The Brag

BONNIWELLS
Sneeze Weed
Z-Man Records

The popular image of the ‘60s, as revolutionised by wild-eyed teenagers in stovepipe trousers and Beatle boots bashing out three-chord punk tunes in their parents’ garage, is as much romantic conceit as corroborated historical truth. Yet it remains a popular image in garage punk folklore, and one that we all continue to indulge.

Melbourne-based Bonniwells are ripped straight from that image: rudimentary melodies, troglodyte beats and sneering anti-social attitude. ‘From The Sunn’ stumbles into view from the barest of ingredients – a proverbial bedroom jam session that somehow evolves into a song packed full of sonic intensity. ‘Lazy Daisy’ is a rich collage of acid, amphetamines and adolescence; ‘Elk Beat’ finds hitherto unknown garage gold in the basic structures first mined by The Sonics; and ‘Ms Anderson’ sweats with the passion of every teenage boy’s wet dream.

‘How We Came To Stay’ is raised on a diet of The Trashmen and The Troggs, and a special treat of Buffalo Springfield if you’re lucky; ‘Mongo Pusher’ drags its feet through the psychedelic sludge like an acid casualty trying desperately to regain a lost grasp on reality; and ‘Everyone Say Hello’ is the fucked-up Pistols’ morning-after-the-happy-pilled-night-before, when peace, love and happiness has turned to hate, shit and frontal lobe torture. ‘Crack Man’ is the superhero garage anthem that Tim Burton missed for his latest feature film, ‘Suntan And Freckles’ is surf rock on a beach polluted by washed up Stooges records, and ‘Mudskipper’ is bubblegum pop stuffed in a Tacoma trashcan.

Even if you don’t buy into the ‘60s mythology, Bonniwells are the antidote to all of that contrived corporate bullshit that’s regularly shoved down our throats. Rock’n’roll with attitude, hold the fashion statement.

Patrick Emery