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Polaroids Of Androids

Record Reviews


Die! Die! Die!

Die! Die! Die! are currently in the country on a second album launch tour for this, their 3rd full-length release. Many folks — including the band themselves — have used this landmark as the perfect opportunity to inform us that we failed to review the album on this website, even though we've proudly boasted as being their number 1 fansite on more than seven seperate occasions. But, as you'd probably already know, sometimes it all gets away from us (whatsup, Naked On The Vague's brilliant last record). Focusing on finishing our high school education, finalising the paper work on our seventh abortion and the news of Uncle Phil finally being acquitted of those nasty paedophilia charges are just some of the perfectly acceptable excuses we could write into our end of year report to our shareholders on why this quiet little beast of a record did not get suitable Ink Time.

Excuses excuses. And promises. Well, this isn't Promises, Promises part two. It's not that good.

But at the same time, it's much more significant. You see, Die! Die! Die! exist in an awkward position. Their success is built around impact. Their live shows are blood-thirsty events where chaos is embraced with cuddles. Their music follows this lead, with it's varying degrees of success measured by how many times you feel your face being uppercutted during the three minutes of throttling.

The problem is, this approach is creatively limiting. Bloody knuckles, unwashed clothes and buoyant globe wandering is fun for now, but nobody wants to pound their fists on the ground forever, sleep in bus shelters and aimlessly wander the planet as nomad anarchists. Throwing caution to the wind will only work for so long, it's inevitable that the band — and their followers — will get tired of grabbing an unknown enemy by the scruff of the neck and dragging them into a sweaty pit of Fuck Tomorrows. Sometimes we need clarity.

But Form isn't a punk comedown. It's not the head-numbing tinnitus morning after. It's not an affirmation of regrets. A detailed Dear Diary entry of the perils of suitcase living. No, it's more than that.

On one hand, Form is the documentation of a band exhausted. Deflated. Tired of simply trying to get your attention. More importantly, however, it's the honest attempt to transform the key elements of a sound into a more solidified state. The quotable one line hooks ("I'd rather be wrong than be like you"), short punching drums and filthy screeching guitar-led melodies are still the dominate forces at play, but they are now focused on a more complete picture, rather than simply splattering a canvas and connecting on a purely primitive lust-for-chaos level. Melodic backdrops, more accessible song structures and a greater production depth are the new areas of focus, with the band's attempts to gel these with their core sound spawning mixed results.

Fans of Die! Die! Die!, ourselves included, are more than likely aware that Promises, Promises and their self-titled debut probably won't hold up as lifetime favourites as we all hurtle head first into our dementia years. As is the case with other similar impact-driven bands, there's a heavy reliance on the time and place. Form is the band's first real attempt to change this and move towards a sound that has more than one side, more than one perspective and more than one idea. As they commence work on their new record — slated for release later this year — we eagerly wait to see how they fare with their second attempt to find the as-yet unperfected middle ground between untamed disorder and listener engagement.

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Die! Die! Die!


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