Ben Lee - Breathing Tornados (LP)

Breathing Tornados arrived in late 1998 as the moment Ben Lee stopped being the wunderkind from Noise Addict and leaned headlong into pop possibilities. He was 20, already two solo albums deep, and suddenly working with Ed Buller, the producer behind Suede and Pulp. That pairing alone tells you plenty. The scrappy acoustic confessionals of his teens give way to a brisk, sample friendly sound, full of programmed beats, synth sparkle and strings that lift rather than smother. It is still a songwriter’s record, just one that treats the studio like another instrument.

Cigarettes Will Kill You sits at the centre of it all, sticky and sardonic, the kind of chorus you hum without meaning to. Australian radio pounced on it. Triple J listeners pushed it to number 2 in the Hottest 100 of 1998, which felt right at the time and still does. The song’s wit is sharp but not mean. That balance runs through the album. Lee’s voice, boyish but clear, rides on top of drum loops and tidy guitar lines, giving even the heavier sighs a lightness of touch. You can hear why, a few years down the track, he would end up with huge radio moments again.

One of the pleasures here is how Lee’s melodic instincts meet Buller’s knack for structure. Tracks open on clipped rhythms and small hooks, then bloom into choruses that feel inevitable. You get bright keyboard filigrees, a little string lift, and those neat rhythm guitar chops that keep everything moving. It is pop smarts without bluster. If you came in through his early work, it might have felt slick at first. Spend time with it and the songs reveal themselves as tight, economical pieces of writing, the kind that survive any production trend because they are built on strong bones.

There is also the broader story. Lee had grown up fast in public. Discovered as a teenager, championed by Thurston Moore and Mike D, he released music on Grand Royal and toured the world before most of us had our Ps. Breathing Tornados, released in Australia through Modular and in the US via Grand Royal, reads like a young artist taking charge of his next phase. The record did well, and it earned industry nods in 1999, but what sticks is the confidence. Even now, it carries that sense of a door opening.

Listening on wax suits it. The bottom end sits punchy but polite, the vocal hangs just forward of the mix, and the little arrangement touches glint in the corners. If you stumble on Breathing Tornados vinyl while flicking through a Melbourne record store on a Saturday, grab it. The sequencing breathes a bit more on a turntable, and the choruses seem to rise a notch when the needle hits the outer groove. Fans who collect Ben Lee vinyl know the sweet spot he hits when the writing is crisp and the production is playful, and this is right in that lane.

It is also a neat halfway marker in his catalogue. The intimate, lo-fi charm of the early albums is still close by, yet you can hear the road ahead to the pop glow of Awake Is the New Sleep in 2005. That through line is part of why this record has aged well. The jokes land, the heart shows, and the craft keeps it all from floating away. It feels of its moment without being trapped there.

If you are on the hunt to buy Ben Lee records online, this is the one I recommend to friends who ask where to start. It is approachable, witty, and full of small production pleasures that reward repeat plays. As Ben Lee albums on vinyl go, it is also an easy one to live with, the kind of record you’ll put on for a quiet cuppa and find still spinning when company arrives. For those building a local collection, it sits nicely alongside late 90s Australian pop and indie, a reminder of how adventurous that era could be. And if you are browsing for vinyl records Australia wide, keep an eye out. Breathing Tornados fills a shelf gap you might not realise you had, then becomes a regular reach.