L-R: James Harrison, Riley Jones, Louis Forster
Riley Jones
James, currently 21, and Louis, currently 20, first met about five or six years ago, through a mutual friend. They would go to James’s dusty, Queenslander-style home in Brisbane’s Kelvin Grove neighbourhood––an inner-city suburb a 45-minute bus ride away from Louis’s house––after school, where the two would hang out, doing nothing in particular."It was a bit romantic, being young, being in high school." ––James Harrison
James Harrison
Despite the idyllic romance of band practise, school was hell for all three. James bristled at the early mornings and strict rules of his Catholic all-boys school, while Louis and Riley struggled under the weight of QACI’s intense academic regime. “[QACI] was really academic,” relays Louis, “I was always really stressed, and never sleeping.” The band’s shared anxieties of the time are partially chronicled on Up To Anything, which was written and recorded while the band were in high school. The band haven’t really heard much of the record since it came out, and only play a couple of the songs at shows. Mostly, that album just serves as a reminder for the band that some feelings––“Love,” according to Riley, “Feeling depressed,” according to Louis––are constant.We’re Not Talking is largely concerned with those same themes, but it feels like a drastically different record. Where Up To Anything ambled, We’re Not Talking bolts, tripping over itself to get out ideas and words and feelings but still graceful all the same. From the second the record opens, with the brash, heartbroken “Make Time 4 Love”, it is animated by a ragged and wild thump, a pounding heartbeat that feels almost violent in its emotion. There’s a certain exuberant, yearning spirit about the record; it feels like a sharp intake of breath, the same feeling that comes before doing something new or terrifying––the sound of youth, of overflowing with a million contradictory emotions and thoughts at once. On early highlight “Love Lost”, for example, an attempt to go about a menial daily task (finding a book to read or movie to watch) can trigger a thousand other, weightier thoughts.For the band, some feelings are constant: “Love,” according to Riley, “Feeling depressed,” according to Louis.
Louis Forster
“Certain people found that because we were young, the things that we were singing about were funny or cute,” says Louis. “We were singing about wanting to die, and it was weird when [that became] ‘cute teenage feelings’.” (Indeed, one review of Up To Anything describes the band as “confused, delicate and very, very teenage.”) Still, though, James acknowledges that there are advantages and perks to being young. “Youth is pretty appealing,” he says. “I like that I can smoke and drink as much as I want and not really care.”We’re Not Talking looks beyond the boilerplate of 'Australian Rock', finding inspiration in avant legends like Jenny Hval, Pere Ubu, ESG and The Raincoats. Tracks like “Losing Myself” and “We Can’t Win” experiment with synths and drum machines, giving the music a hermetically sealed, internal feeling that’s true to the songs’ tone. Violins screech on “She Knows” as if laid down by Vicky Aspinall, while baroque horns on “Make Time 4 Love” cast Louis as a dour, sassy Jens Lekman, giving his theatrical vocal (one of the best on the record, going from romantic to downcast to straight-up petulant over the song’s runtime) an adequately dramatic padding."People found that because we were young, the things that we were singing about were funny … We were singing about wanting to die, and it was weird when that became 'cute teenage feelings'." ––Louis Forster
None of the band knows quite where their urge for honesty comes from, but it guides their music all the same. When talking about the content of his lyrics, Louis seems disgusted with himself, as if he’s inflicting something on the people listening. “I wonder a lot about where the need to share comes from,” he says. “Sometimes I think it’s a beautiful thing and sometimes, when we’re on tour and have to play these songs for people, I think I’m a bit of a sick fuck. I’m such a sick fuck.” He laughs a little after spitting out the last part, but it doesn’t quite feel like he’s speaking in jest. When The Goon Sax discuss their own music, it’s like they’re self-analysing and critiquing in real time, trying to work out what impulses led to the album’s creation. Hearing the trio trying to discuss We’re Not Talking is not dissimilar to watching them try to find that misplaced house key; any and all attempts are made, with the hope that something will fit eventually.And yet, for all the self-loathing they display, when The Goon Sax get onstage they exude nothing but passion and love for their work. After we finish talking, I watch the trio play to a packed out room at Melbourne’s Gasometer Hotel. The performance is a rush; when Riley, James and Louis perform together they conjure that same wild, yearning, urgent energy that We’re Not Talking does, but amplified. The set is loud and angular, in the style of many of their idols, and songs that haven’t even been released yet have already evolved a thousand times since their recording. That’s the thing about The Goon Sax––they’re hard to pin down. All their music, but especially We’re Not Talking, channels the pure, violent entropy of living; you can hardly expect any one song, even any one note, to stay the same. The group ends with an extra loud, extra fast version of “Make Time 4 Love”, and are received rapturously. The chaos is worth it.The Goon Sax's sophomore record We're Not Talking is out September 14 via Chapter Music and Wichita Recordings.Elliott Lauren is a photographer from Melbourne. Follow her on Instagram.Shaad D'Souza is Noisey's Australia & New Zealand editor. Follow him on Twitter."Sometimes, when we're on tour and have to play these songs for people, I think I'm a bit of a sick fuck." ––Louis Forster
