The Low Priorities: Rolling the Dice on Power Pop Perfection

Sydney’s The Low Priorities have arrived with Dice, a debut album bursting with jangling guitars, infectious melodies and classic Power Pop energy. Drawing on decades of friendship and a shared love of guitar-driven pop, the band have turned what began as a modest EP project into a full-length record that’s already attracting attention well beyond Australia. We caught up with Dan Keary to talk about the making of Dice, the band’s musical influences, Sydney’s thriving guitar-pop scene and what might come next.

Dice is your debut album. How did The Low Priorities come together, and how did these songs develop into the record we’re hearing now?

We’re all old friends who have played with one another in different bands on and off over the years.

About a year and a half ago, we had the idea to start a band specifically to play songs with a power pop feel. We thought that if we recorded a few songs as a self-released EP, it might be a good calling card to get some live gigs here in Sydney. While we were making those recordings, Dave wrote another batch of songs so we’d have enough for a live set. We got excited enough about them that we thought we may as well record all the songs and release an album rather than an EP.

So the album was done before we’d actually played any live shows.

There’s a real sense on Dice that you’re drawing on a long tradition of melodic guitar pop while still making it sound like your own. What were the musical touchstones for the band when you were making the record, and how consciously were you thinking about finding your own sound?

You’re absolutely spot on in referring to a long tradition of melodic guitar pop.

We’ve been playing together in bands since the 1990s and have spent many years sharing our love of music and enthusing about hundreds of different artists and records. The common thread of what we love is guitar-based bands with memorable, melodic songs. While making the Dice album we really enjoyed drawing on these inspirations, sometimes several within the same song. We’d often find ourselves talking excitedly all at once about bands like The Who, Blondie, Elvis Costello, The Nerves, Guided By Voice, Badfinger…to name only a few!

We wanted to make a high energy, catchy record that was clearly inspired by these and other great bands, but which still had a sound that was a unique blend of our own voices and playing styles. We weren’t looking to reinvent the wheel, but hopefully to create something with its own identity within the guitar power pop tradition.

There’s clearly a strong guitar-pop and power-pop tradition in Australia, and Dice has already been mentioned alongside that history and the current Sydney scene. Do you feel part of a wider Australian guitar-pop community, and are there bands from that scene — past or present — that you feel particularly connected to?

Yes, we’re certainly fans of a lot of the bands that people would associate with classic Australian power pop, such as The Hoodoo Gurus, Sunnyboys, The Stems, The Someloves etc.

In terms of the current Sydney scene, there’s still plenty of great guitar pop artists and bands like Bryan Estepa, Hoolahan, The Pyramidiacs, and The On and Ons playing regularly and everyone knows each other either directly or indirectly.

We did an album launch gig in Sydney in August and have another Sydney gig in mid December. Next year we’ll be looking at playing some more shows with other like-minded bands both here in Sydney and hopefully down in Melbourne.

The album has been getting some really strong reactions since its release, including the description of Dice as an “exemplary” power-pop record. Has the response surprised you, and have you noticed it bringing new listeners, contacts or opportunities your way?

We’ve been really happy with the response so far. We were confident we’d made a really good record so were always hopeful it would be well received but, yes, we’ve been pleasantly surprised at the airplay and positive reviews its been getting both here in Australia and in the US and Europe.

We’ve made quite a few new connections in different countries and there’s also some opportunities for some overseas shows next year and hopefully we’ll be in a position to confirm these shortly.

Dice is out now, and the songs are no longer really yours — they belong to the listeners. What does it feel like to let your first album go into the world, and is there a particular song you’re especially curious to hear people make their own?

That’s a nice way to put it – that the songs now belong to the listeners. We’d like to think that’s the case because that’s how real music fans perceive the songs they love – as their songs – and hopefully there’s enough people out there who have formed or will form that attachment to our songs.

We wanted to make an album on which every song could stand up on its own and hopefully we achieved that, so that every song could potentially be someone’s favourite.

We’ve been promoting the title track “Dice” as the main track, as we think it best captures some of those classic power pop elements we love – jangle, melody, power etc – but equally, there may be sonic or lyrical elements of other songs that people can relate to.

As long as we know there’s people out there enjoying the album, we’ve achieved what we set out to do.

Thomas Marolda of The Toms: Make My Day

With Make My Day, Thomas Marolda reaches another milestone with The Toms: his 25th release. Yet there’s little sense that he’s running out of songs—or reasons to make them. For Marolda, writing and recording remain both an obsession and a source of exhilaration. We spoke with him about inspiration, craftsmanship, knowing when a song is finished, and what keeps the Power Pop fire burning.

Make My Day is your 25th release. What still makes you want to write another Toms song?

Some people get high or buzzed by other means. My high comes from writing and recording new songs. It’s always inspiring when my fans, friends and relatives ask me when The Toms are coming out with new material.

Also, it seems that in the last ten years music has diminished in all areas, so I almost try to make up for the lack of originality, excitement, musicianship, songcraft and production. Sometimes I improve and sometimes I stay the same.

You describe the album in terms of emotion, craftsmanship and innovation. How much of a Toms song is craftsmanship—and when does the art kick in?

I’m never satisfied after spending many hours over a particular song, so I scrap numerous songs and try to outdo myself with the replacement.

I may start a song and finish it very quickly, but the production direction may take the song somewhere that’s not working for me. If I don’t get goosebumps from any part of the track, I will ditch it.

How do you keep the Power Pop fire burning after all these years without simply recreating what worked before?

