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.
