REVIEWS:
Midnight Oil is an almost relentlessly political and even more relentlessly Aussie band who've so far built a 25-year career out of not taking any crap from The Man, whoever The Man might happen to be. They technically have five members, and all of them are immensely talented instrumentalists, but it's not like anybody's ever going to notice that any of them exist except for Peter Garrett. Sorry, but when you front your band with a bald, gruff-voiced skeleton-like Vegemite-eater with a lot on his mind and a big mouth (he actually ran for a seat in the Australian Senate in the mid-'80s, and scarily enough, almost won), your audience quite simply isn't going to notice anybody but him. Keep that in mind if you're a drummer who really really wants to be the center of attention at all times as opposed to just the toad who counts off the rhythm. In that case, I suggest wearing a giant Pope hat during your live performances, murdering every other member of your band, and replacing them with cardboard cutouts of Tony Banks.
So, since nobody ever mentions them, I'm gonna give a shoutout to the other four bandmembers. WOO, ROB HIRST! Keep on drummin', hombre! Dammit, Bones Hillman, you're a bassist, not a mechanic! Ey, Jim Moginie! Your guitar playing is the sunshine of my life. Oh, don't think I'm gonna ignore you, Martin Rotsey, you lovey hunk of man meat you, your mighty axe rocks my world too! There, now I don't have to mention them at all for the rest of the page.
--Rich Bunnell
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COMMENTS
In an interesting addendum, Peter Garrett ran for and won a seat in the House of Representatives in the 2004 Australian federal election. So if you were frightened by his Senate tilt in the 80s, you should be petrified now!
Ben
(Rich Bunnell's review)
This album is practically the definition of the word "formulative," though personally if I opened a dictionary and found a picture of an album in the place of an actual verbal definition, I'd toss it into the garbage along with my pirated MP3-CD of Steel Wheels. In comparison to the driving sound found on their later and more widely-known albums, on here the Oils crank out thin, wiry songs that can be a lot of giddy fun to listen to when I'm in the right mood but can seriously annoy me when I'm not. The main problem is that Garrett takes on an irritatingly goofy vocal tone throughout almost the entire album, and even though his voice even in the band's classic years is definitely an acquired taste, his wavery blustering on here really has the potential to grate on the nerves. "Ah'm head oh-va he-e-e-els, ya knOW how it f-ee-e-e-ls ta be in LUVE!" Uhm......yeah. Luckily, that song's saved by a bouncy, fun little melody, but when the hooks are absent like on "Used And Abused," the music just comes across as self-consciously wacky and annoying as hell. Plus, the album closer "Nothing Lost - Nothing Gained" seems to be an attempt at some kind of dreamy, Floyd-like epic, and while the prospect of a band like Midnight Oil attempting a song like that, especially at this point, is good for a larf, the actual song itself is really, really boring and only serves to drag out the album a good eight minutes longer than it would rightfully run in a more perfect musical world.
Luckily, about half of the album is made up of genuinely catchy and accessible rock songs that, while not quite up there with the band's best stuff, definitely aren't worth shrugging off. The huge riff that opens up "Powderworks" starts the album off with a whoosh and a bang, and the way the song kind of darts back and forth between hooks, with Garrett's insane vocalizing actually finding a place to sit and rest amongst the chaos, is incredibly entertaining. Plus, the Oils hadn't yet completely caught hold of the political wind yet at this point, which means that the album actually has a love song ("Head Over Heels," quoted above), and, of all things, a drinking song ("Run By Night"). I kid you not. The song's really good, too - they should've recorded the whole album drunk, the songs probably would've been better and in Garrett's case, I doubt anybody would've noticed. Some of the lyrics are preachy and political as would soon become the band's trademark, but it's usually in a vague, incomprehensible way that doesn't shove its point right in your face in a "Forgotten Years" sort of way. This is fun music from a somewhat naive-sounding but, well, fun band, and if about half of the album weren't so crappy I'd probably love it a lot more than I do now. As it is, I can say that it was easily worth every one of the six dollars that I paid for it.
HIGH POINTS: Powderworks, Used And Abused, Run By Night, Head Over Heels. LOW POINTS: Nothing Lost - Nothing Gained.
Hey, ya' know what? This here little debut by The Oils ain't bad. In fact, it's damn good in my opinion. As anyone reading this knows, the self-titled album by Midnight Oil has this reputation for being largely underdeveloped and not up to par with the potential the band would show later. I can accept this argument, but I still think the reputation of this record is undeserved. With one huge, eight-minute exception that I'll get to, every song on here is really good! And not only did the band rock pretty hard in the '70s, but their expert chops were already honed on this blistering, hook-filled set. True, the band sound a little goofy on here, and their political anthems lack the confidence of, say, "Power And The Passion" or "Beds Are Burning." Plus, lead singer Peter Garrett is still trying to find his style, and he sounds even more obnoxious than usual on some of these songs. But the naivety is part of the charm of Midnight Oil - this record was merely conceived as a representation of what the band sounded like live. It's just supposed to be fun and rockin'; for a band that would later take itself a little too seriously, this is a good thing.
Kicking things off is the fan-favorite "Powderworks," a perfect opener, and what I believe to be the best song on here. It gets going on this fantastic riff, then builds up into a rousing chorus augmented by some gorgeous, arpeggiated guitar - this is really one rush of a song! Following is "Head Over Heels," the band's only love song until "Shakers And Movers" over a decade later. This one sports some uniquely winding guitar interplay during the verses, bringing to mind Television; but the chorus is pure Oils, catchy and climactic as usual. Elsewhere, "Run By Night" is your basic, straightforward riff-rocker (interestingly, dedicated to the dangers of alcoholism), and it works, thanks to a tight, powerful rhythmic drive. And I sorely disagree with Rich about "Used And Abused" - the hooks are very much present to my ears. I guess the tone of the lyrics (about being poor and suppressed by "the man") is silly, but the song rocks convincingly enough, with an impressive key change from verse to chorus. Actually, I rather like Garrett's intentionally-grating falsetto on this one: "I was TA'kin downtown for my PA-A-A-A-A-AWT in the DE-EM-on-STRA-tion!!" And if this all doesn't sound "mature" enough for you, just know that Jim Morginie's keyboards are already prominent on the slower "Dust" and the creepy "Surfing With A Spoon." In fact, the latter track includes a tasteful solo organ break, which may have you fooled for a moment that you're listening to an old Genesis record or something. Still, though, what works the best about this song is yet another soaring refrain with a message, proving that The Oils were already coming into their own on this much underappreciated debut.
Oh, but wait. It's almost a minor classic of sorts, but they geek it at the end. Unlike the rest of the album, "Nothing Lost - Nothing Gained" IS everything bad that you've heard. And keep in mind, this is coming from that lenient guy who sort of enjoys XTC's rendering of "All Along The Watchtower" and thinks that "Mother" by The Police is, 'em, okay. But no such generosity this time - the final track on here is unequivocally disastrous, a slow, meandering, overlong art rock excursion. That's too bad, because the album is short to begin with, and the one low point takes up a noticeable percentage of space. Nevertheless, the quality of everything else is compensation enough, and Midnight Oil is still a fine debut overall. If you enjoy the band's early, live-sounding records like Head Injuries and Place Without A Postcard, then, by all means, do not miss out on this one.
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(Rich Bunnell's review)
This is a totally unexpected and huge evolution over the debut in terms of overall sound and focus (and if I've used that turn of phrase too often in my reviews, screw you, the English language has only so many words and I'm not switching to Esperanto). All of a sudden, for their second go, or Go 2 for you XTC fans, the Oils don't sound like a bunch of smiley-faced jokesters, which is a minus for the people who think that they take themselves way too seriously on their later albums (party poopers) but a plus for those who actually noticed how friggin' stupid they sounded on some of the songs on that last album there. The rockers, instead of being wiry and loose (though catchy) are actually backed up by a driving, rock-like backbone. Most importantly of all, there's naught a drinking or love song to be found for miles around, with political lyrics becoming the lay of the land which I'd explain for you on a song-by-song basis if I actually knew or cared about the global issues that troubled a bunch of Australians in 1979. When I reviewed Steely Dan, I was able to cheat and find a lyric interpretation page so that I could pretend I knew what I was talking about even though I really just happened to think that "Bad Sneakers" was catchy as hell, but I won't be so lucky with the Oilsters since they seem to be a lot less popular on this conglomerate of public opinion known as the Internet.
