What happens when Powderfinger and Something for Kate frontmen combine? Probably not what you expect (2024)

Is there an Olympics-sized hole in your pop culture life now that the Games are over? Why not fill it with some new tunes?

Here's five new albums equally worth the same time, attention, and — in the case of some returning Australian music mainstays — a sense of patriotism.

Grinspoon — whatever, whatever

It's been 12 years between albums, and absence has only made the chemical hearts of Grinspoon fans grow fonder. Now, at last, Lismore's biggest rock export have delivered their eighth studio record. The verdict? Just ace!

Arriving ahead of a mammoth 45-date national tour, whatever, whatever is the perfect album for the band to unleash right now. It veers into the louder, heavier side of the band's sound and is easy to imagine sitting alongside classic Grinners anthems in the set list.

Coming back together in the studio after so long has naturally brought the band a renewed sense of purpose but also a sense of honed-out-on-the-road adrenaline.

The grungy intensity of 'Unknown Pretenders' and 'Never Say Never' are as close to the spirit of classic debut Guide to Better Living as Grinspoon have managed in some time. And frontman Phil Jamieson's clearly been practising his metal vocals, demonstrated in songs including 'Can I Make You Feel?' and '(ILYSM)'

His vocals comfortably soar on the softer '4, 5 & 7' while the radio-rock refrain of 'The Only One' will have you singing along by the final chorus.

The four-piece recorded the album last year in secret with producer Oscar Dawson (one half of Holy Holy and behind the decks for records from Amy Shark, The Buoys and Teen Jesus and the Jean Teasers). His fingerprints are all over the album's sonic range and necessary crunch, and his wife, singer-songwriter Ali Barter, provides backing vocals on emotional closer 'Underground'.

Far from being the apathetic shrug its title suggests, whatever, whatever is filled with reminders of why we fell in love with Grinspoon in the first place. But don't call it a return to form.

Instead, let's say that almost 30 years on from being the first band Unearthed by triple j, Grinspoon maintain their reputation as flag-bearers of Australian rock music.

For fans of: The Living End, Spiderbait, Press Club

— Al Newstead

Jack White — No Name

Do you miss the White Stripes? On the evidence of his new album, Jack White might, too.

Originally handed out in secret to lucky shoppers at the Detroit musician's Third Man Records stores earlier this month, White's sixth solo record made its way online after fans were encouraged to "rip it".

It's White's sneakiest release strategy in ages, but the real surprise is that No Name contains some of his best and most direct music to date.

From the amp-rattling opener to its conclusion 40 breathless minutes later, No Name crackles with the raw, walloping energy of early White Stripes records, before Jack and Meg became superstars that supercharged the 00s garage rock revival.

'Bombing Out' is a delightfully punky dash, 'That's How I'm Feeling' is a blast of classic quiet-loud dynamics, and cuts including 'What's the Rumpus?' and 'Tonight (Was a Long Time Ago)' show there's still room in the rock riff pantheon for new entries.

'Archbishop Harold Holmes' is another entertaining iteration of White's demented preacher routine, and the searing, slippery six-strings of 'It's Rough on Rats (If You're Asking)' remind us that White is the true heir to Led Zeppelin's legacy (#sorrynotsorry Greta Van Fleet).

There's personality in White's vocal performances, too. 'Bless Yourself' scoffs at our instant gratification society with a spiritual sneer: "People say 'I need God on command, God on demand.' If God's too busy I'll bless myself!"

White's solo career hasn't been disappointing – far from it. But after years of listening to him endlessly tinker with his signature sound, it's thrilling to hear him fully embrace what he's best known for: blustering, hook-laden, no-nonsense rock and roll.

For fans of: The Living End, Spiderbait, Press Club

— Al Newstead

Christine Anu — Waku — Minaral a Minalay

In Torres Strait Islander culture, the waku is a ceremonial woven mat signifying life's journey from cradle to grave.

On her first album of original songs since the 00s, Waku – Minaral a Minalay (translating to Mats, Colour, Pattern), Christine Anu digs into her cultural heritage to weave a rich musical tapestry.

Half of the 17-song suite is grounded in tunes written by her grandfather, Nadi, a songman who after World War II voyaged from Saibai (the birthplace of Anu's mother) to the Torres Strait Islands (her father's homeland).

