Review Summary: ‘Why don’t you do something constructive?’
As a youngster, I lost count of the number of times I heard the above question posed by my parents. It always served as the harbinger of a heated dialogue, typically presenting when they discovered me doing something that involved watching a screen; an exasperated attempt to stop me being seduced by what they perceived as time-wasting distractions. Although the generational difference between us definitely contributed to their somewhat skewed view of screen media, it’s a word that’s stuck with me throughout my adult life: ‘constructive’. They wanted me to be developing a skill, indulging in a meaningful hobby, or simply going and touching grass; it didn’t matter so long as I was making better use of my time in a tangible way. In the modern age, when the phrase ‘doomscrolling’ has entered the English lexicon and there’s galleries upon galleries of bitesize videos that barely crest 30 seconds so as not to glitch out adolescent attention spans, distractions have never been more accessible, or seductive. Add clickbait news articles that sensationalise serious topics for the purpose of maintaining site traffic into the mix, and we’re left in an informational snowglobe where slivers of intrigue swirl around in a disorganised but troublingly enticing fashion.
Cartoon Darkness envisions a world of lemmings tumbling blindly into an existence they have inadvertently created through a constant need for meaningless stimulation. It’s a future of digitised melancholy and lethargy, sociological misunderstandings and disarray, brought about by the need to consume things that don’t benefit us, or even bring us pleasure- they simply distract us. It’s the reason your first manuscript draft was never completed, you never landed your first kickflip and you never got to grade 3 on the clarinet. Extrapolate that to a global scale; a planet of likeminded individuals, their lives on the backburner whilst they while away the hours oblivious to the foundations they are laying for the future.
The idea of being so entranced by an assortment of jingling keys that we lose sight of the things that truly matter is a central preoccupation of
Cartoon Darkness, explored through the lens of topics like AI, climate crisis, politics, contrasting cultural perspectives and even elitist gatekeeping. Although the ideas are broad, the overarching focus is singular, and all the component pieces fall comfortably under this bleak umbrella. Amyl And The Sniffers approach the thematics with a slightly more ordered sense of musicality when compared to their previous releases, incorporating elevated melodic passages and stylistic switches to complement the relevancy. Nonetheless, the sound itself remains unmistakeably theirs, replete with the invigorating punchiness that, up until now, has so defined their output. Simplistic riffs distorted out the ass against Bryce Wilson’s headbanging percussion are a constant fixture throughout, although the newfound melodic asides do allow for a heightened synchronicity with the topicality at hand. Cuts like ‘Chewing Gum’ and ‘Big Dreams’ exemplify this, displaying fiery hooks that serve the themes with an almost hypnotically bare aesthetic. The latter utilises an uncharacteristically suppressed style from vocalist Amy Taylor to offset the gentle yet abrasive guitars, solidifying the relatable focus on yearning for something greater, the cost of living and the toll simply existing exacts upon mental health. Elsewhere, there’s thrashy, hardcore-infused mischief to be found on moments like ‘Tiny Bikini’, which levels sights at misconceptions held by detractors when it comes to Taylor’s personal style. The borderline-derisive backup vocals are reminiscent of singsong playground mockeries and contrast offhandedly with the foreground declarations, creating a pleasantly layered effect where the background vocal could infer Taylor’s jeering at the critics, or childish imitations of the nay-sayers themselves. It feels playful yet pointed, full of venom but very self-aware.
The frantic, purposeful garage rock stylistics feel appropriate to the ideas expressed on the record, with Taylor’s vocal delivery consistently jubilant and vicious. Tracks like opener ‘Jerkin’, with its anatomical catalogue of a video, feel fittingly incensed with its one-chord riff and confrontational lyrics. The focus on refuting criticism whilst simultaneously asserting confidence sees a slew of expletives and crude one-liners delivered in about as punk a manner as it’s possible to get, yet it’s all still infused with a glint-eyed modern edge. Speaking of choice four-letter words, Amy Taylor’s profane diatribes are just as prevalent as on the band’s previous LPs and are every bit as uproarious as the music demands, her heavily accented voice a blunted machete cutting through the dense vines of the growling guitars and pattering percussion. As is typical of the band’s production style, the slightly elevated vocal still sits comfortably in the thick of the mix, occasionally soaring over when the loudened admonishments become especially enraged. Far from feeling unnecessarily muddied, the effect is cohesive, with the vocal an assault every bit as embittered as the crunching guitars, twanging bass or thumping drums. For a song like ‘Pigs’, which laments the detrimental consumption of meaningless and hysterical media, the lyrics
Conformity, well, I don’t like the sound of it
Stuck in the slipstream
And I wanna get out of it
are perfectly served by the style. The sonic solidarity complements the idea of attempting to break out of a groove, the strength of Taylor’s voice pushing against the oppression of the instrumental as if calling out from the eye of a storm.
Cartoon Darkness exhibits some mild developments for the Aussie outfit, but the central aesthetic and attitude remains staunchly unchanged. The main difference comes in the form of its core preoccupations, which have allowed the band to explore musical structures in a way that emphasises the themes with a tad more nuance than previous efforts. Even though the warts-and-all rawness of the production may seem an unsophisticated loudspeaker for delving into such ideas, it actually couldn’t be more appropriate. The punk sound, raucous and unapologetic, chews the bullet points up and spits them out again, full of bitterness and vitriol but never anything less than completely compelling. The outfit’s edge has found a whetstone that is able to sharpen the previously-established chaos, whilst also adding a gut-punch severity to the overall effect, even if it remains just as playful in its lyricism and garage-band simplicity. Audacious in sound, digestible in focus and a big-bollocked, rollicking good time.
