In “No Place,” Clay Brown & the Trouble Round Town sound like they’ve hit the 2 a.m. point of a long, soul-baring night — the moment when the bravado fades, the ashtray’s full, and the only thing left is truth. It’s a raw, jangly confessional that sits somewhere between the heartbreak poetics of City and Colour and the wiry tension of early Wilco. Brown, a veteran of Perth’s underground circuit, trades in distortion pedals and jazz fusion for something more intimate but no less intense — a piece of folk-rock catharsis that burns low and slow.
The track opens like a hangover dawning: a clean guitar riff sways just off-kilter, and Brown’s voice — weathered, conversational, vulnerable — drops the first line like a question he already knows the answer to: “Are you just blind, drunk, in love with me?” What follows is a downward spiral of self-examination and emotional claustrophobia. The chorus, with its resigned refrain — “There’s no place in my head for this / There’s no space in my bed for this” — hits like a quiet panic attack in melody form. It’s as catchy as it is crushing.
Jess June’s drumming keeps the song on edge, propelling it forward with a restless energy that contrasts the lyrical exhaustion. Zoe Gol’s bass lines snake underneath, thick and moody, while Michael Menna’s lead guitar shimmers and bends, occasionally sliding into that alt-country twang that feels perfectly unpolished. Together, the Trouble Round Town bring the song a lived-in grit — the sound of a bar band that’s spent years doing what they love to do.
Brown’s songwriting shines in its unfiltered honesty. There’s no grand metaphor here, no cinematic escape — just the messy reality of someone trying to hold it together while losing their grip. The bridge aches with reluctant acceptance — “With time, everything must change / Wish the good things stayed the same” — and the outro collapses into a confessional monologue over beers and tears, grounding the song in that blurry space between heartbreak and healing.
Recorded between London’s Soho Sonic Studios and Brown’s home in Perth, “No Place” carries both the polish of city lights and the loneliness of distance. You can hear the room in the recording — the air between the notes, the imperfection that makes it human. It’s a song that doesn’t try to impress; it just tells the truth, and in doing so, it hits hard.
For an artist who’s spent a decade shapeshifting across genres — from shoegaze and stoner rock to jazz fusion — “No Place” feels like the moment Clay Brown finally stops running and turns inward. It’s the kind of track that sneaks up on you, lingers long after it ends, and reminds you that sometimes the most powerful thing a song can do is just sit with the hurt.
“No Place” cements Clay Brown & the Trouble Round Town as one of Perth’s most quietly compelling acts — a band unafraid to bleed a little in the name of honesty.
