Harry Howard


This name might sound familiar to the melancoly-noisy conoiseurs of the past four decades.In the Howard family I am asking for the last-born, Harry, whom is way more than just wardening the now-noise temple that are Pop Crimes' Nights dedicated to his late brother Rowland -gathering people like Lydia Lunch, Bobby Gillespie, Mick Harvey, Jonnine and Conrad Standish, JP Shilo or even Nick Cave him-self.

Conforted by his experience alongside Crime and The City Solution or These Immortal Souls, the Australian summons the fieverish melodies of The Gun Club, Nikki Sudden or Gallon Drunk and then crushs them into a Suicide-like stern production where the drum machine is Queen.

Slight Pavilions' nine tunes are battered by no-wave and post-punk's hammers just to be plunged into a cold southern-gothic romanticism that is the finest of Australia's productions.

Far from being into the easy-referencing, it is here a precious precipitate of the noisiest side of contemporary music that is offered to us. By the way, Harry's perpetrating the odious crime of being pop and danceable in spite of it all.


Photography : A.MARZELIERE.