Swamplord is the solo incarnation of Jeremy Hindmarsh, whose Brisbane-based outfit the Swamplords have been known to don face paint and loudly coloured robes. Mermaids Of Tahiti is the work of Hindmarsh alone, from the instrumentation and production to the mastering and artwork. It’s a labour of love, but also a dreamlike journey into his head. Tucked away with a four-track last summer, Hindmarsh conjured a muggy tribute to such season-appropriate influences as surf rock and South American psych. Like so much bedroom-recorded solo work, it’s intimate, mysterious, indulgent and uneven.
Settling into a leisurely 42-minute sprawl, the album begins and ends well but ventures too far into the wilderness – and for too long – in the middle. The first quartet of songs fares best, starting with the garage fuzz of ‘She Was A Surf Queen’. Hindmarsh’s voice is snide and squeaky, while his rambunctious guitar flits up and down and from left to right in the mix. True to its title, the wobbly ‘Dub Drains’ dwells on a lazy, repetitious lick while unfurling an acid-tinged lead and improvised noises. All of 24 seconds, ‘Surf Chant’ approaches the single line, “I saw butterflies in your eyes”, via Beach Boys harmonies, albeit rougher and more droning. Tinny with piecemeal percussion, ‘Step Into My Room Baby’ commands, “Let’s get it on”, through distancing vocal effects.
The next cluster of songs, by contrast, resembles channel-surfing. ‘Plovers Lament’ is a brief shuffling of fragments, the bluesy ‘Bored With Pain’ plods along, and ‘The Ghenghis Kid’ [sic] sets piercing noise and echoed shouts to a blown-out undercurrent. The erratic ‘Take It Off Sea Horse’ drags needlessly, and two instrumentals also overstay their welcome. Thankfully, ‘Surf Hungry’ breaks out a killer hook to end the tedium, though it lasts less than a minute. More folk-ish, ‘Goodbye My Bird’ is then built on acoustic guitar and clearer vocals, elements that could have been used to refresh the album in other places. The title track is also the last one, a muddy instrumental with exciting shades of T. Rex and Creedence. It finishes things on a high note.
There’s no use harping too much over the details of such a low-key, exploratory project – the album is limited to 100 copies in its initial run – but there’s potential here that goes unrealised in the pursuit of Hindmarsh’s slippery muse. For better or worse, Mermaids Of Tahiti is a stream-of-conscious caper, free of restrictive guidelines but also lacking any profound editing.
by Doug Wallen
(Bedroom Suck)
.jpg)
