Body Type’s second album is a love letter to Body Type. Two of the songs explicitly are, anyway: on lead single Miss the World, lamenting the claustrophobia of a locked-down world, Sophie McComish yelps: “Miss the world but mostly I miss B-O-D-Y-T-Y-P-E”. On Dream Girls, Annabel Blackman delivers in her trademark deadpan: “I used to sit alone in my room writing half-songs / One by one, they came along and we finished them off.”
This tight-knit friendship is the beating heart of the Sydney quartet, and it echoes through the album. Vocal and songwriting duties are split between guitarists McComish and Blackman, and bassist Georgia Wilkinson-Derums – each brings a distinctive style but there’s a uniting aesthetic running through, rounded out by drummer Cecil Coleman.
There’s a new looseness compared with their excellent debut, last year’s post-punk-inflected Everything is Dangerous But Nothing’s Surprising. The singularity and seriousness of that record is present too – in just over two minutes, Albion Park unfolds a visceral suburban night scene in miniature, propelled by wailing guitars and the band’s signature muscular bass lines.
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But there’s a greater sense of freedom and a streak of additional mischief which carries through from Everything is Dangerous (“I stole a pen from the Chateau Marmont”, from Flight Path, remains a brilliant opening line). You can hear the band’s collective eye-roll in the beautifully sardonic Summer Forever, which strikes a tricky balance between optimism and nihilism.
While the post-punk influence remains in the instrumentals, there’s a shift towards pop. These songs are mostly shorter and sharper, with only one, the languid Beat You Up, passing the four-minute mark. Gang vocals and chants on songs such as the blistering opener Holding On and the shamelessly horny anthems Weekend and Anti-Romancer are ripe for live iterations. These moments recall 90s and 00s female-fronted punk bands such as Halo Friendlies and the Distillers – there’s a stronger focus on melody and a bolshie, boisterous irreverence that’s incredibly charming.
On their debut, the band raised a finger to music industry patriarchy on The Charm: “In retrospect, you were not ready for us.” On the second record, Creation of Man takes aim: “Mother or muse or I’m useless once again,” McComish sings. The weariness is evident, but the band approaches the well-worn topic in its own way, with a complex rhythmic outro hammering home the point.
Body Type have dropped nods to David Cronenberg’s body horror and novelist Eve Babitz in the past. References abound here too. On Tread Overhead, which recalls Courtney Barnett’s droll style of narration, the band interpolates the Carpenters’ Yesterday Once More as Blackman sings: “My favourite song is the one that you’re singing in the next room / harmonising with the vacuum / every sha la la la, every whoa-oh” – before the next song, Sha La La, continues the rhythm with a lovely sense of flow.
The lyrics are varied and frequently fascinating. Some are almost stream of consciousness; some tongue-in-cheek, almost nonsensical; and others could stand on their own as vivid poetry. Take this, from the McComish-led Miss the World, recalling the likes of Bikini Kill: “She’s a violent preteen anarchist / your oxymoronic protagonist / see her hand feed her bichon frise / while the microwave zaps her macaroni and cheese.”
Or, from Wilkinson-Derums’ title track: “And the sun came up between the traffic / bending images of light and static / but she’ll be there when it really matters / as the rose climbs the coloured lattice.”
Australia needs a band like Body Type right now – one that’s as furious as it is fun. This is a strong second showing from a group that’s relaxing into itself while not compromising its razor-sharp worldview.
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Expired Candy by Body Type is out now via Poison City
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June 01, 2023 at 10:00PM
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Body Type: Expired Candy review – razor-sharp second album is furious and fun - The Guardian
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