It’s not every day you hear about a new Lost Animal album. In fact, it’s been ten years between drinks. The debut Ex Tropical was released in 2011, and followed by You Yang in 2016. So what happened, and where’s frontman/mastermind Jarrod Quarrell been for the last ten years?

From the horse's mouth, “I don't give a fuck about productivity”. A humbling reply. It confirms Quarrell's MO: here’s an artist as a non-conformist. And when he does see fit to bless us with his unique vision of what music can sound like, it has the ability to completely charm and disarm. Amongst a sea of rock bands, LA is essentially a solo act. Simply put; LA is JQ. But on the other hand, amongst an ocean of solo acts, LA possesses the grandiosity of a full band, punk in spirit, but without being fast, or heavy. Armed with keys and synths, timbres align more with what a toucan might listen to, as opposed to what's heard commonly throughout Melbourne's gig economy. Strings are gently plucked and horns are tenderly blown. These are the colourful brush strokes that decorate the upper frequencies. They’re the ticket to a far away land; exotic, and potentially very dangerous. If the crew from Hear My Eyes are reading this, consider Lost Animal performing Give Some Get Some as the soundtrack to the next time you screen The Hangover Part 2. Yeah, the one where shit gets super fried in Thailand.

The album examines the underbelly of what a ten year journey might rub up against. As one may expect, a lot of that action is below the belt. Tracks like Do That Thing, and Infinity Repeats, showcase the bass as the propulsive vehicle. It rides alongside a drum machine, where a swinging 3/4 beat mimics sensuality and sexuality. Bobbing back up to the surface, the buoyancy of the wah guitar lets it all coalesce. So soak it up.

Rewinding, a few things have happened in the past ten years that are worth illuminating. Shags is no longer commandeering the bass full time. Though he does make an appearance on a couple tracks. The main difference from present day to yesteryear LA is Dan Luscombe (The Drones). Luscombe has jumped into the role of producer (and also part of the live band). One could say he’s a producer of the Spector-ilk: playing a hands-on approach and assisting Quarrell's song crafting. He may have suggested to add a chorus or two, but the chord progressions remain distinctly Lost Animal. You'll recognise them easily by their beauty, combined with either fragility or rigidity. Luscombe is arguably the defining force that made this album happen. Perhaps he had Quarrell at gunpoint. Yet to be confirmed. Regardless, thank fuck for Luscombe because it may have been another decade.

But the album's defining feature is arguably Quarrell's lyricism. He may not cross-examine where he's been, but his voice does unmask where he is: absolved and reincarnated. The decade-long journey has resulted in him looking inwards and unlocking himself. The album's many mantras suggest that he may be a bird (I'm a Bird Now), or that he is living on another planet (Never is Forever). Whatever and wherever he may be, Give Some Get Some invites the listener to reflect on their own journey over the past decade. Because the game's got a price. So ask yourself what have you taken, and what have you given? Life ain't a box of chocolates. It's a bowl of berries. And when fruit symbolizes temptation, get some. Give Some Get Some is out on Anti Fade.