SPEED WEEK • Weak Speed • LP

Erste Theke Tonträger 

Formed during a chance encounter at Carrick Speedway, Speed Week writes music based on observational thought and utilise real world dilemmas to discuss common social issues facing modern day humans. Fronted by part-time amateur clairvoyant and nail technician Brandt Domingos, former child actor Tarquin Les Smith III, Brad McDermott and some other cunt on the drums, Speed Week invites the listener on an auditory journey into a theoretical dimension where things often don't seem as they appear.

SPEED WEEK is a newish band out of Melbourne who play pretty straightforward punky pub rock. Unlike their yobbo contemporaries the CHATS or AMYL AND THE SNIFFERS, who fall somewhere between a little winky and total caricatures, SPEED WEEK just seems like some lads who wanna get together up the pub and bang out some chunes. And they do on this mini LP—solid ones! What stood out most on this release were the lyrics. They’re as plain-spoken as you’d expect given the genre, but they’re also surprisingly earnest.

Speed Week, the Australian punk group featuring members of Split System and The Brakes, are back with their first album since their 2020 debut Hey Hey It’s Speed Week (Legless Records). The new record, titled Weak Speed, comes via ENDLESS RECORDINGS (AU/NZ) and Erste Theke Tonträger (Europe) on Thursday, October 16.

Weak Speed is a ragged, ferocious portrait of post-pandemic Australia, where sycophantic local politicians run riot, housing options are reduced to shoddy, monotonous apartment blocks and technology has steam-rolled over steady employment and innate desires. This is a record of anthemic shout-alongs and hooky, rapid riffs, underpinned by its great tongue-in-cheek humour and propulsive energy.

The album was written and recorded slowly over four years, across Naam/Melbourne and lutruwita/Tasmania. Despite all the disruptions of the past few years, songs organically emerged from stray bits of lyrics and bursts of guitar sent to one another over Whatsapp. When they could meet up, they would record, with their drummer Andrew Leith Robinson at the helm of production. These recordings took place in a friend’s basement, or in a Tasmanian town hall in the middle of nowhere, rented out during the state’s election day.