The Cannanes

A return to Australia, eh.

At least through the 80s, when they started, calling this ragtag assembly of Sydney folks a band would be generous; their namesake bassist, Michelle Cannane, left shortly after they stumbled into a studio, and all other personnel either wandered in or out a couple times, or overslept and missed a gig, at least once, it seems.

And it shows, particularly on the debut album, A Love Affair with Nature, which sounds like an admittance they'd rather be laid out in a field, grass tickling their faces. It's messy and meandering, unstructured and always out of breath from trying to catch up with itself.

And yet! It is quite a delight. The Go-Betweens if they'd be fronted by Mo Tucker on her sleepiest of Sundays. Lyrically, full of emotion and this sassy irony—a fizzy blend, particularly when it's muffled-under-the-duvet bedroom pop, fried-with-the-curling-iron lo-fi.

(Bonus: As a Unicorns diehard, I can't help but sense a strong cosmic bond here, especially on songs like certain ones Alden Penner recorded when he peeled off from the band—in Australia.)



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