Most of the more experimental qualities of the debut (few as they were) aren't present at all on here, the only attempts at branching out from rock music being "Section 5 (Bus To Bondi)," which twists a weird riff into a bizarrely ska-like tempo-shifting mini-masterpiece, and the multi-part "Koala Spirit," which aside from its decently-grooving midsection is sort of dull. The rest of it is just what you'd expect from a bunch of guys like this cranking out rock music while punk rock was collapsing into an insignificant mush around them -- there isn't anything particularly interesting per se about "Back On The Borderline," "No Reaction" and the slow-burning opener "Cold Cold Change," but they still light themselves aflame thanks to simply awesome riffs and a band that knows how to play them in the most driving and effective manner possible. The only problems arise when the riffs simply aren't as good, which unfortunately starts to happen as the album approaches its end -- "Profiteers" and "Is It Now?" are the same as everything else, just more sluggish and less appealingly in-your-face. Still, with great tunes like "Naked Flame" (clunky riff + heavenly chorus = bliss) occupying the rest of the album, the lesser songs are easy to gloss over. Plus, the cover is just awesome. Peter Garrett looking at the camera and screaming. If that doesn't sum up the band's entire musical approach in one easily-defined image, I don't know what does. A bottle of Mr. Clean, maybe.
HIGH POINTS: Cold Cold Change, Section 5 (Bus To Bondi), Back On The Borderline, No Reaction. LOW POINTS: None.
From the moment you hear the screeching guitar harmonies and crashing drumwork that blast open Head Injuries, you just know this is going to be a great friggin' album. The song is "Cold Cold Change," and it marches like a well-trained army through its bass-lead verses, rockin' chorus and blazing main riff. And the pace doesn't let up a whole lot for the duration of this brisk, 34-minute adrenaline rush. The Oils play hard, uncompromised rock n' roll here, and they've never been more consistent on record. These nine songs are driven by monstrous guitar riffs, bombarding drum fills and Peter Garrett's amazing vocals, which include both a deep baritone growl and a falsetto banshee wail. The focus of the lyrics is now entirely socio-political, with a dead serious, angry tone to match the music.
If the album has one flaw, it's that it tends to be a little monotonous, seldom swerving from the conventional metal mold. "Section 5 (Bus To Bondi)" does manage to mix ska with hardcore punk during the verses - if you can imagine that - and it's a huge highlight here. The multi-part "Koala Sprint" also has a funk flavor to the verses, as well as a great chorus and a cool, synthy coda. "Profiteers" works well as a slow, nightmarish dirge. Everything else is pretty much a standard riff-rocker, but the album goes by so quickly, and the songs are so much fun, that you don't really mind. Watch out, for no matter how intelligent you are, you might be caught off guard headbanging to a terrific anthem like "Back On The Borderline" or "No Reaction." Oh, but it's okay to enjoy this hard rock album. It's by Midnight Oil, and they're an intelligent band, right? "Stand In Line" has a wonderful, extended guitar solo section before climaxing in Garrett's horrifying, blood-curdling scream. "Is It Now?" sounds a bit lackluster compared to the rest of this well-tuned aggression, but at least it's reasonably melodic. I will say that, it you started with Midnight Oil's later, better known work (especially Diesel And Dust), then you may have a little trouble adapting to HI, as the band haven't quite mastered their formula, grandiose political anthems yet. But this is probably the tightest, best-conceived Oils record, and it's recommended to any and all power metal enthusiasts in addition to fans of the band's raging Aussie pub rock. If you think Midnight Oil are nothing more than a wimpy "adult alternative" outfit, then you're just ignorant, and you obviously haven't heard this. Approach with caution, this stuff slashes and burns.
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(reviewed by Rich Bunnell)
The first of two hard-rockin' Oils EP's that should be compiled onto a single disc but haven't because the band isn't profitable enough in the States to make a convenience like that a possibility, this short lil' thing is basically just a little bit more of Head Injuries. If it's not part of your collection, don't go out of your way searching every record store in the country for it -- with the exception of the gorgeous surf instrumental "Wedding Cake Island," which has a sound totally distinct from anything on the first two albums, the songs are just your basic midtempo-to-fast riff-filled rockers. Either the Oils were behind schedule and owed the record company some studio material or they needed to release an album as a testing ground for their new bassist Peter Gifford, because otherwise I can't figure out the point of a band going out of its way to release a mere 17 minutes of new material when none of the songwriters have anything particularly new to say. Even the best of the rockers, "No Time For Games," is pretty much the same sort of song as "Cold Cold Change" albeit with different subject matter, and the other two are similarly decent but nothing at all particularly stands out about either of them. It's a nice little EP and the bird on the cover is kind of cute in a disturbing, scary way, but it doesn't really amount to much more than a stopgap space-filler in the band's catalogue. At least music stores now rightfully sell it for $7 instead of the brutal $17 it used to cost -- who did the record company think they were kidding?
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(Rich Bunnell's review)
I can't tell whether the band's third full-length album is actually a bold attempt to branch out in new, unexplored musical directions or if it's just another standard rock album that happens to sound experimental because of awkward production values. Much-hailed '70s arena rock producer Glyn Johns was enlisted to helm the controls of this musical outing, another romp through the jungles and frozen tundra of the outback, but somebody must've taken the Glyn Johns who produced Who's Next and replaced him with a pile of oily rags, because the sound quality on this album dunt sound anything like any other album he's ever done. In fact, it sounds pretty thin and ordinary, all things considered. Maybe it was just the onslaught of the '80s, the decade where every band decided that it was okay to go back to releasing albums with murky and shitty production because synths would naturally make up for any lapses in recording quality, though there isn't a synth on the entire album so I don't know what to say in Midnight Oil's case. They were probably drunk. Whatever the circumstances, the album ended up sounding a lot like the bandmembers took one of their earlier albums, dipped it into a vat of hot glue, and hung it out to dry in the sweltering sun. Which is okay if you're into that sort of thing, granted, but I can't imagine it appealing to a particularly large segment of the populace.
What acts as the album's saving grace is that underneath all of the production murk, the songs are actually a lot more interesting than anything the band had written before. They're obviously trying to do things that they hadn't done before, even if this adventurous quality doesn't quite come across correctly on most of the tracks. The most immediately gripping song is the anti-conformist anthem "Brave Faces," but that isn't to shrug off peppy rockers like "Written In The Heart" and the attention-grabbing opener "Don't Wanna Be The One," both of which are sort of cheesy by the band's earlier standards but still entertaining and memorable. To my knowledge, the slow marcher "Armistice Day" was the Oils' first really important Australian hit single, paving the way for their later Oz successes, and "Lucky Country" is right up there with Peter Gabriel's "Family Snapshot" in the league of "fantastic songs that I can never remember the melody to." Sadly, the rest of the album suffers either because of the production (especially the hopelessly-sludgy "Someone Else To Blame") or due to the more traditional flaw of lame songwriting. The biggest flop on the album arrives in the form of a three-song suite on the second half of the album that serves as little more than a musical file cabinet of ho-hum riffs until "If Ned Kelly Was King," the last song in the triad, comes along and manages to close things off in a satisfyingly-driving manner.
To tie my series of random, unconnected observations in as slapshod and inconclusive of a manner as possible, I'll just say that this is one of those albums that sounds great on first listen, or at least more worth your time than most people will tell you, but repeated exposure ultimately reveals its flaws to you one by one until you realize that... damn, it's really not all that hot. Still, it's worth anyone's time for the good songs alone, unless Peter's squawking just really doesn't float your yacht, you greedy capitalist pig.
HIGH POINTS: Don't Wanna Be The One, Lucky Country. LOW POINTS: Burnie.
Another fabulous album if you ask me. The songs are still metallic and riff-driven like the ones before, but there are some important changes taking place here. On the plus side, the band put more emphasis on poppy melodies, and every single song, except for the sludgy, underproduced "Burnie," carries a great hook. But on the minus side, like Rich said, the production is a problem. It's very one-sided, with every song boasting a gravelly, abrasive mix. Granted, this works fine on most of these fast, blaring rockers. But some of the slower tunes, namely "Brave Faces" and "Armistice Day," come off as thin and ineffective. This is a shame, too, because at their cores, these are well-written songs! The latter is still a minor highlight, getting by with its gripping, ominous feel.
