reviews:

Indie pop, like other scenes outside rock's traditional canon, doesn't necessarily demand consistency. With a tradition of vinyl singles, small but beloved labels, and an intense sense of community, indie pop fans tend to place value on singles and EPs as much as albums. And with a decade and a half of reliably charming singles, EPs-- and, yes, albums-- the Lucksmiths are kind of like their genre's dependable go-to; they're the Hold Steady of indie pop. You know what to expect from the Australian band's ninth album, First Frost, and as with Craig Finn & co.'s latest, Stay Positive, you also a get a few new wrinkles. Stand-up drummer Tali White sings a little bit softer now; the guitars crunch more often. But the songs-- written mostly by guitarist Marty Donald, though also by White, bassist Mark Monnone, and newer guitarist Louis Richter-- are still genial sing-alongs that bounce from languid introspection to scrappy exuberance. Covering familiar subjects like the weather, drinking, geography, and quiet melancholy, they delight with catchy tunes and understated eloquence. First Frost doesn't match the peaks of 2005's Warmer Corners or last year's 45-track Spring a Leak compilation, but it comes close. Recorded in Tasmania with Chris Townend, the album continues a gradual sonic exploration: Horns and glam-rock swagger help Donald's "A Sobering Thought (Just When One Was Needed)" clear its head, while an unexpectedly grinding guitar solo lets White's acoustic "Up With the Sun" move beyond "a time when every lunch was breakfast." Monnone's "South-East Coastal Rendezvous" comes about as close to the wavy guitarscapes of Strawberry Wine-era My Bloody Valentine as the Lucksmiths probably ever will, evocatively concluding, "Here's to who knows what" (alas, not "when"). Strings nicely adorn slower songs like Richter's opening "The Town and the City" and Donald's similarly themed "Pines". "I don't mean to suggest I'm getting older/ But the city looks better over my shoulder," goes the latter. If it sounds like the Lucksmiths that wrote happy-go-lucky songs like "Under the Rotunda" and "T-Shirt Weather" have grown up...well, they have, but their craft has matured, too. They still "drink and laugh and eat," as on Monnone's folkier, slightly drab "Day Three of Five". Only now they're left to ask themselves, "Why did you get drunk" in Donald's mournful, country-tinged duet with female vocalist Bee Rigby, "Lament of the Chiming Wedgebill". No, wait, it's the chiming wedgebill who's asking. Most admirably, First Frost finds the Lucksmiths continuing to put out quietly ambitious records that could be enjoyed by almost anybody who loves music-- not just indie pop partisans. "California in Popular Song" is the best song on the album, but it's not a difficult critic's favorite; either you'll love the trebly guitar interplay, White's tender phrasing, Donald's vivid storytelling about someone leaving for an imagined California, and delicate turns of phrase like "your eyes are wet with wine," or you'll listen to something else. Yes, I realize the poetically arranged SAT-word sing-along that ends Donald's gorgeous "The National Mitten Registry" is waaay too precious for the Hot 100. But as White sings: "Fingers crossed/ All is not lost." The Lucksmiths still drink; they haven't dried up, and it doesn't sound like they're going to crumble into dust anytime soon.   --Pitchfork

The Lucksmiths have never released a record that was less than lovely. Since 1993 the Australian trio (now quartet) has been crafting thoughtful indie pop that warms both ears and hearts in equal measure. Filled with some of their best songs and most fully realized arrangements, 2005's Warmer Corners marked a high point in the band's career that would seem like a hard act to follow. Luckily, the band is up for the challenge on 2008's First Frost, and if it falls a little short of Warmer Corners, the album is still top-shelf Lucksmiths. The full arrangements (horns, strings, and loads of backing vocals) are here; the songs are a mix of tender ballads, chugging rockers, and introspective midtempo rambles; and Tali White's everyman vocals are as intimate and real as ever. This time out, the songwriting chores are split among the four members, with each of them focusing on tiny moments of heartbreak and spinning tales of poetic melancholy in a way that has become the band's trademark. Marty Donald turns in some truly memorable songs, "California in Popular Song" and "How We Met" chief among them, while new guitarist Louis Richter happily proves himself able to meet the high standards the band has established with his two contributions, "The Town and the Hills" and "Never and Always." Richter may also be responsible for the heavier guitar tones that appear throughout the album, giving tracks like "Up with the Sun" and "South-East Coastal Rendezvous" a jolt of rock energy. The female vocals (courtesy of Bee Rigby) on the country weeper "Lament of the Chiming Wedgebill" and the Hammond organ and cowbell (!) on "Who Turned Out the Lights?" also serve to expand the group's sonic template. These slight changes and surprises are nice, but what counts in the end are the songs and the voice that sings them -- both are in fine form, and First Frost is more of the Lucksmiths at their finest.   --All Music Guide

I can think of no other band that writes melodic pop songs as articulate about everyday life scenarios—cities, the weather, wasting time, interactions between friends and lovers—as the Lucksmiths, and they keep getting better at it as the years pass. What's more, their music is getting more attractive to the ears. Each of their last three albums has represented a strengthening and filling-out of their sound. First Frost is touched by driving rock, stately folk, tender soul, and a blast of noise, even. And all the while this sounds like the Lucksmiths we know and love. Within these songs people travel, get drunk, grow together and grow apart. None of the stories are unnecessarily over-dramatic, but rather thoughtful, detailed, and recognizable. That real-life familiarity may be why their albums are so easy to listen to over and over again, to live with.   --PopMatters Best Indie Pop of 2008

Australian band The Lucksmiths seem destined to remain firmly rooted in the pop pigeon-hole marked 'indie cult'. You'd think after 15 years ploughing such a lonely furrow, they'd be due at least a few minutes of fame's usual predetermined quarter of an hour. But the inappropriately named Lucksmiths are still light years away from the big-time — despite a whole collection of top-drawer material. Eleventh album, First Frost, generates more of the same first-class tunes boasting lean arrangements and lush textures which have been enhanced by tight, inventive musicianship and well-drilled song-writing. Genre-wise they are hard to categorise — if anything, their sound lies somewhere between The Wedding Present and Belle and Sebastian. First Frost oozes charm throughout — with little musical gems aplenty. At times, the band veer into the old dreamy shoegazing territory of the early 1990s — tracks like the brilliant Lament of the Chiming Wedgebill are reminiscent of fellow cult band Slowdive's finest hour, Souvlaki. Frontman Tali White's warm understated vocals call to mind The Wedding Present's David Gedge or Badly Drawn Boy. But the success of this new collected works lies more in the beautiful melodies, floating harmonies and the fragrant accompaniment. The tunes are also wonderfully uncluttered and unpretentious. There is no effort at all on the part of the listener — the Lucksmiths make life very easy. All you have to do is simply lie back and enjoy. First Frost also spawns two of the Lucksmiths' best ever tracks — the bouncy, joyous pop nugget that is South-East Coastla Rendezvous and the truly wonderful Pines. The Lucksmiths will be hard pushed to better this exquisite collection. A quiet classic.   --Belfast Telegraph

The Lucksmiths are exactly the sort of indie-pop band that old-school indie-pop fans love, and First Frost is the sort of record that isn't going to do anything to diminish that position. It's understated, wonderfully crafted and impeccably recorded. It also comes off as if the band's completely unaware that there's a swelling movement of new fans flooding the genre. It's bedroom pop at its bedroom best. Keepers of the Sarah Records flame, The Lucksmiths make a late bid for a spot on year-end lists with their first full-length effort in three years. That bid's led by everything we've come to expect from the band, as traces of twee creep into its hushed arrangements, a light melancholy mist settles on top of everything and singer/drummer (that's right, a singing percussionist) Tali White has enough quiet dignity to navigate everything that comes his way. A lot comes his way. The band delivers a career-best set, with songs that run the gamut from poised orchestrated numbers full of brass and strings to bubbly rockers. It plays into every one of the band's strengths while belying any notion that the Lucksmiths are a one-trick pony. There are, of course, enough lilting acoustic-rock tracks to keep the status quo happy: "Day Three of Five" takes on a rootsy feel, thanks largely in part to a chugging rhythm section; "Good Light" comes closer to perfecting the band's trademark blend of easygoing acoustic guitars and jangly electrics. When the band adventures out of its usual spots is where First Frost becomes the definitive Lucksmiths record. The lightest touch of string orchestration sneaks into the background of "California in Popular Song," though the balance of power's still in the jangle-pop favor. "The National Mitten Registry" takes a almost crushingly precious theme -- providing love for lost gloves and mittens -- and blends it with an arrangement that veers toward brass domination in its latter stretches. "Up with the Sun" stomps on some buzzing reverb, letting the act's usually restrained guitars run wild and free. For 15 years, The Lucksmiths have dominated coy pop. To say First Frost tops that string of albums is an accomplishment unto itself. Jangly bedroom pop is rarely as effortless as it is on this album, rarely as independent of trends and rarely so beguiling.   --Aversion.com

