Springtime

Springtime sounds like a conversation between three masters of tension who have decided to stop being polite. It is a collision of Gareth Liddiard’s scorched-earth storytelling, Jim White’s skeletal, dancing drum work, and Chris Abrahams’ hypnotic, cascading piano. The result is music that feels dangerously alive, moving from a fragile, dusty whisper to a roaring wall of sound without warning. It is the sound of a room where the air has grown thin.

What makes them distinctive is the lack of a traditional rock safety net. There are no steady basslines to hold onto; instead, the songs are built on the telepathic interplay between the piano and drums, allowing Liddiard to howl and mutter his way through some of his most visceral lyrical work. It is 'supergroup' music that actually sounds like a new organism rather than a collection of resumes, blending the avant-garde patience of The Necks with the raw, ugly beauty of Australian post-punk.

Start with their self-titled debut album. It captures the full breadth of their volatile chemistry, particularly on tracks like 'Penumbra' where the slow-burn build-up eventually erupts into a magnificent, chaotic catharsis. It is a challenging but deeply rewarding entry point for anyone who likes their rock music to feel like it might break at any second.