DOUGLAS FIELD relishes the hard-boiled language, satire and humour of the third and last of the Harlem trilogy
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Assured and cohesive tunes
IAN SINCLAIR reviews the latest releases from Robert Forster, Gemma Ray, and Jenny Lewis
STEPHANIE BROWN draws attention to the hidden labour of the female embroiderers, and how a 19th century replica made no such error
MIK SABIERS revels in a band that ploughs an idiosyncratic furrow of expletive laden, guitar-driven alt rock
ANDY HEDGECOCK, MARIA DUARTE and ANGUS REID review Synthetic Sincerity, Our Hero, Balthazar, Heartstopper Forever, and A Year In London
The bard invites readers to a gig, raps for Clacton, and lays out the Burnham-Hurzeler conundrum
RON JACOBS recommends an important book that enhances the oppositional theories put forth by Fanon and, in doing so, remakes psychology itself
Inferno
by Robert Forster
(Tapete Records)
★★★★
The elder statesman of Australian indie music is back with his seventh solo record, and at 61 years old Robert Forster is still one of the coolest musicians working today.
As one half of the songwriting duo behind the legendary band The Go-Betweens, he always played the cryptic, hipster foil to Grant McLennan’s more accessible and romantic persona.
Inferno brilliantly showcases Forster’s concise, Dylanesque lyrical abilities, from the suburban boredom of No Fame (“My mother hangs the washing and my father has jobs to ignore/The weekend that has come is the same as the weekend before”) to the poppy stomp of the title track, a tribute to his hometown of Brisbane.
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