Aussie janglers add dash of bitter to their sweet indiepop. Now 15 years and 11 albums into their itinerant career, these blithely spirited Melbourne indie-pop types seem to be growing up. The T-shirt weather of early albums now feels the chill wind of winter in July, Tali White's warm voice seems more rugged and even the tweely-titled 'National Mitten Registry" is a desolate, derelict little number. But the sobriety suits them, moving them on from their punny, Flight Of The Conchords tendencies. On tracks like the lovely 'Pines", First Frost suggets The Lucksmiths are picking up the mantle of Grant McLennan.   --Uncut Magazine

First Frost opens with the first Lucksmiths song written by Louis Richter, who played guitar on the last album and has been playing with the band on tour for years now. Titled 'The Town and the Hills", it's sung by drummer Tali White, the band's lead vocalist no matter the songwriter (mostly Marty Donald, sometimes Mark Monnone, occasionally White). Richter wrote two of the album's 14 songs. It's a sign that The Lucksmiths are now officially a four-person band, though already the last album Warmer Corners benefited from his presence on guitar. With each album their already pretty much perfect songwriting gets better, and over the last three albums, counting this new one, the music has jumped forward as well, with arrangements that are more sophisticated, in a good way. And at the same time the band keeps getting punchier. First Frost overall has a sense of wistfulness to it, but plenty of the songs have moments where the band pushes forward forcefully. The last time I saw them play live I was struck by how much faster they were playing, how much they rocked, even. On album they've translated that into compact bursts of energy without losing the subtler touch their thoughtful songs require. It's a confidently written and played album, plentiful with winning melodies but also instrumental parts that do well to communicate the mood of the song and album. One such surprising but natural moment comes near the album's end on the slow-and-steady 'How We Met", where the band builds up into a noisy shimmer, emulating the radio static mentioned in a lyric. The album is filled with other less dramatic, but no less enjoyable, musical moments. "The Town and the Hills" sets up the mood of the LP well, by setting a very specific scene ('The clouds are hanging low / about the shoulders of the hills / where the shadow kills the light") and then introducing characters, who bring along their own anxieties and dreams. First Frost is filled with daily-life stories, serious or light, smartly written into song. These observational stories carry little truths about human relationships and experiences, but are never heavy-handed about it, rarely even trying to pin down any truths as such. "A Sobering Thought (Just When One Was Needed)" vividly describes a drunken night out on the town with an old friend. The spunky 'South-East Coastal Rendezvous" (one of a couple songs here that I've taken to declaring as the pop hit of the season when it comes on) also has some people meeting up after a period apart, drinking a toast to the unknown ('here's to who knows what"). The narrator of 'How We Met" inadvertently eavesdrops on his lover at a party telling the story of how they met. The especially bittersweet 'California in Popular Song" has someone moving to the western US, the song's narrator explaining to her that moving doesn't always make things right, and that songs aren't always true: 'All those songs about California lied / the stars won't shine tonight / it isn't going to be alright." The album's characters seem to teeter-totter between worry and hopefulness, cynicism and optimism. Even a lost mitten comes to represent both, as a group-singalong breaks into the chorus 'fingers crossed / all is not lost." Entwined with that worry/hope balance are people and places – lovers separating, to uncertain end; cities quiet and still. The album's final song, 'Who Turned on the Lights?", offers one last invigorating moment of uncertainty, in a song about both people and a city. It starts on a train, in the aftermath of a lovers' spat. They reach a city that's surprisingly bright, asking each other the title question in a tuneful chorus, strengthened by electric guitar and backing harmonies. It ends the album on an up note musically, and perhaps one for the album's characters too: 'I know we're trembling now / but the lightning and rain are gonna pass…"   --Erasing Clouds

You'd think that after more than a decade of plying their wares, a band as melodically endowed as the Lucksmiths would have a bit more... well, luck... at least in terms of wider recognition. Maybe it's the watery divide; being an Aussie band, that's a lot of distance to transcend between here and there. Come to think of it, that's the only plausible reason why this starry-eyed quartet hasn't garnered their due. Purveyors of a supple, soft-spoken pop eloquence - think the Housemartins and their successors, the Beautiful South - they supply an affable sound accompanied by an instant embrace. Theirs is an idyllic view, as evidenced in such titles as "Song of the Undersea," "The Town & The Hills," "South-East Coastal Rendezvous" and "Up With the Sun," songs that in both style and substance offer a wistful view of quiet country lanes, twilight encounters and mornings of quiet reflection. The assured perspective is especially pronounced in lines like, "Listen to me this time/The city's sand and lime/And skylarks long have left its streets/Where the darkness meets," the alluring imagery betraying their poetic perspective. And while the eager, irresistible refrains of "Good Light" and the churning rhythms of "Never & Always" up the ante in terms of energy, First Frost consistently maintains its warm and radiant glow. This could well be the album that brings the Lucksmiths the good fortune they so genuinely deserve.   --Blurt

I'd heard some horrible blasphemous rumours about this album at the end of last year, about it being all "rock", and having "guitar solos". Cuh, I say to them. Cuh. The fact that this is yet another treasure of a Lucksmiths album shouldn't be a surprise to the righteous, of course, but it's a surprise just how good it is. Apparently, it's a bit of concept album. Run to the hills! Then come back again. Because this album is all about the countryside vs the city. And not in "lets go and hunt some little foxes way!", I hope you understand. And it looks from the sleeve like a log cabin the middle of nowhere has triumphed. Beautiful packaging leads to beautiful songs. "Good Light" might be the sound of Lucksmiths yore, but so what? If it ain't fixed carry on using it anyway, as the old saying goes. The song features some wonderful self-pitying lyrics, and we all need to wallow sometimes, don't we? "California Popular Song" seems again to champion the countryside - or at least warns against the lure of the big city, with the almost ridiculously sad lyric: "Your eyes are bright with wine/And, oh, so are mine." I think I can honestly say that I've never really 'connected' with many Lucksmiths lyrics before... until now. I've usually liked their songs for their jangly effervescence, or the fact that they're just the sort of quaint stuff that makes a 30-something feel at ease with singing at the top of his voice in a nightclub. But on First Frost nearly every song screams: "This is you, you lummox!" And isn't that a wonderful thing when you think that sort of thing left you when you were 15 and listening to Meat is Murder in a dark room with only a candle for company? And just when I think I've found the song that saved my life - in this case the National Mitten Registry - it turns out it's been written from the perspective of the woolly hand garment. Denied! But take this immeasurably great album however you want to. It's going to get me to work and back again through the remaining winter months. Take that, mitten!   --A Layer of Chips