Thing is, those are my only complaints. I'm going to disagree with Rich about the songwriting. It's about as good as it was on Head Injuries - it's just that these songs show a different musical approach. On the last album, more effort was put into the driving rhythm work and sharp playing, and the songs ROCK more convincingly. But on here, the band strive harder to make the tunes memorable and CATCHY. I hope you know what I'm trying to say. Anyway, I'm pleased to announce that Place Without A Postcard is quite consistent. "Don't Wanna Be The One" is the unquestioned apex, and one of the most invigorating songs Midnight Oil ever concocted. Motoring guitars, jarring keyboards and a humorous vocal delivery combine to make this one of the most exciting New Wave rants you will ever hear. The closer "Lucky Country" makes for an early mini-epic, including some tasteful acoustic guitar breaks and a fabulous chorus. "Someone Else To Blame" and "Written In the Heart" are simply excellent rockers driven by their ferocious riffing. And I like "Basement Flat" myself. It's sonically rich choruses like these that give the band's lyrical sentiments a lot of their power: "What can we do?/There must be some solution!" The three-song suite on side two is also cool - "Quinella Holiday" bounces along nicely, "Love's On Sale" has an impassioned refrain, and "If Ned Kelly Was King" stampedes right over you like a bunch of pissed-off kangaroos. In all, PWAP is not as bad as some say it is. I think the production hampers the effect the band wanted in a few places, but the quality of the songs redeems any small inadequacies in sound.
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(Rich Bunnell's review)
You just know that you're listening to a weird Midnight Oil album when the rockers, usually the band's failsafe fallback point to balance out their more envelope-pushing tendencies, are actually the weakest songs of the bunch. Usually their uptempo rockers have energy and focus, but that strangely isn't the case here -- the concert favorite "Only The Strong" is full of kickass segments but has such an awkward structure that it never fully gels, and the closer "Somebody's Trying To Tell Me Something" is similar, with great tension-building verses but a goofy chorus that totally doesn't fit the rest of the song. So you're probably thinking crappy rockers = crappy Oils album, right? As Dana Carvey once repeatedly yelled while impersonating John McLaughlin of the McLaughin Group, WRONG!!!! Almost everything else on the album, with some exceptions like the jankle-riffic "U.S. Forces" and the rip-roaring "Read About It" (the one big exception to the "rockers are sorta kinda weak" rule I just laid down), follows the more offbeat slant of earlier semi-failures like "Koala Spirit" and "Burnie" and totally improves on their flaws, adding some much-welcome diversity into the Oils' usual bag of dingo droppings and kangaroo mucus.
The listener is cheated, confused and temporarily irritated right from the very start of the album with "Outside World," easily one of the most low-key openers to any album that I personally have ever heard. The way that the minimalistic melody to that song is approached by the band is just perfect, with looping keyboard embellishments and thudding sound effects used in just the right fashion so that they actually manage to texture the song without being overbearing and intrusive. Even more out there, and easily one of the Oils' most bizarre songs, is the six-minute "Scream In Blue," which starts out as a loud, clangy two-minute instrumental before abruptly collapsing into an airy piano ballad. The song sounds unimpressive at first, but the thing that saves it for me is that the melody at the beginning of the song is actually repeated in the second half, only placed in an entirely different and much quieter context. Even though the melody falls far short of melodic genius, it's neat, unobvious little tricks like that that just plain make songwriting interesting, at least, in my opinion. But then again, it's my review, so why the hell shouldn't it contain my opinion?
Everything else is relatively more typical for the band, albeit with more strangely-offbeat arrangements than usual (the shifting time signature in the didactic, slow-burning "Short Memory" is but one example) and pretty much uniformly-better songs than almost anything else they'd written before or've written since. The best song and their first really important Australian hit (which means nothing to my primarily American audience of ten people, but pay attention anyway), and it's magnificent indeed -- every little weird thing imaginable is thrown in the mix, including brass, a lengthy and tinny but nonetheless engaging drum solo, an anthemic chorus of the classic Oils variety and some of the band's best political sloganeering ("It's better to die on your feet than live on your knees!"). It stands as the defining moment on what is probably the Oils' strongest album and a prime example of the "early-period pre-commercial-breakthrough masterpiece" that snooty fans love to proclaim as their favorite while snubbing their noses at the hit record. Snooty Midnight Oil fans... now there's a weird thought...
HIGH POINTS: Power And The Passion, Read About It, US Forces, Short Memory, Only The Strong. LOW POINTS: Maralinga.
Simply put, this is the record where Midnight Oil pull together all the best components of their sound, resulting in a concise masterpiece. Most significantly, though, the band are moving into a much more experimental direction than before. There's more emphasis on synthesizers and studio trickery, and less concern for making straight-forward, guitar-based rock. The experiments are successful, mostly, and Midnight Oil conceive their most artistically satisfying album. So, let's just call this neo-avant-garde New Wave, shall we? Anyway, you know this stuff is going to be weird from the get-to, because "Outside World" is NOT your conventional opening song. It's a cold, slow-burning track primarily driven by synths and Garrett's vocal, and it works, in large part because you're anticipating the charged-up mayhem that lies ahead. The 6/4-time "Short Memory" is astonishing, as are its lyrics about Western Civilization's failures in history: "Conquistador of Mexico/The Zulu and the Navaho/The Belgians in the Congo/Short Memory." "Tin Legs And Tin Mines" starts out as a pleasant enough piano ballad, then suddenly breaks down into a dancable groove with '50s-style organs. I admit that the piano-based, second half of "Scream In Blue" will sound boring to some, but it's still okay, and the instrumental first half is most enlivening.
As cool as those songs are, I haven't even reached the best part yet - 10,9,8... isn't all envelope-pushing. The band still know how to RAWK, and rock out they do (drummer Rob Hirst is especially out of control here, and I mean that in a good way). "Only The Strong" pulls you through numerous changes, riffs and screams, and it leaves you pretty chewed up by the end. This track takes some getting used to, but it's awesome, trust me. "Read About It" is hard rock meets jangle pop meets forthright liberal tirade - it's hard to imagine a more bracing anthem! "US Forces" has a beautiful, melodic chorus, and the way the song builds upon itself is just splendid. Oh, "Back On The Borderline" and "No Reaction" are great songs, but not as creative or memorable as those mentioned above, or "Power And The Passion" for that matter. A synth pop song that manages to squeeze in a drum solo? That's right. The best part is that aggressive middle-eight, the spawning ground for one of the band's most quintessential statements, as quoted by Mr. Bunnell.
No, the album isn't perfect. "Maralinga" is plain dull as ballads go; "Somebody's Trying To Tell Me Something" is a kinetic rocker for sure, but things fall apart some during that noisy, uneven chorus. Still, isn't a little inconsistency common when an artist branches out? The fact remains that 10,9,8... is a versatile, experimental masterwork. The Oils show off everything they can do, and the album still gels. All things considered, this is their best. If you want a good picture of what Midnight Oil sound like, by all means, start here.
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(Rich Bunnell's review)
Forget what I said about knowing that an Oils album is weird when the rockers are the weakest songs. I think that it's more accurate to say that you know that an Oils album is weird when the first thing you hear on it is a 4/4 disco beat followed by Rob Hirst laying down some mean anti-governmental raps. I'd normally snub my nose and ask "What the hell were they thinking?" but the fact of the matter is that "When The Generals Talk" is one of the catchiest damn songs the band has ever done, and sets the stage perfectly for an album that even the most clasically-trained scholars would deem "really really freaking bizarre." On this album, the Oils tossed a big heap of wood into the still-burning fire of their experimental side even more so than they had on 10, 9, 8..., with the songs ending up sounding generally even more cold and mechanically-constructed than anything on that album. "Outside World," atypical of an Oils album track as it is, has nothing on this shee-yat.
This doesn't mean that the Oils totally tossed off the notion of typical song structure this time around in favor of weird, Beefheart-like bluesy rambling - these are, for the most part, very accessible and listenable songs. It's more accurate to say that the songs on this album aren't so much written as they are arranged. Aside from the fresh-out-of-the-oven crowd-pleasing rockers "Best Of Both Worlds" and the absolutely stunning "Kosciuszko," there aren't really any melodies on the album at all. Or, to be more accurate, there aren't any melodies in the upbeat bouncy in-your-face obvious "I've Just Seen A Face" sort of way. Oh, sure, Pete's technically singing vocal melodies in every one of these songs, and the band is technically playing instrumental melodies to back said vocal melodies up, but they're done in generally such a low-key manner that they let the structure of the songs take center stage before anything else. Take a song like "Sleep," for example. Try to hum it to yourself. You can't. Or at least you certainly can't walk down the street with it stuck on your lips like some kind of chapstick - it's simply not possible. But damned if that acoustic interplay in the chorus isn't a treat to listen to. It's not engaging, but it's certainly interesting.
