Make Like A Shovel: Courtney Barnett

For the latest installment of the “Make Like A Shovel” series, we’re going to be highlighting Australian Courtney Barnett, whose intelligent brand of rock is loaded with nods to artists no less than Bob Dylan and Kurt Cobain, two legends Barnett is actually often compared to. While I myself have used those two talking points when describing Barnett’s music to newcomers, her sound is one that’s wholly her own, and one that makes her one of rock music’s most interesting young talents.

Barnett first turned heads in her native Australia with her 2012 release I Have A Friend Called Emily Ferris on her own Milk! Records imprint, and then garnered international praise for its 2013 follow up How To Carve A Carrot Into A Rose. The two EPs would be combined later as A Sea Of Split Peas for a wider release, which featured Barnett’s breakthrough in the form of “Avant Gardener.” The fantastic song, with its Dylan-esque stream of consciousness lyrics about (more or less) a gardening attempt gone awry which ends in a hospital visit totally changed things for Barnett, with critics and fans alike being bowled over by the single. I still remember hearing it for the first time and instantly being reminded of a sort of millennial version Mr. Robert Zimmerman: from Barnett’s unique delivery and slightly off kilter cadence, to her playfully worded lyrics that are deceptively smart (The paramedic thinks I’m clever cos I play guitar / I think she’s clever cos she stops people dying …I take a hit from / An asthma puffer / I do it wrong / I was never good at smoking bongs / I’m not that good at breathing in) to the song’s arrangement – I was hooked from the first listen.

The musical accompaniment Barnett and her mates conjure up to go with her clever lyrics and unique, Melbourne-inflected delivery of them is equally impressive. There is an obvious grunge influence there, with the aforementioned Nirvana being chief among them, but dig deeper and tracks like “Porcelain,” “Kim’s Caravan” and “Small Poppies” have long, extended outros that recall 1970s blues-influenced psychedelic rock bands like Traffic. The two influences often meet with superb results as well, like on the rollicking “Pedestrian At Best,” a song that features Barnett tossing lyrical barbs at both herself and others. The melange of influences one can hear during a Barnett show or album is very much of today’s blended, everything-is-available-right-now culture, and it’s a testament to her skill that she’s been able to cultivate a sound all her own without diverting into meandering unoriginality. The same could be said for the range of emotions Barnett expresses – she can travel from existential bummer songs, to bitingly sharp observations, to staggering guitar jams – and does so often over the course of a set or record.

Take for example her first two singles from her debut LP, Sometimes I Sit And Think, Sometimes I Just Sit. The first, “Depreston,” is a positively top notch song that begins with Barnett house hunting with her girlfriend and ends with her ruminating on the home’s former owners and the cycle of life none of us can escape. The tune unfolds in a fashion so wonderfully and uniquely bittersweet, the song has given me goosebumps multiple times. The second, “Elevator Operator” is a jaunty number with hand claps and a bouncing bassline that sees Barnett reminding a bummed out young man that life ain’t so bad, so back away from that cliff.

With songs like “Depreston” and “Pedestrian At Best,” it’s clear that Barnett is as analytical of herself as she is of the world that surrounds her, and that this is something she often wrestles with mentally. In several interviews Barnett has stated that indecision and the occasional lack of confidence has made her a bit wary of both the road and the process of making music in general, something she often seems to be weighing and attempting to deal with in her songs. This occasional self-doubt is completely human and relatable, and to me informs the rapturous joy and lack of abandon Barnett plays with live. The song “Small Poppies” typifies this dichotomy in Barnett and in many young people, singing: I don’t know quite who I am / Oh but man I am trying / I make mistakes until I get it right / An eye for an eye for an eye for an eye / I used to hate myself but now I think I’m alright. Musically, the bluesy song begins softly and slowly builds around Barnett as her vocals gain ferocity. By the end of the song Barnett and drummer Dave Mudie and bassist Bones Sloane are thrashing around the stage, jamming as though they’re trying to drive the demons of insecurity away via the purifying power of guitars and drums. It’s times like these when Cobain’s influence over Barnett comes to fore.

From Courtney Barnett’s meteoric rise, to her deft combination of wide ranging influences, to her spot on contemplations on the various existential crises facing people in today’s world – it’s easy to see why many place her near the top of the list of the leading musical voices of her generation. While that’s not a label she seems too excited about (who would? Both Dylan and Cobain were appalled by such talk), but it’s easy to see why this immense talent has so many people so excited. Now let’s just make sure we give her room to breath and develop on her own.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jljfZK2-Ths