West Australia’s The Panics are forging a formidable legacy much like The Triffids. Idyllic, yet dwelling in the shadows, armed with their crisp and even sound. It only seems like yesterday, but it was nearly a decade since their brilliant Cruel Guards release. Hole In Your Pocket is similarly as good because they carry themselves with just enough grace and elegance to make it work.
Now on their fifth album, they have long passed the steep learning curve of a nascent nouveau band. The propulsive rhythms and Jae Leffers’ voice define The Panics sound. Like Weatherman and Passenger, the record as the sum of its parts is fragmented pop. At times, it’s exquisite and intricate music for the wee hours of the morning when much is revealed.
The kaleidoscopic lead guitar floods over lyrics which could settle between the intellectual, insecure and whimsical, a la Carparks Of Greschen. There may not be any new tricks on show by the band, but why fix something that is not broken? At their best, The Panics are impeccable.
By Bronius Zumeris
