As life begins to appear over compressed in itself, while everything is feeling more and more complacent and bland, we should look to sounds that rage against the status quo; we should look for bands who put their foot down and craft a sound that, sink or swim, is entirely their own.
With a brash personality of deep-rooted punk and flair of rock, Melbourne, Australia’s The Peep Tempel has raged in their latest release Joy.
Whether it be the Super Pit home inspired “Kalgoorlie,” the bleeding draw of “Constable,” the funky “Neuroplasticity,” or the bluesy swagger of “Go Slow,” Joy is concussively contemplative through ten hard-edged tracks that feel, quite often, like the universally infused test-tube baby of Phil Daniels, via “Parklife,” The Butthole Surfers, and a dash of Pixies, while remaining staunchly isolated in a sound that is as comforting as a worn wooden bar at a pub you would find in the middle of nowhere. It is ostensibly dark in places, welcoming, but unabashedly memorable.
As the slurring riffs grind their way through accented vocals with cymbal-a-plenty crashes falling around me, I can’t help but sit here with a fiery, unrelenting passion for this release. In the hardest, most weathered, punk way possible, it had me at hello. Blake Scott (guitar/singer/songwriter), Stewart Rayner (bass), and Steven Carter (drums) assemble a dusty persona in The Peep Tempel that weaves the rebellious angst of yesteryear with Jesse Hughes-like (especially in “Alexander”) energy and delivery that is a must hear.
What sets Joy apart from the wealth of punk/rock flooding music these days is the maturity of storytelling within the lyrics, the rambunctious energy seething from the record, and the purity of which it is all put together. It is about as authentic as they come. It is the kind of sound that inspires a movement. It is, hands down, my favorite record of 2016.
Greg is a co-founder and regular contributor of Nanobot Rock.