The Sun Never Sets (Review)

The Sun Never Sets is the third album from Sydney-based crew the Herd and establishes them as major figures in Australian hip-hop, as indicated by their sell-out launch for the album at the Metro in November, with support from the instrumental hip-hop of label mates Hermitude and up-and-coming Aboriginal crew Local Knowledge (interviewed in this issue). One of the highlights of the Metro concert (and their stint of Triple J’s Live at the Wireless from the Newcastle Leagues Club) was their powerful version of Redgum’s ‘I was Only Nineteen’, unfortunately not included here, which illustrates how the group attaches itself to an Australian rock and folk heritage (which includes Midnight Oil, who are namechecked here). The Herd’s self-titled 2001 release introduced them to audiences with the quirky single ‘Scallops’, while the following year’s An Elefant Never Forgets put them securely on the local map with the abrasive ‘Burn Down the Parliament’ and the controversial ”77%’, which alluded to a poll showing support for Howard’s asylum seeker policies, but created more of a media fracas for its incidental use of the c-word in the chorus than for the content of the track. Last year MC Urthboy released his impressive solo Distant Sense of Random Menace, with plenty of backup and support from the rest of the group, and both the Herd and their Elefant Traks cohorts like Hermitude, Melbourne-based alternative energy activists, educationalists and anarchists Combat Wombat, TZU and Curse ov Dialect’s Paso Bionic and beat producer Unkle Ho have established the label as a major collective force in Australian hip-hop through a concerted series of live performances, key releases and collaborations.

The Sun Never Sets begins with ‘Unpredictable’, with rhymes in both Czech and Spanish (one member of the group ran a youth hostel in the Czech Republic for a few years), with the added accompaniment of an accordion and clarinet provided by producer Traksewt, which gives proceedings a decidedly bouncy, Central European, gipsy-like lilt, given full range on the instrumental track ‘No Disclaimers’, with its old time dance hall orientation. Onstage the group has now swelled to ten members, with a cello and Jane Tyrell’s vocals augmenting their already multiple lineup which contains three producers on computers, three MCs, guitars and percussion. This makes them one of the most musically adventurous local crews, and the highly imaginative lyrics provided by Ozi Battla, Urthboy and Bezerkatron ensure that they stay at the cutting edge in terms of intelligent, provocative and engaging content . Balancing their usual political invective and perspectives on tracks such as ‘Long Lunch’, ‘National Holiday’, ‘Starship Troopers’, with its reference to Baghdad, and ‘The Metres Gained’ - with its sample from Eric Bogle’s ‘The Band Played Waltzing Matilda’ - with more light-hearted and uptempo party tracks such as the album’s first single ‘We Can’t Hear You’, and the story of a temptress, ;Mischief’, this album represents the culmination of several year’s steady growth . War is a recurrent theme here, reflecting the mood of the times, and perhaps the album’s most dramatic track is ‘Apocalypta’ with its samples of what sounds like Gregorian chant and lush brass reminiscent of Pink Floyd’s Atom Heart Mother, which plunges us into the urgent thought processes of a soldier in the midst of a war. One of the best, most consistently surprising, most accomplished Australian hip-hop albums ever.