That would be like asking Paul McCartney why he continues to write and record. You never know where that next gem is coming from, so you keep exploring your own talents and your own preferences in what’s out there.

I normally have to go back to my roots, as today’s new artists and songs fall short of inspiring or impressing me.

Great Power Pop can sound effortless, but there’s usually a lot of craftsmanship behind it. How do you know when a song is finished—and when to stop?

That’s an easy question: goosebumps will tell me that the track is where it’s supposed to be with me.

So, what can we expect from The Toms when Make My Day comes out?

It’s scheduled to be released October 2, 2026. There is also a preview available now.

The Creepy Jingles: Finding the Gold in the Dirty Corners



On Against All Opps, The Creepy Jingles pack humor, hooks and some surprisingly heavy ideas into six compact songs. Behind the oddball titles and instantly accessible melodies, there’s plenty going on beneath the surface: love bombing, hypocrisy, self-examination and the uncomfortable possibility of becoming the very thing you once criticized. I spoke with Jocelyn Olivia Nixon about finding comedy in dark places, writing melodies that stick, and why the best material is often hiding in the dirty corners we’d rather avoid.

One of the things that really stands out on Against All Opps is the balance between humor and more poetic, sometimes even vulnerable lyrics. A title like “Throw Me in Some Rice” immediately makes you smile, while other lines hit in a very different way. How do you find that balance? Do you start with the funny or absurd idea and discover something deeper underneath it, or is it the other way around?

Yeah, exactly. If it’s a heavy theme, I naturally want to take the piss and lighten the mood to entertain myself. If I start out with a funny idea, I look for the depth or tragedy to fill out the idea.

A great song has layers, just like people, and if I’m doing it right, it’s left open-ended enough that other people end up projecting their own meaning onto my songs. Which means I made them feel or care.

My goal is always to make something melodic enough, catchy enough, that they don’t hear the lyrics right away anyway. They get swept up in the beat or the hook, then after a couple of listens the lyrics start to stand out and people go, “What have I been singing?”

I always like to leave plenty of Easter eggs in my lyrics for the people who look closely enough. That was always my experience as a listener anyway. My favorite art felt interactive. I learned to put that focus into my work. The more layered the song is, the more time you will spend with it trying to see every angle.

The melodies on Against All Opps feel incredibly fluid. Even when the songs take unexpected turns, nothing seems forced — the melodies just seem to naturally find their way to the next part. How do you develop your melodies? Do they usually arrive quickly, or is finding that natural flow something you work on extensively?

When I’m writing melody, it happens in different ways. Sometimes I’ll have a hook idea that just comes to me, and I figure out the chords around it and build an arrangement. Most times I will just block out a chord progression that sticks with me and focus on the space in between.

I’ve noticed over the past couple of years that when I restrict myself within a simple progression, I find some of the catchiest melodies in those spaces, and it informs where I’m going for the chorus. Then the chorus melody informs the bridge.

Melody comes easily for me, typically. I labor over the words more because my focus is to write something that reflects the human condition. A melody can start to lose meaning without the weight of that experience grounding it.

“You Don’t Trend” feels like a pretty good introduction to The Creepy Jingles. What was the idea behind the song?

I like the idea of the narrator of the song being an underdog, completely aware of how ridiculous and rigged the whole game is, pointing out the hypocrisy of it all, but participating anyway to attempt to overcome it and try to change things from the inside.

However, once they gain the access, attention, power and influence, we find the character falls victim to the same missteps they criticized and attempted to change, ultimately failing to break the cycle.

It’s part comedy, part cautionary tale. A story of the prey becoming the hunter. Or the hero living long enough to see themselves become the villain. The ugly duckling becoming the swan and then judging beauty contests. Take your pick.

“Funhouse Mirror” has a different feel from some of the more playful songs on the EP. What’s behind that song?

I wanted to write a song about love bombing. I just saw a lot of meat on the bone with the idea that one person is being sincere and attempting to have a thoughtful dialogue, while the other person shuts down the concern and is just like, “Baby, I love you. You’re crazy, you’re my everything. Come back to bed.”

Once a song is finished and released, it stops being entirely yours. The listener brings their own experiences, interpretations and meanings to it. With these six songs now out in the world, what are you most curious to hear from listeners — and is there a song on Against All Opps where you particularly hope people will find something that you didn’t necessarily put there yourself?

I hope all my songs elicit that reaction. I think people naturally project onto things that resonate with them. If I do my job well, someone will think I’m singing directly to them or about them.

If I had to pick one song in particular, “Nü Fables.” It’s definitely the most personal song on the album. It would be cool for people to see themselves in that song.

I spend a lot of time looking into the depths of myself and my relationships to understand the greater picture of everything. I think the best songs and life lessons are in the dirty corners we don’t want to look at or address. I see that as golden fodder.

I hope listeners will put themselves under the microscope and explore their inner world and hearts. I want people to look deeper at themselves and the people in their lives. If folk can come to love and accept themselves, they will naturally have a much easier time extending that grace to others.

The Jimmy C: Letting the Song Happen

Fifteen songs, and Jamie Coghill goes just about everywhere with them. On Pretending To Be A Person, The Jimmy C moves from country-tinged pop to seventies rock swagger, quirky sixties psych, garage rock and even flashes of proto-metal, with little concern for stylistic consistency. Somehow, it all hangs together. The constant is Coghill’s instinct for the song itself: whatever clothes it happens to be wearing, the hook comes first.

