To say the debut album by Courtney Barnett is eagerly anticipated is an understatement indeed. The whole of Australia seems to have an almost patriotic pride in Barnett and her turning of mundane Melbourne moments into a world-conquering phenomenon. With her ‘Strayan suburban tales, drawled vowels and relatable retelling of inner city adventures across a string of stirring singles and EPs, Barnett has become our little Aussie battler, an underdog taking off around the globe, telling our local stories and giving them importance on a world stage.
Breakthrough success has seen Barnett’s life expand far beyond the number 96 tram line, she’s played all the big international festivals, performed all the right TV shows, and undertaken the hard slog of touring the continents. It must change you as a person. Despite all your bedroom hairbrush singing dreams, as a musician, when success and the upheaval to your routines and the burden of expectation and obligation that comes along with it strikes, there’s no way you can really prepare for it. The rootless constant movement and seemingly endless treadmill of touring are certainly the polar opposite of the previously professed “I much prefer the mundane”. The weariness and sleep-deprivation of the lifestyle revealed with a poetic “I lay awake at four, staring at the wall”.
But it is the keen observation and acute awareness of the shifting sands in small moments of life that Barnett revels in. She is probably just as bemused as anyone that her small-time suburbia has been thrust into the big time of the music industry. As the track ‘Small Poppies’ attests, “Oh the humanity, I want to disappear into obscurity”, while also taking a swipe at the usual cultural cringe directed at much taller Australian varieties of said flower.
Despite it all, Barnett is quite wonderfully grounded and notes the transformation of her personal interactions, and her resistance to compromising or complying to them. At one point she utters “Tell me I’m exceptional, I promise to exploit you” while later warning “Don’t put me on a pedestal, I’ll only disappoint you” before finally repeating what is an almost universal lament of the ‘in demand’ creative figure, now surrounded by everyone wanting a piece of them: “so take what you want from me”.
As the title suggests, there has been plenty of reflective times in amid the action. And we are still compelled to Courtney due to her emotional honesty and openness, and while the odd co-star pops up in the lyrics – she is still the star of these unravelling stories. We are left eavesdropping on what are seemingly her sides of actual conversations such as “I’m sorry for all my insecurities, but that’s just part of me” and “I used to hate myself, now I think I’m alright”.
While it may have been tempting to cobble one or two of the bigger earlier singles into this collection, instead it has been a conscious and deliberate approach to create a cohesive album of songs as a single work. A step back from the novelty and into a novel. Avant to artist. Barnett and her band were obviously tour-hardened and attuned with each other musically, and with their flow and temperament, the songs all roll out a story. There still lies some prudent and timely observations in amid the chapters, it is noted there are more deaths on the roads than the oceans, and Barnett sings “We should mull over culling cars instead of sharks”.
Barnett may not have had so much control over the ascent of interest in her music, but with this album you feel she certainly has maintained control over its creation. It’s a work of someone developing in both life experience and sound – with a tight and trusted band that can conjure and back their evolving ideas and expression. Barnett’s voice has become a tuneful weapon in the arsenal, and no longer just a narrator, but the songs still stream with storytelling. While there is still some Melbourne minutiae, and even a (non-dipped) ride on the 96, a lot more of the stories come from looking within. Sit and listen, you’ll be greatly rewarded.
Sometimes I Sit And Think, And Sometimes I Just Sit is out March 23rd via Milk! / Remote Control Records.
