First as Anonyme and now under his own name, Andrew Tuttle has long been making music of the most natural order, inextricable from place and time. Australia has a long history of this. A basketful of the countries most recognisable artists, from Archie Roach through Boomgates have hinged their creativity (consciously or otherwise) on placing their context within their music.

Tuttle’s new record Fantasy League differs in that it doesn’t rely on words to conjur the images, they’re embedded in the sounds. The record shifts in hazy textures. Whorls of guitar are overcome by droning rhythms, to be overtaken by thundering organs or fluttering electronic blips. Fantasy League is heat, it is the long summer, the break of the rain, humidity. The escape. Ideas are presented, developed like maths problems and then slowly disintegrated, or theatrically imperious-thundering across the soundscape, at others moments the hot wind flows through. Fantasy League is Australia in texture and feeling, without saying a thing.

The album is due out this month via Someone Good, an imprint of Lawrence English’s Room40 and you can cop it right here.

Here’s one from ten months ago because when you woke up this morning your first ponderance was surely “I wonder what songs from May last year I should listen to today”
‘Okay’ is the wind in your face as you stand on the Winter coast. It’s a moment that you’re remembering better than it actually was, the lens of retrospect filtering the past so that it appears to encompass all that you wish you had now. It’s too perfect, too picturesque, too gorgeous, because the memory has deteriorated and you’ve glossed over the coarse edges of how things were to end up with a tableau more of your rose-tinted imaginings than any real thing that you’ve experienced. That’s the magic of a song of the kind that Tracy has made. It’s an entirely recontextualizing experience and I can’t wait to see what’s next from the Adelaide native.

Just like Hillary Clinton, I am a patron of the firewall, the great barrier that stands between two opposing forces. The key difference here folks, is that Hillaroo is referring to a figurative, metaphorical firewall whereas I have literally constructed a wall of mortar and brick, doused it in petroleum distillate and lit that thing up like the fourth of July sky. This magnificent, flaming obstruction is designed to keep two titanic properties apart: the behemoth that is the Sound Doctrine Empire and the juggernaut referred to as TEEF Enterprises (my own lovely record label). For the most part, it serves its purpose. I didn’t blog about the Anatole EP and I’ve been notably absent in my coverage of Arthur Wimble since he joined the family. But I’m taking exception here, because this remix that Anatole has constructed isn’t really a TEEF song. It’s the property of the good young men over at Tiny Little Houses, which absolutely still makes it something that I might be biased to push, but I’m hoping that through by virtue of this preface, you’ll go out of your way to make your mind up on the track and be clinical in your analysis. And I’ll say this, the decision to share this one was made all the easier because the thing is an overwhelming monster of a track. It’s a very imaginative and emotional recreation of the Tiny Little Houses original (which it should be noted, was already a fantastic record) and it emphasizes that vocal over all else, pausing for a split second at the one minute mark to remind you of those original elements before returning to the new orchestral tapestry that Jonathan Baker (Anatole) has woven. This could be my favourite record of the year so far and to hell with the firewall.

There’s a brand new Strain Of Origin coming this week. Now I’d like to think there are two appropriate responses to that fact. The first light interest, unaware of what you’re in for and the second is extreme excitement, because if you do know of the Strain Of Origin series then you’ll know that they’re some of the best curated and executed releases to come from independent Australian music world each year. They pair up two artists let’s say, for arguments sake, Wabz and Tim Shiel) and have the second artist (Tim) remix the a song by the first artist (Wabz). That’s just a hypothetical though, it can be literally any two artists.

In any case, we’re here with the first track from this years Strain Of Origin which sees Tim Shiel remixing Wabz. The original track is lifted from Wabz 2015 album Argyle and is a meditative song wrapped around two key elements. A pair of worrisom, reverberating guitar notes and a vocal sample that wouldn’t read out of place on the nihilst memes facebook page. “There is no forever. We all die someday”
The beat slides in and out and the only constant is the guitar and the sample. It’s not exactly melancholy or dark so much as a introspective, giving you space to dwell on the song’s emptier moments as the song bids you dwell on life’s emptier moments. Not empty of positivity, but empty of all things.

The edit you’ll find on Strain Of Origin V adds to the quiet atmospherics of the original with a perfectly joggable 130bmp and a rythm that’ll keep your knees in sustained motion. There’s still no fear but there’s more determination to this collaborative version and a sense of purpose that isn’t present in the questioning original. It dwells within the sphere of energetic, pulsing tracks that grow to a a steady throb with artists like Rival Consoles or Jon Hopkins and Tim will either agree with me or hate me saying that so here’s my hand on show. There’s one funny little moment in the track that has captivated me everytime I’ve listened to it and I know it feels like a silly micro-analysis but the ten seconds from 2:20 – 2:30 where the original “we all go one way” echos out before “we all die ***someday***” hits in reply but in this instance the someday has been perfectly rendered so as to sonically represent the systematic inevitability of death. Come on Tim, please try to keep it light, my kids read this. If you’re going to keep reminding them of their own mortality then I’m going to have to stop writing about your music.

Strain Of Origin V also features combination recordings from artists such as HTMLflowers, Andrew Tuttle, Dylan Michél and Setec. It’s out through Sydney’s Feral Media now and yours via this link.

I like to imagine, as those synthy sounding notes peel out through the track, that it’s actually the wailing voice of Ned Beckley filtered and filtered again until it becomes a piercing whine. It’s one of the many aspects of this track that add more levity to the production than much of his past record. Sure the weight is still there in the form of that brass and thumping bass (who is Atlas without his globe and would Shaq be Shaq without size 22 Reeboks?) but there are groovier and more playful elements that see him edging onto new turf. The track rolls rather than thunders onward, a smooth movement punctuated by rising synths, slicker bass kicks and a 50s vocal sample. He’s a true sound engineer and meticulous in his dedication to individual sonic crumbs which is likely why he’s found his composition work in such high demand. I think we’re past the point at which I can be trusted to objectively discuss Lower Spectrum records anymore and have entered a period more reasonably referred to as the fanning out stage. If the recording below was actually dead silence I’d be none the wiser, having employed a level of cognitive override sufficient to hear only what I expect from anything with Lower Spectrum’s stamp on it: excellence.

He’s touring nationally at the end of April and I can affirm without hesitation that you’d be a fool to miss it. I’ll except only two excuses for absence and those are incarceration and death so be willing to make the ultimate sacrifice or be present.