RVG – ‘Brain Worms’
Melbourne post-punk four-piece RVG have released their third studio album, Brain Worms, which occasionally finds its place in lyricism but doesn’t quite pack the sonic punch it should.
Brain Worms succeeds in elements of its lyricism, full of pain, forgiveness, and masterful imagery. The opening track ‘Common Ground’ immediately states the album’s intent, proclaiming, “Enough is enough”. ‘Tambourine’, meanwhile, which serves as the only Covid-related song on the album, is an intimate reflection on loss and grief during the pandemic, desperately professing: “I wish that I had said I loved you”. It’s a heartbreaking track that acts both as a time capsule of the period and a deeply personal confession.
‘Brain Worms’ is another highlight, in which Vager takes on an angry persona with increasing brain worms. It’s a comical and contemporary reflection on people who are too online: “I had invented a type of guy that I couldn’t hold onto in real life, he made me so mad that I lost my mind”. At the same time, the song charts frustration around accurately sharing your feelings, “I just sound insane when I try to explain”.
Brain Worms follows two pandemic albums, written while RVG were “depressed and not going outside”. This time, they felt more free to explore wider themes. Vager states: “All the other albums are sort of pining for a world where there’s something else. But this album is saying, ‘This is where it’s at. This is what we’ve got.’ It’s letting go of being so idealistic”.
Vager added: “I haven’t felt this excited by something in a long time. This time around, we were like, this is what we’re doing, we’re taking control, we’re taking risks, and we’re going to make an album that sounds big so that when we hear it on the radio, we want to hear it again.” She continues, “If we could only make one more album, it would be this one.”
Unfortunately, the record is lacking in a certain sonic edge in the new age of angular post-punk and the nu-metal revival. While contemporary alternative music pushes even more into the alternative, Brain Worms plays it safe – with soft, bright guitar and steady percussion, the album would feel right at home amidst the first post-punk revival in the 2000s.
The album lacks the intrigue even of their most recent release before Brain Worms, a unique cover of Björk’s ‘Army of Me’ alongside Aussie neighbour Julia Jacklin.
Where a little more risk could’ve enhanced and underscored Vager’s defiant lyrics, instead, the instrumentals are too controlled and subtle. Perhaps the most deviant track sonically is ‘Nothing Really Changes’, which brings the guitar forwards and delves into synths, but it doesn’t experiment enough to match its fiery lyrics. It’s inoffensive, but it also fails to make the impact RVG intended.
Though RVG’s plans for Brain Worms were ambitious, it’s more restrained than risk-taking, and the record sadly doesn’t quite hit the mark.
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