This "interesting" quality is what a lot of people find offsetting about the album - it doesn't really work as much of a directly-engaging melodic album to throw on in the car as opposed to a cold, distant museum piece. Six-minute epics like "Jimmy Sharman's Boxers" and "Shipyards Of New Zealand" are neat to dissect, but it's not like you'll raise your fist in the air and chant along with the Oils' political protests about whatever contemporary Australian issue happened to irk them at the time, because you probably won't be able to remember how the actual melody of the songs go. Whether or not you enjoy the album really hinges on whether you really care whether music reaches right into your chest and tugs on your heartstrings - if you really count on that type of thing in your music, this is totally not the album for you. Myself, I genuinely enjoy most of the songs on here and think that songs like "Who Can Stand In The Way?", dated synth bang noises and all, easily stand up to anything else the band has ever written. If not for well-constructed boredom like "Harrisburg" or dull acoustic fare like "Minutes To Midnight," it's probably be my favorite Oils album. However, unlike every other review I've ever written, this isn't the be-all-end-all of critical opinion - one's enjoyment of an album like this really depends on that person's attitude towards music in general. Trust me on this one.
HIGH POINTS: Best Of Both Worlds, Kosciusko, When The Generals Talk, Helps Me Helps You, Minutes To Midnight. LOW POINTS: Harrisburg.
The Oils push the envelope even further this time, producing the most bizarre album they ever released. And perhaps their darkest. It's certainly ambitious, and interesting, although half of the band's audience doesn't care for it all that much. This is understandable. The record spans over fifty minutes; most of the songs don't have a normal hook; the lyrics are more humorless and preachy than ever; and "epics" like "Jimmy Sharman's Boxers" and "Shipyards Of New Zealand" are oddly structured and confusing. Suffice it to say that Red Sails In The Sunset deviates from Midnight Oil's rocking, melodic standard.
While some fans pass on this one, I will argue that it works. Except for "Harrisburg" (a poor retread of "Outside World"), every one of these songs is enjoyable for at least some minor reason or another. Sometimes the experiments are flawed, as in "Boxers," which mostly just repeats the same thin guitar line for six minutes. But the song isn't a complete disaster, thanks to the engaging lyrical narrative and the powerful synth-drum build-up. "Shipyards" consists of random sections that don't fit together very well, but at least the drums and guitar kick some ass during the final part, providing a good climax. "Who Can Stand In The Way" is kind of a bland pop song, but the bassline during the verses is cool, as is the bluegrass-style breakdown at the end. Then there's "Bells And Horns In The Back Of Beyond," always a source of complaints. Personally, I dig it. The minimalistic intro, which sounds like a combination of bells and accordion, is the perfect setting for Garrett's political declamation; the instrumental section is quite visceral.
The rest is even better. "Sleep" doesn't have a traditional melody, but the rhythm work is great, with a catchy guitar-and-synth arrangement in the chorus; "Minutes To Midnight" is an infectiously strumming sing-along. I think these are two of the most awkwardly dancable songs I've ever heard. The rap-ish "When The Generals Talk" is so incredibly catchy that you don't care how dated the production sounds. The shuffling "Helps Me Helps You" has always been a personal favorite, a hilarious anti-Evangelist diatribe with one of those vibrating, indigenous Australian instruments at the beginning and some outstanding guitar leads by Martin Rotsey. Did I previously accuse this record of being humorless? Well, this song is funny. And let's not forget soaring anthems like the pulverizing "Best Of Both Worlds" and the intricately layered "Kosciusko" (named after the tallest mountain in Australia). Maybe I'm being a little generous, and whether you like the album is pretty subjective. But Red Sails can be a rewarding listen if you give it a fair trial.
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(reviewed by Rich Bunnell)
On the heels of three straight albums of ascending whacked-out experimental weirdness, the Oils took a look at their handy "Major Global Events Of The Last Century" calendar and noticed that the 40th anniversary of the Japanese bombings that ended World War 2 was on the approach. In the exact words of Peter Garrett upon realizing this, "Ey! Our countray came kinda close to being in thayt wahr! Let's recohd an Ahy-Pee about it!" Not that I have any objection to that idea, of course - any steps that can be taken to prevent something like that from ever happening again are without question positive steps, and the urge to actually say something dragged the Oils out of their oblique experimental rut and returned them into the realm of straight-ahead politicized rock. Still, I personally don't enjoy this EP as much as the last couple of albums, mostly because even though the four songs on it are all upfront and engaging in a way that the band hadn't been in years by this point, they hadn't really gotten used to doing this type of stuff again and some of the material borders on generic. So while I enjoy the hell out of the classic riffage of the dramatic opener "Progress" and the weird double-tracked vocal stylings which propel "Blossom And Blood" (the most obviously Hiroshima-linked song in the bunch...... I might be wrong, but I'm pretty sure that the "blossom" is meant to be interpreted as a mushroom cloud), the other two songs are....eh.....good I guess, and superior to the generic stuff on Bird Noises, but still not amongst my favorite Oils tracks. A lot of people say that this album should be sold on the same CD as the previous EP, and while that would be more cost-effective, it wouldn't really be an essential purchase, since neither one really displays the Midnighters at their most distinctive. Bring on the grand sell-out!
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(Rich Bunnell's review)
It's always nice when a band decides to release a concept album that tackles a more significant issue than a blind boy learning how to play pinball, three schoolyard friends meeting up again after spending years in different vocations, or a long footnote on a page of a spiritual text that nobody but the band's elf lead singer has read or will ever read. Staying true to political form, the Oils constructed an eleven-song set dealing with the continuous plight of the Aborigines having their land taken away by cruel settlers in the band's native Australia (where else?). This admittedly isn't a very significant issue in the land up above, but that didn't matter anyway because "Beds Are Burning," the keystone of the album's concept, had a really catchy chorus and was misinterpreted by millions of listeners as a song about hot sex, shot up the charts in numerous countries and instantaneously established the band as an '80s hitmaking machine. Actually, not really - sadly, I doubt that any average person on the street could name an Oils song besides that one, if any at all - but the song's now an '80s Flashback Cafe classic, and more power to it, even if its message was totally mangled in the process of getting onto the radio. One irritating thing about people basing their opinion of the band on that song, though, is that for some reason Pete takes on a deliberately-irritating vocal tone in the verses ("OUT WHEEEAH THE RIV-AH BRoOOoOOKE") -- I don't know if he's making fun of himself or something, but I'm sure that there are a lot of people now who think that that's how he always sings, which really isn't the truth at all.
The album's sound shows the band catching up with the late '80s (or the late '80s catching up with the band, depending on your viewpoint), though not in the sense that the songs are filled with pointless synths and electronic gimmickry. It's more in the sense that the production is more clear, the hooks are more upfront and apparent, and the overall sound is more direct and streamlined. Some songs like "Whoah" that sound like dreary leftovers from Red Sails In The Sunset don't benefit well from the change in approach, but on the other hand, a song like "Warakurna" with its tight rhythm and fluid backing vocals is made all the more perfect thanks to it. Songwriting-wise, the band indulges in a few more glossy, straightforward rockers than usual ("Sometimes" and "Dreamworld" especially), but they're not really bad songs, just slightly less interesting than the band's more complex material (sort of like "All I Want Is You" in the context of Roxy Music's canon). At any rate, their minor flaws are avenged by songs like "The Dead Heart," with probably the creepiest use of "doo doo doo" backing vocals ever, and "Put Down That Weapon," with a cringe-inducingly obvious political title but a hell of a sly melody - dig that walking bass! And even though "Bullroarer" is yet another entry in the Miss Australia Straightforward Rock Song Sweepstakes 1988, the intro, with the song's groove jumping out of the sound of a spinning rotor, is one of the coolest things I've ever heard.
The only thing that keeps me from rating this album up there with my absolute Oils favorites is that it gives kind of a misapprehension of their sound - it makes them sound like a glossy '80s rock band, which, with the exception of this album and maybe its slightly weaker followup, they're really not. It's a good album, but unfortunately since it's "the hit one" it's often the one that a lot of people (including myself) buy first, and to a lot of them it makes the band sound sort of dull, in a "this is okay, but if this is the best they can do, the rest of their albums must be boring as hell!" sort of way. Still, it's a good, solid album with a clear if misconceived message and its heart in the right place, and overall definitely one of their better ones.
HIGH POINTS: Beds Are Burning, Dreamworld, The Dead Heart, Warakurna. LOW POINTS: Artic World, Sell My Soul.
Sounds like the band are lobbying for a MAJOR change in sound here, and abandoning most of their former identity in the process. The guitars are toned down a lot, providing more of a gentle jangle than their trademark crunch; the eerie synth effects have all but disappeared. The result is a relatively monotonous set of subdued, mid-tempo rockers. For me, Diesel And Dust marks the beginning of the end of a great band, the first of many increasingly boring records. However, this particular outing is still quite good - many of these more laid-back numbers actually benefit from a much cleaner production than the band had had before. Plus, the boys can still write a rip-roaring anthem, and their politics are as convincing as ever. So, it's not a total sell-out.
