Finding a foothold from which to begin with Talk Banana is a bit like deciding from which Liars recording to commence the odyssey that is the Antipodean nudniks’ discography. It’s here as tricky within the context of one solitary song as it is to correctly enunciate its very title. For ¶ ► ♠ Œ∆³ª¨√♦§° ± is more a synopsis of contemporary musical culture than it is a conventional song, per se. Beginning with the now and worming its way back into times of retrospection, John Murphy eases us in with some soft celestial ambience – something of a newfangled link in BRAIDS’ heavenly chain – before dronal moans akin to those of Angus Andrew at his more sedate pierce the flow like the klaxon of a 600 ton shipping vessel wrecking the tranquility of a maritime morn. This carefully constructed aesthetic then ebbs away, a resplendent piano refrain remaining in its wake. “She wore a French coat/ Walked a dark life/ You could not see her if she saw the light”, Murphy distortedly warbles as his majestic keys fall into static disrepair. By the end it’s more Neil Young than Melt Banana, although it’s one to deliquesce your internal organs for sure.