Armed with naught bar a big muff pedal, two lovely beards and a knack for writing about themselves in third person, the Granite Lakes have spent their short existence meticulously placing chinks in the corporate rock armour. Affectionately referred to by their adoring cult as ‘the Grannies’, the lads have fashioned a grimy, intense musical shtick in the spirit of The Velvet Underground, The Stooges, The Pixies and early-electric-era Dylan. I say ‘in the spirit’ because they couldn’t actually sound less like any of the aforementioned groups, but feel a certain kinship with their ‘play from the gut and let the feedback ring’ attitude.
Now, a mere six months post-inauguration, the Grannies’ have materialised in digital form. Their debut EP, entitled No Coward’s Soul, is a snappy vignette of the band, recorded inside an abandoned cubby house (tenderly referred to as the ‘chubby’) in Brisbane’s lovely hinterland.
The Granite Lakes manage to be visually appealing and slightly arousing – whilst at the same time leaving the subtle taste of bile in the back of your throat.