That restless musical curiosity has been part of The Jimmy C from the beginning. Coghill talks about discovering Nuggets after growing up on grunge, his love of bands that happily jump between genres, and an approach to songwriting that relies more on instinct than intention.

We spoke with Jamie about where those songs come from, the art of sequencing an album in the streaming age, the strange story behind the cover of Pretending To Be A Person, and what happens when you finally let a record go and allow listeners to make it their own.

This album seems to go everywhere musically, and I love that about it. Was that freedom to move between styles something you consciously wanted when you started making the record, or did the songs simply take you in different directions?


It might be the same for all songwriters but I don’t actually understand where my musical ideas come from and I very rarely set out to write in a specific style. I like to say that I try to let a song happen without getting in the way too much! It’s a case of letting the idea just happen organically or by instinct … that sounds pretty artsy-fartsy wanky-douchebaggy but I think part of me doesn’t want to analyse it too closely in case I lose it.

My taste in music probably plays a large part in the varying styles of music I make. I grew up in a country town in the 80s and early 90s and was a full-on grunge kid. Classic cliche 70s rock and grunge were my life and I was incredibly judgemental of all other musical styles. The blinkers came off when I was about 18 and I discovered movie soundtrack music (Goblin, Morricone, John Barry) and most significantly, Rhino’s Nuggets CD box set. Film music was a passion but was far too progressive, jazzy or orchestral for a young drummer to ever imagine playing by himself, but the Nuggets music was incredibly inspiring – 4 CDs of late 60s garage punk and pop! The best song from bands that mostly only ever got to record one single or one album. It was an amazing mix of wild fuzzy garage pop and psych from a hundred different bands but all somehow fit together perfectly in a unified collection. It was an awakening, and a gateway into the amazing music those bands made.

Some of the music was primitive enough that it felt like even I could learn a few guitar chords and write dumb noisy songs like that, but it was also sprinkled with sophisticated proto-power-pop that broadened my thinking of what a song could be. I had been drumming since I was 12 years old and by 2005 I had learned enough guitar from being around guitarists that I was able to start recording primitive garage songs all by myself on my Tascam 4-track recorder. That’s right, the drummer was no longer reliant on the “talent”!

My songwriting has become a little more sophisticated over the 21 years of making music as The Jimmy C but that broad range of styles remains one of my defining characteristics. My favourite bands are ones that jump around the genres too – Ween, Super Furry Animals, Sloan, Jellyfish … it’s great music for people with a short attention span!


There are some pretty extreme contrasts in the tracklist. You can have a hard-rocking song followed by something tiny and introverted, or a full song followed by a 40-second instrumental. Was the sequencing part of the creative process for you? Did you enjoy putting those contrasts next to each other?


Absolutely, yes! I look at albums as an entire piece of art. Concept albums as a genre are usually incredibly pretentious but the idea of unifying a collection of songs as a whole piece is wonderful.

Pretending To Be A Person isn’t a concept album but I always like to approach my albums with a focus on the journey that the songs take the listener on. I like to experiment with how one song flows into the next, sometimes letting it take an emotional breath or exploiting this power to knock the wind out of the listener with a jarring and sudden transition. It’s all part of the fun of making music and I refuse to let it go, even in the age of streaming consumerism where many artists release songs individually with the expectation that they’ll end up in a playlist rather than the running order of an album.

Perhaps it’s naive of me to expect listeners to take in albums as a whole in one sitting or maybe it’s stubbornly retro of me to still care about the track sequence of an album but I’m a total record dork and love albums. All art is storytelling so why shouldn’t the entire album also tell a story?

When you start a new song, how do you decide what kind of song it is going to be? Does the melody tell you, does the lyric suggest a particular sound, or do you sometimes deliberately think, “I want to make a song that sounds like this”?


As I mentioned above, I like to let a song happen without thinking too much about it. My ideas for songs aren’t conscious or deliberate and usually happen when I’m not in a musical headspace at all. It seems to happen while I’m doing something mundane like showering or walking to work. An idea just pops into my head – a little snippet of melody and a few lyrics – on repeat in my head so then I’ll go and hum, sing or strum (if there’s a guitar nearby) the idea into my phone as a voice memo so I don’t forget it and can get on with my day.

These voice memos can sometimes sit around for years without turning into a full song but it’s a good way to catalogue these thoughts and not forget ideas that could turn into a good song one day. I’ve had some song ideas that are so complete I can finish them really fast and have them fully recorded in a few days. Other ideas will lay dormant for years and I’ll listen to it and another section of the song magically pops into my brain and now it’s a song.

I’ve read about Nick Cave and Harry Nilsson going into an office all day and just writing songs. I’d love to try that one day but I just don’t have the time because I’m a 49 year old with kids and a day job. I’ve also read about Andy Partridge from XTC playing around with a new guitar tuning and some kind of synesthesia kicks in and he’s written something completely brilliant like River Of Orchids or Love On A Farmboy’s Wages! But again, that’s only possible with having time to pissfart about in the studio. Normal people don’t have that luxury!

I can only think of one occasion when I’ve written a song after consciously wishing I could write a song like Ever Fallen In Love by The Buzzcocks. I went to bed thinking about it and woke up half an hour later with the idea for I’m No Good For You, which ended up on the first album of my other project Lava Fangs.

Writing music for soundtracks is totally different though. I’ve written and recorded music and songs for 4 movies and 2 web series so far. I’ve done a couple of podcast themes and some video art installations too! I really enjoy doing movie music, it’s challenging and forces me out of my usual routines and comfort zone and gets me writing in genres I normally wouldn’t try. It’s great because there’s a specific reference point like a script or rough cut of a scene and these references help determine the music. With the two soundtracks I’ve done for indie filmmaker Joe Bizarro (Brides Of Satan, shot in California and Curse Of The Baby Eater, shot in Austin TX) he would send me a rough cut of a scene with some placeholder music that they’d never be able to afford the license for and so I would have to write something that captures the essence of someone else’s song without ripping it off or becoming a parody. It’s called Rutling but that’s a very specific reference … look up The Rutles and hear Neil Innes of The Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band’s incredible Beatles songs that are in many ways better than The Beatles!



The artwork is very specific and has a slightly strange, almost surreal personality of its own. What was the idea behind it, and how closely is the artwork connected to the music?


I suppose the biggest connection is that it all came out of my head! And my head might be a strange and surreal place … My day job is graphic designer for a CD & DVD company in Melbourne, Australia. I’m always thinking about cover design and in my spare time sometimes just put ideas together with no real purpose. Sometimes it might be something I can use for the freelance design I do for local musicians and the Cheersquad Records & Tapes label. I’ve done designs for Aussie legends like Kim Salmon, Dave Graney, Steve Kilbey, The Meanies, Hard-Ons, The Stems … heaps of stuff …

The cover for Pretending To Be A Person started as a simple geometric design inspired by some of the late 50s/early 60s jazz covers on the Command label, things like Persuasive Percussion, Provocative Percussion and Murder Inc., and at the last second I decided to add a vectorised picture of my cat Diego (aka DooDoo) to it! It softened the formal look of the design and I felt like it fit in more with the title Pretending To Be A Person – though the title isn’t about animals pretending to be people, it’s more about neurodiversity (a subject I’ve dealt with a lot recently with friends and family) and how we mask our differences and feelings. We’re all pretending to be a person on the outside while dealing with all sorts of stuff on the inside. That theme comes up a bit in the music on the album and fit nicely with an illustration of my autistic looking cat!



The songs are out now, and they are no longer entirely yours to interpret. They belong to the listeners to discover, make their own connections with and find their own meaning in. What is it like for you to reach that point with a record?


It’s a relief! Up until this point I’ve been stressing about all the tiny flaws in every aspect of the singing, performance and production. That leaves a lot of room for imposter syndrome to creep in and make me wonder why I bother to do it and weather it’s worth it or even good enough to release! I think most artists go through this to some extent but it feels amplified when it’s just one person responsible for everything. It’s so enjoyable doing the recording and mixing, there’s a real endorphin hit from creating a song out of thin air, but once it’s all finished, the business and marketing stuff takes over and you’re not being creative anymore. It feels like you’re bothering people with your music. Inflicting it on them even!

But at this point I’m free off all the anxiety and I can actually distance myself from it and listen to it as though I’m hearing it at face value like everyone else – and it’s actually pretty good and kind people are telling me so!

I really like hearing people’s interpretations of my songs – mostly I really like knowing that somebody’s even listened to my songs!! It’s so cool that music has a built in ambiguity that lets different people interpret the same music in different ways. I do it to my own music too, part of the release process is writing brief descriptions of the songs for distributers and radio, I often have to listen back to the songs to work out what I’m even singing about! Sometimes the story is clear from the start but even then there may be a deeper interpretation I find hiding in the words, either that or I’m retroactively adding a more clever concept to a song! Both are valid!

The most confronting lyrical theme on the album is Pieces Of Me. The literal idea is a song written from the perspective of a terrorist suicide bomber but on top of that these songs are also pieces of me and by releasing them into the world they’re also “raining down for all to see” through global streaming. The literal meaning is probably just a metaphor for anxiety … the older I get the more anxious I get! It could just be all the heavy things going on in the world these last few years (definitely an influence on parts of this album) or maybe just part of growing old. I never used to think twice about playing drums at festivals and big venues packed full of people but now I’m a nervous wreck for a week before a Sunday afternoon gig to 30 people!

But I’m no expert, I’m just lucky to be here and grateful for the opportunity to talk about my music! Music is so special that you can interpret so many layers even in dumb little ditties like mine!

Buy CD | Kool Kat Musik

Star Turn: The Morning Line’s Stephen Smith on STARS

There’s a particular kind of record that only gets made once a band has stopped worrying about what it’s supposed to prove — and that’s the record THE MORNING LINE has made with STARS, out September 18th on Big Stir Records. Twenty-one tracks, twenty-plus years, and a back catalog stretched between a 2007 debut and a 2017 follow-up that a lot of fans never got the chance to connect. Rather than just slap a “greatest hits” sticker on the whole thing and call it a day, the band went back in and remixed the songs they cared about most, added two genuinely new ones (“90s Pickup” and “This Lens”), and rounded it out with the single “Anhedonia” — ending up with something that’s less a victory lap than a re-introduction.

I sat down with Stephen Smith, by his own modest insistence more melody writer than lyricist, to talk about what happens when you go back and remix twenty years of your own songs, what it’s like discovering your old lyrics are “not half-bad,” and why a two-decade-old band still bothers showing up.

A “best of” record usually gets made when a band’s looking backward out of necessity — end of a chapter, lineup change, anniversary. What was the actual trigger for STARS? Was there a specific moment where someone said “we should do this now”?

Gambling debt? No, I wouldn’t say there was necessity here, so much as desire. We wanted to hear the songs at their best, hence the remixing, and we wanted to have a document that collected a lot of disparate material in one place. In terms of sound, every single thing we’ve done has been recorded and mixed by Peter Craft, who also happens to play drums on most of the songs. His studio has evolved over the twenty-plus years he’s been recording, and he thought he could make the songs sound better. So that’s a part of it. Additionally, in some ways, I think of the band as two bands, not so much sonically as temporally. We put out our first record in 2007 and the next in 2017. So it seemed to me we had some fans of the 2007 record who may have been unfamiliar with our more recent material, and fans of the recent material who could be unfamiliar with the 2007 record. It made sense to have a single document to represent us, that the future (should there be one) can build on. It is a summing up, with improvements.

I credit my wife with the album including the new songs “90s Pickup” and “This Lens.” The record was originally envisioned as a purely retrospective collection. She said that we had to put a couple new songs on it to make it more compelling. Poets do this occasionally, releasing books containing “New and Collected” work. I’m glad we included the new ones because I really like them (obviously), and it does add variety.

Remixing old songs is a strange kind of time travel — you’re not just cleaning them up, you’re making new decisions inside old material. Was there a song where the remix changed how you personally feel about it?

This is something only a band member would probably notice, but the song “The Minutes” just seems more vibrant, more alive, than the previous version. It sounds like what I wanted it to be, but we weren’t able to do at the time. So the sound alone has taken me from, “that’s a good song,” to “goddamn, I love that one!” One of the more dramatic remixes is a song called “All Mine.” On our 2017 album, Smoke, we were delighted to have Paul Kolderie mix that song. He’s an all-time great, and he took some structural liberties with the song. We liked them, don’t get me wrong, but the remix revisits the original structure, makes it a bit longer, adds a chorus. So to me it becomes a bit of a new song.

Stephen, your lyrics get called literate and emotive — what’s a line from one of the older songs on STARS that still catches you off guard when you sing it now, for reasons you didn’t intend back when you wrote it?

Geez, Patrick, that’s going to require some thought. Well, let me start by saying I think of myself as more of a melody writer than a lyric writer, but going through this anthology assembly process has made me listen to the songs and think, “you know, some of these lyrics aren’t half-bad.”

This is not perfectly responsive to your question but, to again invoke the song “All Mine” that I just mentioned (which is not my favorite song, really!), it has a line in it, “we pay the cash and watch the gridded land pass by.” I always liked that line, because of the clarity with which I thought watching “gridded land pass by” captured the experience of flying in a plane. Today, however, the part of the line that delights me is the rhythm or cadence of it. So less the image it provides than the feel.

Is there a song on here that means something different to you now than it did when you wrote it — where age or distance changed what it’s actually about?

When I wrote “Spellbound,” I left a lot of space for what it was “about.” Mental illness? Self-harm? And listening to it today, I think, “Oh, maybe that’s just about growing up.” And it struck me as a theme in a lot of these songs. Getting comfortable in the world as an adult. Getting “credit in the straight world,” as Young Marble Giants sang. Yes, I’m an old man now, but I still have never felt like I know how to be a “grown-up.”

If a version of THE MORNING LINE from 2007 heard STARS, what do you think would surprise them most — not about the songs, but about the band that made them?

Well, I think an answer many people would probably give is “you’re still doing it?” But that doesn’t surprise me. We all love music and making music, and we are all close friends. If you love something, you do it, and who better to do it with than friends?

I think what would surprise them is that there are still a few people – not a lot – who care about what we’re doing. That there are at least a few ears that want to hear what we are up to. And I think they would be grateful. I know we are today.


STARS is out September 18, 2026 on Big Stir Records.

Vinny Peculiar: The Curse of You Know Who

Sixteen albums in, Vinny Peculiar has long since carved out his own peculiar corner of British songwriting, literate, funny, warm-hearted and quietly eccentric, with an eye for the characters, contradictions and absurdities of everyday life. Classic English pop melodies carry the words, the songs always flowing easily even when the ideas take unexpected turns.

His new record, The Curse of You Know Who, finds him as curious as ever, wandering through conspiracy theories, misinformation, alternative realities and modern pop culture, with personal histories inevitably finding their way into the songs.

We spoke to Vinny about the ideas behind the record, how the songs took shape, Katy Perry in space, AI girlfriends and what comes next.

After sixteen albums, the remarkable thing is that the well still seems to be full of stories, characters and strange little worlds. Where did the inspiration for The Curse of You Know Who begin?

Writing in recent years I’ve taken a ‘concept’ and hung stories/ideas on it/them, so with The Curse of VP it was [mostly] conspiracy and misinformation feeding into song titles and angles, so you get alternative beliefs, some of them reimagined and mixed up with my own history. Moon Landing features a former headmaster…and plays with the popular idea of Kubrick’s stage management of the landing. I’m interested in people who flaunt popular wisdom and develop their own realities, ‘Billy Liar’ did a lot of that just to survive. AI Girlfriends work on a similar level of self delusion. Governments are very keen to call out conspiracy theory, there’s always more to it than they’d have you believe…

Your lyrics are obviously a huge part of what makes a Vinny Peculiar song a Vinny Peculiar song. But listening to this album, I’m struck just as much by the melodies and how effortlessly these songs seem to move. When you start a song, what comes first: the story, the words, the melody, or can it be any of those?

Different songs start in different ways, sometimes I’ll have a title and write on acoustic guitar or piano and things happen simultaneously, this was the case with Katy Perry, it started life as a country n western song. The harder edged rock songs are typically developed from riffs beats sounds and such in my home studio. Sometimes I’ll have a title but often I’ll develop the music first, cut it all up to suit. Flat Earth was a bit like that, I recorded several versions….

Katy Perry in Space is a great example. Everyone already has an opinion about Katy Perry going into space, so how do you turn something that is already part of the public conversation into a song that feels like it belongs entirely to you?

Katy Perry well yes, such a bizarre story, and true apparently, I have nothing against her, she’s a great pop writer but I don’t think this was her finest moment. I just tried to gently point out that there’s all this madness and suffering here on planet earth and she’s taking selfies in space on a vanity trip…

The album moves from Katy Perry in Space and AI Girlfriend to Flat Earth, Runcorn Abductions and Moon Landing. There’s clearly a fascination with conspiracy theories and alternative realities running through it. What attracts you to that world?

Its a fascinating world yes, I like to think I’ve retained a certain level of ambiguity in mining these ideas, in part I’m having some fun with it but there is more to it than popularism decrees, that much I do know…

You’ve made enough records now that you presumably know what a Vinny Peculiar album needs to be. Is there actually a formula that you can rely on, or does starting a new album still feel slightly uncertain and unfamiliar?

I’m always looking for ways to deliver albums in a ‘different’ way, I’ll be recording in rural Sweden soon which will spark a whole new ‘vibe’ I like to think. Watch this space, and thanks for having me.

“It Still Rings Completely True” — Rob Bonfiglio on The Over Under.


Rob Bonfiglio’s The Over Under has been out for a while now. I liked it immediately, but after listening to it for a few months, it has become one of those go-to records I return to when I need to recalibrate or reset. It’s the kind of album that reveals more of itself with time.

What makes it particularly striking is how personal it feels: Bonfiglio wrote, recorded and mixed the record largely on his own, following the songs that carried the most weight and trusting his instincts along the way. Months after its release, he remains remarkably close to the album and proud of how faithfully it captures what he wanted to say.

We spoke about the vulnerability of “Need You Know,” the sharper edge of “More Pure Than Gold,” the decision to make the record mostly by himself, and why connecting with listeners ultimately matters more than recognition.

How does The Over Under feel to you now that it has been out for a while and you’ve had some distance from making it?

I felt from the beginning that this record reached a lot deeper than my previous releases. I went into the recording process with maybe 20 or so tunes, and it became clear which ones carried the most gravity.

My recording and mixing process happened concurrently. I’d go on a hike or a drive and listen back to a day’s work to determine where to go next. It all added up to literally thousands of listens.

Even after completing the album, I can still listen through from beginning to end and feel a sense of cohesion. I can honestly say there are very few things I’d have done differently with this album. It still rings completely true to me. I’m really proud of the way it turned out.

“Need You Know” feels like the emotional heart of the album to me. It’s a beautiful, very vulnerable song. Do you remember where that song came from, and did you know while writing it that it could become such a special song on the record?

Thank you so much. “Vulnerable” is a great descriptive. My writing cycles happen in waves and usually bear five or six or more songs at a time. This came out of one of those batches. I don’t recall the initial inspiration beyond the riff that repeats throughout, which always had a Fleetwood Mac-ish vibe to me.

I do recall being satisfied with the simplicity of the form. The lyrics happened pretty quickly and seemed to really get to the point of how I was feeling.


“More Pure Than Gold” feels like the musical and lyrical opposite of “Need You Know” — it’s sharp, angry and quite political. What was your state of mind when you wrote that song? Was it something that came more from the heart, or more from the head?

Without expressly saying so, I think the sentiment of this song is pretty obvious. I like to think all good songs come from the heart, with the head to guide them along. Much of the lyrical content of this song came out in a free flow, and much still stands true, unfortunately.

You made The Over Under largely on your own, even though you have friends and family around you who are, to put it mildly, pop royalty and could probably have helped you make the record. What made you want to do this one by yourself?

I’m a textbook introvert. I really considered doing this album with a larger ensemble of players, but one thing led to another and I just ended up doing it all myself. It was easier to get from point A to point B quickly, and things just sort of snowballed from there. All creative decisions started and ended in my head.

That said, I did have a little help from my daughter Lola on “Blame This” and a great pedal steel player named Xandy Chelmis on “Fade Away.”

I’ve read some really nice reactions and reviews of The Over Under, and I’m sure you have too. Recognition must be nice, especially after putting so much of yourself into a record. Or is there something else that matters more to you when you look at how the album has been received?

I’m incredibly grateful for the kind words and genuine reactions to this record. Yes, recognition is important for sure, but maybe less so for the ego nudge and more for the acknowledgement of being able to share something that resonates on a human level.

Jason Mazzotta: Poor Man’s Time Travel

Jason Mazzotta makes the kind of pop music that feels immediately familiar and subtly strange at the same time. Warm, melodic and carefully constructed, yet with something pleasantly weird — and occasionally slightly unsettling — lurking beneath the surface. On his new album Jason To Jason, his roots in the golden age of ’60s and ’70s pop are unmistakable, but those familiar sounds are bent into something distinctly his own.

Jason To Jason is far from an exercise in nostalgia. Mazzotta seems less interested in recreating the past than in seeing where it might lead him — into his own peculiar pop universe, where obscure songwriters become international hits, Shindig! magazine inspires a song, and The Monkees might still be looking for something trippy for Micky to sing in episode eleven.

We spoke with Mazzotta about making Jason To Jason, the accidental origin of its title, his love of classic pop production, Number Four in Norway, and making music for the future with its roots firmly planted in the past.

Jason To Jason feels like a very personal record. How did the album come about, and when did you realize you had the beginnings of an album rather than just a collection of songs?

At the start, I was living in California, and the first session happened while visiting family in Connecticut. It was just a few songs with Brian Marchese on drums at Scott Amore’s InnerSpace Soundlabs, and then overdubs at my place. I ended up moving back east, and Brian and I popped back over to Scott’s more frequently. Once there were five or six numbers taking shape, it felt like we were making an album. Some of the songs certainly have personal references, but I also have Brill Building tendencies and can get into a mindset where The Monkees are looking for a trippy song for Micky to sing in episode eleven.

There’s obviously something playful about the title Jason To Jason. What’s behind it? Was the title there from the beginning, or did it come to you once the album had taken shape?

The title entered the picture during mixing. My nephew, George, who was about two and a half at the time, is responsible. He’s fascinated by vinyl records and is a Bowie fan. One day he was riffing on Station To Station and made a rhyme that stuck. Up until then, there were a few contenders that didn’t feel right. Jason Mazzotta is Number Four in Norway was one. There was another idea involving a “sandwich,” but I can’t remember now.

The album has a very distinctive ’60s/’70s pop character — the melodies, harmonies, arrangements and production all feel like they come from that world. Is that sound something that comes naturally to you, or do you consciously go looking for it when you make a record?

I try to live in the present and like a lot of contemporary music, but I certainly love ’60s and ’70s record production. And there’s shorthand when recording with others when you can reference The Beatles, The Stones, The Temptations, The Kinks, Nilsson, ABBA, Elton, etc. Might be more subconscious that I lean this way? Not sure. But making music for the future that has roots in the past is a kind of poor man’s time travel.

Number Four in Norway immediately caught my attention. Is the story behind the song a real story, and is the songwriter at the centre of it actually you? Yes or no — and if it isn’t, why was this a story you wanted to tell anyway?

Yes, I’m the obscure songwriter at the center of the story. They say writing songs about songs is lazy, but how often do songs reference themselves as becoming international hits? However, I don’t advise listeners to track the logic.

I first became aware of Jason To Jason through the review in Shindig! magazine, and then I heard May Song, where you sing about how much you like the magazine. What is it about Shindig! that resonates with you, and did you ever imagine you’d end up writing a song about loving a music magazine?

I’m a longtime Shindig! reader, but I remember seeing an issue for the first time at a train station. I couldn’t believe my luck that a magazine aligned so much with my taste and musical curiosity — it was almost like a mirage, seeing the cover on the rack. I just love their sensibility, the great features about acts that I love, and their commitment to spotlighting new or new-to-me music. I don’t know how unusual it is to write about a music magazine. Have you heard Robert Wyatt’s “Soup Song”? Now that’s subject matter to strive for.



Too Much Is the Point: The Cowboys on Captain Easy’s Downfall



There’s a glorious sense of excess running through Captain Easy’s Downfall, the new album by The Cowboys. Across 19 songs, the band brings together the extravagance of glam, the sharp melodic instincts of power pop and the restless experimentation of adventurous indie pop. It’s playful, unpredictable and occasionally chaotic, but beneath all that excess lies an impressive attention to melody, atmosphere and detail.

We spoke with The Cowboys’ Keith Harman about the band’s return, the creative process behind Captain Easy’s Downfall, embracing “too much,” and what might come next.

The Cowboys and Captain Easy’s Downfall

The Cowboys are a new band to me, so I’d love to start by going back a little. You’ve been doing this since 2013 — what has brought the band from where you started to where you are now with Captain Easy’s Downfall? And do you feel that you’re reaching a new audience with this record? I’m discovering The Cowboys through this album, and I’m wondering if you’re noticing that the record is opening the door to new listeners for you as well.

The chief element that has carried the band all these years is a combination of our friendship and my inability to stop writing songs. We never achieved any great success in our journey, so there is no demand or multi-album contract to fulfill. I wrote a large number of songs in a year or two and just asked the band if they felt it was time to get back together. They said yes, so we started working on a new album.

I wouldn’t say this new record has really opened any new doors or garnered many new listeners. I haven’t noticed that. But I think we are all very proud of this record and the work we were able to accomplish.

The creative process

When you started working on Captain Easy’s Downfall, was the excess itself part of the goal — 19 songs, all those layers, the unexpected turns and disruptions — or did it simply become a creative flow that kept giving you new ideas and you just kept following it? Or was it closer to the culmination of the sound the band has developed over the years?

It was definitely my goal to have an album of these more layered, technicolor songs. I didn’t expect the album to be 19 songs, and I didn’t anticipate Mark’s (guitarist, producer) long-gestating production being a part of the workflow. He kept adding and tinkering to great effect; he obsessed over the production.

As for the writing of the album, I was in a very good creative headspace at that time. I was tapping into a good flow and kept adding songs to the recording schedule. It was a nice experience.

Was there ever a moment when you thought, “Okay, this is too much,” or was “too much” actually the point?

There was definitely a point of “this is too much,” but that happens on almost every album. It was the point. There are moments on this record that can put me in a giggle fit. Just the music and arrangements, not even the lyrics.

When I listen to the album, I hear this kind of unique creative chaos — all these ideas, unexpected turns and disruptions — but at the same time, I hear an incredible amount of care underneath it. The sound, the atmosphere, the melodies and especially the lyrics all feel very deliberate. For me, that combination is actually what makes the album so exciting and ultimately such a great record. Was that something you were conscious of while making it — finding that balance between unique creative chaos and care? Or does the term “unique creative chaos” not resonate with you at all?

Unique creative chaos definitely resonates with me. It was always my goal to get there, but even on some of the wackier songs on this record (“Donzell’s Crystal Ball” or “Michelle Fleischmann,” for example), I followed my muse in regard to the writing and arrangement and never looked back.

Looking ahead

And finally, what does the rest of the year look like for The Cowboys? Are you hoping to take Captain Easy’s Downfall on the road, or are there already new ideas and projects taking shape?

We did a short tour of the American Midwest and East Coast in the summer of 2026 in support of Captain Easy’s Downfall, and it was a good time. I would like to do more touring next year, but it’s hard as the band is so spread out across different cities. I keep threatening a European tour, but it’s proven very difficult to make happen.

As for new recordings, it doesn’t seem likely that anything will happen anytime soon. I’ve got an album written that’s not very “Cowboys”-appropriate, and I’m trying to figure out what to do with it. The wish from the band seems to be not to recreate the creative approach of Captain Easy’s Downfall for whatever happens next. So it’s a mystery what happens next, even for me.

Radio Days: Still Chasing the Perfect Chorus


For more than two decades, Milan’s Radio Days have remained devoted to the timeless pleasures of Power Pop: sharp melodies, ringing guitars, big harmonies and choruses that refuse to leave your head. With their fifth album, Off The Record, arriving on September 4, the band sound as energized as ever, connecting their love of ’60s melody and late-’70s Power Pop with the renewed enthusiasm surrounding the genre today.

We caught up with Radio Days singer, guitarist and songwriter Dario Persi to talk about the making of Off The Record, how he knows when a song is really working, the band’s upcoming touring plans and why, after more than twenty years, the search for the perfect Power Pop song continues.

You’ve been making Power Pop for more than two decades now, and the sound you love is rooted very much in the late ’70s and early ’80s. What is it about that particular sound that has kept you inspired for so many years? Has your idea of what makes great Power Pop changed over time?

It’s true, time flies when you’re having fun! Haha!

Joking aside, we’ve always loved this music, and even though there have been some stylistic differences from record to record, we’ve kept playing it because it’s the music we love and the music we would want to listen to ourselves.

I think that, fundamentally, Power Pop is all about the songs. Without great songs, you can’t really go anywhere. So, for us, it’s about having a great, catchy but intelligent melody, some beautiful ’60s-style harmonies, and the energy and attitude of the late ’70s. That combination still feels perfect to us today.

How did Off The Record actually begin? At what point do you realize that you have enough new material to start thinking, “Okay, this is going to be a new Radio Days album”?

It was actually quite a planned and structured process. In mid-2023, we finished the tour for Rave On!, our previous album, and decided to take a break from touring to focus on writing a new record.

It took us about a year and a half, between writing the songs — which I mainly do at home with an acoustic guitar — and arranging them, which we do all together in our rehearsal room.

We wrote around 20 new songs and recorded pre-production demos of all of them. Then we selected 15 to officially record in the studio.

From those 15, we eventually chose the 10 that would make it onto Off The Record. The other five will be B-sides for some of the singles or will be released in the future!

Off The Record is coming out soon. When is the release date, and what are your plans for the rest of the year? Are there concerts, touring or other Radio Days activities we can look forward to?

Yes, we’re almost there! Our final single, “Another Lonely Night,” will be released on August 21st, and then Off The Record will be out on September 4th.

We already have a few shows booked in Italy, and at the end of October and beginning of November we’ll be doing a 10-date tour in Spain. We’ll be announcing those dates in the next few days.

After that, we’re working on a tour of Japan for April/May 2027 — exactly ten years after our first time in the Land of the Rising Sun!

“Flying High” sounds like the ultimate Power Pop song to me — immediate, melodic and incredibly catchy. When you write a song, how do you know when you’ve got something really special? Is there a moment when you realize, “This one is better than the rest”?

Thanks, I’m really glad you like it! It was actually the first song out of the 20 or so that we wrote for Off The Record.

Usually, I can tell pretty quickly if something is working when I come up with a good chorus or a good verse. I record it right away and send it to the others, and if they don’t shoot it down and everyone likes it, then I know we’ve got something!

It’s a strange process. Sometimes I can’t come up with anything for months, and other times I manage to write two or three good songs in a single week. It really depends on my mental state, my mood, my motivation… It’s not easy to figure out!

There seems to be a renewed interest in catchy, melodic guitar Pop at the moment, with bands like The Lemon Twigs, Mod Lang and others attracting a lot of attention. Do you feel that this new enthusiasm for Power Pop and ’70s-inspired Pop has reached Italy as well? And do you feel part of a new wave, or do you see Radio Days as continuing something you’ve been doing all along?

It’s great to see these younger bands getting into the genre. The Lemon Twigs have changed quite a bit compared to their early days and have become more Power Pop and ’60s-influenced, and I absolutely loved that change. Mod Lang have also made a fantastic record.

There has never really been a big scene for this kind of music in Italy, but I’ve definitely noticed more people becoming interested in it over the last few years.

I’d say we’re probably too old to be part of this new wave, haha! But we’re also really happy to see a bit more interest in a genre that we’ve been carrying on for so many years. I think it’s good for everyone.