There’s always been something gloriously unbothered about Dave Graney and Clare Moore — a sense that the rules of engagement (hits, trends, relevance) are for other people. ‘Laburnum Of The Mind’ doubles down on that stance. It’s a record that begins in the pocket — all groove and insinuation — before drifting into something more abstract, more interior, and, at times, more cutting than anything they’ve done in years.
Graney’s sartorial splendour, extravagance and studied pose – the man makes sweatpants look like a tuxedo – is balanced by Moore’s steady rhythms and über cool demeanour and this album positively drips with grandeur and a suave elegance, an arched brow with a hand on the hip.
‘Laburnum of the Mind’, is is, according to Graney and Moore, a rock record. They explain:
When we say “rock”, I guess we would be thinking of The Doors, Wire, Urge Overkill, Steely Dan, Queens Of the Stone Age, The Replacements, Pulp, Roxy Music, The Fall, The Blue Oyster Cult, and those kinds of tones. Those kinds of lyrical flights and suspensions. Bo Diddley and Latin beats and diminished and augmented chords. Expensive inversions. Flash stuff. Though there is also a lot of dumb, irrational, loose and goofy as well.
A tongue is firmly planted in a cheek.
All instruments are played by Graney and Moore with mistLY guitarist Stuart Perera guesting on two tracks. Recorded in Melbourne at Soundpark with Idge, the album was mixed by Dave Graney and Clare Moore and mastered by Idge.
And the title?
Laburnum is a stop on the Belgrave train line from the CBD to the outer suburbs of South East Melbourne. Not a suburb, a stop.
To coincide with the album’s release, Dave Graney and the mistLY will hit the road for an extensive Australian tour. Dates below.
The very title of the opening track, ‘My ESV (Estimated Street Value)’, says everything about Graney’s sardonic, dry approach::
My ESV – Estimated street value
My ESV, my ESV
I’ll never know, I hope
my estimated street value
you could guess, I guess
don’t tell me
my estimated street value
don’t tell me
you could guess, I guess
it only ticks over to a stop
when you get caught and locked up or when you die
A rich vein of self-deprecatory humour typifies the work – Graney opens like he’s appraising the room — not just the people in it, but their worth. ‘Estimated Street Value’ is a perfectly Graney concept: cool, faintly cynical, and just theatrical enough to feel like a private joke. Moore’s groove is low-slung and deliberate, giving Graney space to circle the idea rather than land it. It’s not an opener that grabs — it slides in, quietly setting the terms.
‘Hits Are The Worst’ is delivered with Graney’s trademark dulcet tones that transport you, as always, to some dark velvet-lined smoke-filled cabaret lounge with Absynthe-filled shot glasses spilling over with regret and romance. Graney’s delivery is as always burnished with an arched brow and a sardonic grin: incredibly cathartic and amusingly theatrical.
The lead single still feels like the album’s thesis statement. A Latin-leaning sway, all brushed rhythms and casual elegance, as Graney dismantles the idea of “hits” with a shrug. There’s something deliciously perverse about making one of the catchiest songs on the record while arguing against the very concept. Classic Graney — subversion dressed as style.
The accompanying video is filmed by Graney himself and Will Hindmarsh aka Twinkle Digitz, and captures the duo in flagrante delicto as they perform with their usual enigmatic flair:
The delightfully named ‘I Ain’t Got No Float’ has all the debonaire swagger you can expect from this duo: delivered with an arched brow, hand on hip and a studied pose. Guitars are crisp and ambulant over the steady beat with surprise vocal intrusions over Graney’s dulcet tones. Graney describes the track as:
…an R&B groover with a drop D funk chugg to it. Rhythmic switchbacks and asides that summon the very Dan. Lots of space to it and some post punk white pepper on those clean, asymmetrical guitar licks. Clare Moore rocking straight through it like Bonzo or Paul Cook.
More direct, more restless. There’s a wiry tension running through this one — a sense of being slightly out of step with everything around it. Moore keeps things tight and controlled while Graney plays the detached narrator, equal parts amused and irritated. It feels like a muttered aside stretched into a groove.
It’s so suave it almost hurts, and comes replete with a louche video shot by Graney and Will Hindmarsh aka Twinkle Digitz at Wills studio and some scenes around Boronia Mall. A performance piece, it is delivered with such a twinkle in the eye it’s blinding:
‘Away Touche’ swings an grooves with a snaky bossa nova shimmer. This is where the album really settles into its rhythm. The phrasing is loose, almost conversational, but there’s a precision underneath it — a band that knows exactly how much to give and when to pull back. The title alone feels like a wink, and the track follows suit: playful, but never frivolous.
