Songs of Praise - Crooked White and Jesus

I often watch Songs of Praise on a Sunday morning with the sound turned off and my Yellowskull playlist on. It’s amazing how synchronised the list is with the footage, I have a weekly Wizard of Oz/ Dark Side of the Moon moment which is fantastic, but the real reason I don’t just turn the TV off is that Songs of Praise is probably the only show on the box where a recorder is deemed a serious instrument. I’m not fucking joking. I saw a quartet with two recorders and some bloke with a ‘buggers me what it was’ mouth instrument and another fool banging away on a tambourine. This is entertainment people, I suggest you try it sometime.

It works pretty well for the news as well, Long walk Home played during a story about protests in Russia. The irony was brilliant, but that might say more about my sense of humour than divine intervention.

It did however play To Her Door as I was walking back inside from hanging out the sheets. Paradise City came on as Landline ran a story about saltwater fishing. While old Axl is singing about green grass and pretty girls, the timing is apt – one’s perception of paradise will be different to others. A few weeks ago, I began a rant that ended up being useless, so I did nothing with it, but it discussed Salt Water People, there were too many tangents and it floundered, but it was a roundabout attempt to review the new release from Crooked White – Confessions. So, I figure since I’m talking about music I might as well do it now.

But first a disclaimer, we were both born in Cairns, which is where the whole saltwater angle was coming from, but we didn't meet until our paths crossed in Brisbane a decade or so ago. I consider Whitey a mate, he’s poured me beer and I’ve attended his gigs when he’s fronting Schoolfight (bloody awesome, if you don’t download Confessions at least check the band out). This is starting to sound like an ad, so I’ll leave it there.

The album however is a solid effort for a solo artist giving it a crack for the first time. If you like Hip-Hop, you’ll probably find something that suits your tastes. You may need a bit of Aussie Hip-Hop knowledge to navigate a couple of the tracks but aside from that, you’ve got your bangers, your sleepers and enough laughers to remind yourself that Australians don’t take anything seriously except for ANZAC day and cricket. And at least one of those has fallen sharply from grace over recent months.

But we’re talking about Confessions. The first track Still Waiting is a cracker. Bloody Hilarious – one of the laughers I was talking about, but there is a lot more on offer. The 4^th Beegee for example, is probably the song that will get the most radio play but is probably the song I dislike the most – for that reason. It might be my cynicism coming to the fore – in so much as I don’t want to like anything that may become ‘the next big thing’ or it could be, I just don’t care for catchy music. It does create a nice break early on in the album to discuss the merits of the first two tracks with your listening companion and remind you that everyone needs to get paid. After all, I only started this nonsense because employers in the media expect you to have a blog – so bloody follow me and I can put ads on my page to earn some coin. I’m looking at you Whitebread.

But all in all, it’s a good album. Personal relationships aside, I’d like it anyway. It’s Hip-Hop as it should be – honest. Sure, Summer Banger does the classic Aussie Hip-Hop, beers and BBQ’s thing – but that’s what bloody happens in Australia over summer. The criticism of Australian Artists discussing their lives through their art is a proper load of shit. At least Whitey doesn’t wank on about how he drinks Cristal or Hennessy in clubs with a bunch of hookers.

That’s because he doesn’t do that sort of thing in his real life, and the album represents the fact. Whitey has proclaimed to be a Bush Poet, and he may prove to be so. We have a raft of Bush Poets, but all are compared to Banjo Patterson and Henry Lawson, which is something I’ve decided to call Bullshit on. Storytelling in this country has been predominated with the spoken word for sixty-thousand plus years and to reduce the talent pool to two European blokes who were here only a hundred odd years after the British rocked up is short sighted. The tales they told were relevant to their time and while still fine examples of poetry and prose, we’ve moved on from their version of Australia.

Personally, I nominate Paul Kelly as Poet Laureate of this country but that is a whole article in itself. What I’m saying is that while we embrace the stories, songs and poems from the colonial period, we need to open our ears to those who have come later. Download Confessions and experience storytelling as it has evolved in the 21^st Century.