourth album Rook has been one of the most astonishingly beautiful and incredibly crafted records released this year. Having caught the band back in September at the un-rock and roll-like Bush Hall, it seemed Shearwater weren’t intent on playing the expected venues, which can only explain their decision to take their hallowed sound to a more hallowed ground.

With a set largely comprised of material from Rook and its predecessor, the equally spellbinding Palo Santo, Shearwater took to the stage, with Meiburg walking to the grand piano that had just been wheeled in front of the pews, beginning the show with Rook opener ‘On the Death of the Waters’, a song that’s hushed beginnings belie its epic rises and falls, the band coming together to create a thunderous cacophony that as not much announces their arrival, but obliterates it.

The set played out in a similar fashion as the prior Bush Hall show, but this time round, the surrounds of St.Giles added a certain solemnity to proceedings, the acoustics of the church giving a resonant depth to even the quietest of moments, Meiburg’s soaring falsetto sounding indelibly angelic. Switching to banjo for the rhapsodic howl of “Red Sea, Black Sea” Meiburg whips the band into a wild frenzy to the point where you realise how uniformly intense Shearwater can sound, much of this in debt to drummer Thor Harris’ percussive brilliance and the array of bizarre sounding instruments he has at his disposal.

Introducing “I Was a Cloud” about a bird he found under the wing of a plane in the Falklands is something that would elicit chuckles from the crowd of any other band, but from Shearwater it’s seemingly appropriate, nay expected, with Meiburg being one of musics first rock and roll ornithologists. The inclusion of a cover of Clinic’s “Tomorrow” from their recent album Do It! was an unexpected surprise, in part due to a tour through America they had shared. Closing with the epic grandeur of “Home Life”, Shearwater wrapped up one of the most dazzling shows Webcuts had seen all year, and one where going to church felt like the only place to be on a Saturday night.

To finish off her year of the cover version, Chan Marshall clears the vaults with some more moody blues via Dark End of The Street. Available only as a double 10″ single and digital download, this six track EP concludes Cat Power‘s second act of the art of the cover version, starting with 2000′s The Covers Album and this years Jukebox.

Arriving in January, Jukebox‘s original tracklisting was to feature two of the more familiar songs (James Carr’s “Dark End Of The Street” and Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Fortunate Son”) from Marshall’s initial selection, but at the last minute they were substituted for the traditional song “Lord, Help The Poor and Needy” and Joni Mitchell’s “Blue”, which caused consternation amongst fans at the time. Finally presented here a good twelve months later, Marshall adds her languid Southern lilt to a further four more interpretations of songs written or made popular by The Pogues, Sandy Denny, Aretha Franklin and Otis Redding.

The same issues that befell Jukebox still apply. Assembling a band of more than qualified musicians, and with Marshall’s own ability to transfer an unhitherto unknown song into something special is not without question. It’s just that often her low-key readings result in a kind of loose, soporific haze that not even the Dirty Delta Blues boys can rescue. The oft-covered “Dark End Of The Street”, already a plaintive, secretive ballad loses nothing in the translation. The opportunity arises to shift gears with Creedence’s “Fortunate Son”, but Marshall strips the track down to piano, violin and kick drum, taking the sting out of John Fogerty’s snarling attack on the privileged in wartime.

Familiarity with any of the tracks goes out the window at this point. Marshall crosses continents for the Irish ballad “Ye Auld Triangle” a track originally written by Brendan Behan and covered by The Pogues and UK Folk-singer Sandy Denny’s “Who Knows Where Time Goes”, the latter being almost indistinguishable from Marshall’s own compositions. Otis Reddings’ “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long (To Stop Now)” is given a passionate workout but Marshall’s range isn’t sufficient enough to belt out the high notes to match Redding’s original powerful delivery. The climactic finish to the track does succeed in finally bringing some dirt out of the Dirty Delta Blues Band.

The unfortunate thing here is Marshall has no problem covering tunes like The Nerve’s “Hanging On The Telephone” and Cat Steven’s “How Can I Tell You” for TV commercials and leaving us to revisit those 30 seconds of bliss over and over. It’s one thing to suggest her taste in music is too broad for a general audience but it’s another to know that hey, given the right circumstance she can take something reasonably modern and make it breathtaking. Not all of us are (and neither is Chan), children of the sixties, nor an obscure 60′s freak either. Some of you may share her penchant for folk, soul and blues and will enjoy this, but ultimately Dark End of The Street proves that Marshall could sing the telephone book and make it sound like a torch song.

Excellence through endurance. Not exactly the type of career you aim for in rock and roll. Longevity is borne out of success and while The Fauves courted popularity to a lesser degree in the 90s, their visibility since has dimmed over the years. Yet these Victorian men have become the cornerstone of the Australian indie rock scene, the last guard of an era who’s veterans have since laid down their guitars and moved out of their parent’s basement into a life of semi-detached suburbia.

Twenty years, nine albums. Ask me to name all nine and I’d be struggling, but the aptly titled When Good Times Go Good finds The Fauves in a reflective but memorable mood. The sarcasm, snipes and humour-tinged lyrics are put largely in the back pocket in favour of some mid-tempo, straight-faced maturity. Lead track “Underwhelmed” displays a softer, more melodic side. Guitars chime and harmonies swell to an Eagles-like degree and its instantly obvious we’re in new territory for The Fauves.

What gives When Good Times Go Good the edge on previous Fauves albums is the increasing contribution from Phil ‘The Doctor’ Leonard. Often it’s his songs that have been the musical glue that held a Fauves record together. His “Love Radar” being a particular highlight, a searching, mellow pop track, Leonard sounding sincere even when singing lines like “Love radar, I’d love to know where you are”. Along with the riff-heavy old school Fauves rock of “Fight Me, I’m 40” which rains contempt on the younger generation (“When I was your age I had a record deal/Send me a text let me know how you feel”), this album has added two classics to the Fauves canon in the first ten minutes.

For long-time fans, guitarist/vocalist Andrew Cox has always been the voice of the Fauves, dictating the flow and focus of each album with Leonard, often given two or three tracks per album to stretch his legs, often to highlight what an under-used talent he is in the band (you only have to check out “Right Wing Fags” from 2002‘s Footage Missing to understand this). This go around he’s been given a record five songs and for the first time ever the Fauves sound like a band with two distinct voices with a dual songwriter flavour akin to listening to an old Go-Betweens record.

Working with long-time producer Wayne Connelly and Jim Moginie from Midnight Oil has seemed to done wonders with smoothing out the rough edges, and the laid-back instrumentation has suited the soul-searching/introspective tone of songs like “Best Work Alone” and “Back to Being Me”. Leonard’s French-hating kidnap drama “Sunday Drive” is perhaps the only real oddity on the album but its quirky rhythm picks up the pensive pace. Unbeknownst to them they’ve got minor dance-floor rock hit with “How We Gonna Live?” an addictive track tucked away toward the end of the album that goes to show they haven’t traded their synths in just yet.

For a band I’ve often considered as amusing to a point, I feel justified in saying that When Good Times Go Good could be their most accomplished release to date. Seriously. It’s that fucking good. Leonard has grown into a worthy songwriter in his own right, and Cox, an inspired man of wit and wisdom at the best of times has really lifted his game. There’s still life in these old men yet. Long live The Fauves.