There’s a moment on RVG’s third album that made me laugh, then seconds later blink back tears. “They’re playing Drops of Jupiter, cause they never really knew ya,” Romy Vager sings – a genius rhyme – before the rest of the scene unfolds: “The room is so cold and dark / Your family are wearing masks / I can’t hear the eulogy /The stream is bad quality”. The kicker follows: “I don’t wanna see you go through a tab on Google Chrome”.
That song, Tambourine, is a lament for a lost friend through the uncanny lens of a livestreamed funeral – a deeply intimate scenario experienced through a terribly impersonal medium. Tambourine captures that dichotomy beautifully, and encapsulates what the Melbourne post-punk band does best: unfurling the oddities of modern life through lyrics spiked with pathos and black humour.
RVG is a masterfully economical band. Their debut album, 2017’s A Quality of Mercy, clocked in at under half an hour, with not a minute (or lyric) wasted. Over time, they’ve expanded into more ambitious soundscapes such as Photograph, the seven-minute closer from their 2020 album Feral – but for the most part, their songs remain short and sharp, cutting immediately to the heart of the matter.
The band’s frontwoman, Vager, has a remarkable vocal control and eye for narrative detail. Her lyrics often deal with the challenges of communication and the gaps between loved ones that can feel unbridgeable; her prose, largely unadorned, hits like a punch with its naked honesty. There’s more of that here: on the first single, Nothing Really Changes, she wrestles with the contradiction of missing someone who’s been bad to her (“I hate deep down I still miss you”), while the pummelling Midnight Sun puts it simply, but blisters with controlled anger: “I know that talking to you doesn’t work any more / so I don’t”.
RVG’s influences have always been clear – the dark plod of You’re the Reason recalls Joy Division’s moodiness, and the jangly guitar of luminaries such as the Go-Betweens and the Smiths are evident in RVG’s instrumentation, at once bright and melancholy.
But there are new ingredients, too. Synths feature more heavily on this record: Nothing Really Changes culminates in a soaring climax recalling 80s new wave, and a subtle buzz is overlaid with strings on Common Ground – a deceptively calm opener. The band balances the elements in a cohesive, compelling blend.
There’s also a healthy dash of surrealism on Brain Worms that makes for a delightful change of pace. RVG has flirted with the absurd before – Christian Neurosurgeon, from their last album, pitted faith and science against one another on the operating table, and remains one of their most irreverent, clever moments.
They ham up it here with Squid, a dark, sprawling track complete with a luscious, swelling instrumental break. Over a thundering riff that continues throughout, Vager ponders life after going back in time, stepping on an ancient Tiktaalik fish and becoming a sea creature herself – then going back to the present and realising that existing in squid form doesn’t mitigate human pain. It’s a bizarre concept, but makes for one of the band’s most memorable tracks, all rage and ennui. As Vager repeatedly chants “I’m under the water”, you start to feel a bit like you’re losing your mind.
The title track also leans into this manic despair – against thumping guitars, Vager yelps: “The brain worms got into my head and I can’t get them out”. The song’s lyric “I used to be a journalist / but now I’m yelling at my therapist” is a standout, but the whole track captures the madness of digital life. It’s a clear response to the contemporary existential crisis, but avoids cliche through Vager’s assured and authoritative narrative voice. The lyricism on this record mostly sticks the landing – it’s equal parts unusual and evocative.
RVG is one of Australia’s finest bands, and Vager one of our most underrated – and understated – songwriters. Expanding the band’s tried and tested sound, and homing in on Vager’s knack for esoteric storytelling, Brain Worms is another excellent chapter in a story that continues to challenge and thrill.
Brain Worms is out now (Ivy League)
