<p><span><span>- What is time? A golden rope, slowly getting shorter with each passing day of our lives? An illusion that distracts us from paying attention to the endless now? A resource being quietly stolen by the media-industrial complex? A prison, reminding us that we can’t do anything in this year that will never end? When I last encountered funky Melbournites Mildlife, they seemed to be in two minds about it because: “<em>You're born, then you die / There might be reasons why / Then again, who cares? / Could all be in my head?</em>” Or is it: “<em>With all that, mine now / Hold on to your lifetime / As it spins away / Through all time and space.</em>” That mystical thread, running through all nine minutes of their epic, breakout number, <em>The Magnificent Moon</em>, wends its way on into their 2020 single, <em>Rare Air</em>, where vocalist <strong>Kevin McDowell </strong>is again musing on chronometric questions: “<em>Eyes fixed far ahead / Horizon never met / Oh, the life in rewind / Brings me nothing / Living in the morning.</em>” You can’t live in the past, but neither can you stake everything on some payoff that's coming: “<em>Up in the morning / Trying to imagine / But the life down the line / Brings me nothing / Never mine / It's not the time</em>”. Is this an ode to mindfulness? Live in the morning, breathe the rarer air. </span></span></p>
<p><span><span>A meditation lesson, backed up by a funky, krautrock soundtrack isn’t a bad idea. You’ve got to make the most of what you’re given and although it’s been a bountiful couple of years for Mildlife -a well-received full-length, high profile signings and European tours- right now they’re caged up like the rest of Melbourne: these musings are probably as much for their own benefit as anyone else’s. Indeed, they seem to have been trying to apply these lessons to their craft. In speaking of the new record they’ve said “<em>it’s more disciplined, directional and arguably more danceable.</em>” I agree, there’s a new vibrancy to <em>Automatic</em>, a feeling like this funk is going places, never tempted to wander off the track, into the endless circles of an improvisational cul-de-sac. They have the tools and they make it happen: “<em>You get what you wanted / You get all you needed / The picture becomes clearer / More time in the mirror</em>” McDowell intones over the motorik propulsiveness of <em>Vapour</em>. </span></span></p>
<p><span><span>I’ve just about given up trying to nail down the reference points of Mildlife’s craft, because whenever somebody tries to do it, they come up with a different set: <strong>Yes</strong>, <strong>Jethro Tull</strong>, <strong>Ned Doheny</strong>, <strong>Miles Davis</strong>, <strong>John Coltrane</strong>, <strong>Talking Heads</strong>, <strong>Sterolab</strong>, <strong>Pink Floyd</strong>, <strong>Quartz</strong>, <strong>Space</strong>, <strong>Universal Energy</strong>, <strong>Milkways</strong>, <strong>Tangerine Dream</strong> and <strong>Can</strong>, is what I cribbed from five minutes of looking through everyone else’s notes. Perhaps Mildlife is prog-funk’s final form, a glittering reflection of the whole history, displaying another different, sparkling facet, every time it moves. Oh and just to cap it off the band themselves describe their present influences as <strong>Kraftwerk</strong> and <strong>Herbie Hancock</strong> on quarantined lockdown in <strong>Bob Moog</strong>’s Trumansburg workshop; fair enough, Mildlife. </span></span></p>
<p><span><span>I had wondered about the title <em>Automatic</em>, isn’t that the exact opposite in tone from the little lessons embroidered into the music? Turns out that’s correct: bassist <strong>Tom Shanahan </strong>says it’s a dig at the mechanisation of culture and life, as everything becomes more like the queue of auto-playing garbage you’ll get served up by Facebook or Youtube. “<em>The dark state of boredom / Slowly crawling, slow evolving / Automatic</em>!” warns McDowell over the slow, skeletal funk in the album’s titular, closing number. I’m told that if you play the vinyl album, it will lock into an endless repeat of the title; neat.</span></span></p>
<p><span><span>That’s the closest Mildlife will get to sounding like they’re on autopilot. They calmly await the end of lockdown, to fold out of their lotus positions and bring their purposeful space-funk back to the world and the undoubted benefit of everyone’s mental health. </span></span></p>
<p><span><span>- Chris Cobcroft.</span></span></p>
<iframe style="border: 0; width: 100%; height: 120px;" src="https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=2364912065/size=large/bgcol=f…; seamless><a href="https://mildlife.com.au/album/automatic">Automatic by Mildlife</a></iframe><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/pXuV8jBEulc" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe>