Contrary to what you’d expect from a Go-Betweens fanatic, that statement has little to do with one member, Louis, being the son of Robert Forster, though the occasional eerie likenesses are simply unavoidable: Louis Forster’s voice, for example, contains a similar, fragile baritone, made more affecting in those spoken word verses, particularly on "Sweaty Hands" – a tale that charmingly examines a point in a relationship when you're seen at your most blemished. His accented cadence being somewhat reminiscent of Forster at his most contemplative: “this is the worst you’ll ever see me look”, he says, faintly recalling the line in "Part Company" - “that’s her handwriting, that’s the way she writes” - where Robert Forster’s romantic discourse takes a tragic, melancholy turn. 

Still, The Goon Sax are very much a singular entity, doing things on their own terms but clearly informed by indie pop’s past, creating a kind of sophisticated pop that’s both accessible and deceptively clever, but identifiable to anyone who remembers what it’s like to be young and all-consumed by love. Lyrically, it's deep but not irritatingly earnest, and for every bit of matter-of-fact sadness in songs like the album's title track - a light-hearted portrayal of disillusionment and general inertia - there's optimism in its inherently buoyant pop sensibility.

To some, Up To Anything's primitiveness might sound contrived, but it captures the awkwardness of teenage life with self-depreciating conviction; their knack for melody and clumsy turn of phrase making them one of the more exciting indie pop bands of recent times. This is pop music as it should be: simple, unvarnished, young but world-weary, and ultimately timeless.