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Circle Pit - Bruise Constellation

Definitely the "coolest" band in Australia in the traditional rock 'n roll sense. They look like Royal Trux but have a hold of their own sound that follows in the traditions of stuff like LA's X, Cheater Slicks, Jesus and Mary Chain, Jim Carrol Band etc... Dirty street romance vibes, with sugar on top. The kind of catchy songwriting that makes everything sound classic and familiar on the first listen. Go see them when they hit the states for sure! Everyone I talked to in Australia seem in agreement that they're one of the best live bands around.

www.terminal-boredom.com

OPENING THE MELBOURNE ST. HELEN'S ALBUM LAUNCH:

Opening the night was Sydney’s Circle Pit, a band I have been in love with ever since I saw them at this very same venue a little over 6 months ago, supporting Beaches. Their songs are loud and sort of sloppy, but aggressive with these subtly catchy undertones. There weren’t many there initially to appreciate their brand of dirty rock and rolls songs but the crowd slowly grew, filling the whole club and selling out the show. There is something chaotic about a Circle Pit performance, the two front-people, Jack Mannix and Angela Bermuda acting as some sort of antiheros for the whole strategically unorganised operation. This band is amazing. Basically.

-www.indolentdandy.net/innernorth/


OPENING FOR FLIPPER:

Circle Pit set the tone of the evening with their garage, psych and drone infested songs. Featuring a new line-up they looked and sounded tighter and more focused than previous gigs. They have stripped away some of the surplus surface noise and replaced it with a more direct and as a result, a more engaging sound. The slacker cool of Jack Mannix and Angela Bermuda are the essence of Circle Pit but thankfully they don’t rely on just that. The music is now matching the image and they have a sound that is a much needed antidote to the generic ‘rock’ that is spoon fed by the local industry.

-www.liveguide.com.au

It's not so hard to forget a band. One day you're poring over thank-yous in an album's liner notes and googling who the second engineer is and quoting meaningful lyrics on you Facebook status update and hoping someone will 'get it' and write the next line of the song as a comment and 'like' you. The next, you're trying to decide whether the new Sonic Youth album is more 'relevant to right now' than the new Future of the Left album and listening to Adelaide's Fair Maiden on Myspace and thinking how Adelaide bands do 'left out' so well and how relatable it is even though you've never been there in your life and the album you were poring over yesterday has been covered by a stack of ALDI catalogues that you've put on your 'study to find new cheap beer brand to buy' agenda and you've completely forgotten about the band you had decided was your 'new favourite band'.

But sometimes, if you're lucky, you get reminded. That happened to me recently on a friday night that seemed like a sunday morning (because wednesday had been friday and thursday had been saturday). I went to a show to 'recover' and it reminded me of something that had previously seemed 'vital' to me. It reminded me that Circle Pit are the best band in the country right now.

I know that sounds pretty whack, or maybe even kind of late or irrelevant, but hear me out. I have reasons. Watching Circle Pit play again immeadiately reminded me of the last scene at the end of Juno where Michael Cera and Ellen Page are pretending to play Anyone else but you by the Moldy Peaches and you're supposed to think its all cute and stuff because you get to see young hotties instead of Kimya Dawson and Adam Green, but you still get to hear the totally cute song and watch them be in hetero love and stuff. Jack Mannix and Angie Bermuda from Circle Pit seem like they should be the reality of that situation, where the two 'ideals' meet, where the world has vomited out some kind of young Aryan hetero perfection, but they're far from it.

They're probably the most equal 'boy' + 'girl' songwriting duo I've ever seen: two completely independent but compatible writers and singers and players, both completely tough - and knowing-looking yet so transparent and vunerable and 'at home' on stage. There's no sexual tension to add to take away from what they're playing and they don't try to create any either, the way loads of other bands do and fail to do. The truth is probably that they just know each other so well - having started out together in Kiosk when Mannix was 14 and Bermuda was 16 - that any kind of attempted 'dynamic' has long fallen away and what's left is just what you hear and see: two people who know each other really well and happen to be a boy and a girl writing really good songs together.

It's also they way they play. It's completely clear that both Bermuda and Mannix are more than competent with their guitars ( and a stack of other instruments ) and they can both sing. They know how to keep time. They have the 'skills' generally considered necessary for being in a 'good band', but there are lots of times where they choose not to use them. It is a choice. Not that they sound off key or hit 'bung notes' or anything, but that they don't always play to their 'skill level'. They don't always sing on the note and, when they sing together, they're two voices rather than attempting to be one or one backing the other. They deconstruct what it is to be a 'good band' and put the pieces back together they way they want them to fit.

It probably doesnt hurt that they're both ( as well as the rest of their band, when they play as a five-piece) kind of 'stylish' and 'good-looking' and I like that a lot of people would look at Mannix's leather jacket or jeans or Bermuda's haircut and decide they're 'trying to be fashionable' when those people really just wish they were 'cooler' when that seems 'beside the point'

And even all those things are secondary to Circle Pit's songs. Sorry for the Juno refererence.

By Adam Curley, 'Break Down'
Drum Media
9th June 2009. 

"Sydney, Australia is known for a certain leather-rock sound, and this duo (plus friends) is not totally out of line with such progenitors as Filth. But they mix this early punk leather dynamic with the sort of knowingly doofus overload that made early Royal Trux such a winning proposition. Reviews of their live shows are so bipolar, one can only assume they're astounding. Potent whiffs of jean piss. Get 'em now." - Byron Coley, The Wire May 2009, "Size Matters" column.

this review was done alongside a 7" by us band bridez, to clear up any confusion..

I’m what you call a “soft touch”– any band that wants to get on my good side need only namedrop Royal Trux in their press kit. This very public Achilles heel of mine seems to be coincidentally coinciding with more young bands than ever counting the band as an influence, which is fine by me. One recent example is Bridez, who’s debut 7” (World Famous In San Francisco) is a just-short-of-shameless homage to the band’s early work, but Bridez has the hooks, not to mention an excellent vocalist in Liza Thorn (late of SF noisemongers So So Many White White Tigers) to transcend the liberal borrowing of Trux’s singular aesthetic. These are excellent tunes in the post-Exile on Main Street mold, but the band is best when the self -conscious sleaze subsides a bit, as on B-side “Heart” where they accidentally end up sounding more like The Gits or early Hole. A rare single that rewards repeat listens.


Another of these bands who manage to capture the Trux vibe is Circle Pit, a Sydney-based blues-rock duo whose debut 7” for R.I.P Society, but do so albeit in a slightly less obvious way. Maybe it’s the vaguely Paul Morrissey-esque cover art, but Circle Pit sound somehow slightly more convincing, though their stoned narco-blues is certainly less tuneful than Bridez’s. “Everybody Left” is a highlight here, bolstered by an exciting call and response male / female vocals that recall the halcyon days of riot grrl.

the long quote by jack at the start was taken from an interview with someone else, as an answer to a different question, to put it in context..

taken from http://ptwist.blogspot.com

CIRCLE PIT
Originally intended for the Negative Guest List mag:

I also submitted this for a writing task at Queensland's University of Technology.
I expect to fail.
CIRCLE PIT s/t 7” (RIP Society)

I asked Jack (long haired dope on the front cover of this 7”) to talk a bit about his band and this is what he had to say: “Circle Pit is essentially Angela Garrick and Jack Mannix. We live together and write all our songs together. When we play live we have a band that consists of our friends Nic Warnock, Gary Lockhart and Owen Penglis. Before we started the band, Angie and I had played together since I was 14 and she was 16, primarily in the band Kiosk. Angie also plays in Straight Arrows with Owen and I am a photographer. We had always wanted to start a band together with us both writing the songs and playing guitar and singing. We didn't think about any particular style when we started, we just wanted to make the kind of music that we hadn't been able to in our previous bands”..

Christ mate, Your So Boring.

