The JangleBox

Indie, Noise, Shoegaze… Music

Dick Diver: Melbourne, Florida (Chapter / Trouble in Mind, 2015)

Melbourne, Florida, el tercer trabajo de los australianos Dick Diver es un disco variado, que nos ofrece desde el Pop más cercano a la idea (preconcebida o no) que todos tenemos del Pop australiano-neozelandés, hasta el lado más cercano al mainstream del Indie. Un álbum que juega con esa variedad como baza a jugar para de alguna forma escapar de ese estereotipo del que hablaba antes del Kiwi-Pop.

“Dick Diver have always been skeptical, if not cynical, about their culture, and there are signs they’re becoming more scathing. True to life, on Melbourne, Florida relationships are mediated by glass. Departed lovers are mourned in endlessly scrolling old emails and windows become the projection sheets of better-left-forgotten memories. On “Beat Me Up (Talk to a Counsellor)”, Al Montfort confronts the psychopathic condition of young males and on “Competition”, Rupert Edwards’ targets seem mindless and obsessed with warped trappings of fame. This is tempered by the striking “Boomer Class”, which spits bile at the destruction of a family but is ultimately regretful that something so terrible should afflict people in the first place.
In an interview last month, Rupert Edwards said when Dick Diver start getting bad reviews, he can finally buy an Xbox—that certainty in life after the band has given them the faith to look outwards. The buzzsaw synth on “Competition” might’ve seemed unimaginable onCalendar Days, and Al McKay’s “Waste the Alphabet” is more bombastic and loud than the prettiness of previous songs would suggest. Steph Hughes’ crystalline voice has only gotten stronger on the swelling “Leftovers” and piano ballad “View from a Shakey Ladder”. The rich, melody-stuffed jangle that scored them references to the Flying Nun catalogue has shipped off, replaced by chugging verses and the tropes of FM radio rock, the soundtrack to long drives down country roads.
The novelty of domestic signifiers has also been shed. Sucked into the void go Zamel’s ads and TV Weeks and tourist attractions in the shape of sacred desert rocks, replaced by—as far as pop cult ephemera—Tonya Harding and Fleetwood Mac. But Melbourne, Florida, no matter the name, is no pander to the great republic. There are still signposts of nationality, only they’re more subtle. “Europe’s fucked probably,” a blasé Edwards sings, reflecting the cultural and geographical distance from the intercontinental headlines in a sick parody of those who see Europe as a theme park for backpacking. The fixation on everywhere but here, if anything, is even more Australian than the more obvious touchstones on previous records. On Melbourne, Florida, the ghosts of civilisations haunt television screens that not that long ago were propaganda machines beaming the best of faraway cultures distilled into caricature through the lounge rooms of their corner of the Commonwealth. 
Dick Diver sound at peace on Melbourne, Florida, both certain of what they are now and certain that they could be almost anything in the future. Last year, Edwards was afraid that Dick Diver risked a dangerous entrenchment with the connotations the band had accrued, but this album breaks open new possibilities for them. Whether that’s welcomed, or they have to pursue new careers in pro-gaming, Melbourne, Florida is an exciting progression to old fans, and a solid entry point for new audiences” (Pitchfork)

Facebook / Cómpralo-Purchase

3 febrero, 2016 Posted by | Dick Diver | Deja un comentario


A %d blogueros les gusta esto: