Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever, Australia's most sizzling and luminous rock band

Probably the most sizzling, luminous and boisterous band Australia has produced in recent years is also, contrary to stereotypes, a group that embraces political commitment (to the left) and champions the fight against climate change.

And he does not deprive himself of saying it, but he does not deprive himself of singing it either.

To many, in the guitar roar that encourages his latest album,

from beginning to end, the messages that this crackling soundtrack slips through may go unnoticed.

The awareness of the cause of ecology drives songs as vigorous as

or

but the denouncement of the harsh reality is even more explicit in

where 36-year-old guitarist and singer Joe White takes pleasure in attacking the former conservative Australian executive (Scott Morrison's) for the undignified treatment he has been inflicting on refugees arriving on his shores.

"They had been crowding them into concentration camps for 15 years without the slightest sense of compassion or humanity," protests the blondest of the three guitarists and co-leaders of the group in an interview that takes place in Madrid.

“We had a prime minister [Scott Morrison] who claimed to be driven by Christian ideals, but only generated bullshit policies.

And the terrible thing is that he helped him to win elections… ”.

Australians—who often shorten their name to Rolling Blackouts CF to make it a little less kilometer—profess themselves "admirers" of that theoretically "milder" European spirit, but are constantly interested in the rise of the extreme right in the old continent.

They embody a rare paradigm, that of lively and fun rockers who contain personalities with a deep social vocation.

"Rock is a good sugar to coat the pills of political militancy," says Fran Keaney, 35.

“We make catchy songs, we know it and we try, but… we don't just limit ourselves to that part”.

And her cousin Joe sums up this spirit with a lapidary reflection: “Narrow gazes provide confidence to those who practice them.

Being selfish is more comfortable than being generous."

Political militancy has ended up serving to spice up the musical hubbub of the Blackouts, who consolidate with their third album (although their discography also includes a couple of important previous EPs) a status as a muscular, addictive, megacaloric band.

“We may not yet play in the same league as Midnight Oil, but the comparisons flatter us,” they admit about the sound and ideological similarities with their more international countrymen during the eighties.

There are also frequent parallels to The Go-Betweens and generally “sounding Australian”, if anyone can pin down what the hell exactly that means.

"We're the first ones who wouldn't know how to establish a definition," Keaney smiles.

“I suppose the key is in the coexistence between an acoustic guitar and two electric ones,

, and in those drums that always sound resounding, impressive”.

Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever performing on June 11 at the Primavera Sound festival in Barcelona.

JORDI VIDAL (Redferns)

The socially relevant messages do not prevent the fact that in a good part of RBCF's production there is room for a "complicity with the landscape and nature", taking advantage of the overwhelming visual charm of an island that more than doubles the size of the entire European continent.

itself ,

in fact, was composed, rehearsed, and recorded in a huge Russo family home on the shores of an idyllic lake, a factor relevant enough for an image of the home to have served as the album cover.

"Yes, we knew we weren't too original in that sense," they are quick to admit with an apologetic smile, used to hearing comparisons with

by The Band, or the more recent

(Neil Young & The Crazy Horse) or

from Idles.

“But we couldn't help but recognize the importance that space has had in our lives.

We spent the worst of the pandemic and confinement in a spacious, welcoming and comfortable place, happy and in good health.

We had a huge room to play together, with the amps upstairs and the recording desk in the garage.

And that slack has surely translated into a more expansive, bigger album”.

It has been their way of getting rid of the thorn after the bad taste in their mouths from

(2020), the previous album, which cost them the unspeakable to finish ("the myth about how difficult the second album is is rigorously true", Fran and Joe write down almost in unison) and that later they could not even present on the tables, because it saw the light just when the coronavirus tragedy struck.

“We have three main songwriters and singers in the band, we can choose the best songs and improve them together.

We don't need any charismatic leader”, they smile to each other, “so it's all advantages.

And our decisions are not always unanimous, with five votes in favour, but... almost.

We are learning to leave egos out of the repertoire."

They are happy because the Labor leader, Anthony Albanese, prevailed in the elections in Australia last May to Morrison's coalition.

The champions of left-wing Australian rock will wield the guitars with even more verve from now on.

They will return to Spain very soon: Paddy Russo, Tom and Joe's little brother (and occasional drummer in the quintet when Marcel Tussie is not available), fell in love with a Spanish girl, Virginia, on Erasmus, and the wedding will take place "in a city ​​a little further south of Madrid”.

Toledo?

Real city?

“Those names are familiar to us, but we couldn't say.

We promise to learn more Spanish geography in recent months”, say goodbye to the euphoric rockers of that new Australia of solidarity.

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