Ought on Dirty Three's self-titled

One of the main reasons we started this zine is because we love hearing about other peoples favourite records, and so we decided to launch a sorta series in which we ask some of our favourite artists to talk about one of their favourite albums. In this edition Tim Keen of Ought, responsible for probably our favourite record of the year, takes a moment to reflect on Dirty Three's self-titled record. By their own admittance, the Dirty Three don’t have a definitive album, a record which most eloquently summarises what they’re on about, where they knock the whole thing out of the park. This makes for interesting listening; I don’t know anyone who is serious about the Dirty Three who agrees on their best record. My feelings on the matter still oscillate widely, but their 1995 self-titled—their second record—is responsible for a lot of my musical upbringing. Awakening, more like it. As a shy, angry, thirteen year old classical violinist, taught from a very young age that musical success was involved with clarity, appropriateness of style, technical precision, work ethic, there wasn’t a frame of reference in me for a man strapping a guitar pickup to his fiddle with a thick rubber band, churning on top of guitar and drums (where’s the bass?) moving to their own perverted rhythm, seemingly unaffected by the violin’s presence. And, after spending all my time listening to new American bands, this music was from the city that I lived in? I was young and male and millennial so of course I discovered the internet, and was already —i thought—familiar with the world of “indie rock”, as distinct from classical or art music. Indie rock was rebellious because it had words, because it spoke directly to the listener, because it was catchy. Dirty Three is none of those things: it stumbles in elliptical loops, it falls in on itself, it is simultaneously interested in art music tradition and doesn’t give a fuck about anything. I think the thing that separates this album from the fairly generic indie rock I appreciated at the time was that this record was one of my first experiences of players really listening to each other, hearing the spaces in between each others notes, playing the space like music. Everything’s Fucked is the most well-known Dirty Three song, and I also think it’s their best. For the first minute, Mick Turner and Jim White play a waltz, until the two of them pull away to let the violin enter. Ellis’ contribution, for the time being, is a perfect fifth, the most open interval. He rocks back and forth, finding room in the snare roll. When he’s ready, the arpeggios fall over the instrument like the most natural thing in the world. I once, as a teenager, made a karaoke version of this song on my home recording setup, learning both the drum and the guitar parts so that i could more easily play the violin over the top. This kind of playing—this sincerity, this heart-on-sleeve vibrato, this looseness—still feels like honesty to me. I couldn’t shake it if I tried.

Ought's record Sun Coming Down (18/20) is available to buy here