What do you get when you cross Australian with German avant-garde music, on a UK label? Possible insanity, Concentration and the label Avon Terror Corps. What the actual fucking fuck have I gotten myself into? Just reading the Bandcamp bio is leaving me feeling slightly unhinged. Well played as that just increases my curiosity of the latest release, Aren’t You Gonna Introduce Me To Your Friend?.
Oh well yes, of course there is a starting track called “Who Wants To Fuck Me“, with no question mark. The creeping electronic and deluded sax make for a cathartic oddity. The party goers get their demonic funk on while the sax mournfully lusts.
“Grün Im Gesicht” is your sexy wake up call in a gutter of that strip club you visited last night and still can’t think straight enough to find your keys but you did still dream you were in a bordello song and dance routine.
Fancy a walk on the electric sidewalk of life? “Sailin” rolls on a swell of hip, semi enthusiasm, so put on your boating shoes and get on down to the psychedelic cruise ship. We seem to be idyllically lost at sea, drenched in the washed up dreams of a mariner.
A supreme mellow vibe starts”Gehäutete Bräute“, with disembodied vocals that start off angelic, but soon show the angel might have been getting into the spirits a bit too much. It builds into both something painful and calamitous simultaneously, with the drunken angel having a grand time.
One might feel a little seedy and blue on a “Diet Of Worms” with that angry voice buzzing in your ear, his dissatisfaction with the general world like a bee in constant motion. The sax warbles in and out of dimensions and eventually gets to drink a pina colada in the rays of a dying bogan sun.
Five songs would normally denote an EP but with the length (and girth) of such sizeable tracks, they are able to give you a full payload. They are wacky and wild plus the questionable bird on the front…. judging you. Everyone needs a judgemental bird eyeing them off, while listening to an album covering genres such as avant-garde, experimental and smut. Concentration, an aural enema for your ears, you lucky bastards.