This beautiful collection is as fragile and robust as the Australian psyche and the ecosystem from which that strange beast cannot be separated. It wears its heart on a sleeve that, when rolled up for work, reveals scars, a deeply held love for the old country blues, and a faded tattoo that says “Mother”. There’s an unmistakable summer smell of barbecue and burnt opportunities, and a lyrical facility rarely glimpsed in this era of fast dopamine hits and faster still fades into nothingness. An engaging delivery of well-played and recorded songs is just the start; for me, each song felt like a thoughtful gift from a loved one who knows exactly what I like, want and need. This album rewards.
“Throne of Ouch!” treats vinyl purchasers to a gorgeously presented lyric booklet that I am not embarrassed to admit had me literally “oohing and ahhing” on first examination. The presentation of this album is so outstanding it reminds me of the joy new albums used to give me as a kid. The original cover art of Adam and Eve sitting on a rock by Butterfingers frontman Eddie Jacobson is excellent, as is the booklet by David Self, formerly of FNQ funksters Hot Rubber Glove. The liner notes to each song are informative and fun, providing an illuminating introduction to a fully imagined musical identity. This experience is wonderfully resonant for long-term music obsessives, and is fully available only to the vinyl purchaser.
All the players are great. Skye McNicol is world-class. She whacks, thumps and strangles her violin in a stunningly fresh way, and her solos are classic yet free from cliché, which is tricky. Her “comping” (accompaniment) on each track is as fresh and subtle as oxygen and lends things an air of Desire-era Dylan. For those who like to fix their listening on the beat, the rhythm section here is superb. Toothfaerie Robert Pound on bass is one of those select players who always knew “reggae” and “country” are the same coin. The trap kit - a drum set with a bass drum and other rhythm devices often with a “contraption” tray (shortened to trap) used to hold items like whistles, etc - differentiates the beats on the record from the aggravating “rawk” drums of Big Country (the industry, not the band). The subtle playing of percussionist Dylan Jefferies is a highlight of the record.
From whence, in God’s good earth, does such music arise? Known to old school 4ZZZ’ers and Queensland’s Jamaican music fans as DJ No MC, songwriter Patrick Whitman is not afraid to mix some Australiana in with his Americana, as in “Willie Nelson’s Greatest Hits” - but not in the USA/ that’s not where I’m from/ but I love him anyway/ coz that man knows how to speak a song. You may find it filed in the “country” section but there’s little or no Nashville to “Throne of Ouch!” Is it hillbilly reggae from the streets of Rollotown? Is it perhaps the result of the Cave Inn’s long-running Sunday night anything-goes chalkboard scene “Close Enough for Country”? One track even kicks off like it could be 70's German Rockers CAN, in what may be a) sincere tribute, b) attempted irony, or c) meaningless coincidence. That’s your call.
In the end it doesn’t matter – none of it does but the songs. I suspect we may look back on this album as a shoulder to lean on; maybe we’ll wet that shoulder with a tear or two. Have a listen, read those lyrics, follow up on the stories and the songs will go in your heart.
