The Paper Scissors
In Loving Memory Source Music/MGM You haven't heard anything this year that's even vaguely reminiscent of Sydney trio The Paper Scissors' second album 'In Loving Memory', which in these days of cookie cutter bands should be enough of an endorsement for you to seek them out immediately. If you want more convincing than that, well, I'll try and put it in the proper perspective. Most bands can be quantified as a sum of their influences. If they're really good, sometimes they manage to put their own stamp on the sound they're trying to ape - after all, let's face it, there's nothing new under the sun. The Paper Scissors however, defy such easy definition. You can't point at one sound and say "that's what they're trying to do" because moments later something else will come along and derail your so-clever analysis. They exist outside of trends, of peaks and troughs in the industry - they are merely themselves. Which is why if you try to describe 'In Loving Memory' you'll have to talk about post-punk, but not PiL. You'll have to talk about garage rock, but not in the ilk of the Stooges or the MC5. You'll have to talk about soul (but white soul) and indie (but when it still meant something) and... well, you get the gist, I could go on forever. Pigeonholing isn't what The Paper Scissors are about; instead they combine these disparate sounds (critically, without ever trying to sound like any of them) into a wonderfully postmodern brew of intelligent music. Maybe that's all you can call this with any certainty - "music". Add that to a delightfully off-centre approach to song writing and construction by front man Jai Pyne and you have something superbly unique. These aren't simple constructions - but commentaries on modern life, dissolving friendships and the difficulty of being They hit on a variety of moods too - they can rock out on the likes of the mighty Lung Sum, yet they can do the delicate synth laden washes of Disco Connect and everything in between; hell, Mechanism (Thick Mortar) has a melody riff that appears to have escaped from a Cure record, circa 1986.The production is layered without heading into "over shiny studio" territory, and the performances from Pyne and co are never less than 110%. All of which adds up to a furiously contemporary, incredibly different record full of soul, passion and genuine feeling. Plus, it doesn't sound like anything else. If that's not a massive, ringing endorsement of this unassuming Sydney trio, I don't know what is. Patrick Lang  |
Issue 526
Music
