Me I'm a Creator

Santogold - Santogold [2008]

Some music sounds like other music. It seems obvious, but it’s a fact that’s ignored by anyone who has ever dismissed a musician on the basis that they sound just like someone else. Those who would castigate music writers for harping on about music beyond their immediate subject matter also miss the same simple point. We understand what is new by reference to what came before, and, even more fundamentally, what is new emerges from what has come before. Elvis Presley doesn’t make much sense without BB King, the Beatles don’t make much sense without Elvis. So it goes.

So there’s no point avoiding the fact that Santogold’s cherry picking fusion of rock, pop-punk, electro and soul is just so MIA. That statement isn’t a denigration, because this debut album from Santogold collaborators Santi White and John Hill is great stuff. Rather than an MIA rip-off, what we’ve got here is a reinterpretation of MIA’s restless, schizo, globalised sound, and the results are pretty glorious.

Santogold opener “L.E.S. Artistes” is the perfect example. This could be a Yeah Yeah Yeahs song, if Karen O was less of a rockstar poseur and more of a sexy bitch, and the rhythm section turned the bass up to 11 and discovered their dancing shoes. Two parts Interpol, one part Beyonce, shake. Best served from a stripper’s exposed bellybutton.

In true pop style, every song on this CD clocks in somewhere between three and four minutes, and there’s so many club ready hits you’d hate to have the job of choosing the singles. Whoever does went with “Creator” first up. Probably the most obviously MIA-influenced track here, Creator’s rowdy electro backing bursts along behind vocalist White, who dominates proceedings with a boisterous call to arms. “Shove It” is the kind of track that will convert teenagers to dub, and the chorus “We think you’re a joke/Shove your hope where it don’t shine” is just too freaking cool.

There’s some great music here, all of which apes established genres without falling into their clichés, but Santi White is the real star of this record. Shame on the music industry and the public for allowing hacks like Delta Goodrem to sing for a living when there’s talents as mercurial as White out there. She’s charismatic, clever, powerful and flexible. That flexibility means she sounds just as perfect in front of reggae (“Shove It”) as rock pop (“I’m a Lady”).

Perhaps one marker of a truly revolutionary musician is the quality of their imitators. In that case, Santogold is the latest bit of evidence for the case that MIA has caused a mini-revolution in popular music. While Santogold might not quite reach the artistic heights of MIA’s output, it explores new pop avenues and gets the party started. What more can you ask?

Vampire Weekend at Bernie's

Anyone lucky enough to have caught Perth’s Snowman live in the last few years can testify to the shrill, “Nightmare on Elm Street” tone that the four-piece brings to the stage. The first time I saw Snowman, vocalist Joe McKee threatened to suck the audience’s blood before the band ripped into a twisted set of what might be described as undead surf-rock, like what might happen if Brian Wilson died and a teenage punk band exhumed him and propped him up on stage, “Weekend at Bernie’s” style.

Having corresponded with Perth’s Snowman, I can confirm that the band probably aren’t undead, but they do have the angle on all things horror rock. Vampire Weekend, eat your heart out: “[Vampire Weekend] don't do [the undead thing] very well,” Snowman told me. “We have the market cornered.”

Having forged a solid Perth following with 2004’s EP Zombies on the Airwaves of Paris (my copy of which, picked up at the CD launch, is splattered with fake blood), and following it up with Triple J airtime and critical plaudits for 2006’s self-titled debut full-length, Snowman are currently prepping the release of The Horse, The Rat and The Swan. In coy fashion that belies the horror shtick, Snowman are “somewhat relieved” about the end of the recording process. But Snowman fans are pretty excited.

Snowman can count indie-criticism heavyweights Pitchfork Media in that fan group. Pitchfork’s article on 2007’s Laneway Festival prominently featured a picture of (other) vocalist Andy Citawarman in the header line. Later, Pitchfork went on to describe Snowman’s Laneway show as the best they saw in Australia, saying “It’s bands like Snowman that give the sense that Australian rock is about to produce something truly unique”. In some circles, this is the indie rock equivalent of knighthood, but not to Snowman: “[We] try to avoid reading these things. It does not effect [sic] the way we write our music.”

So how did they write their music this time around? “We didn't want to fall into any old habits,” Snowman told me. “We also did not want to rely on rock cliches. We had to teach ourselves some restraint in certain aspects of our playing and reinvent the way we played our instruments. We needed to challenge ourselves I suppose... place ourselves outside our comfort zone.”

Whether or not they read their press, statements like this reveal that Snowman are serious about creating unique, engaging music that avoids the rut of old habits. And what we’ve heard of The Horse, The Rat and The Swan so far seems to confirm that the change of direction is working. First single “We Are the Plague” broods, builds and rattles; the trademark screeching is there, but there’s also this mechanical bent that could signify Snowman moving away from zombie rock toward something more post-apocalyptic. “The Blood of the Swan” caresses vocal harmonies over this creepy, beautiful piano riff, it’s like the soundtrack to a night in a haunted gothic mansion.

It also seems like Snowman might have reburied Brian Wilson, or at least kicked some dirt over the corpse. They’ve described the new album as “mechanical” and “tribal”, adjectives that could easily be applied to the music of recent tourmates Liars, whom Snowman told me are “particularly fine gents”. When I put to Snowman that Liars may have been an influence, they said “Along with millions of other things, probably.” But originality seems to be the important point: “The songs have been written from a fairly isolated frame of mind without too much exterior influence....where possible.”

Liars aren’t the only big name that Snowman have toured with in recent years: they’ve also managed to share confined space with indie legends Spoon and Interpol. When I prodded them for tour goss, Snowman wouldn’t be drawn: “They are all regular people in irregular circumstances. As long as you realise this then all is usually fine.”

Snowman are preparing for some irregular circumstances of their own by moving to London in July and sinking their teeth into some extensive touring. Of the move, they told me: “we need to throw ourselves into the deep end...it's that comfort zone thing again.”

Australian music lovers would be well advised to catch Snowman before they hop on that plane. They won’t suck your blood, but they might rock your shit.