Press Club - Endless Motion (LP) - Translucent Mint Vinyl

Press Club’s third album, Endless Motion, landed in October 2022 and felt like a rallying cry from a Melbourne band that never learned how to idle. They came up playing sweatbox rooms around Collingwood and Fitzroy, and that grit still colors everything here. The lineup is locked in and unmistakable: Natalie Foster’s rasp that can cut glass, Greg Rietwyk’s guitar lines that press forward like headlights on Sydney Road, the rhythm section of Iain MacRae and Frank Lees driving it with the kind of push that only comes from years on stage together. It’s a record built for crowded floors and late trams, but it also carries the strange stillness that hung over the city during those long lockdown months. You can hear the pull between restlessness and reflection in almost every track.

Endless Motion arrived through Hassle Records overseas and long‑time home Poison City Records in Australia, and it plays like the band doubling down on everything that made their early work hit. The tempos are quick, the choruses catch fast, and the performances feel lived in. Foster sings like she’s writing in the margins of a diary on the way to a shift, then walking straight into the booth to get it down before the ink dries. When the guitars open up, they don’t just add distortion. They add shape, little countermelodies that snake around the vocal and turn simple refrains into earworms. Lees and MacRae keep the floor moving. No bloat. No dead air.

What’s changed is the sense of space. Press Club used to feel like a band trying to outpace their own songs. Here, they trust the air between hits. The sound still jumps, yet there’s room for a breath before the next sprint. That tension suits the title. Endless motion does not always mean speed. Sometimes it means refusing to stall out, even when the world around you is standing still. In interviews surrounding the album, the band talked about the push to keep creating through uncertainty, and that shows up in the writing. There are lyrics about doubt, about the ache of repetition, and about finding the small sparks that pull you back into the light. It never slides into sloganeering. It stays personal and grounded in real scenes and real streets.

Spin it loud and the production choices land. Guitars come in hot, drums sit forward, and the vocal cuts without feeling harsh. You can picture the take in a room, the stools, the pedals, the battered amp that still does the trick. It’s built for volume but holds up at a low hum on a weeknight. That balance is why Endless Motion vinyl has become a go‑to recommendation when someone wanders into a Melbourne record store looking for something new and alive. On wax, the low end sits a little tighter, the guitars bloom, and the whole record keeps that nervous electricity that fans pack into bandrooms for.

Press Club’s reputation as a force live feeds into the way these songs hit. The sequencing nods to a setlist, surging early, easing off at just the right time, then running hard to the finish. The band earned their stripes across relentless Australian and European tours, and this plays like a set honed on the road. For anyone collecting Press Club vinyl, this feels like the sweet spot between the sparks of their early releases and the hard‑won clarity of a band that knows exactly what it wants to say. If you missed it on release, it’s well worth hunting down. You can buy Press Club records online easily enough, but it’s the kind of LP you also want to spot in the wild while flipping through new arrivals.

Endless Motion doesn’t try to reinvent the band. It sharpens them. That’s its quiet power. It’s a document of a group holding onto urgency when the world seemed to dare them to slow down. If you’re building out a shelf of Press Club albums on vinyl, this one anchors the run. And if you’re browsing for vinyl records Australia wide and stumble across it, don’t think too hard. It’s a record that turns a room into a small show, the kind where you leave with ringing ears and a grin, remembering why bands like this mean so much in the first place.