- Brisbane has a bit of an affinity for scrappy guitar pop. I mean, with foundations like The Saints and fresh coats of paint in Blank Realm, it should hardly come as a surprise. I guess that’s why Thigh Master are becoming a pillar beneath yet another extension added to the archetypal Queenslander shack of scrap.

As consistent as Brisbane’s rainy season weather patterns, Thigh Master have added and subtracted members, released music and played live for several years nurturing and developing what adds up to Early Times. An album of watermarked south east Queensland life dating back through their trickled releases.

It’s a dense and entangled collection of raw guitars and mild neurosis. Singer Matthew Ford, with his persistent malaise, seems quite comfortable with sharing his internal uneasiness. Not that it’s ever thrust into your face. it’s more of an exhaled blurg than it is an aggressive expletive - He’s certainly not at Trent Reznor’s level of angst.

The aggression comes in the form of the disregard for technical execution of the songs. Which are good, by the way. The level of song craft is impressive, there are a lot of well written tunes embedded within the the squall of guitars and moaned melodies. Which sets them apart from their power-pop peers Babaganouj, in that if they were loads of washing, Babaganouj would be a pile of admirable band t-shirts and some fabric softener and Thigh Master a childhood teddy bear and handful of silver coins. Both affecting, both rewarding, they just sound drastically different when you put them in the washing machine of rock music.

Through the strum and the strangle of Thigh Master’s 21st century disquiet is a relatable thirty-six minutes. Maybe not entirely digestible for some but if you let the hooks sink in and the sentiments take over, it’s a roguishly loveable album.

- NJR