Triffids not aliens

Press, 30 May 1985, Page 22

Triffids not aliens

THE TRIFFIDS “Raining Pleasure” (Minibot 1). BILLY BRAGG “Brewing Up With Billy Bragg” (Festival L 38298). With a “New Musical Express” cover story, and a swag of superlatives from the English press, the Perth band, The Triffids, seem to have ousted the Go-Betweens as the Aussie import to watch. It’s hardly surprising, given the lax’ state of indigenous pop, that the earthy tones of the Birthday Party. Hunters and Collectors, and the rest are so revered in the United Kingdom, but even so, the tentative debut LP “Treeless Plain” gave no indication that The Triffids might join this elite group. The follow-up album (mini-LP, actually, containing only seven tracks), is definitely the goods, however. “Raining Pleasure” oozes confidence and power, and this time, the band have got the fat production sound that might have made “Treeless Plain” more tasty.

David McComb, the vocalist, lyricist, and guitarist, appears on the sleeve looking like a fledgling Nick Cave clone, but, while there are similarities, these are more the result of a nod back at Cave’s own mentors — specifically, Jim Morrison, of The Doors — than a blatant rip-off. “Raining Pleasure” is a hard record to get to know. As McComb points out: “A song has to change something, be extreme enough to invalidate all your other songs, otherwise it’s just another song.” Maybe, but Triffids songs can be accessible. Try the Violent Femmes soundalike “Jesus Calling” for an in-

sight into the Country 'n Western input in Triffids’ music: “I called the pot and the kettle black. But I wiped a clean slate. I came clean." “Embedded” is slower, but just as frenzied, and as it opens out you can start to see the range of this band goes beyond mere Doors and Birthday Party influence.

McComb revels in the Gothic angst of “Property Is Condemned,” even if the message is typically vague, and the title track, sung with Nico-ish innocence by the keyboard player, Jill Birt, and helped by some strident violin from Robert McComb, is no less striking. The other tracks, “St James Infirmary,” “Everybody Has To Eat,” and “Ballad Of Jack Frost” all contribute to the success of “Raining Pleasure” — there is not a true dud on the record.

True, The Triffids might not make the Top 40 for a while, and their music is superficially a bit depressing, but there is a heart beating somewhere on “Raining Pleasure” that deserves your attention. Meanwhile, Billy Bragg offers further proof that singing about left-wing politics and non-sexist relationships can be more than just conceptually sound, with his first LP, “Brewing Up With Billy Bragg.” Following on from the vitriol of “Life’s A Riot With Spy vs Spy,” his debut mini-LP, “Brewing Up . . .”

exposes some weaknesses in Billy Bragg’s one-man show. As with the earlier disc, the enclosed lyric sheet is

essential reading. The working class poetry' of “It Says Here" or “From A Vauxhall Velox” is precise, witty, and usually cutting: "When you’re in it as deep as we are, honey. It’s easy to get washed out to sea."

But the music, consisting almost entirely of Bragg's Paul Weller-style barked vocals, and some powerful but unmelodic guitar, loses its impact as the LP drags on — any progression from "Life's A Riot . . ." is prettyminimal.

So, while the sentiments of "Love Gets Dangerous." “St Swithin's Day.” or “A Lover Sings,” and the politics of "It Says Here" or “Island Of No Return" are impeccable, this is not an LP that stands up to repeated plays. Hopefully, future vinyl will show the variety that "Brewing Up" lacks. Until then. Bragg seems fated to remain an English phenomenon only — a pity for this worthy songwriter. — Tony Green.