If any of this can be seen as an improvement over the band's former self, it's that they're getting better at composing softer music. "The Dead Heart" and "Warakurna" provide relaxed, mid-tempo rock with interesting arrangements, gorgeous melodies and structures that build into nice finales. Just follow "The Dead Heart" through its anxious lead riff (augmented by the most tastefully used "Do, do, do" vocals I've ever heard), beautiful chorus and orchestrated coda; this really is a wonderful song. "Put Down That Weapon" also uses an atmospheric backdrop to good effect. The hit single "Beds Are Burning" is arranged in much the same way, except for it's harder-hitting, and it completely takes the cake on this album. That chorus is just unforgettable, and those commanding horns leave a dent in your soul. The other major highlight is "Dreamworld" - it's glossy pop rock for sure, but that crying guitar riff and catchy chorus lull me in every time (one of my favorite Midnight Oil songs, actually).
The problem is, everything else sounds like the good songs, except with less inspiration. "Sometimes" is a decent rocker in the mode of "Dreamworld," but the slick production robs it of some of its punch (the live version is better). "Bullroarer" offers yet more palatable, but forgettable, mid-tempo rock. I do use the term "mid-tempo" a lot here, don't I? "Whoah," "Sell My Soul" and "Artic World" are somewhat slower exceptions to the norm, although they only detract from the album's flow. The latter is the nadir - it has an okay melody, but it's so sluggishly paced that it's hard to sit through. And a climactic structure cannot save "Sell My Soul," marred by some incredibly drab melodies.
Despite my complaints, D&D is saved by a smooth, even flow, immaculate production and four or five great songs. I came VERY close to giving it a 7.5, but this is still the album that got me into Midnight Oil, and it's a completely pleasant and harmless listen. It does start to sound samey by the second half, and it's a letdown coming after the last four. But this is still one of the band's most consistent offerings, and their last very good one.
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(Rich Bunnell's review)
This album's kinda like the band's Tunnel Of Love coming after their Born In The U.S.A., except it's a bit more consistent, less melodically shlocky, and instead of being a makeout spot for couples hopelessly in love, the tunnel is filled with the choke-inducing smoke of diesel fuel exhaust and the waters are polluted with the overturned bodies of dead fish. In other words, it's a more morose, slowly-paced and adult pop-oriented take on the style the Oils established on Diesel And Dust, and though it's a lot calmer and thus easier on the ears, it also shows a marked increase in the music's snooze factor. This album marks a change in the band's history in that it's their first stab at a conventional modern rock record, and I guess in a commercial sense it worked (three of this album's singles conquered the U.S. Modern Rock airplay charts though not making much of a dent on the pop charts), but it was ultimately at the unfortunate expense of a lot of the band's trademark intensity, something they would never quite get back. About two-thirds of the album is very slow, brooding, and not necessarily without hooks, but with hooks of the type where you have to kind of sit around and let the song drag you in if you're ready and willing (which a lot of fans of the Oils' early period understandably aren't).
The record company probably noticed this, because all three of the album's upbeat rockers were, incidentally, it's singles (which wasn't the case at all the last time around), and I have trouble finding fault with any of them. "Blue Sky Mine," driven by a fragmented acoustic + organ riff and an undeniably catchy "There'll be food on the table tonight!" vocal hook is a totally satisfying song the whole way through, "Forgotten Years" urges the listener not to take those rare periods without war lightly over one of the Oils' trademark tension-building anthemic melodies, and "King Of The Mountain" is a bit less memorable than either of those classics, but still has a delightfully playful overall vibe. Far and away the best song on the album, though, is "Stars Of Warburton," a dreamy jangly guitar landscape with a sudden halt between the verse and chorus that just totally makes the song as far as my ears are concerned. Though a bit less catchy and more esoteric, I'm also quite fond of the album's two epic closers, mostly because the backing vocals on the fadeout of "One Country" sound a hell of a lot like R.E.M.'s Mike Mills (which to me, unlike to some people, is a good thing) and "Antarctica," though a bit repetitive, is probably the most chilling lyrical statement (no pun intended) on the whole album (basically implying that Antarctica is the only place left on earth untouched by the spoils of human greed) and its use of sweeping strings in the fadeout is downright creepy.
Sadly, the other songs on the album are of the less-exciting variety and totally throw a stick in the spokes of its consistency and pacing. I'm sure that when Rob Hirst wrote "Bedlam Bridge," he was convinced that he'd written a chorus that was just so perfectly-constructed and lyrically-balanced that it made the song simply the most objectively-perfect song ever, but he must've been disappointed when the band recorded it and it turned out to be a dreary, soul-sucking snore. The same goes for "Mountains Of Burma," a huge, lumbering pseudo-art-rock failure which proves once and for all that five minutes is the absolute most boring song length possible, especially as far as rock bands are concerned. So yeah, thanks to its several flaws, this album quite simply doesn't really match the pop/rock standards set by Diesel And Dust - it's a decent album, but "decent" just isn't gonna cut it in this cutthroat musical world, no matter how cool your album cover is (easily one of the Oils' best - try to find an image of it, it's awesome!).
HIGH POINTS: Blue Sky Mine, Stars Of Warburton, King Of The Mountain, Forgotten Years, Mountains Of Burma. LOW POINTS: Antarctica, River Runs Red.
Blue Sky Mining sounds extremely similar to the last album, except for it's even mellower, and more commercial. As with Diesel And Dust, five out of the ten songs on here are definite highlights - in fact, when combined, they are slightly stronger than the five best songs on Diesel. However, when taken as a whole, BSM is still a dropoff from the last record, because the five remaining tracks are markedly WORSE than the weaker half of D&D. Thus, BSM comes off rather patchy, and, rest assured, boredom rears its ugly head periodically throughout.
Ah, but let's talk about the good songs first. The title track rivals "Beds Are Burning" as one of the most spectacular, fine-tuned opuses the band ever conceived. The arrangement is rich, the structure epic, and the melodies breathtaking, primarily when you arrive at that pleading bridge: "Whose gonna saaave me?!" "Stars Of Warburton" follows, and it's nearly as good, a dreamy, mid-tempo rocker with a tension-building middle-eight and a deliciously jangly chorus. "Forgotten Years" is a relentless, stomping rocker with a classic Midnight Oil refrain; and it's hard to imagine a catchier pop song than "King Of The Mountain," especially during the dueling vocals in the chorus. Personally, I love "Mountains Of Burma"; the emphasis is on atmosphere, that is for sure, but what a disturbing mood the band creates here! The synths are uncanny, the beat trudging, and the song is no failure in my mind.
Unfortunately, the rest just isn't that good. Songs like "Bedlam Bridge," "Shakers And Movers" and "One Country" are pleasant on a good day, although boring and irritating if your patience isn't so high. I love the chorus of the latter, and how the vocals possess the same warm intonation of R.E.M.'s Mike Mills (they sound EXACTLY like him), but the song just takes FOREVER to build to that point. "River Runs Red" is preachy, dreary, and one of my absolute least favorite Midnight Oil songs. "Antarctica" is hopelessly drowsy, and even when it does pick up, and the drums kick in, it just repeats that same terrible melody. I'm sure a lot of work went into that slick, orchestral arrangement, but it's just not all that fun to listen to. So it's obvious that creative paralysis had set in by this point, and the album is a very mixed assortment of quality. It's worth the used price for the good songs alone, but you won't catch yourself playing the whole thing very much.
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(Rich Bunnell's review)
Live album. Good live album, but really, reviewing these things is pretty much where I totally hit the wall as a wannabe music critic because with some notable exceptions, there's really almost never anything terribly interesting to say about them (which, granted, wouldn't differ too much from my normal reviews, but sit on my side of the fence for a few minutes here). If I had any problems with this one, it stems from the fact that this isn't so much an Oils live set as a manufactured Oils live set -- the back cover proudly touts that the performances are all taken from various points from the years 1982-1990 -- so as brilliantly as the material might be sequenced, there's a feeling of fakeness permeating the whole affair, great songs or not. There's a reason a lot of bands release double-disc live albums, excessive as they are -- it allows them to capture a full, real show for their listening audience at home. This approach admittedly allowed the band (record company?) to choose the best performances from a variety of takes on different material, but they could've at least made a show that approximated a real setlist - title track or not, I seriously doubt that the Oils performed "Scream In Blue" at their more recent shows.
Complaints aside, the tracklisting is wonderfully unpredictable, hitting on a lot of the band's classics without being totally obvious ("Power And The Passion," one of the band's biggest Aussie singles, was left out, but "Read About It" and an improved version of "Only The Strong" made the cut), striking a decent balance between the old and the new ("Stars Of Warburton" is included, but surprisingly, so is "Powderworks") and with generally improved performances from the album versions. An acoustic version of "Burnie," included as an unlisted track, is so clean and homely-sounding that they'd might as well just go back and splice it into the original album, replacing the murky piece of crap of the same name that marred Place Without A Postcard. Being a live album, I could never rate it at the same level as their other albums since it doesn't give me much of an excuse to listen to it more than, say, twice, but this is definitely amongst the upper tiers of live albums I've heard. That is, despite what you might infer from the All Music Guide, who gave it a really low grade but praised the hell out of it anyway.
HIGH POINTS: Read About It, Dreamworld, Brave Faces, Only The Strong, Progress. LOW POINTS: None.
A live album, or a live COMPILATION, to be exact. Even though it has some problems, this is one of the most solidly enjoyable items the Oils have to their name - and, like Rich said, it's in the "upper tiers," as live albums are concerned. Let's get my qualms out of the way first. Mostly, the song selection is just really random. It represents Diesel And Dust pretty thoroughly, with four tracks from that album, two of which are singles. That's all well and good, but how come only ONE song from Blue Sky Mining? (An album track, no less.) I actually prefer that this is a concise, one-disc collection, but the scattershot assortment of more recent tracks does NOT convince me that this is a setlist from the BSM tour! The selection of older material is better, but you're still likely not to hear one or two of your favorite Midnight Oil songs; there's nothing from Head Injuries or Red Sails In The Sunset. Come to think of it, though, I guess not hearing one or two of your favorite songs by a band is quite COMMON at a concert. Anyway, these issues are minor, and I really can't actually suggest how the band or record company could've made this live album any better.
Random or not, the running order of Scream In Blue Live is fast and fun, and it's one of the most consistent Midnight Oil records in existence. The reason to own this is that the band improve upon several of their studio tracks, giving the songs a new sense of enlivenment and power. SIBL contains the definitive versions of "Brave Faces," "Burnie," "Progress" and "Hercules" (the last two from the Species Deceases EP), all sounding much fuller than their limp studio sessions. "Dreamworld," "Stars Of Warburton" and "Sometimes" also boast a fresh rawness not heard on the recent LPs. "Read About It," "Only The Strong" and "Beds Are Burning" are as bludgeoning as usual (the only reason I don't consider the latter a "high point" is because the song has such a complex arrangement that it comes off a little more polished in the studio). And you've gotta love how they start things off with the exhilarating first half of "Scream In Blue," and how they ease into "Powderworks" with a steadily building drum solo. I still don't like "Sell My Soul," but it's not as noticeably shitty on here. So, in all, this is very substantial. In fact, you don't even notice the odd selection of songs that much when you listen to it, because the sequencing is so well done. Notwithstanding what Rich said about only listening to this twice, I find that I play it a lot myself. Don't miss out on this one.
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(Rich Bunnell's review)
Holy Chaucer on a rocket-powered pogo stick, this is a poppy album. As the title might suggest, on this album the Oils mapped out an expedition into more musically organic territory, with the synthesizers so prevalent in the band's music for the previous decade tossed out the window and into the arms of a waiting prostitute, and let me tell you, she'll know what to do with them, even if a lot of the time the Oils didn't really. Either the band felt that their claustrophobic production values were undermining the impact of their political message or they were just eager to rock; whatever the case, the music on here's of a considerably more simple and rockin' nature than what most have come to expect from the Oils. And it's poppy. Really really really poppy. Singalong campfire choruses, bright-eyed, unusually clear-voiced melodic emoting from ol' boy Pete, clearly-mixed instrumental passages not hindered by production murk as was the case on so many of the band's '80s albums -- this is one catchy, accessible sumbitch, even if its simplicity has seemingly gained the album almost as many enemies as it has fans.
I'm personally highly fond of this particular collection - I think that even though the actual melodies are of a simpler nature than most of the band's music, they do a fine job of filling out the gaps in the music with breathing, full production, easily amongst the best in the band's career. A great example is the popular anthem "My Country," which at the core has a rather simple melody (the piano which drives the song could probably be played with one finger) but repeated listenings reveal that the richness of the song, bolstered by layers of acoustic texturing and a silently-thwacking drum backing is really the main attraction. The same can be said about "Truganini," which, catchy as it is, isn't really all that different of an anthem than what you'd normally expect from the guys, but the production turns it into a really cool listening experience, with crashing guitars continuously fading in and out of the mix. Best of all is the funky opener "Feeding Frenzy," which, thanks largely in part to Garrett's growling vocal delivery, has a truly vicious and carnal atmosphere during its verses, and it just makes it sound all the more effective when this atmosphere suddenly disappears after each chorus, leaving room for the song's Hammond organ backing to kick ass on its own.
The only problem that arises is that since the songs, melodic and enjoyable as they are, are so reliant on the rich-sounding production values that a couple of the ones that don't have enough melodic meat to stand on their own end up sounding a bit weak and shallow. This holds especially true for "Tell Me The Truth," where the band comes up with a great chiming opening riff but wastes it by taking the song in a schizophrenic, messy direction that doesn't do it justice at all, and "Outbreak Of Love," with an awkward, overly-specific chorus ("This is the end of the beginning of the outbreak of love") of the type that it's simply not possible to write an enjoyable melody around, and the Oils don't disappoint. Well, they do, but you know what I was trying to say. Aside from those two songs, though, the album is a highly-enjoyable set of chiming rock hooks engineered to please both the ears and any unrelated senses that might want a piece of the pie, ranging from the full, glorious choral outburst that makes "In The Valley" one of the greatest songs ever, or the shredding guitar rave-up leading into the upbeat "Drums Of Heaven." Peter Garrett even raps on "Renaissance Man"!! And his rapping even somehow manages to enhance the song!! Don't ask me how that's possible, but it's true. A hundred percent freakin' true.
HIGH POINTS: Feeding Frenzy, My Country, Renaissance Man, In The Valley, Earth And Sun And Moon. LOW POINTS: Outbreak Of Love, Tell Me The Truth.
On the surface, this album should be pretty easy to assess. It's basically an attempt by the band to "strip down" the glossy production of their last two efforts and rock out, like back in them ol' pubbin' days. What we have here is a record primarily filled with fairly straight-forward, mid-tempo rockers, except with more organic production than Diesel And Dust had. As a collective work, these songs can come off as either catchy and accessible, or monotonous and indistinguishable from one another, so you either love it or hate it. However, I have the penchant to make things more complicated than they actually are, so my outlook on this one is slightly different. Unlike Rich, I am tough on this album, but not because of the monotony. This is a minor issue, but not the biggest one. The main problem I have with Earth And Sun And Moon is that the consistency of the band's songwriting continues to dwindle a smidge from Blue Sky Mining. If you listen to the CD enough times, you'll notice that about half of these songs are excellent - though not quite up to par with the high points on BSM - and that the other half are uninspired and boring.
I agree with Rich inasmuch as to say that the production here is the best on any Midnight Oil album (at least, technically speaking - this might not be your personal favorite sounding Oils disc). The guitars, bass and organs resonate warmly, the percussion has a smooth "clang-clang" to it, and all the instruments are mixed perfectly. Yes, the great production does enhance the better songs, most of which are found on side one. "Feeding Frenzy" is just superb, throwing unpredictable changes at you as it travels from verse to pre-chorus section to chorus to bridge. But the song would not be so incredible if it weren't for that skillful arrangement, which helps it grow steadily from brooding to exhilarating. "My Country" sounds deceptively simple at first, but some subtle complexities make this anthem all the more fist-raising - note, especially, how the bridge brings the mood down a notch, then raises it back up again before that last chorus. That chorus is awesome, too, by the way. "Renaissance Man" is a fantastic groovy rocker; good, steadily building arrangement here, but what impresses me the most of all is that the guitar sounds edgy! I haven't heard an "edgy" guitar on a full-length Oils record since Red Sails In The Sunset! The title-track is another highlight, a beautiful neo-psychedelic ballad with an affecting vocal performance by Peter Garrett. After this, it's a steady decline. "Truganini" is another rousing anthem, for sure, although it sounds a little ordinary for Midnight Oil by this point. I'm not sure if side one ends, or if side two begins, with "Bushfire," as it's track 6 out of 11. But it's a rather awkward campfire strum-along, lacking the emotion of "The Dead Heart," and it's the first in a series of many boring songs.
Severe mediocrity sets in as side two gets under way - on certain days, I am downright nauseated by the second half of this CD. Okay, "In The Valley" is a major standout, providing cheerful, if somewhat sappy, pop rock. Oh, hey . . . wait just a minute . . . what's this? Spiritual lyrics? In a Midnight Oil song? What's with that?! I guess they're gettin' on in years. Quite effective lyrics too, I might add. But the rest? Ehh, I'll pass, thank you. Okay, "Now Or Never Land" and "Drums Of Heaven" have their redeeming graces, but they're still not all that memorable. As with "Bushfire," it's possible to find a hook in these songs, but they're still inherently bland. "Tell Me The Truth" is painfully generic. Yeah, the title track worked out well enough, but they should not have milked the same cow twice - "Outbreak Of Love" is a poor neo-psychedelic ballad.
So, you could say that E&S&M is very inconsistent. The band make an earnest attempt to return to their roots and rock a little harder, but they still sound exhausted, and about half of these songs remain dull. I can definitely acknowledge Rich's point of view, and, believe it or not, when I first got this, I liked it a lot more. But repeated plays have uncovered the inner weaknesses of a lot of this material, and it's just not all that convincing anymore. Nevertheless, the strength of the good songs alone renders this an average album, and no Midnight Oil fan should be without it.
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COMMENTS
[in response to the first review:]
[email protected] (Samuel Fassbinder)
I liked your review, just wanted to add two points:
1) when you say E&S&M is "poppy," you should unpack your term. "Poppy," meaning what. E&S&M has a dance beat, is overproduced, lots of hooks, fanfares, I guess that's what you mean. Have I missed anything?
2) "Now or Never Land" is kind of cool for all that it has a nice bass intro... makes one want to take up the bass again... naah, too pricey...
(Rich Bunnell's review)
It's weird, the stages that one goes through getting acquainted with an album. When I first dropped five bucks on the cashier's platter for this baby, I took it home, listened to it, and was bored out of my skull. Then when I still wrote reviews for Mark Prindle's site since this one wouldn't exist for another six months, I threw it in again to get a fresh opinion for the Oils reviews I was writing, sorta liked it, and gave it an 8, which at the time was a grade that I gave to albums that I sort of liked even though it should normally be reserved for exceptional albums. After that, I went into a brief period where I started feeling the need to objectify all of my old opinions and dropped it to a 7, believing that if I liked it that much when I was a filthy high school sophomore, it must be mediocre. Now, as I sit in my college freshman dorm room which I won't be able to live in next year because Berkeley's housing system is run by a bunch of jack-offs, all of whom by a freak of nature were born with only one nipple and chose to take their hostility over this fact out on poor, naive college undergraduates, I've finally come to terms with my opinions. No longer am I rating the Oils based on how I think that I'm supposed to think how they sound; despite a few dry spots and the fact that it's a consistent denizen of used bins, this is quite a solid album and a real "sleeper hit" on the mythical Billboard charts of my head
The dry spots that I just mentioned do definitely admittedly detract from the album's overall consistency; I've never really had the desire to hear a generic country-strummer and "One Too Many Times" isn't gonna do anything to change that, and the single "Surf's Up Tonight" is not in fact the wonderfully-upbeat Beach Boys pastiche that the title might suggest (we're going surfing, we're going surfing, the beach is covered, with hypodermic needles, and oil spillage, LET'S GIVE IT BA-A-ACK!), but rather an anthemic guitar ballad which isn't particularly interesting at all. But the rest of the material.... it's so gritty, so melodically unobvious! I flat-out loved the big hooks on Earth And Sun And Moon, and that's why I like that album more than this one, but these tracks have a homegrown charm that on some levels surpasses the stuff on there. I bet that the riff to the jangly "Time To Heal" has probably been written before, and from a songwriting standpoint there really isn't much more than the riff to the song, but it's set forth with such character, such lush exuberancy that it doesn't matter that it doesn't shove your ears full of hooks like "Blue Sky Mine" did six years ago. The lead track "Underwater," likewise, is pretty much just a heavy bass and some organ augmented by a couple of endlessly-repeated, lyrically-simplistic vocal melodies, but geeze mon, the way they intertwine those two vocal melodies is just brilliant, and Garrett's singing has never been better before or since.
This album falls into that rare breed of albums that isn't really anything special in itself but I really love listening to anyway - aside from "Barest Degree" and the wonderful instrumental closer "Gravelrash," I don't really look forward to any of the songs on the album while I'm listening to it, per se. It's just something about the lush, simple feel of the album that really appeals to me. As ugly of a chorus as "Sins Of Omission" has, or as much as "In The Rain" is a piece of unsubstantial dictionary-defined filler, it doesn't bother me that either song is on the album, since I just...... y'know, like listening to the thing as a whole. Don't go into this album expecting greatness, but it does at least have the definite potential to lodge itself into a calm, wonderful rut of goody goodness.
HIGH POINTS: Barest Degree, Underwater. LOW POINTS: Common Ground, Surf's Up Tonight, Star Of Hope.
Recently, I have found that listening to this disc poses an intriguing question: Just what is the most unexpected release by Midnight Oil? (That is, "unexpected" as in the album that deviates the most from their signature sound.) Most fans would probably say the follow-up to this, Redneck Wonderland. Stylistically, I suppose that this is the correct answer, because of that album's (highly awkward) bent toward industrial and techno. But I find Breathe to be the strangest record for the band, and it's not because of style so much as mode. By this is mean, Breathe concentrates primarily on atmosphere, or feeling; the emphasis is on the mood of the collective work, and not on the individual songs. In my view, this is quite bizarre for Midnight Oil because they are normally such a song-oriented band. Oh, they're definitely an album-band also, but let's not forget that all of their other records besides this one contain a handful of tracks that are obviously designed to grab your attention. Even the songs on RW still ring with some of the band's anthemish fervor. But here, the entire album is just this odd attempt to strip down their arrangements, muddy up the sound of their instruments, and create a mellow, earthy flow of similar, non-recognizable songs. So I'd say that this is the most outrageous experiment the boys ever tried.
Okay, onto the next thing: Does the experiment work? Well, sort of. I guess the short answer is "no," simply because there is nary a single major standout track on here, and I couldn't recommend this album to the average Midnight Oil fan (although, to be fair, I'm not exactly sure just what "the average Midnight Oil fan" is). I guess what I'm trying to say is, if you're in the mood to listen to The Oils, then this album will probably bore the pants off you. That's the biggest downfall of Breathe, that it's just plain boring. Oh, but what's this? It still gets a rating that's . . . decent. Yes, because, like Rich wrote before me, the collective work still flows nicely, and it's a pleasant disc to put on if you're in the right mood for it. Actually, the band did a good job of getting the sound they wanted. It's a subtle mix of gritty, distorted bass, clangy drums, light guitars and softly ringing organs. And Peter Garrett's vocals are his warmest, most technically accomplished ever. Yes, you could say that the band succeeded in making an album that sounded earthy, not to mention unique. So Breathe does work, if only as some kind of left-field mood experiment that could've served as a side-project.
And, yes, I give, the songs do vary a little in quality. Now, this album doesn't hold any kind of personal "sleeper classic" status with me, as it does with Rich. But one reason why I can bare (and on certain days, enjoy) the disc is because some slightly-above-average tunes have been skillfully shuffled throughout the album, taking emphasis away from the slightly-below-average ones. And some of these songs, while not spectacular, are pretty nice; "Barest Degree" achieves an uplifting calm, and "Underwater" starts the album with some slightly grooving rhythm work and catchy vocal melodies. "Time To Heal" is a lightweight, but pretty, jangly ballad; "E-Beat" is somber and melodic; and the instrumental "Gravelrash" is seductively mesmerizing. But for everything that's slightly above par, there's something slightly below par. "Common Ground" is a terribly dreary mellow rocker, "Star Of Hope" is a dreary ballad, and the single "Surf's Up Tonight" is just really boring. "Sins Of Omission," though dark and menacing, is ugly, and "In The Rain" is pointlessly atmospheric filler (though mercifully brief, at least). The ballad "Home" is just extremely unmemorable. So, there's very little to get excited about here. I don't recommend the album, but I give it some credit because the overall sound and flow are so uncanny for this band. If you buy it out of curiosity, I won't think less of you.
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(reviewed by Rich Bunnell)
Ha ha! I don't even own this thing! I see it in the stores all the time and greatly enjoy staring at the unusually grim-faced expression exhibited by every single bandmember on the cover, but really, what use do I have for actually having my own copy? It's a "best of" collection! The difference between "greatest hits" and "best of" is that "greatest hits" collections are released by bands who have actually had hits, while "best of" collections are released by bands who haven't had hits, or are a crappy band who're trying to justify a compilation by describing their "better" songs using purely relative terms to hide the fact that they suck. The Oils lie somewhere in the middle of this particular categorization, with a few regional hits and a couple of tunes that mildly stormed the American charts (the only charts that matter, which is why Destiny's Child's "Bootylicious" is one of the most important singles of all time), so I guess they just flipped a coin and decided to pick the former. This is basically just an assortment of the stronger cuts from most of the band's albums, with the familiar hits like "Beds Are Burning," "Blue Sky Mine," "Power And The Passion" and "Forgotten Years" mixed in with songs that are undeniably the best songs on their respective albums, but, like it or not, didn't get onto the radio.
So what's the overall quality of the material chosen for this record company cash-in? And what the hell does the title mean? I can't answer the second question, but here's the skivvy on the first one: 'spretty decent. They did a pretty good job of assessing which of their album tracks stand on their own well enough to justify being on a compilation, and the presence of "Truganini," "Kosciusko," "U.S. Forces" and "Back On The Borderline" is incredibly appreciated, as each of these songs is melodically-strong enough to convert the average listener into an Oils fan. There's nothing from the debut, but it's okay, since that album's sort of an oddity in their catalogue anyway (though "Powderworks" would've been a decent inclusion). The only problems I really have are that the epic, acoustic and rather inaccessible "One Country" is on here instead of the undeniably more popular single "My County" (guess they mixed the song titles up) and "Surf's Up Tonight" is the only delegate of Breathe, making that album seem a lot more potentially boring than it actually is with its bad breath and irritatingly generic demeanor. Also, a couple of songs put near the beginning of the collection to promote the band's next album ("What Goes On" and "White Skin Black Heart") are incomprehensible techno/grunge fusion bullshit, but I'll bash them in a few minutes. Otherwise, this is a pretty decent compilation. Buy it, if you're a pansy.
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(reviewed by Rich Bunnell)
I doubt that this album will go down in history as where the band "jumped the shark," so to speak, since nobody really paid any attention to it. For people who actually bothered to pay attention to post-"Blue Sky Mine" Oils (in other words, basically me and Samuel Day Fassbinder, whereever the hell he went), it's hard to rate it as anything but an admittedly interesting but ultimately inconsistent near-failure. Basically, here the Oils suddenly got tired of playing wonderful, pleasant VH1 rock and decided to record a loud rock album full of heavy, grunge-ish guitars and techno drumbeats of the type that they just knew would cause their loyal fans to scream "SELLOUTS!!!!!" totally without regard to the fact that this isn't commercial stuff. The music's got some sprightly hooks typical of earlier Oils, but it's clear that the techno and grunge embellishments aren't on here for the sake of conforming to the mainstream. It strikes me more like they seriously, honestly wanted to push the envelope and release an album of original, unconventional music, and for that I applaud them. In fact, roughly half of this album is some of the most intriguing and bizarre music that this band has ever recorded.
Unfortunately, the other half of the album kinda sucks cock. To tell you the truth, I really have no problem with the album's willfully-abrasive sound. Some of the songs on here display that this style could work wonders if performed in the right fashion - the title track, though musically kind of a novelty song (it's based around a cliched "hick" riff given the all-out electric treatment), is really catchy in an interesting way that doesn't betray the spirit of the band's earlier albums. Likewise, "Concrete" and "Comfortable Place On The Couch" don't really have very impressive melodies, but they strike a totally eerie vibe that makes them a total rush to listen to, even if the intentionally-grating sound takes a few listens to get used to. Plus, for elder-day Oils fans, "Cemetery In My Mind" and "Seeing Is Believing," though still victim to some of this album's more modern tendencies (you can dance to the latter, kind of), are basically just classic Oils anthems made a bit more interesting with all of the bleepy-bloopy sounds that the kids love so much taken out of the context of that annoying, tuneless rave crap and put in the context of actual, mind-blowing, solidly-written songs.
And "Return To Sender"? Minimalistic organ-driven glee! 'Sbeen my favorite song on the album since day one, and dammit, it's staying lodged firmly in that position. But "Blot"??? I know I said that this stuff doesn't reek of trend-hopping pandering, but that crap sounds like Korn! "What Goes On"? I'm not the first person to make this connection, but it sounds almost exactly like '90s dance-era U2 (it's pretty funny, though, that Zooropa and Pop, in spite of being totally derivative albums, inspired a totally new style of music basically known as "dance music made by old people who don't know how to make dance music so just make bassy, irritating rock music instead"). "White Skin, Black Heart"? Screw that crap. The big, synthesized metallic synth hook sounds exactly like the chorus to the Kinks' "Rosie Won't You Please Come Home," a song that beats this mindless hunk of turd into the ground with a rather large and blunt stick. "Crawling"? It's not on this album. In fact, it's not by the same band. But boy, does that song suck!!! I know that I'm going against the legions of people who went out and bought this Midnight Oil album on the first day, sending it to the top of the charts for seventy weeks thus making it the biggest-selling album of all time, but this album's just not consistent enough for my tastes. Sorry.
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COMMENTS
[email protected] (Samuel Fassbinder)
I think you got it right in your review of Redneck Wonderland -- the band strikes a mood that is probably unpalatable to their traditional fan base. What I remember reading is that they were pretty disappointed in the election of a new government in Australia, and composed this album as a response.
(reviewed by Rich Bunnell)
Band records early albums, band records classic albums, band records difficult album that alienates fans, band records self-conscious attempt at returning to the style of classic albums, turn the page, wash your hand, turn the page, wash your hand.
Were the razorblade techno/rock fusions on Redneck Wonderland actually adventurous and exciting as opposed to frequently irritating, I'd probably be a bit miffed that the Oils released an album like this, but as it is I'm pretty much satisfied. This album is like an introductory course on how to record the absolute most generic Oils music possible, with all of the band's crowd-pleasing post-Diesel and Dust trademarks firmly in place and ready to fire - jangly guitar hooks, political but tasteful lyrics, powerful, anthemic choruses, distinctively Aussie-flavored song titles like "A Crocodile Cries," "Luritja Way" and "Let's Holster Our Boomerangs And Ride In That Kangaroo Over There While Swigging Foster's, Mate," the whole package and more. Even the album title seems like a genetically-engineered attempt at a warm, welcoming signpost of the band's reinvigorated modern rock musical intentions. Essentially, it's the first album they've ever made which can feasibly be classified as "product," which is kind of depressing, since often when bands tread down a path like this they don't tend to come back. There's only so many times a band can open a song with briskly-strummed acoustic guitars that suddenly become enveloped in full electric production values before it begins to sound like predictable formula.
So yeah, it's a totally calculated piece of riff-rocking Oils classic glory, but regardless of its conservatism and unwillingness to take risks, it's a pretty decent album with a lot of undeniably enjoyable and catchy rock songs that generally reflect the Oils' mastery of hookcraft. Some might criticize the single "Golden Age" for being pretty much just your basic fresh-out-of-the-oven jangle-rocker, but it has a surprisingly original riff and a great singalong "tell me what you see" chorus, and the title track, with an unusually earnest vocal performance from Garrett, chimes along in the spirit of the band's best melodic material. The best songs are the harder-hitting ones -- "Too Much Sunshine" has the definite potential of being a concert favorite for years to come, with a fun, dynamic speaker-shifting instrumental intro, a deafeningly full chorus and the priceless opening line "Haven't had so much fun since my daddy took the V8 away." And "Say Your Prayers," originally a teaser studio track on the band's live unplugged disc The Real Thing, sounds not a thing like any of the other songs and almost comes off as a Redneck-style track that actually flat-out works, with a stomping bassline, charging brass and no less than two false endings, the tricky gits.
Everything else follows the same well-tread Oils formula to varying degrees of success, with enjoyable slow-burners like "Tone Poem" and typical but enjoyable soaring material like "Been Away Too Long" being unfortunately forced to occupy the same company as stuff like "World That I See" and "Mosquito March" that, listenable as they are, might as well have come from The Big Book Of Jangle-Rock Cliches for all of the inventiveness and originality that they manage to display. Still, it's an improvement over Redneck Wonderland, and probably the best thing (besides break up, but we won't have that - they're too good in concert) that the band is capable of at this point. It unfortunately might end up shoving them into a stylistic rut, especially if adult-rock stations like the one near me keep playing the hell out of "Golden Age" like it was a hit or something, but it's an enjoyable enough little rut, so might as well let 'em stay in there.
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