The third album by Melbourne’s royalchord is an unassuming triumph, writes DOUG WALLEN.

Whether out of oversized enthusiasm or to mask insecurities, so many bands resort to inserting extra instruments and sounds anywhere they’ll fit. In the right hands, an ambitious palette can lead to greatness, but often such excess is a Band-Aid that only exposes what’s not working. What a relief then, to hear The Good Fight, the third album by globe-trotting Melburnians royalchord. There’s so little happening here that the barest of ingredients become hypnotic, while the songs prove all the more evocative for their sparseness. It’s like in a good suspense movie, where what happens off-screen sets our imaginations running, exponentially enhancing what we actually do see.

Once an eight-piece with an alt-country bent, royalchord has been mostly the work of Tammy Haider and Eliza Hiscox, who now function as a duo. On this album they tinker with minimal shades of organ, Omnichord, an outdated drum machine, the odd glockenspiel and guitar, and anything else that’s sitting around. Their approach suits close listens more than casual exposure, while the overall aesthetic puts royalchord in the same league as Au Revoir Simone, Bachelorette and a growing number of homespun, synth-reliant female acts that are aimed at the heart instead of the dance floor.

The scaled-back musical treats of The Good Fight are only half of the story, however. Each song packs at least one line that leaps out from the rest of the lyrics. Often sung in a sort of featherweight deadpan, these gems may look bland on paper but hit home within royalchord’s dreamy trappings. A few examples: “Sell myself short just this one last time” (‘Black Trash’); “Run along till you’ve got what you want” (‘Mr Light’); and “I’m in love love love with three men at a time/Wouldn’t it be great if I could make one mine?” (‘Mighty Minor’). These are minor ripples of uncertainty and dismay compared to some bands’ lyrics, but royalchord’s careful touch and newfound restraint enhance each key moment. If one can be bowled over by a whisper, this is the band to do it.

“Each song packs at least one line that leaps out from the rest of the lyrics. Often sung in a sort of featherweight deadpan, these gems may look bland on paper but hit home within royalchord’s dreamy trappings.”

The album is even more effective once its back story is illuminated. Following fleshed-out previous efforts I Gave You A Mountain (2001) and Nights On The Town (2004), The Good Fight was inspired by time spent in Guatemala. Compared to the duo’s six-month stint in Berlin, it was something of an awakening. Haider and Hiscox then relocated to a tiny village in the south of France to record the batch of songs they’d been writing. More recording was later done in Australia with a few guests. There are scattered traces of the band’s unique past on The Good Fight: the rascally lilt of vocals and soft twang of ‘Magic Hands’ betrays that erstwhile fondness for alt-country, while the lyrics and instrumental tinges of ‘All Your Caribbean’ have their roots in Guatemala.

There’s a late-night, narcotic vibe to royalchord that’s all about the details – from the sneaky beats of ‘It’s Not Who’ to the sighed harmonies and tumbleweeds of distortion on the closing ‘Midnight Lines’. Countless other joys hide within these dozen tracks, and though it’s a gentle triumph, The Good Fight is a triumph nonetheless.

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The Good Fight is out now on Mistletone/Inertia.