Scott and Charlene's Wedding always strike me as the kinda guys that getting out of bed is the biggest undertaking of each day. That they can even get it together to record songs is therefore a surprise but there's something in their rough and ready compositions that cuts through all the intellectual bullshit elsewhere. These are primitive barely rehearsed singalong songs about nothing much at all. Enjoy.
7/10 Clinton Staff review, 06 September 2016
Absolute bunch of rat bags this lot. They make music that owes more to the Saints than the Go Betweens if you are using great Australian bands as a yardstick. Lead 'singer' Craig Dermody is a kind of cross between Joe Strummer and Joe Mangel - a hoarse voiced rasper with neat turns of phrase about everyday things like chip wrappers, football and dancing badly. He barks over a guitar pop racket that could be described as 'agricultural'. It's like a bunch of Australian farmers trying to win a Velvet Underground soundalike composition.
Many times they are a little coarse for my sensitive ears but they have a neat way with that kind of drunken melancholy that earlier Australian bands like Crabstick had in spades. On 'Hardest Years' Dermody sounds like he's had one too many beers and is getting a little tearful. 'Scrambled Eggs' exemplifies his sledgehammer lyrical technique thus "Wake up in the morning I make scrambled eggs...when I go to work I lift heavy stuff". It often sounds like the bit of Dermody's brain in which he uses words cleverer that "stuff" has been removed so he's forced to say it as it is without using clever metaphors, He's a bloke, he likes beer and gets upset when his girl goes away but he's a sensitive old sausage which is what makes these songs sometimes claw their way into your psyche. When they match this with great music as on album high point 'Bush' this work superbly.
Generally they come from the same trajectory as Jonathan Richman, Herman Dune and anyone who has only learnt two chords on the guitar though this is crossed with the schtick of the blokes from the Fosters advert leaving an unpretentious, unpolished but likeable racket.
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