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We are proud to announce Record, the new album by Melbourne electric piano duo Paddy Gordon and Lewis Mulvey AKA Footy.

The follow up to their critically acclaimed 2013 debut Mobile Cemetery is a sparser and arguably more challenging beast, foregrounding raw, almost “lo-fi” keyboards recorded without any overdubs or production trickery. A sound palette emerges that sets ambiguous moods, beguiling and unsettling in equal measure. It is a record that reveals its depth slowly, and typically for this band is unique in the current sound-world of Australia.

Modal jazz, contemporary classical, experimental pop and various “psych” genres can at times serve as touchstones, but ultimately the sound is all Footy – a literal record of captured fragments of dissolving and emerging sonic moments.

1) Consciousness  2) Helicopter Sunset  3) Burial  4) The Price is Right  5) Interlude  6) Heard Today  7) The Violence of the Letter

"Calling an album Record is, in theory, a bit of droll comedy, a sardonic step below calling it Unit. But if your band name is Footy, then there’s layers to that comedy: the Footy Record the match program sold outside AFL grounds by carnival-barkin’, cap-wearin’ kids. Were their label ever in search of a publicity stunt to shift units of Footy’s Record – the second album for the Melburnian duo – they could, indeed, set up shop outside the MCG and flog them in such a fruit-market manner. Whether any punters-in-the-outer are ready to have this Footy in their lives is another question, given that their name, too, is its own kind of joke, comedy ever more droll.

Without wishing to bury the lede: this is a band named Footy. If you’re from Melbourne, calling yourself Footy is akin to calling yourself, like, The Weather: it’s something everyone talks about; a word omnipresent, a name generic. It’s no surprise Footy, as a band name, is a joke, but here it’s one of expectations. Whatever you might be anticipating of a band named Footy, it’s undoubtedly not an improvised electric-piano duo steeped in Michael Nyman, Erik Satie and Terry Riley’s The Harp of New Albion; the ‘comedy’ coming in the juxtaposition – and implied cultural, classist clash – of handle and sound. When Footy play somewhere sticky-carpet-ish like The Tote, you see that joke in its optimum environment: modern-classical minimalism delivered in the Tim Hemensley Memorial Recital Hall.

The question then begs: if both band name and album name are jokes, does that make Footy a joke band? On 2013’s Mobile Cemetery, the answer would seem a firm ‘no’, with Footy’s debut finding Paddy Gordon and Lewis Mulvey using their plastic ivories to create a melancholy sound-world out to evoke the eeriness of semi-abandoned low-rent Western suburbia: the post-apocalyptic uncanniness of depopulated industrial zones, the sadness of decaying weatherboards.

Record – which plays on its handle with banal artwork that’s less unadorned-minimalism and more generic and pro-forma – essentially follows suit. It opens with ‘Consciousness,’ seven minutes of forlorn chords left to ring and linger, with Gordon and Mulvey soon trading philosophical, poetic murmurings over top of each other; its stirred-up climax of soft voices and loud pianos having almost a shamanic quality, a ritualised attempt at cracking into the subconscious. Record later closes with ‘The Violence of the Letter,’ in which the melancholy of those plastic ivories stretches out into sadness and loaded silence – the pregnant pauses between each cluster of minor-key flurries carrying great weight.

In between those totemic bookends, there are similar sounds on ‘Burial’ and ‘Heard Today’: the former carrying quasi-anthemic echoes of ’70s singer-songwriters; the latter making the arch minimalism a little jazzier, more wandering and improv’d. On beyond their fondness for ironic titles of both band and album, there’s little here, musically, to live up to the expectations of Footy, and Record, as being the work of a joke band.

But then, right in Record’s middle, there comes ‘The Price is Right.’ If Mobile Cemetery was about blessing Hills-Hoist Australiana with a kind of desolate, agonised grace – dolewave as if played by Keith Jarrett – here Footy go for a more smirkin’ picture of suburban angst: Mulvey drolly, dully crooning a first-person short story whose narrator is haunted by a failed appearance on the titular television program. “If I had my time again, I’d value those steak-knives/but the show’s long off air,” he sings. “Take me back to the Channel 9 studio, April 1992/The last time I saw your face.”

As far as percussionless power-ballads written as absurdist devotionals to Larry Emdur go, I can hardly think of a better one, and Mulvey deserves credit for pushing the song past its comic setup, tapping into a place dark and desperate. But if Footy are a joke band on a conceptual level, here they seem close to literalising it on a musical one, ‘The Price is Right’ playing like a Triple J novelty song from another dimension. If this Footy record were to get flogged outside the ’G, then this would be the crowd-pleaser; Footy’s song for those in the cheap seats." Anthony Carew, Mess+Noise

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"Footy are an electric piano duo from Melbourne that have taken their un-google-able-ness to a whole new level with their latest record, Record. Their debut album with Lost and Lonesome Recording Co., 2013’s Mobile Cemetery - was an intriguingly casual affair and Record is not dissimilar.

A pensive tension holds you throughout the seven tracks; it’s the signature Footy sound of feeling simultaneously drawn in while drifting away. Appropriately, a song called 'Consciousness' opens the record. The words “Consciousness of the absolute … / I split my consciousness in two” ring in my head as I think about all the obvious dualism at work. We hear the dronier side of Footy once more, this time more refined, more romantic. In particular a 'Helicopter Sunset' sounds like the most romantic gesture of all.

'Burial' is a sure standout and the peculiar modal melody just before the two minute mark is so unpleasantly satisfying. It seems that for the most part the pace of the songs on Record is a lot more relaxed. Following that is a heart-wrenching song about 'The Price is Right', which made me think an awful lot about Larry Emdur and that haunting grin. I wonder what the real Larry is like.

Songs like 'Heard Today' are chaotic to the point where they near directionless, Lewis and Paddy seem to always be able to bring it back to cohesion. It involves a lot of give and take and every now and then they’ll strip it all back before suddenly bursting back into life. It’s not straightforward new age music, it’s a bit more challenging and engaging than what you’d commonly associate with that term. But like most new age-y music you can still put your feet up to it, like the recent Necks material.

Footy have come quite far in only a year, the progression may be subtle, but Record is a strong, concerted effort that is more considered and robust than its predecessor. Put aside thirty-seven minutes, whack it on the turntable and take a long hard look at yourself. Or the TV." Josh Watson, 4ZZZ FM, Brisbane

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"Record is the second album from Melbourne piano duo Footy, Paddy Gordon and Lewis Mulvey. Informed by 19th and 20th century art music by everyone from Debussy to Brian Eno and John Cage, Footy combine their musical education with their Australian upbringing to create a unique and quietly angry sound that exists between punk, art and improvisation.

Footy delight in changing genres and moods suddenly. You might get a minute reminiscent of Erik Satie’s more experimental work that suddenly turns into an echo of yacht rock. Chord progressions that imitate 70s singer songwriters will give way to passages that could have been written by Terry Riley or Morton Feldman. Much like 2013’s Mobile Cemetery, the astonishingly dry and unedited production creates a claustrophobia giving the musicians and the audience nowhere to hide. The aesthetic owes more to downtown New York classical recordings than anything in rock or pop, even with the chirping of birds in a suburban backyard in the background.

Footy’s meandering but never uncontrolled works are like a Howard Arkley painting of a double fronted brick veneer; familiar to anyone who grew up in the suburbs, but identifiable for anyone in the know as viciously angry and satirical. The tension in Footy’s music is cultural. It captures the anger and disappointment of growing up in an isolated but bucolic world of lawnmowers and cricket, out of reach of the music and art happening beyond its borders. From the duo’s name to choice of album title, contempt for mainstream Australian culture is never far from the surface.

While mostly instrumental, Footy occasionally break in with laconic vocals, either talking over each other in philosophical riddles in the opener ‘Consciousness’, or drawling chillingly about losing on ‘The Price Is Right’ in 1992. It’s this track, with its mournful absurdity over a hopelessly dramatic chord progression, that more than any other lays bare the bubbling anger under the polished surface of Footy’s exquisitely economical compositions." Jason Allen, Cyclic Defrost

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"Somber experimental folk-pop from Melbourne duo Footy. The Price is Right is a quiet track full of stark emotion and nope notch vocals taken from their 2nd LP Record released last year. Have a listen and purchase directly from their Bandcamp. Listen to their entire LP from beginning to ending without stop. Record is a release of quiet strength and beauty." Diamond Deposits

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