This time the Australian prolific cult rockers have seized the moment, emerging like a demon rising from the swamps of obscurity with something that, by comparison to the banality of this year’s indierock, sounds like a prank telephone call to the Gods.
Raising Cannibals, the group’s eclectic tenth album assaulted my ear drums yesterday and I am not quite feeling the same.
The profane Introduction cuts straight into Big Jim Smoke, with the sound of a ricocheting guitar twanging like an Archer’s bow to the ear drum while a Gene Ween inspired voice grunts bizarre lyrics and crunches on corn chips.
Hey You follows on with absurdist prose, humor, and a dreamy soundscape layered under a tongue-in-cheek hip hop the likes of Flight of the Concords. Diet Pills takes the album’s top spot next, with it’s touching sincerity and feelings of escape, completely contrasting the rest of the album’s beautiful weirdness.
Continuing with post-grunge slacker rockPut The Television On, neo-psychedelic After Party, drunken freak-folkWalk Into The Light, and closing with Horse’s Eyes like it were a Freddy Mercury piano Ballad played at half-speed , as a result, StrangeJuice take you on an acid trip through the music categories like ancient Roman poet Virgil tour-guiding you through something big, ugly and beautiful that you don’t quite understand but want to visit and revisit.
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