Musical memory is a tricky thing. It’s too easy to define an era with a single cliche. Looking back at the 1990s, I’m not sure where grunge-Madonna-pointy-tits ends and Kurt Cobain begins. Thanks, MTV.
But last decade also hosted a gamut of bands more versed in whimsy, 60s pop harmonies and jaunty snare drums. I am talking, of course, about indie pop. While Aussie kids in flannel and scruffy jeans were listening to American grunge, other Aussie kids in flannel and scruffy (but tighter) jeans were listening to the likes of Belle & Sebastian and a Melbourne group called The Lucksmiths.
Riding off the backs of New Romantics like Orange Juice, the Smiths and the Go-Between, this new generation reflected the stripped-back simplicity of early pop, countered with lyrics less affected and balancing self-consciously realistic themes with surreal and unnerving undertones.
Singer/percussionist Tali White, guitarist Marty Donald, and bassist Mark Monnone (and later a second guitarist, Louis Richter) played several support gigs with Belle & Sebastian in Europe at the end of the 1990s, earning them a strong cult following. The Lucksmiths first full-length, The Green Bicycle Case, was released in 1995, two years after the groups’ formation. Named after a famous English murder case, the album verges on concept with recurring themes of discovery, mystery and hijinks.
But, alack! The band is now (unless one lives in Europe) defunct. With their final tour leaving our shores so very soon, there’s never been a better time to get into their stuff. You can swish your hair back at that pretentious hipster who brings up a reference to their passing: “Who? The Lucksmiths? Yeah, they’re alright.”