The Pink Tiles

Like the Rolling Stones before them, The Pink Tiles are to the youth of Melbourne much more than a pop group. They are a way of life. From the city penthouse to the furthest country province, young girls copy from fan magazines the bobbed hairstyle of bassist / singer Mara Williams. Desperate young men scour dank markets and internet chat rooms in hopes of finding the mocassined shoes favoured by guitar hero Paul Maybury. At the Deed Poll office, lines circle for kilometres as teenaged Judy Blanks become “Judy de Blank” in hope of assimilating the mystic sensuality of guitarist / singer and organist sisters Victoria and Cozi de Fruita. At personal appearances, the emergence of Jay Williams as drummer in nought but tight trousers and vest has driven entire forms of school girls to fainting and bleeding from the nose. Suffice to say, since the paparazzi first snapped them entering the recording studio, this debut album from The Pink Tiles has had fans slavering in anticipation like Pavlov’s dogs. With its arrival, said Pavlovian fans are sure to be satiated beyond their wildest fantasies. The all-Filipino, triangular mind meld of brother sister Mara/Jay, sister sister Victoria/Cosi and spirit sister sister Mara/Victoria is alchemically combined with the rugged Australian convict spirit of studio engineering warlock and guitarist Paul and the percussion whirlwind that is Leigh Barker. This combustion has resulted in the most spectacular bubble gum pop explosion to be heard since the days of Lancelot Link: Secret Chimp. Despite brusquely abandoning the life of pure fandom 18 months ago for her new calling as a pop star, chief songwriter Mara Williams still pens songs relatable to the average teenageress. Witness the cascading melody of fan favourite “Ordinary Girl”, or “Stood Up”, on which it is revealed that even the glamorous Victoria de Fruita has suffered the indignity of being stood up in favour of a night spent bowling. On “Steph Brett Fanclub” we see that even super stars of The Pink Tiles magnitude have idols of their own. A particularly poignant number is "Mourning", on which the band lament the loss of original guitarist Arnaud, who chose to return to his native Paris when the vagaries of fame became too much to bear. In summary, this album achieves new heights in sonic fidelity, compositional mastery and essential “happeningness”. A must-have LP, to be propped beside the hi-fi system of any bachelor or bachelorette desiring romantic congress. Richie1250, 3PBS FM Melbourne