Al­bum Re­views

Dif­fer­ent Be­ings Be­ing Dif­fer­ent

Australian Guitar - - Contents -

DO­MES­TIC LA LA

Hi, my name is Matt, and be­fore land­ing this cush job where I get paid to write about my favourite bands, my day-to-day in­volved stack­ing bricks, trawl­ing mud over scaf­folds and ham­mer­ing planks as a tradie. The job was as drain­ing on my soul as it was on my en­ergy, and though blast­ing mu­sic helped the days melt by, Triple M never quite took the edge off. I yearned for an al­bum that would pump me full of adren­a­line; an al­bum soaked in grime and spilt VB, that held artis­tic weight but was rough enough around the edges that it never felt in­au­then­tic. This – the de­but full-length from Ade­laid­ian pub­core pul­veris­ers West Thebarton (nee. Brothel Party) – is that very al­bum.

On it, the septet make 40 min­utes feel like ten, ev­ery cut out­right im­pos­si­bly mas­sive. Ray Dalf­sen puts the ‘amp’ in ‘champ’, his vo­cals loud and livid over a bat­tle­field of jagged punk hooks. The four-mem­ber axe at­tack muster some truly skull-shat­ter­ing fret­work through­out; there’s no short­age of crash-hot riffs to strain your ears with, but never for a sec­ond is it over­bear­ing. Ev­ery mem­ber has their place dol­ing noise into the mix, from Caitlin Thomas and Brian Bo­lado’s jit­tery per­cus­sion to Nick Hor­vat’s gur­gling bass.

Across a tight 11 tracks, the band wield a sharp bal­ance of SoCal punk rock and scorch­ing Aus­traliana. Lead sin­gle “Mov­ing Out” tears through the gates with a rhythm as in­fec­tious as its verses are re­lat­able, and if your head doesn’t thrash on in­stinct when the two-minute thrasher an­them “Ba­sic” kicks in, you might need to con­sult your lo­cal GP. But while such fierce and fiery pit calls def­i­nitely pad the al­bum, it’s not with­out a tinge of per­son­al­ity. “Bible Camp” is sheer ela­tion, it cutesy lyrics driven into the strato­sphere with a crunchy, roar­ing twang. The LP cul­mi­nates in “Set It Straight”, a Bon Jo­vian lit­tle jam that shines with a sparkling rhyth­mic un­der­tone – if it doesn’t etch its way into the ech­e­lon of Aus­tralian clas­sics, this coun­try has no god­damn hope for its mu­si­cal fu­ture.

Okay, so that last sen­tence might be a tiny bit of a stretch. The point is, West Thebarton have ab­so­lutely crushed it with Dif­fer­ent Be­ings Be­ing Dif­fer­ent– they’ve crushed it so hard that ‘it’ no longer ex­ists in solid form, a toxic pow­der all that’s left when their sear­ing, screech­ing chaos comes to a halt.

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