Sounds Of Spring - My Disco

Apparently there are 18,000 in attendance at Sounds Of Spring, but there's only about 50 watching My Disco play between two buildings. It's windy, and dusty, and they're playing fucking loud. Ben Andrews is pressing his guitar headstock against the stage's scaffolding. The sound is immense. His brother Liam is playing the same note over and over, while marching on the spot. Back and forth, his legs go; back and forth, while Rohan Rebeiro focusses on driving the songs from behind the kit.

To the unfamiliar, waiting for anything resembling a melody must be infuriating. I wonder about the story behind that slight, imperceptible smile that Liam wears throughout the set. Does he find amusement in their prolonged fixation on the same note? The fact that they're playing to 50 people in the middle of a fucking dust storm? Is he wondering why there are three security guards impassively facing the sedate audience, who are either staring intently or dancing on the spot to the kick drum?

Me, I'm wondering how the middle-aged security guards would describe My Disco to their spouses upon returning home. Their refusal to adhere to typical song structures would likely defy any description beyond an “awful bloody racket”. Time and again, the portly front-and-center security guard looks over his shoulder at Ben, as if unable to comprehend the unholy noise that he strangles from the guitar. Liam gradually backs himself into the darkness beside a speaker stack, while Rohan gallops onwards, eyes closed. Considering the ominous weather conditions and the dramatic quality of their music, it feels like the fabric of the earth is tearing apart. The droning pause between rhythmic assaults in 'You Came To Me Like A Cancer Lain Dormant Until It Blossomed Like A Rose' is glorious. It's the only recognisable track among 45 minutes of new noise.

As admirable as it was to have My Disco headline a stage at Sounds Of Spring - among the likes of The Living End, Josh Pyke, Butterfingers, and Tex Perkins - I momentarily wonder who this set is for. But then they switch off their amps - "good night" - and I realise it doesn't matter.

by Andrew McMillen