Psych-fuelled post-rock goodness from Bollard.

The Melbourne outfit create a vast, hypnotic and sun-baked soundscape.

PREMIERE | BOLLARD | WORDS BY AL MILLS


A Ziggurat is a tiered beast. An identifiably defiant form built to endure despite no internal-core nor record of purpose, it stands the test of time as, a testing of time.

Veering just, to the point of near-suspense, walking miles along a rocky shoreline- shoes in hand and pausing, bracing yourself at every levelled-landmark to dip your toes in water you already know is warm but even still, can’t guarantee… with Bollard we’re wading wonders in bathing’s of uncertainty and it’s enveloping-ly refreshed.

Beyond their laws of pulsated trawl, this one-track could be following the routinely cyclical nature of life, of lockdown or maybe even yesterday’s ‘meditation in time’ we’ve not been told, we don’t need to know. There’s no shouting in the face of what it means to make a wave in an expanse of quasi-claustrophobe because there’s no guarantee; ‘no morning after’ and ‘no, idea for where it came.’

Ziggurat is a four-minute creek of cogs gearing into motion. Like practising barre across a steeled banister on the landing of a modernist home, unearth the Barbican building only to re-plant it on wheels in a bid to make the world spin structure, this is exhibited complexity at its concrete best. 



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