Three fine lasses and a drummer gent, Butcher Birds play the purest, juiciest, cheese-free ‘90s rock since grunge’s heyday – a solid proof that vintage Seattle ideals never really went away in Brisbane. 2006’s Eat Their Young EP showed plenty of promise and numerous, invigoratingly loud live gigs followed, yet for a number of reasons the band were reluctant to drop a full-length – up until now. Co-produced by name soundsmith and six-string fanatic Jeff Lovejoy, Set My Bones runs a gamut from the classic shouty “riot grrrl” of L7, Bikini Kill and Babes In Toyland to the more melodic, hum-friendly Breeders, Belly and Lush inflections, richly peppered with elements of shoegaze and conventional grunge. Lead singer Stacey Coleman (whose tones would make Kim Deal flash a trademark wide smile) and axewoman Jacinta Walker concoct a thick sonic tornado – none more saturated that on the opening noise maelstrom The Gate – while screamo-voiced bassist Joanna Nilson and drummer Donovan Miller (who also gets to sing on one track) provide throbbing pulse. Bare Arms, Dig Me!, Stone Fox (co-written with Screamfeeder bassist Kellie Lloyd) and Blood Message all boast lyrics covering a whole spectrum of emotions as well as contain enough febrile guitar chunk to keep the most plucky distortion fanatic satisfied. In all, sheer stylistic invention might not be Butcher Birds’ forte, yet they do both wistful harmonies and unhinged brutality very well – and that can only be a good thing.

***½

Butcher Birds

Set My Bones
Mere Noise....

In early 1990s Andrew McGahan’s prize winning novel Praise found immediate favour in the community of slightly disaffected youth within which I existed.  The novel’s narrative of dysfunction and disillusionment resonated with us as we tried to wade through the psychological sludge that lay between youthful enthusiasm and adult pragmatism.  This was, after all, the era in which the downcast melodies and introspective lyrical paralysis of grunge emerged as the empathetic candle for a generation.    ....

Of course, most of us grew out of that shit, and recognised it as the self-indulgent rite of passage that it was always going to be.  But there’s something in Brisbane (coincidentally, the scene of McGahan’s novel) band Butcher Birds’ album Set My Bones that conjures up images of those younger days.   Heavy guitars, emphatically dark vocals and pounding rhythms – this is the stuff of intensity and passion.....

That said, opening track The Gate is more light than dark, a powerful journey down the coast of spiritual enlightenment guided by Magic Dirt and L7; Millions grinds like Toys Went Beserk working up a sweat.  Bare Arms drops matters down a gear, the combination of psych-ish guitar and lush female vocals as much comforting as it is slightly disconcerting; Amp builds to a crescendo before a unleashing a wail of vocal noise that would send Hole scuttling back into the feral punk hole they’d crawled out of.  Stone Fox swaggers and sneers like a half cut bogan waging class warfare to the soundtrack of LA punk, Yoko Coma (a short-price favourite for best song title of 2009) is disjointed, punchy, creepy and beautiful in one fell swoop and Blood Message thrashes like an amphetamine riddled punk rock psychopath sent to wage war against the jive.  ....

Finally there’s Tipp City, a tale of emotional, domestic and professional desolation that we’re all too familiar with – even if we have moved on.  Maybe that’s what Butcher Birds are doing – reminding us all that there’s a dark side to the superficially glossy world around us, but sooner or later it’s time to move on.  But before you do, give Butcher Birds a whirl.....

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Patrick Emery BEAT MAGAZINE....