EAT MORE BABY - The Swedish Magazines (Stealth Blonde)
There's a fine line between good, straight-up rock and roll and the calculatedly retro versions that are dealt out by the Datsuns, that cover band, Jet, and every Aussie critic's Next Big Thing, Wolfmother (aka "Led Purple"). Everyoneknows there's nothing new in rock and roll (and the three names mentioned are living proof) but a few bands thankfully manage to make the dish taste different when they serve it up.
It's sometimes a near-run thing but Melbourne's Swedish Magazines probably walk the good side of the musical tracks. All the obvious ye olde Oz pub rock references are there, but there's a sense of rejuvenation rather than recycling, plus a sense of abandon and recklessness that pushes the Magazines' collective noses ahead of the pack.
Their name notwithstanding, The Swedish Mags could be huge in Stockholm. This album's the street corner where a dozen Scandi rawk bands meet the ghosts of Bon Scott and Tim Hemesley to play drinking games. The Eurotrash guys end up legless and Bon and Tim walk off to a pub to do some serious socialising. In fact, this is probably what today's Acca Dacca ought to sound like. If they did, hell, I might even think they were listenable.
The album cover looks like something lifted from a 1976 Sandman shagging wagon's back mural. Some of the tunes wouldn't have been out of place playing on the panel van sound system, preferably on "Rock of the Eighties 2SM" (or "Cock of the Eighties" as we Sydney 2JJ fans used to sneer).
The best of the EP tracks are here ("Girl From The Tote" and the Stoogey, sax-inflected "Movin' Shakin""). Rhythm guitarist Cal has a vocal style recalling two iconic Australian pub rockers in particular, and he could easily use the alias "Angry Scott".
"Mispelt Youth" is a pummeling more than a song, with a nice relentless riff of which Lemmy would approve. If you wonder how a Powder Monkeys reference worked its way into this review, look no further. Nice lead guitar from Anton (none of these guys has a surname) makes up for the "I wanna get laid" lyric which just makes me want to suggest spareprickatawedding.com or a hooker. Fast forward to the throes-of-a-female-orgasm outro on theTatts-like closer, "Up Jumped the Devil (Me and the Devil Blues)", and you'll conclude that they took that advice. Or picked up the Girl From The Tote.
The single, if there has to be one, is "She's Evil", which wraps a tune around raw energy in a way that would do the Sewergrooves proud. It's a stand-out choice, but "Lap of Hell" shows a similar melodic bent. I'm all for light and shade but "Point of No Return" doesn't quite make it to wherever it was going.
Did the word "melodic" really appear in the preceding paragraph? Is it harsh to say there ain't a lot of subtlety going on? Possibly, but that's not the point of the exercise. Apart from the odd splash of keys and brass, these guys just want to shake the shit out of you till your brains pop out of your ears and you admit, yes, "Jailbreak" should have been the choice as Australian national anthem. The songs only pause so they can light smokes and reach for a Chiko roll.
Albums are a whole different slab of beer to EPs and, to be brutally honest, the Mags run out of the amber stuff and switch to spirits before their 46 minutes are up. Still, they keep drinking and there are worse ways to kill those 46 minutes if you have a hankering for Oz pub rock with the boogie quotient (mostly) toned down. One day I'll get over my pub rock phobia, Tatts apart. Really, this is elemental, bluesy rock and roll that deserves attention further afield. Maybe "Girl From The Tote" will make the next "50 Greatest Aussie Beer Drinking Barbecue Songs" and The Swedish Magazines can retire, moderately rich men. – The Barman
1/2
WHAT DOESN’T KILL ME MAKES ME DEADLY - The Swedish Magazines (self released)
No idea how representative this EP is as it covers several bases and I’ve never copped them live, but Melbourne’s The Swedish Magazines come across as an unholy amalgam of the Stooges, AC/DC, Motorhead and the Powder Monkeys, whether they’re trying or
not.
That last descriptor, in particular, is used under advisement; on “Ballbag Boogie” these guys are ploughing a similar field without summoning up the same sense of desperation. Not that you’d expect them to. Some things can’t be replicated. If they’re half as good as those Powder Monkeys were live, then The Mags deserve your patronage (and Sydney and Wollongong fans can find out for themselves on November 3 and 4 respectively as they’re in town).
While I don’t share the same fascination with Acca Dacca as many (most?) of my contemporaries in that a combo of chugga-chugga riffs, a 4/4 beat and upper register rawk vocals doesn’t automatically row my boat, I’ll buy a round for Stooge-fied bump and grind most nights of the week…provided it’s done well and not as re-heated leftovers. On “Movin' Shakin' ”, The Swedish Magazines deliver, bringing horns and keyboards (mixed way down) to bear to push the confines of the Michigan Palace envelope just that little bit. Shades of the Saints (late Kuepper era) which raises a perennial question about Australian underground bands and their liking for brass, which we’ll leave for another day…"She's Evil" gets the Oz Rock juices rising in a way that leaves the current crew of Nu Rockers struggling. Might just be the best cut here. “Girl From the Tote” (which I’m guessing is a live favourite when they play that particular Melbourne pub) gets along on a head of steam and a vocalist who sounds like he could be audible under a slab of wet cement. Extra marks for again casting a nod in the general direction of their influences without trying to be a tribute act.
That accusation might be levelled for the closing cut, a re-run of the Pistols’ “Bodies”, and it’s not a lot different from the original. Still, it comes over well which just goes to show that re-inventing the wheel isn’t essential enjoyment of rocking (and, er, rolling). Methinks it’s time for an album. – The Barman
1/2
