pic tony mahony

Clare Moore – The Third Woman – Chapter – CH35 ***
"As a schoolgirl Clare Moore drummed in a Rock Mass for Australia's singing nun, Sister Janet Mead. In the 80's, she escaped to London with the raggedy blues punks The Moodists, whom she joined at sixteen, and currently records in Melbourne with the self-styled King Of Pop and cocktail lounge mystic Dave Graney. Her first solo album contrasts the bright, shiny sound of blinking keyboards and vintage synth-pop percussion with dramatic subject material and irresistibly organic vocals. A heady, dreamlike miasma bubbles beneath its disarmingly kitsch surface. An office worker is entranced by the gravity defying grace of a tottering junkie Nureyev in User Friendly, and in the perverted fantasy, Yes! Fat Chicks!, snatches of b-movie dialogue and burning rubber portray two morally deficient female motorists, both "stacked like Monroe", giving chase to chauvinistic Australian road-hogs. Let The Third Woman chew up your tailpipe today."
Stewart Lee, Sunday Times (UK)

"With a large share in 20 years worth of Dave Graney, small wonder that Clare Moores' first solo album is a smooth, understated anthology of short stories plucked from the cocktail lounge of real life. Her breathy voice does a lazy backstroke through a sea of synthetic strings and honky vibraphones, insightfully observing junkies on trams ("User friendly"), cabaret audiences on Prozac ("sirens call to arms"), and lost souls on the street (the outstanding "second hand man"). A cover of Mose Allison's "parchman farm" pinpoints Moore's musical heartland and her sardonic sense of humour is a constant companion, whether empathising with celebrity in "he ain't up himself" or subverting gender stereotypes on the comic operetta finale, "yes!fat chicks".
Michael Dwyer, Rolling Stone

"The closing track of this album is titled "yes!fat chicks!" How could one not be intrigued? Let me be the first to assure you that as a spookily spoken song that follows two lusty women of nightmare proportions who wreak havoc upon unsuspecting P Plate driving blokes, it lives up to all expectations. Generally, Clare Moore's debut solo CD is even better.
Her strength lies in the weird and wonderful tales that she is able to effortlessly conjure: There is the man who proves to be made of smoke, spoken of amidst the sparkly 80's synth pop in "all of me". The fantastic vision of Clare playing in a bar on a long forgotten asteroid invoked on a brassy "sirens call to arms". The romantic picture of two crosswalk attendants falling in love on the opposite sides of the road is created with a light sugar candy touch on "Lollypops". To name but a few.
Moore is not tentative about melding sounds and methods seemingly at odds. She manages to use everything from warped carousel music, through gritty funk , to bleak and elemental piano work. And surprisingly enough, it works. Hell, even strange R'n'B arrangements and a detective computer game atmosphere are effortlessly married together by her seductive, husky vocals.
Clare Moore moves at a comfortable pace of her own choosing. She can sink into the inane at times, but for the most part this heady , exotic album produces an almost dreamlike quality as it switches from contrasting this to contrasting that but still manages to make perfect sense.
Certainly, "the Third Woman" is one album you won't want to wake from.
Dinah Arndt, InPress

"The Third Woman" is a very European sounding record- a cross of France Gall's French Pop ( Lollypop Man) , Nico's Germanic stylings (Lost in Space) and vista vision soundtracks (The Last Real)..."
Inpress

"Like the film (the 3rd man), Moore's album is a stylish thriller of sorts-intelligent and expressionistic and charismatic, with plenty of twists , and a racy sexiness which sometimes borders on sleaze...."
Beat

"But certainly (film music) is not the only influence. For there's some blues, some curled lip Nancy Sinatra style country, a hint of St Ettienne spacey keyboard pop, some Vegas , the romance between a couple of school crossing guards ,and a bit of radio drama in honour of that much maligned species "the Fat Chick".
Drum Media

" The essential other half of the Dave Graney Show, drummer , vocalist and producer Clare Moore seems to be having a bunch of fun on this, her first solo CD. "The Third Woman" took shape over two years of noodling, twiddling and synth-popping; most songs feature keyboards and percussion, with only the rarest of incursions by the six stringed monster. The style runs from the wry ditty to the swank instrumental. Opener "lost in space" is a dinky tune with sinister fairground undertones; 10 minutes later we're cotton-picking to a smooth version of "parchman farm". The song that's been getting a smidge of radio play is "yes!fatchicks", an Ocker fem rock-opera piece about a carload of sheilas gunning up the highway looking for some P-plate arse. Ah, we've all been there, haven't we ladies? Even with tongue jammed firmly in her cheek, Clare Moore has a great voice, rich and rangey and effortless. All the same, she's not one for grandstanding, allowing hubbie to add a hissed, spoken word interlude to the cute and nasty "he ain't up himself(he's up everybody else)"...Please Lord, spare me from ever being the subject of gossip around Clare and Dave's dinner table."
Dani Valent, The Sunday Age

"It's about time! Anticipation ran high in the "Rip it up" camp from the first we heard about this long overdue solo record by multi talented sticks woman, singer, songwriter and wit Clare Moore.Why? Coz sometimes you can just about smell quality coming from a mile off. Sure, Clare's always cut a classy loyal presence, standin' by her man and performing backing vocals and swish feel rhythms for self same long time other 'arf, David Graney (in the Dave Graney Show, Coral Snakes and Moodists), but this step out of the shadows (o to speak) finally gives her audience an opportunity to revel in her Clare's own textures.
Most satisfying is the chance to hear a fresh, wry perspective from a keenly intelligent woman who's seen enough to know whats real and what ain't.
Fans of virtually anything by the myriad of David Graney bands, KD Lang, (there's plenty in common with that rich, "Constant Craving" vibe-in spirit and feeling, not ripped off content or show pony dramatics) or even the more vibe heavy Bad Seeds records will find lots to plunder here.Clare's velvety backdrops (vibes, Ebow, acoustic guitars, sound effects) provide luxurious foundations to chill in, and make for highly satisfying and oddly relaxing. This is evident on everything from the opening drift through the nebula of "Lost in space" to the oddly jazz sinister cover of Mose Allisons' breaking rocks on the chain gang classic "Parchman Farm" , which is deftly turned on its ear when voiced by a woman; and not for the reasons you're thinking.
Y'see Clares no fool... even though what you're hearing might sound disarming, its actually more of a case of getting stuck in . You may be getting chintz, lounge and cabaret fairy tale out of some of this but watch your step as you enter the spa coz there's something altogether different hiding just beneath the surface. There are plenty of zingers here to illicit impromptu guffaws (like the ode to a strolling, famous Joe , "He ain't up himself" or the show stopper "Yes!fat chicks"... which does indeed drop the curtain).
That isn't to say these songs are one trick jokes. Closer inspection reveals these to be a series of intimate, one eyebrow raised portraits of remarkable nuance and realism. To lend a hand in getting inside her songs, Clares provided a great set of liner notes which are well worth perusing. Still, her music speaks eloquently enough for itself and I just hope this is the start of something regular for Clare. Good stuff!"
nazz , Rip it up