Review Summary: Overtly simple and intentionally stupid. A bloody good time even if it's as shallow as a kiddy pool.
The Chats are a strange case. This band hails from Australia and practically bursted into the musical landscape when their first song “Smoko” became a viral youtube hit (it currently has 10 million views). Since then they’ve created a devoted fanbase, headlined festivals, and even received props from none other than Dave Grohl. What makes them a strange case is that they make trashy, garage rock inspired elementary and silly tracks; however, they are well aware of every single one of their shortcomings. As a matter of fact, they sort of play up to said shortcomings. Their singer has the grossest bowl cut and mullet combo imaginable, they constantly belittle themselves and their own music in interviews, their music videos include details such as the drummer missing entire parts of his kit and a solo being played in the background over a guitar hero chart of it, and seem to be absolutely baffled with their own popularity. They’re just playing up to the public image they themselves have created.
What will make or break The Chats for the listener, like all comedically-tinged bands, is whether or not they find their music funny or completely intolerable. Do you find songs about dine and dashing, chowing on some pub grub, having your identity stolen, and acquiring an STD delivered in a cheeky, blunt, boyish, and heavily Australian lingo coded fashion enjoyable? Well perhaps the chats are for you. Do you think what I just described sounds utterly detestable? Well your 28 minutes are best spent elsewhere (perhaps give their music videos a gander, they’re worth a good chuckle or two).
Sure, the album’s snare sounds like it hasn’t been tuned since the Bush administration, the guitars and baselines are so rudimentary that a first month student could play them, and the singer has a yelpy, heavily accented voice that can be best described as “an acquired taste,” but the band is already well aware of this. It seems as though this album, to them, was an improvement merely because the bass was actually recorded on a bass amp. They play to their strengths: being silly, good lads who write some dumb, immensely catchy songs to sing along to drunkenly. They’re admittedly pretty good at it. For the entire week after the single “Pub Feed” was released the chorus was ingrained in my mind and the same could go for half of the songs on the album.
There is something endearing about being so blunt, so simplistic, and so childish especially in the bleak landscape the current year has presented. High Risk Behaviour reminds us it’s okay to be simple at times.