Contrary to what the above quotation might suggest, Circle Pit the band certainly are worth writing about, and I’ll tell ya why, because I think this is an important point to make. They are one of the precious few modern bands, and I mean this with regards not only to within the marginal frame of fucked up underground r'n'r groups in which they exist, but within the entire macrocosm of contemporary music, they are one of the only modern groups that lend themselves entirely to the great rock-writ tradition of deconstructing r’n’r personalities. I wouldn’t argue that’s it’s a particularly grim circumstance, but it’s certainly a disinteresting one when there’s a wealth of good to great bands to write about, but few instantly identifiable personalities behind the music what’d inspire the kinda delirious/hyperbolic prose that usedta flesh out all of our favorite fanzeens of yesteryear. Principal band members Jack and Angie are a couple of such characters, just take a look at any given photo of the two (and believe you me, there's a whole bunch of 'em floating around on the interweb); Angie a pout faced bratty cunt in the mould of Patti Smith/Lydia Lunch, and Jack the perpetually smacked out looking homo, dressed in a denim jacket and feathered drifter hat, with dead expression pasted across his queer little mug (More from Jack “I do own a pretty gnarly pair of studded gloves”.). The pair are as fashion conscious as most try to appear to not be, just constantly photographical in the same way that Iggy, or Hell or the NY Dolls were. I don’t want you to get the idea that these two are just a couple of limp caricatures, some kinda lurid revivalists of tired rock aesthetics- I’m convinced there’s genuine personality behind the glitter, and I wanna talk about my encounter with the band to try ‘n cement this fact.

I caught the band recently in Brisbane. They played Step Inn, a particularly seedy bar in fortitude valley adjacent the precincts’ strip mall, where poorly dressed chickenhawks creepy crawl under a blind moon and the air constantly smells of fresh ejaculate and old liquor. This seemed more appropriate a setting for a Circle Pit show than most. We soaked up the ambience, drunk heavily, and following a decently performed set of tunes which I would most succinctly describe as ‘purposefully bloated coke rock’, headed to Slaughterhaus- crash house for touring punk bands, and Brisbane city nightcrawlers, to kick on and drink ourselves into unconsciousness. When we arrived I made myself a ham sandwich in the kitchen; an unsuccessful attempt to offset the burgeoning drunkenness that was preventing me from functioning properly, or participating in much of the festivities through the rest of the evening. From there I wobbled into the backyard and fell dumbly onto a seat, around which the gang was all huddled together like a drunken league scrum, suckin’ on stolen beers and hand rolled cigarettes. My head sunk slouched against my chest like some lame, defeated animal, forcing it upward only to catch a glimpse of a conversation, or take a hit of the joint being passed around the circle which had the girth of a fine Cuban. Angie was easily the most charismatic presence, as she regaled the circle of degenerate band mates/roadies and Brisbane dicks with stories of LSD experimentation and the recent downfall of Marrickville DIY venue, Louie’s. Jack chose not to stay at the house that night, and my somewhat fantastical perception of him would have me assume that he were somewhere lsordid, gettin’ off on his degenerative kicks. The cold air stung and was rich with cigarette smoke, as Jim Kritzler of Birthday Party fame (harhar) rushed from the kitchen with an armful of disposable plastic containers, and cracked coffee mugs. Cups of mescaline. By this point I was trashed beyond recovery and didn’t particularly relish in the idea of expanding my mind’s horizons w/ halucigenic drug use. My head was spinning uncontrollably and I was starting to feel like a paralysed bush grub slouched over in my chair, ponderin’ this Circle Pit duo- Jack lost in kicksville and Angie captivating a small gang of Brisbane city punks trashed on beer and weed and peyote. My only tangible exchange with either of the two occurred soon after, as Angie made an unreturned gesture toward my dead hand moments before I passed out under the Southern Cross.

I woke up late morning with the harsh Queensland sun staring at me, with a head made of cement, and a mug full of hot mescaline next to it. I had this for breakfast. I walked back inside the house, sunk into a couch and spent an inordinate amount of time staring at the vacuous blank space that existed behind a television set, and the patterns in my head. Later in the afternoon I got a kebab. I bumped into Angie who’d a small army of books under her arm, which she had just purchased from the Salvation Army. She commented on how much she loved life at that exact point and I noted the in her glee in her elucidation.
I caught the bus home and drunk some beers.

I saw the band again later that night outside Rosie’s tavern on Edward and Queen. They had just finished playing and were loading their gear into the tour van, noticeably drunk and down on something. Our tenure was cut short by the ostensibly public arrest of one of a best undisclosed associate, which was for some stupid reason enough of a spectacle to draw the attention of half of Brisbane’s CBD. Small town. I lost the band in the confusion.

We walked upstairs and wrote ourselves off for the night.

