Amyl And The Sniffers
Giddy Up

A cassette released at the start of 2016 in a few copies – more for relatives and close friends, so to speak – and soon sold out; also because, objectively, it doesn't take much to exhaust a dozen copies, especially if you leave it up to others to decide whether to give you something in return or not.

On that cassette, four tracks for a total duration of not even seven minutes.

It sounds strange, but this is my personal album of the year.

They are Amyl And The Sniffers, from Melbourne, and it seems that in Australia the good times are back when birdmen soared and down-under rock was the new big thing.

They are four, three guys and a girl: the girl takes on the vocals, the three guys take on guitar, bass, and drums.

They don't even think about doing something serious, and the only pre-set goal at the start is to crash their friends' house parties under the guise of warming up the environment with tunes from Hard Ons, Cosmic Psychos, and other rowdy stuff taken to the nth power, but especially to drown in rivers of free beer.

The friends are so thrilled and they get so carried away that the four of them actually form the group: Amyl And The Sniffers, Amelia and the sniffers, indeed.

It's January 2016.

To the naked eye, they play a heavy and scrappy punk rock.

Trying isn't much use; the party-going practice at friends' houses is more than enough.

But it would be nice to play something more than others' songs.

Said and done, in a couple of weeks there are four brand new tracks that together don't reach the fateful seven minutes.

No recording studio, no record label, DIY to the max.

The girl and the guys lock themselves in a basement for a couple of days, bringing with them the tools of the trade and a dual-deck recorder provided by one of the aforementioned enthusiastic friends.

When they emerge, no one notices, but the girl hides the precious cassette in the pocket of her shorts.

Now they need to make a few copies, not many, just enough for boyfriends and girlfriends and good friends; and the ones that remain are left in the venues where they play, in case someone calls back.

They don't sell them: whoever wants to support the band does, who doesn't takes the tape home for free, like the beer that flowed during the parties.

Over two afternoons, seven hours or less, and all the cassettes have vanished.

The girl and the guys have in their pockets a little nest egg of just under 300 Australian dollars, about 200 Euros; it's not much, but it's well beyond their wildest expectations.

Part of it is invested in making a video, very homemade in truth: handheld camera, fixed close-up of the girl wandering through supermarket aisles, at some point meeting two of the guys and stopping with them for about ten seconds before resuming her wandering; she tries to lip-sync with the song but ends up laughing and gives up, limiting herself to wandering along the supermarket aisles, hinting at some moves and dances in their own sensual way, and she's adorable; except then at the end, she finds herself outside with ice cream splatted on her left cheek.

Once again, DIY all the way.

It's just that the song in the video, «Caltex Cowgirl», is really beautiful: a very low-fidelity ballad, simple simple, that got stuck in my head from the first listen and never left, complete with a final guitar solo with a whiff of lysergic acid. Placed there to beautifully demonstrate that they will play heavy and scrappy punk, but if they wish, other things too.

That video first goes around the neighborhood, then Melbourne, then ends up on YouTube and is seen by a few thousand, definitely more than those who got their hands on the cassette a couple of months before, some supporting the band, some for free.

From there to Bandcamp, the step is immediate.

Still those four tracks.

In addition to «Caltex Cowgirl», «Pleasure Forever», «Mandalay», and «Stole My Push Bike»: these are indeed three sharp shards of genuinely heavy and scrappy punk, or perhaps more proto-punk than just punk, but in the end, these are hair-splitting issues that don't matter much. Only abrasion and rawness go-go matter, and that «Mandalay» is an extraordinary piece, with the girl almost hoarsely declaring the lyrics rather than singing them, and demonstrating a charismatic presence that is not negligible.

They reissue the cassette too: this time, they go all out, they give it a title, «Giddy Up»; they even slap a cover with the girl in bed in a tank top and white panties, but the music is more exciting, and that's saying something. There were fifty copies, all sold out.

The principle remains the same; if you want to support the band, you set the price, otherwise, you can download the tracks for free from YouTube, no problem.

I think quite a few people chose to support Amyl And The Sniffers.

I think, because they made two more – remarkable – tracks and even two videos, the one for «70’s Street Munchies» a must-watch to get an idea of what it’s like to attend one of their concerts.

If and when they will release an LP, they will break everything.