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Digger and the Pussycats - 'Let's Go To Hospital' spooky029
I-94 Bar - Australia There's a simple directness and economy of words in a song like "Spanish Jacket" whose only lyric is: "I got a Spanish jacket/I have got cocaine/I've got $40/How much is MDMA?" that sums up Digger & The Pussycats. There's no musical excess baggage - lots of excess, however, and sometimes they play for shock value - but there aren't many bands in Melbourne (or Australia for that matter) playing a better brand of down-and-dirty, street punk rock and roll. Listen to the brace of impossibly Bob Quine-like guitar solos herein and tell me they the song needs more words. You probably know there are know Pussycats and this band is a two-piece (drums and guitar) that spends more time in residence in Europe than at home in Melbourne. There's talk they're doing a Dame Nellie Melba and bidding us bye-bye with extended tours. I could spend the rest of this review trying to tell you where they fit, musically, but it would be pointless. But, fuck it, I'll have a go: It's trashy as hell, poppy in parts and brasher than an AFL footballer laying a platinum Visa card on the bar and telling the staff to do their best to bruise the balance while a brain-dead model snorts fine flake Peruvian off his the top of old fella. Andy, Sam - and for all I know, you - want to be that footballer but can't. And it hurts. But you can laugh ourselves stupid about it. Along with the band who are happy to let us all in on the joke. This is music for the times - those times being between 1 and 5am in some godforsaken hellhole bar where excess amounts of cheap booze and who-knows-what-else have sucked the soul into a black vortex that makes the Bermuda Triangle look like a kiddie paddle pool. Only the rising of the sun can save you because even bar-owners with the pallor of Dracula have to sleep sometime. Lots of humour here with bursts of blunt brilliance like "Liar, Liar", "Cut You Loose", "I'm So Bored With You" rushing past like extras' names on a Neighbours casting sheet. The difference is that when Sam slurs "I want to be your slut" in the song of the same name it's a lot less forgettable and it's not likely to land him a gig on a TV soap. This is their third and album and arguably their best. If you're not wise to the ways of Digger & The Pussycats, we're not leaving you many excuses not to make amends, are we? - The Barman
Mess and Noise - Australia We all know this is by way of an indefinite auf weidersehn, don’t we? So there’s no need to dwell on the fact. And anyway, they are playing more farewells than Nellie Melba, but if you manage to miss those, well, you’ll have this fine item to remember them by. Recorded pretty much live in the studio, with no extra equipment and minimal overdubs, it’s a true take on their live set and presence. The edge that these two have always had over other duos is their decision not to work from a blues or roots base. Sam Agostino’s much loved, well worn 'Jealous Again' t-shirt gives a telling clue as to where they’re coming from - the energy of early Black Flag, with relentless, if basic, beats and assertive guitar that adds rhythm as well as filling in melody and lead. Tight and all right is true. Even with a format stripped down to such basic elements, the pair still manage plenty of changes in mood and pace - making the technically difficult sound easy. And while they don’t take themselves too seriously, they don’t really play it for laughs, either. Despite the presence here of a track called 'ASIO', they are markedly less political than in their Kamikaze Trio incarnation, dealing with more personal stuff. Although you probably shouldn’t believe a word of it, except the title track, which details an honest account of the various injuries, treatments and indignities undergone in the past year or so, without making a 'woe is me’ concept album out of their ordeals. Coming To Get You has already proved they can swear like troopers, and they keep it up here with 'Liar Liar' and 'I Want To Be Your Slut', which is particularly inventive and shows just why their “Pussyacts” nickname is so well deserved. It’s (ahem) interesting to compare Sam’s ideal life as detailed in 'Slut' with Andy’s 'Kept Man', which follows it. The album closes with a short extra track of spoken credits and thank yous, included on the CD so as not to disturb the excellent cover artwork comic/booklet with any added print. Like Digger & the Pussycats themselves, its an odd idea, but it works. by Trevor Block
Time Off – Brisbane, Australia
Arcade
Fire, among others, exemplify how contemporary music can be made perfect by
densely layering an array of sounds into works of epic beauty. Flip that coin,
reduce the footy team-like numbers to a mere duo, and in the right hands, such
as those of Melbourne’s Digger & The Pussycats, just as impressive results can
ensue. Further building on the impressive credentials of their 2005-released
second album Watch Yr Back, the duo of Sam Agostino and Andy Moore up the
ante with Let’s Go To Hospital, another ten blistering cuts of
unhinged garage rock n’ roll.
Beat Magazine - Melbourne, Australia
If you need
to understand why Digger and the Pussycats chose a hospital journey as the theme
for the third Digger album, skip straight to the concluding song on the album
(stopping short of the last hidden track, in which Digger drummer Andy Moore
does his best American voiceover in lieu of album liner credits). In mid 2006
Moore was victim of appendicitis – the catalyst for the diagnosis being, of all
things, a dodgy shoulder – while guitarist Sam Agostino checked himself into
hospital "feeling like a tramp" after acute pressure on his sciatic nerve proved
even too much for his masculine bravado to ignore. Despite the pain, the duo
only wanted to "get back on the street getting pissed with my friends" – an
objective that's probably shared by many of the many PFO (pissed-fell-over)
patients who clog up the public health system every Saturday night.
Vice Magazine - Australia RATING 9 out of 10 Who are Digger and the Pussy Cats? Digger and the Pussy Cats are dirty, trashy, filthy rock and roll of the best kind and if you don’t like it then don’t tell your girlfriend because she will dump you for a two week fuck fling with a real man who has a beard, ripped 501’s and bourbon on his cornflakes. With chainsaw raw vocals spitting out lyrics like “I’ve got a Spanish jacket, I’ve got cocaine, I’ve got $40, how much is MDMA…” the only thing wrong with this album is that you might not be able to sit through the whole thing before jumping up off your chair and running into the city to go get down and dirty with the creatures of the night. Where are my shoes? by I’LL KISS YOU FOR A DOLLAR
Updated 20th October 2003 |