Cellar Sessions VolumeOne

Sun 5th Dec, 2010 in Music Reviews

Listening to this taster of Perth bands anyone would think the WA capital is an isolated and violent town full of country hicks. Wait a minute…

Cellar Sessions’ head honcho Max Ducker has compiled six of his favourite snarling locals to produce a nasty little studio memoir indeed. Though each track has been written independently of the disc, they flow together like an horrific screenplay, building up to the chaos and drudgery of the final score performed by Ducker’s own band Mongrel Country.

The opening credits roll with Bonehouse who’s relationship with this website has been stretched once before. They were obviously having a bad day when they were last reviewed, because their two-song sample is a deliciously moody album highlight. Vividly poetic words cap it off.

Just as tasty is the delivery of Cat Black’s Emma Margaret Heath. While most girls would put a voice like hers towards something destined for a picnic rug show, the songstress opts for rocking solemnity. She’s picked the right musicians to support her and at their picnic rug show the red wine is sculled and the crackers are made with mull butter.

The crackers kick in just as Moonlight Wranglers make their cameo appearance. Hell even your Mum might like their track The Gathering. Probably not so much Brake (depending on who your Mum is) which tastes like a shot of early ‘00s Queens of the Stone Age chased by a glass of The Doors.

Stoned and liquored now and in the best frame of mind for The Bible Bashers. Filthy heathens they are. The mood of the screenplay takes a turn for the hearse as their blasphemy condemns the strung-out listener to a fiery coffin. The lid bops to their gothic rhythm and blues.

The Travellys piss on the burning deathbed with something out of the early 90s. Scene Fucker sounds like it belongs on GodWeenSatan: The Oneness. The juvenile humour continues with a garagey Jack Off Party that comes in under two minutes. It was a good time, just like the toilet door promised.

The juvenile little bastard is whipped into submission with a leather strap as Ducker’s Mongrel Country performs the final score. It’s miry and vicious and unlike The Trevallys, the Mongrel’s growl that “they wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire” ( Salmon Sealed Meatbag ). The closing tracks are every Australian outback dive bar rolled into two tarry joints.

It’s difficult to criticise this disc and so it should be, after all it is essentially a studio ‘best of’. Can director Ducker back it up in volume II? Let’s hope so.