Feedtime

The greatest of the Australian bands of the late 1980s (and one of the most apocalyptic of all time) has also remained the most overlooked. Their traces have been lost in Hell. Feedtime emerged from nowhere to wreak havoc on the Sydney (Australia) scene. They were a trio: Rick Johnson (guitar and vocals), Al Larkin (bass), and Tom Sturm (drums).

Feedtime (Aberrant, 1986), a studio album recorded live in the studio, is a wild ride through the most animalistic instincts of rock and roll. Setting the tone of the record is the magnificent voodoobilly of Ha Ha, with atonal guitar riffs that would make even the worst Brian Gregory (Cramps) envious, the pulsing grunt of the bass, and vocals emerging from the catacombs of the blues and a night of drunken debauchery. The rest is a Sabbath conducted more or less at that pace, from the bold square dance of I Wonder What's The Matter, marred by Gun Club-style swirling distortion (and a nod to bluesman Fred McDowell), to the tribal pow-wow that peters out in I Wanna Ride.
Fastbuck, with its epileptic accelerations, is a version for spastic (and pyromaniac) teenagers of Steve Albini’s Kerosene (Big Black). The frenzy of punk permeates Southside Johnny, the sarcasm of punk infuses the vaudeville sketch of Clown. On a couple of occasions (All Down and Doesn't Time Fly), the trio ventures into the distorted, slowed-down sounds of hallucinatory “trips.” But it is undeniable that their true calling shines through in monuments of frenzy and brutality like Searching The Desert (adapted from bluesman Willie McTell), with its riff as driving and epic as it is aberrant; in these remnants of the most sadistic garage rock, where the guitar is played with the delicacy of a steel brush. Ultimately, it is a landmark album for understanding the links between punk rock and garage rock.

Shovel (Aberrant, 1986) denies nothing of that sonic outrage: it kicks off at full throttle with the country of the title track and Mother, and it never eases up for More Than Love or George, two voodoobilly tracks of pure delirium. In these apocalyptic pow-wows, sung by a maniac and played by three Mephistopheles, so crooked they recall the parodies of the Holy Modal Rounders, yet another cathartic bath is achieved for the generation raised in punk nihilism. The pandemonium continues with tracks where all that remains is a frenzied rhythm (Nice) and reckless ferocity (Gun 'Em Down), embodying the very essence of musical hedonism, leading up to the ultimate epileptic finale of Dog. Sinister sounds peek through in the rumbling cadence of Love Me and in the gruesome grand finale of Curtains, with saxophone brays further polluting the demonic ceremonial atmosphere.
On this record, however, Feedtime shows signs of “repentance,” recovering a hint of melody in Fractured (even echoes of Joy Division) and a touch of tradition in the delightful Shoeshine Shuffle (even echoes of ZZ Top).
Few bands can boast albums so spontaneous, overwhelming, and immediate. Without inventing anything and simply rediscovering in a basement the true spirit of rock and roll, Feedtime crafts another masterpiece of the modern yearning for freedom.

After an album of covers, in 1989 their final work, Suction, was released, with production finally matching the artistic quality. The tempo of Motorbike Girl remains the dizzying pace of voodoobilly, but the chorus is catchy and sung (not roared) in a decidedly more human way, and even the chaotic, untuned guitar blends with the melody. Still at full speed (Drag Your Dog, Highway, the title track, especially Valve Frank, the ideal continuation of Shovel), it also delivers moments of surreal madness à la Pere Ubu (psychotic vocals, electronic dissonances, danceable rhythm) in Possum, avalanches of dissonance and tribalism in Meter, and Pumping A Line, which, as the title suggests, essentially consists of pumping that bass line to White Light/White Heat (Velvet Underground) levels.
There’s even a noticeable fidelity to Chicago rhythm and blues, complete with horns, harmonica, and hoarse “shouts” (Confused Blues), and to Louisiana gospel, with female backing vocals and tambourines (I'll Be Rested). In the end, leaving aside the rebellious posturing and programmatic terrorism of earlier works, this album is simply a high-class amusement, where the band delights in playing its influences.

The 27-minute reunion album, Billy (Amphetamine Reptile, 1996), is another slab of manic rock and roll. Feedtime's idols are AC/DC, not the Sex Pistols. The vitriolic and visceral Billy and You Don't Know My Mind hark back to the band's glory days, while the bluesy slow-burners Long Haul and Melody Line highlight their sinister catchiness.

The Aberrant Years (Subpop, 2012) collects Feedtime's first four albums. Today Is Friday (S.S. Records, 2012) add rarities.

Twenty years after their last studio album, they reformed for Gas (In the Red, 2017).