Review: Custard’s Suburban Curtains

Custard
Suburban Curtains
ABC Music

Aussie legends Custard return with another set of short, sharp, shiny gems, proving they’re still masters of whipping out infectious little songs with quirky pop hooks. Lazy, shambolic but somehow tight, snappy, and effortlessly cool at the same time, Custard have always been akin to an Australian Pavement. It’s cleverly dishevelled pop genius.

There’s no pressure or expectation on the band these days—they are doing it for themselves, and this relaxed, free vibe permeates the album. David McCormack is living his best life! The main singer-songwriter needn’t do this anymore, now that he’s made the big time as the voice of Bandit, Bluey’s dad (no doubt making more than he ever made singing silly pop songs with his band from Brisbane), but he’s doing it for the love of it, a compulsive creator, now working on a more mature and inspired level. While he now gives off strong Dad-vibes, he’s still in great form, and his way with the word and guitar has not waned. He’s sentimental without being soppy. Kooky without being annoying. And cool, without being cool.

We appear to be deep into the Custard Renaissance—after the band officially disbanded in 2000, they reformed about 10 years ago to bring us their ‘second era’ with this, their fourth album since 2015. They’ve pulled back the faded, dusty, paisley curtains to reveal a sunny new collection of upbeat numbers and pop oddities that fans will revel in.

Described as a ‘90s revivalist double album’, Suburban Curtains gives us more custard than a trifle! It spans an epic 21 tracks, though the whole thing is just over an hour long because most Custard tracks are around three minutes or less.

It’s quite a journey, with a scattershot mixtape of songs and ideas. Some may feel like they could be developed more or expanded upon, but that is not the Custard way. They just like to get in and get out, hit you with the melody, burst out a catchy chorus, and be onto the next one before you know it. So if you don’t like every wacky little ditty that Custard throw at you, don’t fear, because the next song comes around before you know it! It’s an album you can really spend time delving into and discovering new gems.

Apparently, some of the songs have been knocking about for years, with the boys dusting off some old ideas and polishing them into something new. Someday, with its false start, is a catchy gem of a song featuring a rare Custard collaboration, with Canadian singer-songwriter Serena Ryder—the track was apparently written decades ago by McCormack and Ryder.

There are many themes that run through the realm of Custard, but love is the most notably recurring one. Custard would never approach things in a cheesy way though. Their style is more leftfield and oddball, like on Love Tax, the awesome Never Loved Melbourne (Till I Met You), album opener Diplomat Of Love, and the heavy rockin’ stomp of I Love You FNQ (referring to Far North Queensland), with Paul Medew’s rolling, rumbling bass coming to the fore.

As always, Glenn Thompson (drums) swaps instruments with McCormack and sings and plays guitar on several tracks, such as Coat of Paint and Black Rinse. He has a more smooth vocal delivery and a polished, classic rock formula. One of the best singles from the album, Molecules Colliding, has that certain simple Custard magic with just enough left turns to make it interesting. Shimmering, retro keyboard tones and a funky bassline give 70s vibes, complete with Stonesy ‘ooh! ooh!’s and a distorted guitar riff that kicks in at just the right moment. Custard’s secret weapon has always been the awesome lead guitar work of Matthew Strong.

The album has a nice, warm sound—and that’s due in large part to being recorded at MONA’s recording studio in Hobart, using a mixing desk rescued from the EMI/Abbey Road studios—and the history permeates the record with brightness, warmth, and that jangly, swinging 60s sound. They laid it down old school too, not messing around in the studio, recording all the songs in two days, straight to tape, doing vocals and overdubs later in their home studios.

Heart Attacks is more classic Custard, with a cute, catchy, quirky little chorus and lines like “I admire your moxy baby.” Some People Are Missing mixes it up with a more melancholic, old-school Custard alt-country vibe, complete with whistling. The breezy lounge vibes of Vegetarian Squeeze are a sweet jam with a wink at meatless love: “I said to the waiter, I think mine’s the soy, they always try to give it to the girl, not the boy.”

Dear Weddos is a raucous 50-second punky apology before the shimmering, showtime vibes of The Leisurely Everly finish off this opus in suitably grand style with its explosive finale. It may well be one of their best songs yet, closing out this late career mini-epic that shows, 32 years on, Custard still have plenty more love to give.

ALFRED GORMAN