In the age of Bandcamp democratization, anyone with an internet connection can record, say, a collection of Dixie Chicks covers, or an hour of improvisions, and then make it public, no financial strings attached. That’s how Melbourne-based five-piece Possible Humans released their 2016 debut Ringwood/Ozone, one of the more interesting pieces of Bandcamp debris to surface in the past few years. Ringwood/Ozone demonstrated the group’s talent for extending mostly freeform pop across a whole record; strange and often silly, it showed off their chops without really seeming to try. On their new album Everybody Split, Possible Humans marry that penchant for layered, fluid songwriting with an impeccable sense for well-crafted pop songs, resulting in one of Melbourne’s most pleasant rock records in recent memory.
While no songs are as loose as anything from their debut, Everybody Split still shows a certain affinity for raucous guitar jams. The 12-minute “Born Stoned,” the only such long track here, sprints toward a climax of squalling guitars and pounding cymbal. After a run of denser, more ambling songs like “Nomenclature Airspace” and “Stinger,” it arrives as a shock to the system. The vocals feel redundant; even without a lyrical anchor, Possible Humans’ musicianship is a magnetic joy. With no obvious high points nor particularly boring stretches, the album feels paced for start-to-finish listening.
The easiest comparison for Possible Humans’ sound is New Zealand indie rock progenitors the Clean. Saying a band from Melbourne sounds like the Clean is akin to saying a river is wet: nearly always true, and rarely worth noting. Where Everybody Split feels most closely tied is the small scene around Hobbies Galore, the Melbourne-based label that released it. Operated by Alex Macfarlane, a member of beloved local bands the Stevens and Twerps, Hobbies Galore has released excellent records by the Stroppies, Blank Realm, and J. McFarlane’s Reality Guest, and Possible Humans sit flush with its slate of oddball indie rock and post-punk.
Macfarlane also produced Everybody Split, and its garage-jangle guitars and blunt-edged harmonies bear more than a passing resemblance to his 2017 record with the Stevens, Good. But where Macfarlane’s band often sounds as though it’s in a constant state of propulsion, Possible Humans take a different tack: Much of Everybody Split is defined by strangely hypnotic arrangements that feel simultaneously long and short, buzzing with activity but advancing nowhere. Early highlight “Aspiring to Be a Bloke” builds simple guitar lines into something paranoid and noirish; when vocalist Steven Hewitt sings, “Help me, I need to be somewhere/I’m not on time,” it sounds coyly referential, a nod to the song’s tangled structure.
While unassuming on paper, there’s something about Possible Humans’ music that sticks; there are hooks hidden in these songs, obscured by Macfarlane’s production but present enough that you might hum them after even a passive listen. The album’s lack of showiness seems borne of the band’s low-stakes origins; Everybody Split still feels like the work of five musicians messing around on a Sunday afternoon, making an album for the hell of it. It’s so easygoing that one might overlook its fascinating warps of a traditional jangle sound. There’s a beauty in that quality; Possible Humans never demand attention, but they deserve it anyway.
