![Brain Worms ‘encapsulates what the band does best: unfurling the oddities of modern life’.](https://media.guim.co.uk/2d20a547d154a3b3af500d268f49a7c8c82bf45a/442_2104_3156_1894/1000.jpg)
There’s a moment on RVG’s third album that made me laugh, then seconds later blink back tears. “They’re playing Drops of Jupiter, cause they never really knew ya,” Romy Vager sings – a genius rhyme – before the rest of the scene unfolds: “The room is so cold and dark / Your family are wearing masks / I can’t hear the eulogy /The stream is bad quality”. The kicker follows: “I don’t wanna see you go through a tab on Google Chrome”.
That song, Tambourine, is a lament for a lost friend through the uncanny lens of a livestreamed funeral – a deeply intimate scenario experienced through a terribly impersonal medium. Tambourine captures that dichotomy beautifully, and encapsulates what the Melbourne post-punk band does best: unfurling the oddities of modern life through lyrics spiked with pathos and black humour.
RVG is a masterfully economical band. Their debut album, 2017’s A Quality of Mercy, clocked in at under half an hour, with not a minute (or lyric) wasted. Over time, they’ve expanded into more ambitious soundscapes such as Photograph, the seven-minute closer from their 2020 album Feral – but for the most part, their songs remain short and sharp, cutting immediately to the heart of the matter.
The band’s frontwoman, Vager, has a remarkable vocal control and eye for narrative detail. Her lyrics often deal with the challenges of communication and the gaps between loved ones that can feel unbridgeable; her prose, largely unadorned, hits like a punch with its naked honesty. There’s more of that here: on the first single, Nothing Really Changes, she wrestles with the contradiction of missing someone who’s been bad to her (“I hate deep down I still miss you”), while the pummelling Midnight Sun puts it simply, but blisters with controlled anger: “I know that talking to you doesn’t work any more / so I don’t”.
RVG’s influences have always been clear – the dark plod of You’re the Reason recalls Joy Division’s moodiness, and the jangly guitar of luminaries such as the Go-Betweens and the Smiths are evident in RVG’s instrumentation, at once bright and melancholy.
But there are new ingredients, too. Synths feature more heavily on this record: Nothing Really Changes culminates in a soaring climax recalling 80s new wave, and a subtle buzz is overlaid with strings on Common Ground – a deceptively calm opener. The band balances the elements in a cohesive, compelling blend.
There’s also a healthy dash of surrealism on Brain Worms that makes for a delightful change of pace. RVG has flirted with the absurd before – Christian Neurosurgeon, from their last album, pitted faith and science against one another on the operating table, and remains one of their most irreverent, clever moments.
![‘Equal parts unusual and evocative’: Vager’s lyricism on Brain Worms.](https://media.guim.co.uk/49840136d36658808c3f5b2a106d63eac05a2053/0_637_4246_4240/1000.jpg)
They ham up it here with Squid, a dark, sprawling track complete with a luscious, swelling instrumental break. Over a thundering riff that continues throughout, Vager ponders life after going back in time, stepping on an ancient Tiktaalik fish and becoming a sea creature herself – then going back to the present and realising that existing in squid form doesn’t mitigate human pain. It’s a bizarre concept, but makes for one of the band’s most memorable tracks, all rage and ennui. As Vager repeatedly chants “I’m under the water”, you start to feel a bit like you’re losing your mind.
The title track also leans into this manic despair – against thumping guitars, Vager yelps: “The brain worms got into my head and I can’t get them out”. The song’s lyric “I used to be a journalist / but now I’m yelling at my therapist” is a standout, but the whole track captures the madness of digital life. It’s a clear response to the contemporary existential crisis, but avoids cliche through Vager’s assured and authoritative narrative voice. The lyricism on this record mostly sticks the landing – it’s equal parts unusual and evocative.
RVG is one of Australia’s finest bands, and Vager one of our most underrated – and understated – songwriters. Expanding the band’s tried and tested sound, and homing in on Vager’s knack for esoteric storytelling, Brain Worms is another excellent chapter in a story that continues to challenge and thrill.
Brain Worms is out now (Ivy League)