by Conor Lochrie (@conornoconnor)
There are many things to be said about Mac DeMarco - both good and bad - but it’s undeniable that his sonic imprint is all over the last decade of music: much like the chaos of brit-pop after Oasis and Blur, or the whiny grunge acts who believed themselves to be the new Nirvana, the post-DeMarco landscape was filled with the sort of slacker rock that placed damaging emphasis on the ‘slacker’ part instead of ‘rock’; when bedroom pop composed of noodly and wonky guitar lines also exploded because of him, there were few acolytes of the gap-toothed wonder that didn’t leave the listener feeling disillusioned.
A combination of things saves Melbourne’s HMS Ash from being one of them. There’s the underlying energy of their musicianship; there’s their indebtedness to the historic jangle pop of Australia; there’s the sincere and serious songwriting that anchors the playfulness of their bedroom pop style. The three-piece - Rory Hellwig, Axel Heinrich, and Thomas Fenner - are a tight trio, something which only comes after playing for so long together. The interplay between Fenner’s bass and Hellwig’s guitar is strong, while Heinrich possesses the pace and skill of a drummer suited to heavier music than this, which ironically helps him helm his current band’s songs.
Their second album, Beam Reach, expands on the timid lo-fi of their debut, 2019’s Songs for Sinking, with more expansive energy and introspective lyricism. It opens with a two-parter: ‘Vinnies pt I’ (the name of a charity shop in their home country) warms up hesitantly, featuring an ersatz guitar and a febrile tension, before ‘Vinnies pt II’ then unfolds with an ecstatic energy, rolling with an incessant rhythm.
They’re followed by previous single ‘Pipeline,’ the jangliest piece on the album, accordingly the most radio-friendly they ever become. It’s light on its feet, although also offering a surprising and discordant tempo change midway through. ‘Together pt II’ possesses the innate control of mood and tempo that marks King Krule’s music, containing an evocative string section in the middle of a track that bounces between dreaminess and freneticism. There are also two brief instrumental interludes: ‘A Dark Room’ thrums with layered fuzziness, before later ‘Yume Nikki’ (taking its name from a surreal Japanese horror adventure game) contains strikingly ominous sounds that match the title inspiration.
The songwriting is unafraid to get intensely personal. The band have long been concerned with trauma and how to overcome it. When Hellwig then wrestled with their gender identity during the recording of Beam Reach, it naturally inserted itself into the lyrics. “Wanna be her / Knee-highs and pimms,” they cry longingly in ‘Jupiter’; the instruments secede to them as they inflict harsh words onto themselves, singing rawly “Hey there, I’m shame” and “Hey there, I’m pain”. “This never came with instructions,” they sigh in the aptly-titled ‘How To Not Feel Like Shit’.
When they mutter ‘I love you but your vibes are whack” earlier, it feels ambiguous: perhaps they’re saying it to someone else, a member of a rival band, a friend they have nothing in common with, or perhaps on some level they’re turning that aside inwards at themselves. Throughout Beam Reach, HMS Ash acknowledges the grey complexities of attempting to battle with trauma and become the person you want to be.
There’s also a conceptual undercurrent to the album, a heavy focus on water and the sea being prevalent. The album cover shows a boat being tossed around in the ocean, bombarded by thunderous waves. ‘Together pt I’ is an ode to getting lost in the waters, becoming far away from land and problems; “I want to die by the sea,” Hellwig insists in ‘Fine Until I Am Not’. Indeed, Hellwig’s lead vocals always sound like they’re drowning, delivered in a low pitch as if it’s suffocating or fighting to be heard.
Their debut album might have been about making Songs for Sinking, but the good old boat HMS Ash doesn’t seem like it’s ready to be shipwrecked just yet. After listening to the record, I googled what their second album title means: Beam Reach, it turns out, is the fastest and easiest point of sail. Perhaps, then, this is HMS Ash’s way of signifying their pleasure at the direction the band seem to be heading in; life and the water might still contain treacherous elements, but they sound set up to navigate it all as they move towards a third album.