Less luck than smith, but less trade than art, First Frost marks another strong entry into an under-heralded band's catalog. The Lucksmiths create indie-pop that's at once comfortable and unpredictable, relaxed in song structure and sound, but driven by captivating lyrics. This newest album works well in providing not stories, but snippets, often moments of conversation with a few gaps left to fill in. Without wasting a track, the band develops a cohesive album through recurrent themes and images, as well as a developing mood complete with closing fulfillment. As light as the album sounds sonically (yes, it's jangle from Australia), the lyrics focus on rain. Even so, the songs never turn past gray (even when, as in 'South-East Coastal Rendezvous", 'the wet starts to win"), bringing us into an area of forecasted rain and mild anxiety, rather than actual drizzle. The nervousness stems not from senseless fear, but from an awareness of past events ("the weight of shadow cast / By pieces of the past") and human tendencies that cause centers not to hold, as captured in emotional affairs, a tendency toward drink, etc. 'A Sobering Thought (Just When One Was Needed)" provides an example of what goes wrong, and how beautiful that moment can be. With 'puddles on the floor" juxtaposed with the day's burgeoning sunlight, the narrator launches into his confession to his lover. He meets up with an old friend, and an ostensibly platonic catching-up turns into a late night dip at the swimming pool. The wetness here, evidentiary in its puddling, is not due to the always coming rain, but from the individual choice in the present. The Lucksmiths make it lovely and nearly defensible. The title provides the painful denouement: the end comes not from any realization of wrongdoing, but from the sobering thought of potential discovery. Our man drips home. While he does return, the usual causes of things falling apart merge with the narrators' desires to flee. Both growing interpersonal distance and increasing anxiety (sometimes ill-founded) manifest themselves in an urge toward flight. 'Never and Always" provides some bad advice: 'It never rains on the highway". The Wilco-alluding 'California in Popular Song" puts the division between land and sea: 'If those dark clouds reach to the empty beach / Well at least the coast is clear". The singers of 'First Frost", whether hurt or merely anticipating hurt, seek refuge in physical distance rather than emotional repair. If they weren't drawn so remarkably close to real, they could tend toward the pathetic. Instead, they quickly develop as full characters (see the oscillation and conflict of 'Never and Always"). It's not cowardice so much as a physical expression (geographically, or even topographically) of a persistent condition. The Lucksmiths don't leave their listeners in this state of people always going and events always pending. If they had, they'd have created a neurotic, lovely enough work, but one too enmeshed in its own shortcomings to be both as heartwarming and heartbreaking as it is. The opening track 'The Town and Hills" provides the question that each character (and each listener) should face: 'When was the last time you sang / Along with the bells as they rang?" The question stays away from matters of context. The feeling here—whether happiness, freedom, or escape—comes not from external situations (like rain), but from internal decisions (like jumping into a pool, only antithetically). Hope hides throughout the album, usually peeking out in phrases like 'I hope someday you'll see me / Even briefly / In a good light". In one of the more pleasing tracks, 'The National Mitten Registry", we find encouragement and strength from a personified mitten. The whole track's a playful poem in which, without the title, you might believe the narrator to even be a person ("threadbare and falling apart" or 'Forgotten, forlorn / Unclaimed and uncared for"). Then, in a cheerful play on words, the mitten sets an example by calmly and simply stating, 'Fingers crossed / All is not lost". If a mitten can cross its fingers, then we should take comfort. The tide (for we're thoroughly wet now, whether the rain's hit us or not) turns fully on 'Up with the Sun". If the album has largely been about people about to go in motion but not quite gone and rain always arriving but never arrived, we suddenly get sticky and stuck on the album's finest couplet: 'New sun behind me, like syrup on my skin / Honey, remind me where it is we've been" (the wordplay is thoroughly delicious). The narrator takes stock, recognizing his own 'shame and ... shackles" and breaking from his mental entrapment. In doing so, the dark clouds falter, and he sings, 'Oh, but then one morning as the clubs were closing / Dawn stuck her nose in / And over I was won". 'Who Turned on the Lights?" closes the album with unsentimental opportunity, offering apology and care. The weather suppresses light, but 'there's power in the city tonight". Our narrator cautions not against the rain, but against the fear of it, embracing the trembling and explaining that 'the lightning and rain are gonna pass / And leave these streets looking so pretty in a while / After all, the wet look is back in style". Not only the people, but also the wetness is redeemed, changing the convicting puddle into something more. Here, the narrator exchanges the weather in its native unpredictability for 'Bernini's fountain", a constructed work and a choosing of beauty. The moment says farewell to umbrella arms in favor of the light of a Roman holiday.   --PopMatters

The Luckless Smiths, as some have tagged these Morrissey-influenced Aussies, have quietly gone about their business for 15 years, recording generally overlooked yet increasingly radiant albums that have made them one of their country's most prolific and consistent group of songwriters. First Frost, their 11th studio album, picks up the baton passed by 2005's career-crowning Warmer Corners and it maintains the band's upward curve – this is grown-up Lucksmiths but one that still sparkles with the youthful zest that made them so appealing in the first place. It's just now they take themselves more seriously – gone are the witty, throwaway puns and two-minute songs that occasionally seemed out of place on their Nineties albums and possibly undermined the notion that here was a band to be reckoned with. This may not read like a positive but, like Warmer Corners before it, First Frost is music to sigh to. Not in a despressing, melancholy sense – it's more of a nostalgic, comfortable and settled sigh made evident on album opener The Town And The Hills which blends brass, strings and airy vocals. The album's finest moments – the achingly lovely Good Light, the twee-est song title ever on the delicate The National Mitten Registry, the railway rhythm of Day Three Of Five and the Wedding Present-esque vibe of Up With The Sun – are among the best songs the Melbourne-based quartet have ever recorded. Elsewhere there are nods to country in the duet Lament Of The Chiming Wedgebill and something of a guitar surge on A Sobering Thought and Never And Always and, though songwriting credits are shared by all four members of the band, there is never a lack of cohesion. First Frost is the sound of four men growing older together, leaving behind the urban dreams of youth for gentler pursuits – but they're not doing so gracefully. 'I don't mean to suggest I'm getting older," sings Tali White on Pines, 'But the city looks its best over my shoulder…" That should strike a chord with all who've followed The Lucksmiths' journey down the years. We are, after all, in the first frost of our lives too...   --Music Week

Melbourne's The Lucksmiths are a band to whom, by now, the phrase 'return to form' means nothing at all. If your 'form', such as it is, means consistently churning out breezy indie-pop intricacies and curios over the course of eleven LPs with a gradually rising bar of quality, then your 'form' such as it is cannot possibly be returned to. The tendency among commentators is to assert journalistic authority and say 'No! Truly, this is the finest Lucksmiths LP so far," whenever one is released. As it stands, First Frost probably isn't their finest, but that means nothing when your 'form', such as it is - you understand. There are musical elements that mark something of a small explosion for the band. Louis Richter is finally felt on the guitar and makes excellent melodic contributions throughout, implicitly adding another line to the mix with surprisingly far-reaching results (hear his mournful, sweet plod on The National Mitten Registry). The extra instrumental arrangements have also reached a new level of crisp accomplishment, particularly demonstrable on the opening The Town And Hills (incidentally a Richter-penned number). After waiting for almost too long, the simplistic guitars open up into a cascading collection of horns and strings too pretty to render the first half of the song frustrating. Neat trick. Because it's a Lucksmiths record, there's a great deal of lyrical bite to explore too, often the gift of Marty Donald. The drawn-out rhyme scheme and elaborate story of A Sobering Thought is impressive, but some of the gloopier moments show a slightly more wistful bent - perhaps more than before. Pines is seasonal duality, sleepy sentiment and its perfect musical accompaniment, and a lovely moment among many. The sleeve and inlay are pure cutesy understatement - various ranch-like scenes of the band at work and play. This affords the listener a strange connection with First Frost. We see The Lucksmiths in absolutely no danger, no rush and with no pressures whatever. These, you might argue, are conditions not best suited to ripping studio sessions, but they provide a rare accompaniment. Leafy vistas in both scene and lyric mirror the music itself with fine taste. But that's their form, as we've discussed. Contented authors, muted discomfort in the lyrics, subtle tweaks of musical formulae; The Lucksmiths have done it again and created their finest LP so far, you might say.   --Pop Musicology