That journey is the subject of the dramatic 'My Popu Nadhi Anu', and Anu traced that same trail by recording the album across Cairns, Papua New Guinea, New Zealand, the Solomon Islands, and the Torres Strait Islands. The result fuses historic songlines with lush, cinematic soundscapes.

We hear indigenous languages, including Kalaw Kawaw Ya, combine with English over balmy arrangements incorporating verdant piano, delicate strings and traditional instruments, including the warup (drums) and kulap (seed pot rattles).

Anu's ARIA-winning voice stuns, both in tear-jerking harmonies with choirs and in how she can spin a yarn. We're pulled right into the storm on 'The Coming Monsoon', while 'The Crab and the Suckerfish (Gapu a Githalay)', is a soothing interpretation of a children's story.

The 54-year-old has described Waku – Minaral a Minalay as an "ancestor" to Stylin' Up, her 1995 debut album. She reunited with producer David Bridie and most of the musicians who played on that platinum-selling breakthrough.

"And that's probably why listeners will hear continuity, but this album's more atmospheric and emotional," she says.

Even in a career filled with achievements, Waku – Minaral a Minalay is arguably Anu's most important milestone. It's a testament to the strength of legacy and cultural fabric — as if Anu is plucking a guitar string her grandfather threaded, one that still resonates decades later

For fans of: Radical Son, Emily Wurramara, Ngaiire

— Al Newstead

Quivers — Oyster Cuts

Melbourne's Quivers have been the relatively quiet achievers of the Australian indie scene over the past few years, delivering world-class jangly pop packed with plenty of heart across a couple excellent albums.

On their third full-length, and first for venerated indie label Merge Records, the band mercifully resists the temptation to overreach. In fact, things might even be a little more restrained on this record, with fewer orchestral flourishes and big, all-in singalongs, but the songs still twinkle every bit as brightly as anything from their past.

Vocalist and bassist Bella Quinlan takes the lead on more songs than before, and the balance between her and fellow vocalist Sam Nicholson helps the album remain compelling throughout. So too does the generally more focused nature of these songs.

The band have never been guilty of too much meandering, but the judicious use of elements beyond what the core four musicians, including more ornate orchestration, can offer shows an even greater confidence than before.

On Oyster Cuts, Quivers deliver more of what has made them so endearing since their inception: relatable songs about the inevitable issues of the heart – heartbreak, grief, longing, hope – that so profoundly affect us all. All set to pristine guitar pop that ought to satiate even the most discerning chin-strokers.

For fans of: R.E.M., The Go-Betweens, Wilco

— Dan Condon

Fanning Dempsey National Park — The Deluge

Whatever you imagined crossing Powderfinger with Something for Kate would sound like, chances are it isn't what respective frontmen Bernard Fanning and Paul Dempsey have delivered on their collaborative album.

Fun, unpredictable and bursting with analogue synthesisers, The Deluge broaches territory neither artist has fully chartered in their career.

Both artists came to prominence during Australia's 90s alt-rock boom, but united as Fanning Dempsey National Park (a name chosen because "it's so pompous that it made us laugh"), the duo wind even further back.

Inspired by the Berlin era of their mutual idol David Bowie, the pair explain, "We kind of set the goalposts between 1977 and 1985." An era where new technology forged new ideas.

Cue icy keyboards, gated tom drums, and po-faced British New Wave chic.

Fanning sounds like he slapped on eyeliner for 'Strangers', while the opening title track is vintage art rock. You'll also hear plenty of Duran Duran, Gary Numan, Depeche Mode-style sounds, and in lead single 'Disconnect', the love child of '80s pop-mode Bowie and Bruce Springsteen.

What stops the record from becoming a nostalgic retread is the inherent strengths of two songwriters who've long dominated the charts and our hearts.

'Blood' and 'King of Nowhere' prove Fanning's gift for melody and uplifting choruses is as strong as it was topping triple j's Hottest 100 multiple times over.

Meanwhile, songs by Dempsey are fixated with modern-day concerns regarding climate change, technophobia and information overload – all handled with his signature wit and flair.

'Born Expecting' could score a triumphant scene in a John Hughes coming-of-age movie but it's a pointed jab at a former political leader "failing upwards every time."

In summary: It's well worth taking a hike through Fanning Dempsey National Park.

For fans of: David Bowie, Icehouse, Olympia

— Al Newstead

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