PAPER TAPIR
THEY ARE
a trio of gruff and grungy post-hardcore heroes from Melbourne who, in five short years, have built themselves up a the country’s absolutely must-see underground acts.
THEY SOUND LIKE
an abandoned Triple Crown Records sampler from 2001, left behind by a time traveller from an alternate dimension. Their cuts are battered and brash and decidedly lo-fi, but that’s exactly what their style beckons; it wouldn’t make any sense for these emotionally visceral scorchers to sound polished or pretty, and so every distorted wail, dusty snare hit and whistling whippet of reverb feels acutely indispensable.
YOU’LL DIG THEM IF YOU LIKE
Sunny Day Real Estate, Brand New and the really early, never-intended-for-public-release Nirvana demos. If you’ve got some feels you’ve gotta let out, Paper Tapir’s edgy effervescence will guide you along in that journey.
YOU SHOULD CHECK OUT
the split EP they recently put out with fellow emo-punks Nova. At a scratch over six minutes long, “The Crown” shines with a loud and livid prickliness before twisting into a deep, droning interlude that’s sure to keep the listener gripped on the edge of their seat in anticipation of what comes next. Too, the brassy angst that drives “Frogg” is powerfully bewitching – especially when that meteoric solo crashes in.