Born out of the tropical wasteland
of North Queensland The Broken Needles are like pinning down the
location of a needle in a haystack. Lost between worlds of classic Van
Morrison-songwriting and then thrown into the filthy, and bumpy
desolation of Australian Music History, Terra Nullis is a road trip
through the strange and fills in all the empty spaces of the sparse
landscape with roaring melodies and cryptic lyricism. The throat-tearing
vocals, and literally frightening displays of duo-guitar ferocity is a
shocking statistic considering the full sound is produced merely by a
three-piece. This record sounds like the taste of a cold refreshing beer
after working all day in the hot Queensland sun – a week after your
wife left you for your co-worker. As the night drifts on, things get
chaotic and then they conclude with sentiment after every other emotion
has been drained and drunk.
The history of the Broken Needles
is a fairly bizarre one. Childhood friends guitarist Matt McLean and
bassist Cahill Kelly have been playing in various bands together around
Townsville for a few years now (The Cupboards, Sandcastle Bandits,
Alligator Creek, etc) where as vocalist, guitarist and key songwriter
Michael Galloway has virtually nothing on his resume. In saying that,
his prolific and vast collection of self-recorded songs puts most
professional songwriters to shame. When returning from Brisbane after a
few lost years and alternate band incarnations Galloway met up with the
two vagabonds and formed the current line up of the Broken Needles.
As for the tracks themselves, you
probably couldn’t ask for a more fulfilling and complete debut record.
The horror and heartbreak of openers Detritus and bloody Salt flat
Baby might be a false pretense of what’s to come. Cheap Gin
sounds like a boozy blues-rip-roar or a pre-Moondance out-take.
Cocaine Blues
shows an unashamed view on substance abuse – but then again who’s to say
what its really about. The levels of poetic integrity minus the
bullshit will encourage a few analytical essays in the years to come no
doubt.
(I am Not The) Resurrection has enough melody and
pop-hooks to force a second coming just for the sake of hearing it live
in a shitty Queensland bar. The mystery of Tracy and its cyclonic
references have the ability to spin the listener upside down and wash
them out to sea (just like most of city during last year’s cyclone
season) – the cleverness to the lyricism is evident of the songs
comparisons to a particularly chaotic relationship. And it leaves its
trail of destruction along the coastline and into the inland.
Toy Horses in
an unexpected mid-record number that sticks the whole of Terra Nullius
together. It’s a realisation of the previous abrasiveness and proves
even the simplest melodies make their mark on a record that’s full of
them.
For a band with no idea of what is going on in any of the
capital cities let alone giving a shit about current sounds anywhere
else in the world Terra Nullius is just what the doctor ordered. With
the smoked-out Neil Young-esque swansong Take It Easy you might be
convinced that some one gave Mike Noga a line of speed and watched him
get aggressive.
Words by
Uncle Remus
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