On his latest release, Barry Jones manifests a cultural subtext. Rich and brooding, the artist captures our nation like no-one has done before.
Who is Barry Jones? A musician, a writer, or a social activist? Whatever his title may be, the artist has just released one of this year’s most enigmatic EPs.
Spinning our nation’s dark past into lyrical metaphor and brooding sonic, True Present is a collection that you cannot turn away from. By the end of the EPs run, you will be left in awe and fully acquainted with the gothic bush poet who is able to capture the darkness of Nick Cave with the nuance of Bob Dylan.
From the start to finish, Barry Jones unravels deep, nocturnal poetry that pierces straight through the topics that many of us skirt around. At its core, True Present is an anthology of Australia’s dark past and trauma. The narrative spirals out of Jones’ lyricism with every nuanced metaphor he weaves, set aside a soundscape that drips with darkness and soul.
Where songs like Birds flutter in, resting in anthropomorphic synth and production, Deep Dark Me brings an eerie melancholy to the scene, opening up a space where wounds can be healed and represented.
“Surviving the dark industrial wastelands of Thatcher’s Britain and then those deeply conservative Howard years in Australia, Jones eventually escaped to lutruwita (Tasmania),” the artist’s bio reads. “Is he a musician or a poet or both? One uncle said simply, ‘He is a man of many talents’. His sound is like a mystical psalm embedded in feeling, substance and experience, and has been described by another poet as ‘darkly gothic and needing to be sung’. Jones works alone, often deep in bush settings. Who knows where his work will take him next.”
True Present is a discordant epic that captures a rawness and agony that exists in the heart of Australia. With a Nick Cave-esque sonic background, Jones has spun a hymn of dissent into a haunting lyrical analogy.
Grab your copy of True Present here