"from dreamy to edgy.. and back again"

Sydney based instrumental trio

rebel kitten prowls the city streets

takes cover from a sudden deluge, slinking through the carpark, crouching low as deadheads hoon, burnout smoke wafting overhead ....

now cutting through the park, keeping close to the unkempt hedges.. she stops and stares as a crew of bellydancers practice in the open,  jingling, darabukas popping and slapping, suddenly flinches as a pee wee swoops, get off my turf  

a koel calls in the distance, or is it a snatch of trumpet? yes... now bass thunders, booming drums

she knows she is getting close...

turns into a narrow lane, graffiti on old glass-topped brick walls, the stench of spray, a half eaten kebab, a little nook obscured by weeds

colours light and tone seduce ~ she sniffs, tremulous

this is it ... MIAU


Trumpet, bass and drums coalesce into  mesmerising sounds.

Nick Ketley on bass, Bon King on drums, Penny McBride on trumpet and flugel.  These three have played everything from punk to lounge to indie and now land in an exploratory space which draws on their diverse influences and experiences.

"Hypnotic Noir"

"Art, jazz, math fusion from the enigmatic and intriguing: Miau"

"smooth, cool and just bloody great!"

"dark, tense, exhilarating"



Reviews of the album:


Turn the lights down low and exhale, slowly. This is gritty inner urban jazz, scratching and probing, skulking down shady laneways, steering clear of the bright glare to consider darkermoments and pensivemoods. 

The debut six-track album fromMiau proudly and defiantly stands apart. The sound laid down byPennyMcBride on trumpet and flugelhorn (plus occasional vocals), Nick Ketley on bass, and Bon King on drums is lean and sinewy, all ropey veins and taut, stringymuscle. It dares you to define it all in a phrase. Go on. Give it shot. 

Well, there’s the centrepiece trackEmerald, an intelligent, persistent conversation, coloured with pastel shades and prescient phrases. Like a leaf on a river, it travels slowly, confidently under its own inertia. The ghost ofMiles Davis is nodding, appreciating that this inner-Sydney sound has its own agenda. 

Belly carries a haunting, worrying edge – the unsmiling thrum of an uncompromising bass pattern, a gossamer of spooky trumpet dancing slowly, seductively in a smoky room. 

Carparkis low-rent inner-city noir, offering hazy notions that drift just out of reach. The words purr and hiss, an echo of Beat prose, but this ain’t no revival and it sure ain’t sentimental. It’s too stark and raw. It’s fleshy and exposed, enough tomake the timid blush. 

Miau draws you in but refuses to allow you to get too comfortable. So, turn the lights down low and exhale, slowly.“ (David Sly)