This is album number eleven for the Lucksmiths and the quality shows no sign of letting up. It starts with The Town & The Hills, a whimsical tune with boy-ish sounding vocals and a carefree air, complete with some sweet brass to lead the song out. Good Light is more upbeat, as the guitar chips out a tune. A Sobering Thought is a coy cousin to Belle & Sebastian's The Boy With The Arab Strap, while California In Popular Song has twinkling folky guitar and vocally is a sigh to Californian times. South-East Coastal Rendezvous is a lot like their closest neighbours, Belle & Sebastian with a fuzzy warm feel. The National Mitten Registry is beautiful, sparse and sombre, the choral group singing and short lines make it sound like a beautiful wake. Day Three Of Five manages to be melancholic and chirpy at the same time and Never & Always is what the band do best, cracking pop like The Go-Betweens, but with an even more romantic lilt. Lament Of The Chiming Wedgebill is a lovely male/female country duet while How We Met is downbeat, minimal and achingly sad and Song Of The Undersea and Up With The Sun are simply cool pop songs. Pines is laid back, melancholic and rather sad. Quite simply, this is the best form of guitar derived pop imaginable.   --Russell’s Reviews

'Jingly-jangly" would be a good description for The Lucksmiths' brand of music; this quirky Australian band has a name and a sound that can't help but put you in a good mood. Normally, you might associate Australia with two things: Mad Max and kangaroos. This is happy music that's remarkably like neither of those. Well, maybe like a nice kangaroo, but can you picture Mel Gibson cruising the barren wasteland in the last of the V8 Interceptors listening to The Lucksmiths? No, but that doesn't mean he couldn't stop by a roadside cantina for a listen to cheer him up. A band that also knows when to take its craft seriously, The Lucksmiths enlisted the help of Chris Townsend (Portishead, Laura Jean) and his hideaway in the remote foothills of Tasmania's Mt Wellington to record their new album. That would explain the difference in sound from their previous albums. Is it even conceivable to mix Morrissey with Elvis Costello? 'Good Light" is a song that might make you wonder, and these guys can seemingly do a lot of different styles well. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and maybe the three year lay-off from recording and the intentionally spartan recording conditions did the trick. The results turned out great… mate.   --KEXP Song of the Day

Australian Smiths fans who ditched their Melbourne hometown to record in the Tasmanian bush, The Lucksmiths took away more than memories when they returned to the city. The rustic surroundings rubbed off on their 10th (or eighth; it's complicated) proper album, which adds a bucolic touch that many would kill for.   --Q Magazine

Winter is the perfect time for hibernation, a well-deserved rest period before springtime's social graces. The October/November period also coincides with an avalanche of top quality releases, both local and/or general. Weather and seasons have always been prominent subjects in the masterful lyrics of The Lucksmiths, but it's usually more of a case of T-shirt weather than first frosts. The new album, much like 2003's Naturaliste, has a cooler bite to it than the band's early material… which makes sense considering it was recorded in front of a wood-fired stove in a rustic shack in Tasmania. Despite the chilly edge, First Frost has a hell of a lot of fun across its fourteen tracks and revels in diversity to a level not quite seen on previous releases. Although this is the second album to feature Louis Richter, this is the first time all four band-members contribute songs. Richter's propulsive guitars and the 'ba ba ba"s on Never & Always have more than a hint of Mid-State Orange to them, which of course is no bad thing. All four songwriters do themselves proud, but Marty Donald's hit rate remains unchallenged, offering up album highlights A Sobering Thought (Just When One Was Needed) and California In Popular Song. There are considerably less catchy, clever lyrics across the board, but there's a luminous depth to these new compositions that buries the need for 'ta-dah!' couplets. So while some things change and other things stay the same, the new album from The Lucksmiths is like a warm, welcoming reunion with old friends. If anything, they've improved with age.   --Beat

The sun still shines on the Lucksmiths. And they're working on their muscles. Three years after their last album, the story-filled Warmer Corners, and just a year after odds-and-ends compilation Spring a Leak, the modestly cult-adored Australian indie-poppers are set to return with their ninth proper full-length, First Frost. The new album's "A Sobering Thought (Just When One Was Needed)" shows how time has changed the long-running trio (plus Mid-State Orange's Louis Richter on lead guitar), as well as how-- happily-- it hasn't. Longtime listeners will note how the Lucksmiths' familiar jangle has given way to glam-rock boogie, punchy horns, a smattering of piano, and a Thin Lizzy-esque guitar solo (sobering thought indeed!) on this new song, but that's all territory already made safe by Scottish contemporaries Belle and Sebastian, to wonderful effect, on The Life Pursuit. Singer and stand-up drummer Tali White is still punning elegantly, dropping words like "demimonde" as he croons about beautiful breezes, swimming pools, and beer. "When we fled from the scene/ Drunk and giddy with chlorine/ God, I almost felt 15/ Slinking down the street at night," White reminisces, joined by backing harmonies. It's all a fitting maturation for a band that once sang of "T-Shirt Weather" and "Happy Secret"s. And it keeps going for another minute more.   --Pitchfork

It's a freezing November day, I'm wrapped in a blanket, head-fugged with a cold. 'First Frost', an album themed around the concept of city vs. country (FITE!), takes me on an armchair journey and shows me snapshots of different, distant days, a welcome distraction. There's a lot of weather in this, The Lucksmiths' eleventh album. Pretty much every song summons the elements; summer on skin, planting rainbows, wind from the north, cold autumn air, a sultry night, leaning into the winter wind. The rattley, Morrissey-like 'Up With The Sun' opens with the evocative couplet 'New sun behind me, like syrup on my skin / Honey remind me where it is we've been' sung perfectly. Later on in the song, cripes! The Lucksmiths break out some splendid fuzz guitar. Mark Monnone's 'South-East Coastal Rendezvous' kicks along nicely, riven with cracked, jubilant guitar that's cheerily at odds with the song's lyrical concerns of wandering in the rain getting hopelessly drenched. On first listen, 'A Sobering Thought (Just when One Was Needed)' prompted an outbreak of seventies-style hands on hips, bending at the waist dancing in the Painting household such is the buoyant nature of its guitar riffage. Today I feel too feeble to move so instead I read the lyrics which initially seem to insinuate they're about doing a wee on the floor when drunk*, 'You're puzzled by the puddles on the floor / It's time that I came clean about last night.' Later in the song, it's a relief to find out that the puddles are in fact the result of a spot of drunken swimming pool breaking and entering. The fantastically titled 'The National Mitten Registry' includes what sounds like a colliery brass band adding to its melancholy waltz (although according to the sleeve notes there are just three people playing various brass instruments) and is apparently written from the point of view of a lost glove (metaphor? Pah!). Twee!!! The album's lyric booklet features dreamy photos of sunlight glancing across the misty, frosty garden of the Tasmanian studio in which The Lucksmiths holed themselves up for the creation of this record. The place looks rustically magical and is a pretty convincing argument for escaping to a life of rural calm. Between them, The Lucksmiths (all of the band have contributed songs here) use hopes, dream, memories, regrets to weave an album you can sink into, a blanket of warm sound. I blow my nose for the ten thousandth time, put 'First Frost' on for another spin and daydream my way out of London.   --Kitten Painting

