Art Of Fighting Second Storey

I'll begin with some concluding remarks: Second Storey is easily, easily, one of the best albums of 2004, and Art of Fighting is far and away one of Australia's best bands.

Now that that's out of the way, I'd like to air some grievances. Firstly, the fact that some bands, whether they mean to or not, can really hit you right where it hurts. I once told a musician friend that his music, while beautiful, was often too depressing to listen to. "But it's happy music," he told me. "It's not meant to be sad!" Yeah, sure. And I'm sure Jeff Buckley wrote Grace with a big grin on his face, and Fake Plastic Trees was penned by Thom Yorke on a sunny day in the English countryside, right?

There's a whole slew of bands that can be held responsible for this kind of emotional abuse, going right back to the Smiths, of course, but also Nick Drake, and, more recently, Coldplay. It's that type of music that's just laden with emotion and angst, but so much beauty that it pains you to look to closely at yourself when you listen to it.

Melbourne four-piece Art of Fighting are in a league of their own. Formed in 1997, they seem to have been making such music since time immemorial, yet this is only their second album. Their first LP, Wires, was released in 2001 without fanfare, and was hailed as an instant Australian classic, a soaring, heart-rending work of gorgeous, dreamy pop. With shades of Radiohead, and the more mellow moments of REM, Art of Fighting received instant acclaim and awards, along with supporting slots for the likes of Stephen Malkmus, Cat Power and Mogwai.

Second Storey, their much-anticipated follow-up after a longish hiatus, has even more of that 'yearning' feel. And no ambiguity, thanks: this is angst-ridden stuff, the kind of music that just revels in its own quiet torment. And so will you, when you listen to it. But there are moments when your heart could really just soar away with joy, what with the sheer, understated splendour of the lyrics and vocals, textured instrumentals and sparse melodies. These blend and flow easily into each other like honey, and the overall sound is sophisticated, multi-layered and sprawling, but hushed and controlled without sounding over-produced.

I challenge each and every one of you to listen to this album and not feel even just slightly moved. But you have to be careful when handling a band like Art of Fighting, particularly if you happen to be feeling fragile. Luckily, they've caught me on a good day, when the mellowness and warmth of the music shines through, and the music is just beautiful for the sake of it. It's when you're feeling a bit sad or shoegazey that this album could easily tip you over the edge.