AT LAST. Kind of. Well, not really. Have fun in Prague, Richie. Everyone else: GET READY FOR A ROCK SOLID WEEK-LONG BLOCK OF LOCK STOCK AUSSIE ROCK.
...whoo. This power sure is intoxicatin'.
I'm gonna start off this week of uninhibited editorial control of Rose Quartz with an ancient, poorly recorded track by a band who, depending on who you talk to, have either had far too many column inches devoted to them, or far too few: The Triffids.
The Triffids are probably best known for songs like their one top 40 hit, Wide Open Road: expansive, reverberant mid-tempo tunes with metaphor-cloaked lyrics. But the Triffids song that's been my favourite for going on a year is virtually the exact opposite of that archetype. It's small and claustrophobic (you can hear the hum of a refrigerator in the background as David McComb whispers along to his guitar), straightforward and intensely creepy: a tale of misfortune that befalls a party crowd attending the opening of a new plaza.
[Buy Born Sandy Devotional reissue from Domino Records]