Formed in 2005 I Heart Hiroshima have been slogging it out and have released their debut album. They are one of those bands that have hung around on the outskirts of conversations about Brisbane, The Go-Betweens or small time punk bands for a long time but finally people (including me) are just shutting up and listening.
I don’t really like describing a bands sound by comparing them to others but IHH sound extremely similar to my much loved Life Without Buildings. They are similar in the way that they make a seemingly average, everyday phrase encapsulating by repeating, repeating and repeating. This economy of words compliments the tight drum work and bare-boned angular guitar. The three focus on the percussive intricacies between guitar, voice and drums rather than creating memorable melodies to make their catchy 3 minute rough gems. The congested, bass-less double guitar from Matthew and Cameron is reminiscent of many of the more punky Melbourne bands but it’s their lyrics that reveal their Brisbane heritage. Part giddy, part sadistic and part youthful exuberance the band treads through scenarios of murder, robbery, big city nostalgia and childish love. The song Crime plays out the emotional dismembering of a said person/lover in the most frivolous of tones but the most gruesome of words. What really sticks from this album is its endearing simplicity. 3 instruments, 3 voices and three kids shouting as hard as they can till their voice boxes hurt. And that’s it.
I don’t really like describing a bands sound by comparing them to others but IHH sound extremely similar to my much loved Life Without Buildings. They are similar in the way that they make a seemingly average, everyday phrase encapsulating by repeating, repeating and repeating. This economy of words compliments the tight drum work and bare-boned angular guitar. The three focus on the percussive intricacies between guitar, voice and drums rather than creating memorable melodies to make their catchy 3 minute rough gems. The congested, bass-less double guitar from Matthew and Cameron is reminiscent of many of the more punky Melbourne bands but it’s their lyrics that reveal their Brisbane heritage. Part giddy, part sadistic and part youthful exuberance the band treads through scenarios of murder, robbery, big city nostalgia and childish love. The song Crime plays out the emotional dismembering of a said person/lover in the most frivolous of tones but the most gruesome of words. What really sticks from this album is its endearing simplicity. 3 instruments, 3 voices and three kids shouting as hard as they can till their voice boxes hurt. And that’s it.
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