Chipper

Brisbane quartet Tape/Off strike the right balance between caustic and lackadaisical on their surprising first album, writes CHRISTOPHER LEWIS.

“But don’t we already have enough DIY, punk, slacker and alt-rock bands?” asks the collective consciousness of Australian music … and the answer is “Well, probably.” But Tape/Off’s debut album Chipper manages to rise above being another garden-variety, lo-fi endeavour through its sheer diversity in sound.

Thankfully this is not 35 minutes of four boys thrashing the same four chords through beaten-up instruments in their garage. Chipper is a surprisingly mature debut, exploring sonic palettes beyond the scope of the limiting tags that will inevitably be attached to them. Its production is restless and unpredictable: at times relentlessly caustic and at others blissfully lackadaisical. What could be construed as disjointed is actually quite stimulating.

Opening with ‘Australia’s Most Livable City’, Ben Green’s guitar doesn’t assault the ears; rather it corrals them, whirring softly through the opening two minutes before everything drops out save the voice of Nathan Pickels. It’s slow-burning and shoegazing, with the a cappella bringing the listener into a false sense of security as the band crashes back in seconds later with an intensity that juxtaposes the album’s tender beginning beautifully.

“These contrasts are one of the few constants the album has.”

And as if to immediately counteract every thought formed from the opening track, ‘Peggy’s Lookout’ arrives like an airstrike. The guitar riff, which sounds like it was inspired by Goo-era Thurston Moore, abrasively rattles against Branko Cosic’s drum kit – while it’s melodically busy, the screaming cacophony is stunning. These contrasts, loud and soft, fast and slow, are one of the few constants the album has, with the band shifting gears so often that it’s hard to keep up with them.

‘Different Order’ is as straightforward pop as Tape/Off get, which is not an insult. It’s simply another string to their bow and, after the ethereal dreaminess of their opening track and the pummelling that succeeded it, ‘Different Order’ is a welcome change again; it’s a bit Children Collide, a bit Silversun Pickups and radio-friendly enough for their label, Sonic Masala, to be breathing easy.

Interesting, then, that a song on the other end of their spectrum – ‘Pedestal Fan’ – is the first single. A gritty, amateur-by-choice punk throwback that channels all the frantic energy they can muster with psychedelic swirls. It’s by no means pedestrian in execution, but it’s not breaking any rules either and might not be the most worthy advertisement for Chipper’s charm.

Tape/Off’s softer moments are actually their strongest. ‘Where to Begin’ allows the band space to breathe amongst the fuzz and, in truth, they sound almost unrecognisable from the men who had just torn through ‘Peggy’s Lookout’ four minutes earlier. The guitar is clear and ringing, with a driving riff that commands attention over the metronomic percussion. It’s this track and the surfer-rock of ‘Believe in You’ that shine brightest on Chipper, with the hollow drone of feedback and crashing cymbals on the latter symbolically mirroring the album’s lyrical indolence.

“It’s a rare moment when Tape/Off’s apathy is balanced with urgent rage.”

‘Tide’ is similarly drowned in lethargy, perhaps a homage to the scene the boys have watched from afar for the past few years. Melodically it is most obviously reminiscent of Twerps, but the vocals of Nathan Pickels are miked in a way reminiscent to Death Cab for Cutie’s debut Something About Airplanes. That might seem like a strange comparison, but the direct and intimate way Pickels sings about “sleeping through the daytime” and being “overgrown and tongue-tied” is overtly confessional, a world away from the snarling beast of Side A.

Another sonic leap is made with the distorted guitars interlocking furiously behind Tom Lyngcoln’s (The Nation Blue, Harmony) guest vocals on ‘Climates’. The chorus is rabblerousing and anthemic, and arrives with an immediacy that harks back to the glory days of Wavves. It’s a rare moment on the album when Tape/Off’s apathy is balanced with urgent rage and, with Lyngcoln’s voice hollering from a pulpit, it sounds like a call to arms.

Conversely, ‘No Matter How You Dress It Up…’ comes straight from the heart, a crack in Nathan’s voice croaking over a lone folk guitar before a backdrop of a piano and xylophone creeps in. What could have been a paint-by-numbers, predictable, acoustic intermission becomes delicately haunting due to a simple yet effective production choice. The percussion is muffled and barely audible behind the guitar, but it’s charged with unleashing the fury of everything left unsaid and subconscious in the song, battering the kit into submission as a cathartic release.

The album closes with ‘Another Year’, an ode to the mediocrity of life and a fitting end to an album that seems preoccupied with its own bleak indifference to the world. “I’m still unfit, I’m still smoking, my posture’s still shit … still eating fast food, still drinking too much.” The list goes on and on and yet, with hymnal harmonies and a tambourine jamming into a snarling coda, it finishes with the closest the band get to a message of hope: “One day I’ll wake up and get out of bed.” It’s almost worth a chuckle.

An alt-rock band with punk tendencies or a punk band with a soft spot? Does it matter? Tape/Off get the balance right more often than not, and the innovation in songwriting makes Chipper a thrilling listen. Their world is mundane, agitated and in a perpetual struggle for meaning and purpose, which is to say it’s pretty fucking realistic.

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‘Chipper’ is out now on vinyl and name-your-price digital through Sonic Masala.