It's a freezing November day, I'm wrapped in a blanket, head-fugged with a cold. 'First Frost', an album themed around the concept of city vs. country (FITE!), takes me on an armchair journey and shows me snapshots of different, distant days, a welcome distraction. There's a lot of weather in this, The Lucksmiths' eleventh album. Pretty much every song summons the elements; summer on skin, planting rainbows, wind from the north, cold autumn air, a sultry night, leaning into the winter wind. The rattley, Morrissey-like 'Up With The Sun' opens with the evocative couplet 'New sun behind me, like syrup on my skin / Honey remind me where it is we've been' sung perfectly. Later on in the song, cripes! The Lucksmiths break out some splendid fuzz guitar. Mark Monnone's 'South-East Coastal Rendezvous' kicks along nicely, riven with cracked, jubilant guitar that's cheerily at odds with the song's lyrical concerns of wandering in the rain getting hopelessly drenched. On first listen, 'A Sobering Thought (Just when One Was Needed)' prompted an outbreak of seventies-style hands on hips, bending at the waist dancing in the Painting household such is the buoyant nature of its guitar riffage. Today I feel too feeble to move so instead I read the lyrics which initially seem to insinuate they're about doing a wee on the floor when drunk*, 'You're puzzled by the puddles on the floor / It's time that I came clean about last night.' Later in the song, it's a relief to find out that the puddles are in fact the result of a spot of drunken swimming pool breaking and entering. The fantastically titled 'The National Mitten Registry' includes what sounds like a colliery brass band adding to its melancholy waltz (although according to the sleeve notes there are just three people playing various brass instruments) and is apparently written from the point of view of a lost glove (metaphor? Pah!). Twee!!! The album's lyric booklet features dreamy photos of sunlight glancing across the misty, frosty garden of the Tasmanian studio in which The Lucksmiths holed themselves up for the creation of this record. The place looks rustically magical and is a pretty convincing argument for escaping to a life of rural calm. Between them, The Lucksmiths (all of the band have contributed songs here) use hopes, dream, memories, regrets to weave an album you can sink into, a blanket of warm sound. I blow my nose for the ten thousandth time, put 'First Frost' on for another spin and daydream my way out of London.   --Kitten Painting

Surely the only band of this vintage still never to have released a sub-par album, the Lucksmiths are happily unafraid to keep risking this reputation (and occasionally, to push the envelope: our favourite tracks here, the misty, swept-with-longing "How We Met" and the shambling, Weddoes-like "Up With The Sun", both see subtle - but rewarding - variations to their template sound).  --In Love With These Times (Albums of the Year)

The Lucksmiths has been a band for 15 years, and over the course of 7 albums, 3 compilations, and 5 EPs, the group has released a lifetime's worth of classic pop songs that you've probably never heard. It's not your fault; they're from Australia, and it's usually tough for bands from that corner of the world to gain US exposure. Those of us who have been dedicated to spreading the gospel of the Lucksmiths have been waiting for the band to put together a classic album that will turn the underground world into believers. Their 2005 album Warmer Corners was pretty close, and featured two of the best songs they had ever written, "A Hiccup In Your Happiness" and "The Chapter In Your Life Entitled San Fransisco." Three years later, First Frost is the tightest and most focused the band has ever sounded and, true to form, there are some real winners here. Opener "The Town And The Hills" is one of the winners. It features Tali White's signature croon and the rhythm section (White is also responsible for the drumming) is more on point than ever. The song was written by guitarist Louis Richter, his first to show up on an album, as well as the driving highlight "Never And Always," where White does his best Morrissey impression. Make no mistake though, guitarist and principle songwriter Marty Donald is not about to give up the crown here. The album's best track, "A Sobering Thought (Just When One Was Needed)," was penned by Donald, as well as the heartbreaking acoustic number "The Nation Mitten Registry," and over half of the other songs. Like most Lucksmiths albums, it's an album to listen to first thing in the morning, before bed at night, and any time in between. It has songs to fall in love to, songs to lament your breakup to, and songs for your loneliest or happiest times. It appeals to pretty much anyone with a passion for clever, interesting pop songs, and isn't that really all you need?   --Delusions of Adequacy

The blueprint to writing a good pop song never changes — and I don't think it ever will. It's a theory that Melbourne's long-standing purveyors of indie pop glory The Lucksmiths certainly ascribe to. It makes their new album – and 11th proper - *First Frost *sound timeless. Sure it's released in 2008, but it could have easily been dropped anytime within the past 20 years. And there's something inexplicably comforting about that. The Lucksmiths have held an interminable presence on the Australian music landscape since their genesis in 1993, bearing the torch passed on by The Go-Betweens and The Triffids. A song like 'Up With The Sun' is reminiscent of a Forster and McLennan partnership with lyrics such as, 'There was a time when every lunch was breakfast", and the sprightly open chords and understated rhythms that feature throughout. There's an effortless whimsy that makes *First Frost *a charming album. Across 50-plus minutes of music, The Lucksmiths demonstrate how years of releases and touring have honed their impressive knack for writing a sepia-toned winsome pop tune. From the country-inflected 'Lament of the Chiming Wedgebill' to 'Good Life', a song that sounds like a long-lost *16 Lovers Lane *outtake, The Lucksmiths' vocalist/drummer Tali White knows how to make even the most heartbreaking subjects exude some sense of positivity. His vocals aren't what you'd call exceptional but they're soft and warm, and they draw you in while he sings tales about suburban life and flawed characters searching for redemption. Like the protagonists in White's lyrics, The Lucksmiths aren't without their own blemishes. They're certainly skilled at writing a pop song, but their hooks aren't as accomplished as some of their contemporaries. Perhaps it's this shortcoming that's relegated The Lucksmiths to the class of cult favourite rather than a mainstream success story. But the Melbourne outfit know arrangements, and whether it's in the unassuming but pivotal injection of strings and brass in opener 'The Town and the Hill', or the saloon choir in the quartet's ode to the downtrodden 'The National Mitten Registry', *First Frost *is documentation of a band adept at writing beautiful and lyrical songs that'll make you smile.   --Mess and Noise

Indie isn't really a musical genre even though it's frequently labeled as one. But it does make for a description, one I grudgingly admit to using more than is likely necessary. But sometimes it just fits. And few bands on the planet have earned that portrayal more than Melbourne's the Lucksmiths. Strictly speaking, indie describes everything not released on a major label—yes, even Sun Records was technically an indie label, making artists like Johnny Cash, Roy Orbison and Elvis Presley among the earliest of indie rockers. But indie is generally used as a way to describe a general aesthetic, one that supports the DIY-ethic, an alternative approach to songwriting/recording, a general preference for intimacy and an allergic reaction to polish. There are, naturally, exceptions to these rules, and numerous indie groups sound like majors and vice versa, but the best way to figure it out is pretty simple: if you heard it on the radio during prime driving hours, it's a pretty safe bet that Universal, Sony, Warner or EMI wanted you to hear it. Whether the Lucksmiths would welcome the media attention or not (I suspect the latter), there's absolutely no reason why one or more of the four majors shouldn't target this group. They've been around long enough (First Frost is their ninth full-length studio album, and they have several EPs in addition) so they have a built-in fanbase. They're fairly traditional in their approach to songwriting—neither dangerous nor dull. And they have an uncanny ability to write perfectly pleasant pop songs. If the Lucksmiths have a niche, it was carved only out of the necessity of mild anonymity. I doubt there is a person alive that can't embrace at least half of these songs. Even if the tunes fail to inspire a passionate response in certain closed-off individuals, derision could only be summoned by the sourest of fools. Specializing in the gentle guitar-driven pop rock made famous by the likes of the Go-Betweens, Belle & Sebastian, Belly and the Wedding Present, they know their way around a pop song, and find imaginative ways to force even the most subdued of hooks deep into the brain. Witness 'California in Popular Song," with its whimsical, twinkling guitar line, sun-drenched pastoral folk decadence and hushed vocalizing both sighing and direct. Or try out the funereal 'The National Mitten Registry." Slow, spare and somber (if a bit too lyrically precious—love for mittens?), it gradually collects steam without ever upping the tempo. Simple and effective, they know how to crackle a fire over the iciest of landscapes, drawing in each of their breaths with those from our own lungs. They even dabble in old-style country western duets on 'Lament of the Chiming Wedgebill," built around a twangy guitar trot and accented with acute harmonica flourishes. And when the music gets really quiet just before the placid shoegaze climax of 'How We Met," you realize that this is how Chris Carrabba should have been doing it all along. But don't think that this is an entirely sedate and subtle affair. Try out the buoyantly melodic but pristinely potent 'A Sobering Thought," arguably the album's catchiest track. Or if you prefer velocity, listen to the locomotive guitar of 'Never & Always." That chugging crunch comes courtesy of recently-added guitarist, Louis Richter, who acquits himself nicely as writer and performer both, penning that song as well as the more warmly unfolding charms of leadoff, 'The Town and the Hills." I imagine his rougher edge helped increase the impact of the bouncy, Silver-Jews-on-Ritalin winner, 'South East Coastal Rendezvous." The Lucksmiths were once dominated by acoustic guitars, but the way they blend them with electric now is quite impressive. If the album opens strongly, it may very well close even better. 'Song of the Undersea" and 'Up with the Sun" nearly match guitarist Marty Donald's earlier one-two punch of 'Sobering" and 'California"; jangly pop nuggets with effervescent harmonies layered over plucky percussion. 'Pines" is a gorgeously melancholic mid-tempo ballad, one of the band's finest slow tracks in their long history—the strings that take over in the second half accentuate the internal turmoil. The phrases that singer/drummer Tali White sing over this cut are suitably sensitive: 'I went through all my winter clothes/And quiet was the only thing I kept," and, 'I don't mean to suggest I'm getting older/But the city looks better over my shoulder." As for the final song ('Who Turned on the Lights?"), it's not a classic by any stretch of the imagination, but the use of an organ and (I think) cowbell in an entirely logical way suggests that they're even more sonically inventive than originally suspected. One of the keys to the Lucksmiths' success comes in the way they can be effortlessly loose in their arrangements while remaining songwriters as tight as the most frenzied rock acts around. It's easygoing music, to be sure, but entirely uncluttered and lacking in pretension. The addition of strings and horns to several songs never feels superfluous or forced purely for a twee/chamber pop effect. And as a vocalist, White has the straightforward, mild-mannered dignity and understated effect that Badly Drawn Boy promised us years ago. Luckily, this group has more staying power. After more than fifteen years of recording, here's looking forward to fifteen more. Maybe one day they'll be as popular as they ought to, but I'm not holding my breath.   --Just Press Play