My encounter with the group forced me to reconsider my position on these tunes (of the groups’ cd-r demo, from which the a-side of this record were taken I wrote- “sounds like a couple of punks weaned on Royal Trux LP’s just traded out for a tattered copy of British Steel at the used book store.”). Ultimately, attitude and personality and all that jib goes a fair way but if the tunes don’t kick, then brother it don’t mean shit. These tunes do not kick. They throb. I could understand and even empathize with somebody not liking this record; their sound is fairly limited stylistically and rooted in lo-fi esotericism But after getting to meet the band they made a hell of a lot more sense. So, chump, what it all comes down to is you don’t have to shoot hot junk up your arm, or jam to Twin Infinitives religiously and regularly to dig on this platter. All you need is a taste for seedy tunes, and an understanding for the seedy characters who conceived them.

Circle Pit
“Total Waste” b/w “Everybody Left” 7”
(R.I.P. Society)

Straight Arrows side project of a guy and girl in Sydney, Australia, rockin’ in a vaguely neon Mick & Keef sleaze sorta way. “Total Waste” is inept enough in the guitar lead and confident enough in the vocal shouts and rhythmic authority that it could almost be a lost Huggy Bear track, though that’s not what it seems they’re going for. “Everybody Left” is a bit more straightforward, and more of an obvious nod to Royal Trux, which is what they’re probably going for. The way it plays out, though, they’re either geniuses on the level of Black Time, or just really boring, dumb coke rock. I leave it up to you to decide what’s what. 500 copies, silkscreened sleeves.

circle pit are quite clearly familiar with stoner rock, which they
lose the appeal of by playing it like they're about to get busted.
devoid of dynamics and any sense of narrative, songs plod along on moe
tucker slamming and slack-stringed basslines until the band stop. a
format that is totally fine if you're going for a groove or stoner rock
bliss, but the vocals are too jarring and songs like dead meat and
hurricane make you briefly ponder the value of hearing their 7" on
33rpm before wishing beaches would hurry up.

from some street press

I have had a bit of a love/hate relationship with Sydney's Circle
Pit ever since I first saw them play around 12 months ago. The thing
is, every time I see them I end up either loving or hating them. On
some occasions it's semi-perfect punk music and other times it's just a
sloppy mess. Never anything in-between.

The way I see it, there are several variables that come into play -
the band's mood, my mood, the venue, intoxication level of myself,
intoxication level of the band and (of course) the current financial
status of the globe. Regardless of how these elements align, one thing
is for sure: when you 'book' 'tickets' to a Circle Pit show there is no
guarantee that you are definitely going to get 'rocked'.

But my opinion on the ex-Kiosk rag drag garage punk duo has changed
forever now that I finally have my hands on a physical release. This
7", the band's first proper (ie. non CD-R) offering, perfectly bottles
everything that exists on the 'love' side of our relationship.

Recorded to 4-track at 'the LSD frat house' by the group's drummer
and Straight Arrows frontman, Owen Penglis, the band's core sound - a
mix of slacker vocals, garage rock guitar riffs and punk angst - is
catered for perfectly. It is over and done in just six minutes, but in
that small window of opportunity the group put their best foot forward,
delivering two near-perfect pocket-sized doses of musical face-smashing
intolerance.

The style of Circle Pit is slightly confusing. The first track, Total Waste,
is kicked into gear by a confident guitar explosion. Although there are
obvious strong hair metal and early 90s 'flamboyant glory rock'
influences, these homages fall behind their own lovely angst-driven
punk delivery. The battle that plays out between the two is where the
group's unique style playfully exists. For every moment of confident
swagger there is a line spat with an undeniable apprehension or
carefree nonchalance.

The b-side track, Every Body Left, sees both of the core
members, Jack and Angela, vocally double-team, delivering the almost
indecipherable lyrics with a strong feeling of determination - yet
still being far from aggressive or attacking. Much like the lead track,
a solid guitar riff kicks the vocals to the back of the mix, yet the
distant shouting style sees them remain the focal point of the track.

The under-cooked nature of these two songs perfectly accompanies the
band's style. There is no polish here, just two short stabs of
brilliantly incoherent punk drawl. The group cleverly mix in splashes
of other styles (glam/cock/GnR rock) that helps them stand alone, but
at the core this is simply a well-executed double serving of garage
rock clanger and punk mush. This record is definitely a turning point
in our relationship.Words by Jonny.

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