Time Traveling

The words of the ever-clever Matthew Inman come to mind; "Jesus Rollerblading Christ!" Why am I compelled to take the lord's name in comedic vain? International post finally delivered the parsimonious glory of a copy of Boardface, the raw freshman album of our dear Wally. I expected tiny sparks of brilliance punctuating aural confusion. Perhaps I was imagining an early-twenties Wally, cloistered in a dark bedroom, positioning old mattresses precariously to mum as many noises of the world outside as possible. I imagined a collection of bemused tracks conveying the fumbling, winsome young artist grappling with those matters we all remember were so deeply relevant at that time in life. Instead, I was awash with constant waves of emerging beauty and complexity that I would never expect from a mind so youthful. Truly, at such a tender stage in life, some ten or so years past, Wally De Backer, under the guise of his mother's affectionate moniker "Gotye" was piecing together the first parts of an awesome puzzle (now in its third stage, a decade later.)

I made the rash mistake of playing Boardface while driving 70 MPH on a crowded bypass. Were it not for the cognitive jolt I forced upon myself midway through the pre-Frank Tetaz remastered "Only Thing I Know" I am certain I would have drifted through three lanes of traffic in a state of ignorant ecstasy. That was close...and a bit thrilling, I must admit. If you've yet to absorb this first, green sprout of the statuesque bloom that is the contemporary Gotye, I implore you to download it or be stubbornly antiquated like me and purchase the CD from the source, Gotye.com. I consider myself a decently educated fan (or at least I have deluded myself into said state) yet I was thoroughly stunned while listening to Boardface. I am still a bit shaken and dubious that such talent and imagination could have already been stirring about in Wally's brain so early in his development. For a moment I pause and daydream that I was one of the earliest followers in Melbourne in the days when he scribbled the designs of the liner notes for each disc. The seventeen year old girl I was then-having grown up listening to the likes of The Beatles, Depeche Mode and Portishead as much as Sesame Street-would have rapped on his door indefatigably, with Australian bills in hand, ready to exhaust my summer-job budget for a few copies. Part of me finds it a bit melancholy; that young girl I was missed out on discovering this amazing music at a time when I needed my mind to be opened so badly. Now, ten years on, I finally touch in with the work, and see it in its brilliantly-colored spectrum. From Boardface to Like Drawing Blood to Making Mirrors, the aural artwork of our fine Wally stirs the soul in the finest fashion. Thanks, as always, Wally. I know you're out there brimming with more beauty to share. See you soon, in August! Much love.