King Curly are one of those best-kept secrets of the Australian music scene. Led by the tremendously talented Steve Appel, the band has built an underground following and captured the hearts of some big names such as Paul Kelly and The Cat Empire’s Harry Angus. However, as strikingly original and undeniably unique as ever, the slow burning sounds of King Curly’s latest offering, Doomsday Piano, are in danger of being misunderstood and heartlessly tossed aside like a Christmas day puppy in January. Such actions would be an injustice for a refreshing slice of aural delight from the Blue Mountains in NSW.
Delicate piano and moody candau introduce Doomsday Piano, with “Prelude” setting the scene for an atmospheric and moody musical journey that take you deep into the dark unexplored alleyways and crevices that others are too afraid to even pass.
On the title tack, King Curly fully display their style of song writing, a style that is so layered and textured that instruments and sounds quietly enter left stage and sneak out right stage before the listener even realises. This is a moody track with its exasperated vocals whispering “A faint hop of female appreciation / and with a flick of my wrist / I throw back the velvet dropcloth to reveal / a doomsday piano” as the haunting weatherboard bass and lap steel guitar yearn in the background.
The interesting instrumentation on Doomsday Piano continues on ‘The Bumblebee Has No Home’, a ukulele driven song complimented by candoline and banjo. Living up to the “garage-cabaret” billing the band often gets labelled with, the cute exterior of this tune that the ukulele provides hides the melancholy lyrics of this beautiful song:
/ The night is rich with terror
For the humble bumblebee
The whirling dark holds
Wicked things that she cannot see
And when the rain it hammers down
She’s hiding under leaves alone
My heart goes out to her
The bumblebee she has no home /
Some more upbeat enjoyable moments on the album include the more bubbly ‘Family Life’, which appeals through its horns and simplicity and ‘White Boys of Rock & Roll’, a cruisy piece of acoustic rock that builds from humble beginnings into a toe tapping, organ laced sing-a-long of significant proportions
However, the highlight of Doomsday Piano is by far the seedy song writing, which makes use of fascinating lyrics and curious ways to tell simple stories. For example, ‘March of the Green Men’ is a love song from another planet. Never before has a singer attempted to serenade another by singing about “urine turning green” and bowels “sprouting something colourful”. In what can only be described as a Jekyll and Hyde song in personality, it seamlessly slides between the infusion of Latin soul through its horns and the grubby feel that the dirty guitars provide during verses. “I’ll get you anything you want as long as it’s under $1.95” sings Applet as one wonders whether anyone would talk to this protagonist let alone love him.
“Goodnight Irene” is deceptive, masking itself as a sweet, simple lullaby while really being a disturbed song about love gone mad. Stripped back and soul searching, closer introspection of the lyrics reveals an unsettling undertone. The love sick Applet sings “Well I wish I never seen your face, I wish that you’d never been born”, “Sometimes I get a strange notion to jump into the river and drown” and “If Irene ever turns her back on me I’m gonna take morphine and die” while repeating in a soft voice “Irene Goodnight”. The fact this song makes use of a toy guitar to propel it adds extra sinister connotations.
Album closer, ‘The Girl in the Store’, is a nice way to round out proceedings. An eerie song in which we enter the mind of a delusional stalker who reads more into everyday encounters and human relationships, the bare instrumentation sets up an atmosphere in keeping with the “Prelude”. This gives the album a clever, circular and most importantly, satisfying feel.
Give Doomsday Piano a go. Like any little puppy, if you just give it a chance, it will turn into your best friend.
