I wouldn’t say that the intellect of Media Puzzle separates the Aussie band too heavily from the rest of the egg punk movement, but only because there are some very smart cookies – or eggs – around at the moment, Snõõper being one of my favourites. Go listen to Snõõper, ya dweeb.
However, new album New Racehorse offers valuable insight into just how smart the quintet – particularly head honcho Tom Peter – truly is. The whole ‘fear the technological age’ thing has been flogged a thousandfold, but Media Puzzle’s fourth album observes – and satirises – just how the internet era is dehumanising us; madly, unsuspectedly, in many cases, unknowingly. It is a genuine concept album; Media Puzzle is obsessed with this idea of mankind as a racehorse that is quickly being turned into the very thing that has taken over our lives, just as obsessed with spoken word snippets that narrate these themes to some extent, with code (binary, morse), with pets in general (dogs, horses). It’s worth mentioning that Media Puzzle was the name of a real racehorse.
A good-humoured contrast gives the album its food, its ‘there’s a point to all of this’ sustenance. Amid video game-ised doggy sound effects and secretive post-punk pockets, New Pet utilises a spritely, danceable energy, kind of old school and, dare I say, hip. ‘We’re bowing to our robot overlords and you’re doing the monkey?’. I Don’t Care does the monkey whilst electing apathy.
There has to be a comic book style of surrealistic humour, otherwise we’d never smile. Our gallows humour takes our new pet – yes, the pet is us – to the gulag on More Hore, Less Code (or More Horse, Less Code depending on where you’re getting your info), but it’s fine; morse code will alert the proper authorities. On My Age, In Minutes and Seconds, we’re left wondering what happened to all the hope, as Media Puzzle’s most inflictive chorus to date plays over the retirement home speakers – “I got a feeling that you’ve got enough baskets and not enough eggs”.
Like any good rawk n roll band, Media Puzzle could potentially resist its opposition with music alone. There is a conflict of interest; some of the ‘control’ of this particular egg punk sound does occasionally distract from intended urgency – unless the performance style is so frantic, or such an ode to old British punk (Don’t Know You) – but think of it as music attempting to break through the stuffiness of modern technology’s constriction. Hey, the band now has a new drummer (Oli Clarke), replacing their old drum machine, perhaps for legitimacy’s sake.
A fuller sound can work wonders, and Dead Dog is the album’s fullest; a haven of texture in which smoky basslines collide with lead guitars until they become unattached, hanging by a thread, despite their fury.
Knowledge contains oddly-placed saxophones atop searing rock grooves that suggest punk’s answer to The Beatles’ Day Tripper. A similar guise is observed through an ‘80s post-punk filter on Tea Time, with full-bellied bass reverb, which then picks up into a pacey guitar-fest that homes a narration on an encounter with robots. Far out.
The instrumentals never feel safe or fully comfortable. There is nothing else on the album that sounds like See You There, which contains a flashy instrumental hook bred by an earwormy synthesiser the aspirations of which combine screeching tires and carnival music. Out of the Rain begins with – and brings back – a very sentimental mix of yearning rock instrumentation and blushing saxophones. It’s as if to say everything’s going to be okay, or at least, we’re being nursed, maybe even revived. The album’s thesis does state that we have enough love in us to overcome our own dehumanisation, our own robotisation.
Best tracks – Out of the Rain – Tea Time – My Age, In Minutes and Seconds – See You There.
Rating – 7.5 out of 10
