- Brisbane has a well-deserved reputation for being a punk paradise. Many will argue that punk was not only invented here but has been nurtured and affirmed for more than forty years. However, there are several other sides to Brisbane’s music scene and nearly all are bubbling away thanks to musicians, barely alive in the latter years of the twentieth century, championing genres that rose and nearly vanished before most of them were born. Think of the compelling style of new prog rock bands like Magenta Voyeur and The Belligerents, or the electronica which is strongly represented by female identifying artistes (Michelle Xen, 100%, LÂLKA and Rebel Yell for examplee) and young queer male performers, such as Patrick King who creates music under the moniker of Death Club 7.
Fata Morgana is his long teased second full-length release. Taking the name of an atmospheric optical illusion, the eight tracks (of varying lengths) exemplify both the type of ocean horizon mirage a “Fata Morgana” is – where images are distorted, boats sometimes appearing to sail upside down in mid-air, or a ghostly castle belonging to the legendary sorcerer Morgana Le Fay from the tales of King Arthur, tempting the unwary to enter a place where emotions are laid out bare but also layered and twisted, trapping you in the sonic maelstrom of desire – both sated and unrequited.
It would be a mistake to dismiss King as a lightweight pop pretender, toodling away on a synth and processing everything through a bedroom laptop. He may have the voice of a fragile, uncertain young man but take a closer listen to his lyrics. There is real passion in the album opener, Ride Or Die, it has angst at its heart, but the white-cold intense feeling is unescapable. Further along, Cursed Crown has a beat Madonna would kill for, and a personal empowerment mantra she’s been laying on thickly for decades, yet King just states it succinctly in one line, “I am a BITCH.. B I T C H.. A B C D E F G H I am getting rich, this is my crown, (expletive) bow down…” and continues on in that fashion – both as an anthem of self-mockery (which Madge wouldn’t be able to do successfully) and critique of false media prophets everywhere.
Though, it’s not all hard edge electronica and nasty beats, the brief Something You’re Not Telling Me has a brutal honesty, asking a lover for the words that you know you are going to hear, but don’t want to, set to a simple piano melody – and lasts all of one minute and twenty-four seconds. Any longer and you’d be wondering if you’ve got something in your eye…
The album finishes strongly – Bridge On Fire is dark-edged pop, Smoke hits hard, fast and relentlessly and, last, Dive Reflex has that cold water splash of reality and an emotional stress release. Along with Brisbane’s queer icons Cub Sport, Patrick King has given young gay men and diverse in gender and sexuality people in general, an album to hang their feelings on. Sweet and sensitive like Troye Sivan or Cub Sport’s Tim Nelson, but Patrick King is like their younger sibling, probably quietly plotting vivisection. Don’t mistake that angelic face and choirboy voice, there’s a real person inside who needs to be heard.
- Blair Martin.