The Cannanes - A pearler of an afternoon around a Witchetty Pole at an Arty Barbecue discussing the Short Poppy Syndrome
Sometimes it is not about being complicated. Or about looking good. Sometimes the most simplistic is easily overlooked; rarely overrated. Sound can be synonymous with place and time. The Cannanes take me back to my lounge room in that neglected Deco apartment, on the corner of Stanley and Yurong, where I spent my early twenties. Or watching them night after night at the Lansdowne and the venues they played in a spikey radius around Sydney's inner city. The Cannanes won't appeal to you with spiel or spin. They leave the detail where it matters most. Their simplicity and seeming naivety bely rich, wry and even poignant lyrics championing themes from the unfortunate ends of innocent animals, to political satires and irony. It's easy to underestimate them from the music alone. But anyone spending more than a few moments listening to their work would be a fool to do so. If you look a little deeper, you start to see the difference between a Cheerio serial and somethi