Melbourne's The Lucksmiths are the foremost of a number of Australian bands (see also: Darren Hanlon, The Cat's Miaow, the Mabels) keeping alive the flame lit by the Go-Betweens of the style Robert Forster and Grant McLennan labelled 'that striped sunlight sound" - wistful melodies, lyrically strong with a tinge of doomed romanticism. So much an institution of the scene that they've put out two rarities collections, one a double set, their ninth studio album sees no reason to change its core ways of understated, deeply likeable old school indie, more polished than the shamblers, no concessions given to allow Zane Lowe airplay. That longtime home of the perfect pop non-hits Fortuna Pop! are putting the album out in Britain is no surprise. That said, while First Frost gives moving on from bedroom romanticism a go it can't quite match up to their last studio effort, 2005's Warmer Corners, an inevitably widely ignored collection that just about perfected their craft. Trying to improve on such Aus-pop perfection inevitably ends in slight letdown, as almost too perfect in stylistic conception songs like 'Good Light', with its lightweight, jangly mostly acoustic summery strumming, yearning lyrical themes and subtle horns, are. Of the band's four songwriters it's guitarist Marty Donald who again comes up trumps, with that song and album highspot 'A Sobering Thought (Just When One Was Needed)', detailing drunken swimming pool escapades to a glam beat and choral call-and-response chorus, plus the country-flecked acoustics and distant strings of 'California In Popular Song', where the unshowy, quiet nobility of vocalist/drummer Tali white is at its most effective. What's always most impressive with the Lucksmiths is the area where a few of their contemporaries have fallen short, not only in having multiple songwriters turning out an album that is largely of a piece but in ensuring such melodically crafted, often Smiths recalling (this the band who have released a song entitled 'There Is a Boy That Never Goes Out') introspection doesn't lapse into autopilot and make them an easily dismissable one trick pony. They're not afraid to extend out of their previously drawn comfort zone, so the guitars do get edgier than they've previously displayed and at points positively reverb-happy, while the colliery brass lament of 'The National Mitten Registry' facilitates the almost unthinkable act of making lachrymosity out of an extended metaphor based on lost gloves (unless it is actually about lost gloves, of course, in which case it's potentially the twee-est thing you've ever heard) Unfortunately it's let down by a pronounced dip from just after midway where, bar the subtle string-backed repudiation of the city of 'Pines' and 'Up with The Sun' being taken over halfway through by uncharacteristic fuzzy guitar, things level out and veer too close to the territory of the Magic Numbers and the Walkabouts, and right at the end a few uncalled for classic rock shapes, as if such apparently effortless songsmithery had actually become too easy for them. The Lucksmiths may not exhibit the flamboyancy and wide ranging scope of immediate touchstones the Go-Betweens and Belle & Sebastian, and previous two albums Naturaliste and the aforementioned Warmer Corners would be better places to start, but First Frost retains that lightness of touch towards their subjects and abilities that marks them well out from the crowd, by turns heartbreaking and optimistic. More of the same, but until it hits the wall that's not always such a bad thing.   --The Line of Best Fit

The Lucksmiths have been one of my favorite bands for many, many years. Ever since I first heard 1997's A Good Kind Of Nervous, I've been infatuated with their folky goodness. They've made some truly stellar albums and EPs throughout their 15 year career, and with that being said, their new album, First Frost, may be the best album they've ever made. Songwriting-wise, the Lucksmiths always capture their personality -- the music is fun, it's clever, it's catchy, it's beautiful. But arranging wise, sonically speaking, their latest offering is far and above what they've done in the past. Part of it is due to their progression from acoustic to electric; it's not that they've dropped acoustic guitars, but their sound is definitely more electric this time around, and it suits them well. Never before have I heard a song from them with such beautiful feedback laced around their always captivating songwriting, so powerful that I smile. Listen to "How We Met" and you will understand. The Lucksmiths have always held a place in my heart, but with First Frost, they've never been better. If you haven't been captivated by them yet, now is the time.   --Under The Rotunda

Although 2005's 'Warmer Corners' was the first album to attract widespread recognition, especially amongst the blogging community, Melbourne band The Lucksmiths have actually been recording since 1993 and new record 'First Frost' is their ninth studio album. Those familiar with 'Warmer Corners' will have a reasonable picture already of what to expect since the band more or less cover the same terrain and stick to the same template that made that album a successful and memorable record. For those new to The Lucksmiths, their sound can be described as jangly indie-pop with smart and literate lyrics, and their influences include The Smiths, Belle And Sebastian and Orange Juice, and there are also hints of fellow Australians The Go-Betweens and The Triffids. Their best work certainly sits well in comparison with the aforementioned bands; see 'The Music From Next Door' from 'Warmer Corners' for the best example of their sound. Whilst 'First Frost' might lack anything comparable to sweep you off your feet, there is still plenty to recommend; this is still a commendable and consistent record. Highlights include 'A Sobering Thought (Just When One Was Needed)', which adds a dash of brass to accompany the band's signature sound, and 'The Pines', which is more restrained and introspective that anything else here. There's nothing over-elaborate or showy; just the work of a band which knows its limitations and always plays to its strengths.   --CMU Music Network

Right now I'm so overcome by the amount of music coming at me right now I don't know what to do about it. I'm working hard to make sure that nothing passes me by, even at a time when unsolicited submissions to the site are higher than ever (three this week alone! that's huge for us!) Obviously something has to rise to the top of the heap any time a heap accumulates somewhere, and the record that's doing that for me right now is the newest effort from a band called the Lucksmiths, First Frost. Part of the reason why I like it so much is because it's a complete mystery to me, like the first time I heard Gorky's Zygotic Mynci or Mineral or the Slackers, something that just comes out of the blue. When I first heard all of these bands I picked up their CDs on a whim and was completely blown away. Having literally no information about a group or the label, no idea what they sound like, and being completely won over is just an amazing and funky adventure. Musically speaking the band treads in well-worn territory, slinging acoustic and electric guitars at some not terribly complicated quiet, bedroomy pop music. It's an ode to guitar pop bands that are more pop than guitar, to closet musicians that self-record and aren't ashamed about it (think American Analog Set only less breathy). Content-wise the band pogos between relatively serious love songs and a curious bird that only wonders why in the heck the songs protagonist got drunk. There is actually more than one song about the singer getting drunk (at a swimming pool, even), not that there's anything wrong with that. It's a terrific set of late fall/early spring songs that are just terribly enjoyable. That might not be the most colourful set of nouns, but but they really are.   --Sound Salvation Army

