CRUNCHTIME IN ROCKETOWN
by Half Miler
Imagine if Toadfish from Neighbours snapped and ran around Ramsay Street with
a flamethrower and an electric guitar, screaming how he wasn't going to take it any more,
torching everyone's houses as he impaled them screaming and twitching to their
garage doors. Got that? Good. He'd be listening to "Crunchtime in Rocketown"
on his Walkman as he did so.
Sticking a couple of fingers up at the likes of Kylie and Natalie, Half Miler piss on the barbie and unload their punked-up, grunged-down guitar bombardment with consumate ease and effortless cool. A 4-piece (2 guys, 2 gals), Half Miler blast straight outta Sydney with this spiky and addictive collection of punk-popsicles, taking in influences as varied and commendable as The Pixies, The Residents, Kenickie and The Buzzcocks, and wrapping them up in an explosive letter bomb of energy that puts most UK bands treading similar water to shame.
Indeed, first song "Almost Involuntary" shakes the cobwebs away from the rafters with the same degree of vigour and intensity as Idlewild, which when coupled with the best off-kilter rhythm that The Pixies never wrote, results in a fantastic anarchic noise that sets the tone for the rest of the LP well. And dig that buzzsaw guitar...Next up is "Sensational" which sees the girls take over vocal duties (as they do for most of the rest of the LP) and cope well, possibly better than the blokes (I refuse to mention the names Bruce and Sheila in this review...damn). Think We've Got A Fuzzbox before they went shite or The Shop Assistants with distortion pedals and you're close. Fanbloodytastic.
More rocktastic mayhem via the Dinosaur Jr influences of ramraiding classic "We Are Not Lovers" ("my looks, your brains, we're in some trouble"), then we get to mellower territory with "Ziggy", a spine-tingling female vocal backed with atonal guitar and buzzing rhythm, which shows Half Miler to be an act of some diversity. Then "Cracker" fizzes onto the scene, a middle finger to convention with Mark E Smith style barked vocals, sweet harmonies from the girls and drumming from the Adam And The Ants Big Book of Beats.
"Reasons" is a little bit meandering and doesn't have much to commend it other than a rumbling bass which threatens to loose your bowels, but the two minute storm of "Settle" redeems things, where Half Miler take on Kenickie at their own game (a girl group for the generation exers) and come out triumphant, the constant buzzing of the guitars almost drowning a chorus forged in pop heaven.
Seconds out...round two...and we're straight into the second half of the
LP with "Not A Happy Ending", a choppy, slightly eerie track that nods more than a
wink to My Bloody Valentine, with detached female vocals and howitzer-strength
instrumental bits. More like this, please.
"Another Relationship Fatality" is poppier, recalling The Shoppies once more with
a big tune, attitude and more coolness than mum would find in Iceland, then
"Big Deal" takes over with a full-on punk assault, pogoing around your room
like a pissed kangaroo on a spring.
From now on, "Crunchtime In Rocketown" takes a moodswing down, and deals with the downside to all this speed-fuelled exuberance with a trio of tracks that show a slightly mellower - but just as impressive - side to the band. "Here Comes A Regular" sounds like teenagers taking over from the official band on prom night, singing about the kinds of bitter experiences that only kids can go through ("everybody wants to be special"). The slightly maudlin tone is carried on into the LP's one slowie, "So Much For Growing Older", a brooding growler that deals with waking up one day and finding you're not quite as invincible as you thought you were. "On The Wall" picks the pieces up and refashions them into an acoustic strumalong a la Evan Dando, a melancholic song propping up the bar at the end of the night, crying into its beer ("the candle that burns twice as bright lasts half as long) then drinking it.
Which, apart from "The Wobblearse Concerto" - a sonic joke doodled in the studio - wraps it up from Half Miler with a hugely impressive LP chock full of punk pop nuggets, Spector-for-the-90s classics and more energy than four people could possibly hope to generate without resorting to illegal substances. Half Miler are now over on these shores, peddling their wares to anyone who will listen. I suggest you do so, as this is one of the most exciting bands to pop up for a while.
It's like Rolf Harris never happened.
