BAD SCENE 1.5
Another 30 or so songs for the half-doomed and semi-sweet.
Good morning, Bad Sceners. I’m taking a breath this week to tend to the rest of my life, so now’s probably a good time to say a deep, sincere thank you to everyone who has subscribed, read, liked, or just made polite conversation with me about this project.
It is unbearably daunting posting my work, under my own name, on my own project, and the fact so many people care enough to support it in any capacity is perhaps the most rewarding experience of my music journalism journey.
Alongside that, I’m immensely grateful to the artists who’ve spoken with me thus far — Freak Slug and Georgia Maq — and the people behind the scenes who make those interviews happen.
I’m stealth-launching this post, meaning it’s not going out via email to everyone, but if you’re hunting for BAD SCENE reading this week, then congratulations — you found it.
This week, I’m putting together another mixtape of songs I’ve been enjoying over the past week or so. It’s a bit more haphazard than BAD SCENE VOL. 1, as reflected by the stream-of-consciousness writing in this post, so it didn’t feel right to call it a VOL. 2 per se. This one’s more of an in-between. With that said, enjoy, love ya, talk soon.
Could You Love Me? — End It
Since I was introduced to Baltimore hardcore champions End It, I’ve been obsessed. This cover of Maximum Penalty’s 1996 anthem plays it straight, because why fix something that’s not broken? It’s just straight up an exhibition for Akil Godsey, a vocalist with golden tonsils who can wail just as well as he screams. ‘Could You Love Me?’ also has a chorus for the ages — shout-out Maximum Penalty — so I’m incredibly grateful End It have brought this one back for a new generation.
Go see End It with Scowl and Secret World on their Australian tour — not a sponsored plug, I just want this tour to sell really well so they come back ASAP.
All My Friends Are so Depressed — Joyce Manor
I haven’t seen this song get a lot of love from my trusted corners of the internet, and I get it. “Joyce Manor doing The Smiths” is the kind of thing that can easily veer off the rails, and maybe I’m being blinded by my biases in loving this, but I do.
Joyce Manor is phenomenal at writing weird shit that somehow finds a way to resonate (c.f. the entirety of ‘Constant Headache’). Case in point on this one: “Easy come and easy go/Dishwasher just over-flowed/Keylime pie and Frampton live/Wish that I would fucking die.” What The Hell, Sure.
Feel It Change — Stella Donnelly
She’s back! When Stella Donnelly first burst onto the scene, her delivery was so distinctly hers that it knocked you off-balance. Now she’s a few albums deep, it’s orienting and comforting. If she were a megastar (which she should be), there’d be a TikTok sub-genre of Zoomers ‘showing you how to make a Stella Donnelly song’ and it would be awful.
‘Feel It Change’ gets into the gritty middle between a damaged love and the sterile anonymity of coming out the other side. It’s not heartbroken, but it’s not painless, and it’s not angry, but there’s bitterness. Getting through the stitches and into the wound is a hard thing to do when you’re writing love, the most universal topic in all of art, but Stella consistently finds ways to sneak through.
Break The Girl — Florence Road
Oh, yeah. This is a very, very fun chorus. This band from Bray could be next up if you’re reading the tea leaves — a Warner deal, an Olivia Rodrigo tour support, and a bunch of really good tracks.
‘Break the Girl’ could be written any time in the last 30 years, and it’d be a hit in any environment. It doesn’t reinvent the wheel, nor does it need to. It’s fast, it’s written tight, and it doesn’t overstay its welcome. Shit, I could learn a thing or two from these women.
Alastair — dust
Real talk: every week or so I mull whether I should just move overseas. There’s never been a strong reason to, but there’s scarcely a really compelling reason not to either. Then I ultimately swayed to stay because I hear another great Australian band appearing, seemingly, out of thin air and I realise I just can’t quit this big old dustbowl.
That’s a long-winded way to say that dust are the real deal. These boys from Newcastle do the fundamentals of post-punk exceptionally. ‘Alastair’ is peppered with fun little twists all throughout — a funky bassline, a speedy chorus designed to be mumbled incoherently in the moshpit and a saxophone. In the hands of a weaker band, it’d be a mess. With dust, it’s impeccable.
NEW AGE — sleepazoid
‘NEW AGE’ opens with such ferocity, I was anxious the rest of the song would be a disappointment. What was I worried about? Nette France doesn’t just meet the challenge, she obliterates it. She’s slick, sensitive, fierce, all the superlatives. ‘NEW AGE’ throws about six different looks at you in its 3:32 runtime, and each one worked to perfection on me.
Wasp — Wednesday
Bleeds was always going to be an Album of the Year contender. Wednesday were on every critic’s radar after Rat See God, guitarist MJ Lenderman’s solo blow-up had them teetering adjacent to the mainstream, and the tactful choice of leading the album with the gorgeous ‘Elderberry Wine’ lulled everyone into a false sense of comfort.
But of course it wasn’t going to be cosy. This is Wednesday. And ‘Wasp’ might be the most ferocious song they’ve done. It’s a straight up thrasher, and the fact Karly Hartzman does this night on night without ending up in hospital might be among her finest achievements.
Light Sleeper — Home Front
Edmonton punk duo Home Front have a sense of grandeur to everything they do. They know how to cultivate a sense of the aura, between the swelling synths that underwrite their pacey drums and ripping guitar, and their shouty duo vocals land somewhere between Death Grips and Sleaford Mods (a compliment, I swear).
‘Light Sleeper’ is one of their straighter cuts, almost invoking something spacey at times, but it’s a good jumping on point if you’re not already across their work.
GODSPEED — These New South Whales
I tried not to write about any acts I covered in my first BAD SCENE post, but I just can’t help myself. ‘GODSPEED’ is the second single and title track of These New South Whales’ latest album and it affirms a hunch I’ve had: this is going to be their best work yet.
It’s a huge level up. They’ve gone from one of Australia’s great bands to, quite possibly, our very best. ‘GODSPEED’ works on every level. It’s just a very pleasant-sounding song, taking the best of Britpop and keeping the grit in there, but it’s also a beautifully composed track. Frontman Jamie Timony is singing about his experience leaving Alcoholics Anonymous after nine years, and he breathes life into every line. Something like the closing stanza — “Don’t let anyone in your life tell you what you can’t or can’t do/The choice is yours/Godspeed” — could be tacky in less sincere hands, but with Timony it’s genuinely spine-tingling.
Hell is an Airport — Liquid Mike
Liquid Mike is the easiest and hardest band to write about. On one hand, how much there is to gush about. On the other, how do I steer away from the obvious? I mean, yeah, Mike Maple sounds great and their songs are insanely catchy and every time it’s well written, and of course it rips. But isn’t it boring that I say this every time?
I think my favourite part of this song, personally, is the way Mike’s vocals hang a little near the end of each line on the first verse. It’s very Chris Farren, which means it’s very good. Shout-out Chris Farren.
Also on the playlist…
We Dont Count - Yves Tumour & NINA
Pop Punk Anthem (Sorry for the Delay) — Die Spitz
Shameless Faces (even the guy who made the thing was a piece of shit) — Algernon Cadwallader
Scared of Everything and Nothing — DRAIN
Maia Maia — Nia Archives & CLIPZ
Every Day Without Fail — Guitar
Change My Mind — Phantastic Ferniture
Life of Mine — C.Y.M. & Day Wave
want someone — The Empty Threats
Check out the playlist on Apple Music if you’re so inclined.