This debut album came out a couple of years ago in New War’s native Australia but is now receiving a full international release courtesy of All Tomorrow's Parties. It deserves it. The quartet from Melbourne give rock, indie, punk - and a whole lot else - a dramatic shake-up, notably boasting lyrics by frontman Chris Pugmire that are intriguing, literate and sometimes poetic. The band also add weight to their driven sound with keyboards and effects utilised in a way that recalls the explosion of millennial New York bands such as Interpol and Out Hud.
Try these lyrics - from "Revealer" - for size: “Your words are like alms, the perfume shade of palms, a balm in Gilead/Your hands are little trees, pulsing rings and sap, my tender oread/I sing for you.” An oread, as I certainly didn’t know, is a gang of nymphs hanging out with Artemis, Greek goddess of hunting. With lyrics like these you might expect fey sub-Cocteau Twins backing but New War adopt a hefty percussive thump, overlaid with swathes of treated, threatening new-wavey guitar amid broody but aggressive production. The synthesized strings, stabs and pulsing are the icing on the cake.
Their eight-and-a-half minute debut single “Ghostwalking” is present and offers up a hefty groove, coming on somewhere between goth and PiL at their dubbiest. Funky percussion is a regular feature throughout the album. Other comparative reference points include The Cramps (especially on “Black Site Cantos”), LIARS, Big Black, Suicide (especially on the “Frankie Teardrop”-like “Josef’s Hands”), A Place To Bury Strangers and the band’s gnarly old countrymen, The Birthday Party. Most of the aforementioned artists are known for their abrasiveness, yet New War composite these influences into something that occasionally goes in for wilful cacophony but, for the most part, keeps its hands firmly on the pop-rock tiller. Albeit swathed in doom, angst and a sense of indignation.
Overleaf: Watch the video for "Revealer"
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