Every year, we decide to cover the song that wins Triple J’s Hottest 100. And every year, this happens.
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[3.38]
Vikram Joseph: Through two years living Down Under, I grew to love a lot of Antipodean noise; perhaps, though, that relentless Southern Hemisphere sun, blazing through an ozone-deficient patch of stratosphere, colours Australian music trends a few shades stranger than it might otherwise be. How else do you explain the predilection for trashy skate-punk, cod-reggae peddled by long-haired stoner dudes, and Vance Joy? To that list of oddities, add Ocean Alley: bafflingly, this interminable wah-wah-drenched stodge-fest is the 2018 Hottest 100 winner. Gang Of Youths and Violent Soho, home-grown rock bands who dominated the list in recent years, might be derivative but had distinct personality and plenty of tunes; Ocean Alley’s popularity, on the other hand, is entirely inexplicable.
[2]
Thomas Inskeep: Spacey, expansive rock that actually sounds “alt” (as opposed to, say, Imagine Dragons or the 1975), and grows on me with successive listens. I love the way it stretches out and takes every bit of its time.
[7]
Iris Xie: All day today, I’ve been plagued by the “she’s a confident ~lady~” hook, with the warbly pseudo-surf rock riffs. I think this song would be best appreciated if you were trapped in a dark escape room with all the exits removed, this “song” being fed through a tinny speaker in a far-off corner, and with mysterious scratching noises coming through the walls — it’s the only real way to fully take in the endless, dreadful desperation this song exudes. I’m just relieved that this song ends and retreats quickly.
[1]
Alfred Soto: Is that a wah-wah I hear? Are there echoes of Player’s “Baby Come Back” in the vocal melody? So much for alternative rock credentials.
[4]
Joshua Minsoo Kim: A bit of amateurish ’70s yacht rock pastiche that thinks a healthy dose of reverb can bolster its lyrics beyond dudely insipidness. It’s built for casual, humid weather listening, but there’s a seriousness with which Baden Donegal sings “She’s making me nervous/I think she knows/she’s out of my leeeeaaaague” that makes this unignorably laughable. They have confidence, I’ll give them that.
[3]
Jonathan Bradley: This is summer music: its acrid ooze has the miasma of vomit baking into a beach suburb footpath in December. My reaction is physical.
[3]
Katherine St Asaph: Quasi-incel shit set to porno-guitared yacht rock and wheedling vocals sneering out the word “lady” should be my own personal [0] beacon, so I can’t explain why it’s not. Perhaps Maroon 5 and Charlie Puth have set the bar so low it’s not difficult to clear?
[4]
Edward Okulicz: This song is the sound of sunburn, the second-cheapest IPA the pub has on tap, and “getting all chill.” I officially loathe all dudes under the age of 37.
[3]