On a romantic evening in February (14th), Red Moon Cowboy launch their debut EP at Nighthawks Collingwood, alongside Human Noise and Mia June.
We acknowledge the land on which we are performing, the Wurundjeri people of the Kulin Nation.
Come and support local music (its going to be better and cheaper than a certain festival on the same day).

Red Moon Cowboy's upcoming debut EP ‘Astra Castra’, explores a personal relationship with the current global climate crisis, global conflict and economic uncertainty, embellishing these tales with rebirth and collectivism across 5 sonically diverse tracks, sharing similar subject matter. Opening with the up-tempo crowd favourite, “Rome”, which grasps at contorted and poignant memories of a time gone. The tempo slows briefly as “Find Me” builds towards its emphatic climax, outlining the hopelessness of heartbreak, set against haunting guitar’s and heavy percussive soundscape. Then comes the most sombre point of the project, “A Town By The Sea”. A reflection of childhood in Albany written in a folkloric style, featuring a gritty shoegaze-like guitar wash. The pace once again picks up with “Brother”, an ode to the failures of masculinity in silence and complicity, with an impassioned final call to action of “Just walk away, and fly with me”. The Magnus Opus of the EP lays on the final track, the eponymous “Astra Castra”. A 7-minute epic serving as a summation of the project’s narrative, its euphonic and destructive crescendo takes no prisoners.

There is something undeniably frenetic about the razor sharp song-writing of Sydney/Melbourne post-punk outfit Human Noise. With strong ties to both punk rock and singer-songwriter roots, the songs of Human Noise are agitated, witty, and above all else, incredibly clever. Injected with equal measures of angst and humour, their music manages to comment on both self and society with acute awareness, and like all good satire, leaves its audience with little choice but to focus that lens towards themselves and their own choices.

June has gone from a dreamer to a fine plyer of songcraft; at the core of her lyrics is a cathartic release of emotion that she comes by with an honesty so raw as to be rarely heard. Don’t Forget Your Bags reads like pages of a journal faithfully kept over time as if flowers pressed within an unruly volume. Her own process of growing up has stood as a reservoir of inspiration, guiding her to craft lyrics from a place of vulnerability. She writes of young love and angst with the seriousness of immediacy; she speaks of learning about the kind of person you are as you age, watching your friends change and drift away or stand closer than ever.