"first frost" heißt das neue album von the lucksmiths, handelsüblich die lucksmiths genannt. wirklich viele menschen auf diesem erdenrund wenden diese ansprache leider nicht an. denn zu wenigen ist die australische band um tali white bekannt. wäre es so, dass die lucksmiths ein massenphänomen wären, gäbe es auf dieser unserer erde weniger kriege und hungersnöte, dafür mehr kinderkrippenplätze, gesunde lebensmittel und deutlich mehr frauen in lustigen kringelstrumpfhosen. ist aber nicht so. denn die lucksmiths fristen ein nischendasein, obwohl sie seit 1993 fleißig tonträger aufnehmen. diese brachten sie via candle records, drive-in records, matinée recordings oder fortuna pop unter die leute und boten dabei so charmant herzzerreissend mutige musik an. mehr noch: herzmuskelstärkende, pulssteigernde, liebliche, staubsaugermusik für mit müll angereicherte hirnkasterl. twee pop schimpfte mancher, indiepop einige andere. "melodienzüchter!", ich. und das über mittlerweile zehn alben und einige eps hinweg. zunächst zu dritt, ab 2004 zu viert hielt die konstante lucksmiths immer, was sie nie versprach. ob lokale, melbourne inspirierte themen oder weltweit herrschende zustände wie das wetter die jungs verheizten keine gute idee, sondern brachten sie stets mit austariertem liebreiz dar. seit 2007 fühlt sich nun die lost and lonesome recording company für die band verantwortlich, nachdem candle records leider die segel strich. "first frost" kommt im herbst und überrascht. nie waren die lucksmiths stilistisch so breit aufgestellt. perfider rock 'n' roll zwickt country, der sich an glam heranmacht, um von krautrocknoten übermannt zu werden. ein frischer wind (ein bisserl surf!) belebt dieses album. ein bißchen viel frischer wind (fuzzy?!), den es für manchen der - wie oben benannt - viel zu wenigen fans (shoegazer!) der lucksmiths vielleicht nicht gebraucht hätte. ich möchte auf keines der begleitenden lüftchen verzichten. es steht der band ausgezeichnet wagnisse einzugehen, die dennoch konsequent am bandeigenen sound schleifen. wer nun glaubt, dass hier lefty frizzell oder bryan ferry um die ecke gucken würde, irrt. die lucksmiths bleiben sich in jeder minute treu und bieten die mitwippcharaktere auf, deren zwischenmenschliche beziehungen noch lange nicht ausgelotet scheinen. und außerdem klopft und scheppert das schlagzeug noch immer, wie es sonst nur schülerbands hinbekommen, die gitarren twangeln und die trompeten- und hornklänge begeistern. und wer dem lieblichen gesang talis nicht erliegt, dann vielleicht seinem duett mit bec rigby von the harpoons auf "lament of the chiming wedgebill". oder der songstartenden mundharmonika, dem noiseausklang von "how we met" oder den "ah haa"- gesängen in "song of the undersea". eigentlich hat sich so viel nicht getan. the housemartins und the beautiful south müssen immer noch als referenzen erhalten, doch die lucksmiths sind weder deren nachahmer noch nachfolger, vielmehr spielen sie auf augenhöhe. erst recht mit so einem knalleralbum. das ist mehr als ein würdiger nachfolger auf "warmer corners". es ist eine ihrer besten aufnahmen, vielleicht die beste. das wird die zeit bringen. bei mir: ****1/2   --Das Klienicum

La cada vez más necesaria catalogación o adscripción de todo artista a una etiqueta o estilo hace que en ocasiones, muchas más de las deseables, metamos a un grupo en el saco equivocado, o peor aún, limitemos el posible descubrimiento de su música a otros por esa absurda pero útil manía de encasillar todo lo que está a nuestro alcance. The Lucksmiths, recién recuperados para la música gracias a su nuevo trabajo largo, son el perfecto ejemplo de lo que estamos hablando. Estos australianos de permanente espíritu juvenil llevan con nosotros quince años representando como ningún otro grupo el ideal de lo que el Indie Pop debiera significar. Hay quién dirá que tres lustros son demasiados para una banda de Indie Pop, y aunque en realidad esos años no son tantos ya que la banda se dio a conocer en 1997 gracias a A Good Kind Of Nervous, lo cierto es que la música de The Lucksmiths sigue poseyendo, cuando no acrecentando, la gracia y frescura de aquella primordial obra que supuso el primer reconocimiento internacional a su música en los ambientes afines al pop independiente. Más de diez años después seguimos contamos cada novedad del cuarteto como pieza a atesorar y guardar con mimo, sin embargo el tiempo nos ha ido demostrando que aquel minúsculo soplo de aire fresco de años atrás ha ido creciendo con los años, hasta convertirse hoy día en una de las bandas más interesantes del panorama internacional. Lejos queda el tiempo en el que la música de The Lucksmiths debió salir de esa pequeña burbuja indie, sin embargo muchos hemos seguido mirando a la banda como a ese grupo de amigos que se reunieron un buen día para divertirse componiendo algunas canciones. Esos amigos han ido cumpliendo años, superando hace mucho a aquel grupo de Indie Pop que fueron, para pasar a convertirse en avezados compositores de canciones que algunos no dudarían en calificar en clásicos de este nuevo siglo. Por esta misma razón, por ese nuevo estatus que el grupo merece, es por lo que los tres años pasados desde su exitoso Warmer Corners se nos antojan excesivos. The Lucksmiths crearon su mejor obra, alcanzaron sus mayores cotas de reconocimiento protagonizando largas giras, para después dejar de dar señales de vida centrándose únicamente en la publicación del doble recopilatorio Spring A Leak. Probablemente el mejor disco del pasado año, si no se hubiera tratado de un álbum de canciones ya conocidas (muchas tan solo por unos pocos) y reunidas para la ocasión bajo un envoltorio de lujo por Matinée Recordings. Warmer Corners no supuso un cambio de rumbo en la carrera del grupo, tan solo una variación sobre la formula desarrollada en aquel A Good Kind Of Nervous, continuada después en otros discos excelentes, como Why That Doesn't Surprise Me?, pero frente a éstos el hasta hace poco último Lp de los australianos hacía acopio de de valor para lanzarse a hacia canciones de todo más vital, conteniendo menos baladas de las acostumbradas en cualquier trabajo del grupo, quizás esta fuera parte del secreto del unánime éxito de Warmer Corners, y es por ello que First Frost se nos antojaba la perfecta continuación de aquel mayor ímpetu que descubrimos en nuestro anterior acercamiento a The Lucksmiths, craso error por nuestra parte el de dar por supuestas ciertas cosas. First Frost llega a nuestras manos pareciendo anunciar con su diseño (Matinée vuelve a lucirse) cierto tono sombrío, con esos árboles perdidos en la niebla invitando a pensar en tristes historias. Por fortuna en el interior de la carpeta nos encontramos al grupo posando bajo un tímido sol en el interior de la frondosidad de un bosque, el repaso al libreto que acompaña a este trabajo va despejando nuestras dudas. Tali White & cía aparecen mientras ejecutan diversas actividades en algún lugar perdido de Tasmania, ubicación escogida para la grabación de su noveno trabajo de estudio, y probablemente el diseño del disco no se haya debido más que a los paseos del grupo mientras culminaban la grabación de este nuevo Lp. Así nos disponemos a comenzar la escucha de esta nueva colección de canciones esperando encontrarnos con un puñado de pildorazos de Pop brillante al estilo de Sunlight In A Jar, sin embargo el primer repaso a las catorce canciones de este largo álbum nos dejan descolocados en un primer momento. First Frost, título bastante apropiado y acorde con la sensación su inicial escucha puede producir en más de uno, sobre todo para el recién llegado que se encontrará con unos Lucksmiths algo cambiados, más relajados, en ocasiones hasta con muestras de cierta seriedad. Frente a esto basta rascar un poco bajo esa delgada capa de hielo para comprobar que las virtudes de su música permanecen intactas, inalteradas y ajenas al paso del tiempo, pero es éste mismo el que probablemente obliga a una nueva vuelta de tuerca, porque este trabajo nos enseña cómo The Lucksmiths empiezan a madurar, creando en esta ocasión canciones que quizás no entran tan a la primera como en el pasado, pero que van ganando terreno con el paso del tiempo y las escuchas hasta convertirse en fieles aliadas y compañeras de este frío Otoño. The Town & The Hills nos da la bienvenida en forma de uno de esos medios tiempos especialidad de la banda, que en combinación con una letra por encima de la media acostumbrada en el estilo, nos introduce de manera tímida pero firme poniéndonos en situación. Good Light se empeña en demostrar lo fácil que todavía les resulta dar con la típica canción que induce al tarareo instantáneo, para a continuación aprovisionarse de guiños a otros estilos en el continuo crescendo de A Sobering Thought (Just When One Was Needed), que termina obligándonos a dar la razón a la nota promocional que anuncia este corte como de reminiscencias rockeras, del glam en concreto. Por fortuna California In Popular Song viene a calmar nuestros nervios después de semejante desmelene ofreciéndonos uno de los momentos más íntimos y dulces de todo First Frost, así como pieza a destacar, cuando no favorita de toda la colección aquí presentada, nosotros nos rendimos por completo a ella. Aunque puestos a alzar la bandera blanca hemos de dar un salto hacia la parte final del disco para fijar nuestra atención en Song Of The Undersea y Up With The Sun, la primera adaptación de La Perla, la novela de John Steinbeck. Ambas en cualquier caso son muestras rotundas de lo que hemos salido ganando con un trabajo como First Frost, Song Of The Undersea enamora por su letra, su ritmo juguetón y una guitarra que se clava en nuestra mente, Up With The Sun por esa desacostumbrada guitarra fuzz que llega a intentar marcarse un solo y termina dominando por completo el recuerdo que queda de la canción. Pero hay mucho más aquí, Pines es otro medio tiempo sentimental que da mucho más juego de lo que su timidez muestra, sumando pequeños detalles conforme se desarrolla. Who Turned On The Lights? es puro Lucksmiths, y con el aire campero del que le dota el Hammond cumple cerrando el disco, pero para aires camperos, o más bien totalmente country, vayamos al dueto de Lament Of The Chiming Wedgebill, rematada perfectamente por la estupenda voz de Bec Rigby. How We Met es de difícil escucha, con un final ruidoso que nos hace pensar en esa madurez que aquí quiere revestir algunos temas y a la que en esta ocasión nos resistimos. Pero puestos a destacar las múltiples caras del disco estamos a punto de pasar por alto algunos cortes que pueden entrar a formar parte del repertorio clásico de la banda, en este caso hablamos de South-East Coastal Rendezvous y especialmente Never & Always, hits instantáneos y previsibles singles imaginarios a extraer del disco. Restándonos todavía un par de temas que no por omitidos hasta ahora afean la calificación global de este trabajo; Day Three Of Five, redonda, y The National Mitten Registry, con los mejores coros de todo el disco. The Lucksmiths han vuelto a dar en la diana, como aludíamos al hablar de su primera escucha, no es el trabajo más inmediato de la banda, pero probablemente sí el más rico y trabajado de cuantos recordamos, con una continua preocupación por tomar prestado de aquí y allá para preparar un sonido protagonista de un disco con el que es improbable llegar a aburrirse durante las escuchas que la mayoría de los seguidores de la banda le dispensarán.   --360º de Separación