There is a shift in tone in ‘The Wilderness Years’ — slightly more reflective, though never sentimental. Graney sketches memory like it’s something unreliable, half-remembered and lightly distorted. The arrangement breathes more here, with Moore’s percussion doing subtle emotional work rather than driving the track:
I was never so happy as when I was lost
I was deep underground, yet roaming far and wide
the world kept turning and taking me
I played to strangers
that’s what you did
the wilderness years
Is there an autobiographical element to this track? Who knows – real life and theatricality always intertwine in the songs. ‘Half The Bastard’ is a rougher hewn pop delight. There’s bite in this one. A leaner, sharper groove carries a lyric that feels part character study, part self-aware jab. Graney’s delivery is key — he never pushes, never overplays, just lets the line hang there and do the damage.
‘Someone From One Of His Songs’ is meta-Graney in full effect. Identity blurs — character, narrator, performer all folding into one another. It’s wry, slightly surreal, and very funny if you’re paying attention. Musically, it stays restrained, letting the idea take centre stage. The self-aware lyrics are hilarious:
Like someone from of his songs
like someone from one of his songs
somebody said that once
about somebody and about me
that this person and their act
was like a character from one of his songs
Pure Graney – delivered with a twinkle in the eye so bright you need shades.
The title track is the centrepiece and the curveball. At seven minutes, it drifts away from the album’s earlier groove-based structure into something more elliptical. The rhythm loosens, the mood deepens, and Graney becomes less raconteur, more observer of his own interior monologue. It’s strange, a little hypnotic, and deliberately unmoored.
‘Little Bands Suck’? The title does the heavy lifting, but the song goes further. It’s not just a swipe — it’s a dissection of scene culture, ego, and the small economies of cool. There’s humour here, but also a sense of long-view perspective: this is someone who’s seen the cycle repeat enough times to stop taking it seriously. The lyrics are acerbic and absolutely excoriating, yet hilarious:
Little Bands suck – I don’t give a f@ck
all these years later, I can say it
I can still say it
I shouldn’t say it but I’m gonna say it
Little Bands suck
they mean squat – they never did – then or now
they keep the flyers of their one gig
at the breakfast table of their share house
Little Bands suck – I don’t give a f@ck
The louche delivery imparts some very hurtful truths (as a member of one of those little bands I can well attest!).
Final track ‘People That I Think About’ is one that doesn’t resolve so much as linger. There’s a reflective tone, but again, no sentimentality — just observation. The arrangement is understated, letting the thoughts drift in and out without forcing a conclusion. It feels like the album exhaling. The lyrics are, again, absolutely hilarious:
I keep thinkin’ about people
suddenly I think of them, and then they die
hey! I’ve been thinkin’ about you
you’ve been in my mind
I’ve been thinkin’ about you a lot, sorry
If you come up to me and say “hi”
and I act like I don’t know you
I’m bein’ nice
The chorus is – dare I say – anthemic with a pop commericality.
‘Laburnum Of The Mind’ isn’t interested in immediacy. It doesn’t chase hooks or tidy arcs. Instead, it builds a world — one of grooves, glances, and sideways commentary — and lets you wander through it at your own pace.
Graney and Moore remain entirely themselves: sharp, amused, and just detached enough to see the absurdity in everything around them.
And that, as ever, is the point.
This album sees Graney and Moore at their very best.
‘Laburnam of the Mind’ is out now and available through the link above and via all the usual sites. Graney and Moore are on tour – details below and tickets available here.
Sunday April 26
The Retreat, Brunswick VIC
*Dave Graney and the mistLY
Friday May 15
Murray Delta Juke Joint, Goolwa SA
Saturday May 16
Wheatsheaf Hotel, Adelaide SA
Sunday May 31
Young St Tavern, Frankston VIC
Thursday June 4
Smiths Alternative, Canberra ACT
Friday June 5
Marrickville Bowling Club, Marrickville NSW
Saturday June 6
The Heritage, Bulli NSW
Friday June 12
The Link and Pin, Woy Woy NSW
Saturday June 13th
Stag and Hunter, Newcastle NSW
Sunday June 14th
The Flow Bar, Old Bar NSW
Sunday July 12th
Mullum Roots Festival, NSW
Friday July 24
Courthouse Arts Theatre, Geelong VIC
Friday July 31
Banshees Bar & Artspace, Ipswich QLD
Saturday August 1
Eudlo Hall, QLD
Sunday August 2
Black Bear Lodge, Brisbane QLD
Friday August 28
The Duke Of George, Fremantle WA
Saturday August 29
Lyrics Underground, Maylands Perth, WA
Feature Photograph: Meredith O’Shea
