Brain Worms

On their third album, Brain Worms, Australian group RVG refine both the sharp-witted lyricism and high-tension emotional atmospheres they captured on earlier albums, producing some of their most striking work to date. Though they are often classified as post-punk, the bands chorus-drenched guitars, lurching tempos, reverb-heavy production, and aching vocal melodies point more to the influence of Echo & the Bunnymen, the Go-Betweens, the Teardrop Explodes, and other shining examples of melancholic mid-80s college rock than the wave of experimenters that arrived just after punk rock. RVG do turn up the energy and speed on "Midnight Sun," and "Squid" is a jagged blast of angry catharsis (which all but quotes Joy Division in an easy-to-miss guitar line), but the most captivating components of Brain Worms are its most understated. Slow and pensive opening track "Common Ground" begins the album with an air of defeat and resignation, moving so slowly it almost hides how many vocal hooks the song contains, and how many layers of interesting production details snake in and out of the mix. The brittle "Nothing Really Changes" is similar, with harsh synth pop drum machine snares slowly melting into live drums, and the rest of the musical arrangement quietly simmering beneath singer/bandleader Romy Vagers commanding vocals about the painful crumbling of a lopsided relationship. Melodic midtempo tracks like "Tropic of Cancer" and "Its Not Easy" tap into the wistful jangle of Kiwi pop bands like the Verlaines, and Vagers lyrics offset the albums pleasantly sullen musical backdrops with intense lyrical critiques on toxic friendships, wage slavery, families torn apart by political divides, and other existential heaviness. Nowhere is this contrast between spry songwriting and dismal lyricism more acute than on "Tambourine," a song that vividly depicts the experience of attending a loved ones funeral. Set in the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, the funeral is taking place on a video call with bad reception, and all the frustration and grief is doubled by the detachment of having to say goodbye through a screen. Even here, Vagers lyrics are metered and masterful, injecting dry humor into an opening line about the family playing Trains ubiquitous and cheesy hit "Drops of Jupiter" at the funeral because they didnt really have a good sense of the departeds musical taste. Its a wry laugh in an otherwise staggeringly sad song, and serves as the summit to a record thats as catchy as it is emotionally overpowering. ~ Fred Thomas