The Land Down Under bracht ons eerder al muzikale grootheden als Nick Cave en AC/DC. Het is echter ook verantwoordelijk voor zo snel mogelijk te vergeten groepjes als The Vines en Jet. Zeggen dat de Australische muziek één van de creatieve bakermatten van de huidige internationale muziekscene is, is de waarheid dan ook geweld aandoen. The Lucksmiths vechten al vijftien jaar voor erkenning vanuit hun thuishaven Melbourne. Succes kennen ze in beperkte mate vooral in hun thuisland, de VS, de UK en Japan. In de Benelux zijn de heren zo goed als onbekend. Als proef op de som nemen we even google onder de arm. De term 'The Lucksmiths" geeft ons circa 375 resultaten als we zoeken in pagina's uit België. Nog minder hits krijgen we als we zoeken naar pagina's in het Nederlands. Daar proberen wij dan maar even verandering in te brengen. Met een stuk of vijftien eerdere releases onder de arm stellen The Lucksmiths ons deze herfst hun nieuwste lp 'First Frost' voor. Geef toe, best wel een raak gekozen titel voor deze tijd van het jaar. The Lucksmiths staan bekend voor hun 'jangly bedroom pop', gekenmerkt door inventieve en grappige lyrics over de lichtere dingen in het leven. 'First Frost' brengt daar echter enigszins verandering in. The Lucksmiths klinken op hun nieuwste telg volwassener, luider en steviger dan voordien. In sommige gevallen leidt dat er echter toe dat liedjes hun jeugdige naïeviteit inruilen voor volwassen steriliteit. 'First Frost' heeft alle ingrediënten om succesvol te zijn: leuke lyrics, fijne melodieën en dito zanglijnen, catchy hooks, enzovoort. The Lucksmiths slagen er echter niet altijd in om met deze ingrediënten een leuk geheel te vormen. Het album duurt een kwartier te lang en bevat minstens 4 nummers te veel. Het is geen toeval dat de kortere nummers van een grotere daadkracht en meer richting getuigen dan hun langere broertjes. Sommige nummers duren gewoon te lang en daardoor worden goeie liedjes soms vervelend, terwijl ze met wat meer drang best memorabel hadden kunnen zijn. Er zijn op 'First Frost' echter heel wat lichtpunten te vinden. De breekbare lyrics op het trage 'The National Mitten Registry' ('Should you find me forsaken, forgotten, forlorn, unclaimed and uncared for, neglected, ignored, abandoned, apart and alone, discarded, disposed of, dispensed with dissolve, lost and/or lonesome, bygone, bereft, squandered, unwanted, cast of and adrift, dropped and deserted, misstreated, mislayed, overlooked, derelict, stranded or stray: fingers crossed, all is not lost"), de lieflijk verhalende stijl op 'California In Popular Song', de urgency van het catchy 'Never and Always' (niet toevallig een van de enige nummers onder de drie minuten op 'First Frost'), het aan Morrissey schatplichtige 'Up With The Sun', enzovoort. Leveren The Lucksmiths een geslaagde plaat af? Jazeker, maar… het kon ook beter. Slagen The Lucksmiths er volgende keer in hun jeugdige karakter te vermengen met hun nieuwe stevigere sound, de vulling uit de nummers te halen en er meer richting aan te geven, en hun ideeën te concentreren in een kortere tijdspanne en minder nummers, dan kan de definitieve doorbraak niet meer veraf zijn. We kijken alvast nieuwsgierig uit naar het vervolg van dit verhaal.   --Digg.be

Wo wir einmal bei Schlagwörtern wie Indie und Pop sind: The Lucksmiths haben auch ein neues Album!!! Da darf man mit Ausrufezeichen nicht zu sparsam umgehen, denn selbst ungehört würde ich meine Hand dafür ins Feuer halten, dass es wieder super geworden ist. Dieser Eindruck bestätigt sich bei den ersten Hördurchläufen natürlich und die vier Australier untermauern ihren Ruf als mindestens fünftbeste Band aus down under. Großen Erfolg werden sie leider auch mit diesem Album nicht haben. Beständig von der Presse hierzulande ignoriert, es gibt noch nichtmal ein Deutschland-Release. Und so wird das wahrscheinlich auch wieder einmal nichts mit einer Tour hierzulande, sehr schade. Das neue Album (und die alten) sollte man sich trotzdem anhören, liebgewinnen und kaufen. Ach, was heißt sollte, man muss.   --Duffbeers