by Conor Lochrie (@conornoconnor)
The Shifters are, simply put, one of Melbourne’s best and most individual bands of the last few years. The band have been releasing quality records for a while now, notably 2018’s Have A Cunning Plan, but they’ve chosen to reissue their 2015 debut, titled after the band. Five years ago it was released on tape - in a sadly limited fashion - but it’s now being reissued as an LP via Digital Regress. It comes at a good time too, given how hungry people are for culture and art during the empty expanses of COVID-19.
The Shifters have always been hugely indebted to The Fall, both bands possessing that wiry and jittery energy that permeates quality post-punk, and it was never more in evidence than on their debut, when there was slightly less self-assuredness in the musical touch. It’s a scrappy and raggedy listen but one marked with lashings of skill and wit.
It’s in the lyricism that the band stands tallest. The Shifters tackle lofty ideas, casting their lyrical eye on subjects like colonialism and toxic politics. The songwriting is cerebral, considered, and what is most striking is their keen observations of history. In the short space of this album, the band figuratively travel to Northern Ireland, Israel (“I’m going to Tel Aviv”) and Algeria, all while pondering those blighted landscapes with an outsider’s justness. On opener ‘“Creggan Shops,” the band are careful to remain impartial: singer Miles Jansen became interested in “The Troubles” after watching the film In The Name Of The Father and then reading On Dead Ground by Raymond Gilmour, an IRA volunteer who betrayed his people to inform for the British, and the song references the grotesque kneecap shooting punishment often carried out by paramilitary groups (“Meet you down the Creggan Shops, where I’ll take a kneecap”). Writing about such a divided place, however, as a foreigner, led to the song being sung from the viewpoint of a neutral child raised in a house of split ideals. It’s a measured and delicate response - not punk music’s usual strong suits - but it’s a welcome one. When singing, Jansen is clearly imitating one of his idols Mark E. Smith with his brooding and nasal vocals but it suits the anxious and loose rhythm surrounding him; even in this early version of the band, he’s markedly assured in his delivery.
“Captain Hindsight” is the strongest single outright, unceasingly driven by twanging guitars. They’re also capable of playing quieter, on show in the jangle-pop of “Colour Me In”. “The American Attitude To Law” plays out in a seven minute haze of growing menace and drawn-out guitars, sounding very much like The Velvet Underground’s ‘Heroin’ in this way. The guitar lines throughout are loose but often memorable, the overall sound unvarnished and unpretentious. It’s all shambolic but in a charming way, and the band’s nonchalance can never be mistaken for a lack of interest in what they’re doing. Really this is how a young punk band should sound: aimless, restless, weary, with a keen idea of the world around them and their burgeoning place in it.