But, I’m getting ahead of myself. There’s still a day’s work to negotiate which
I throw myself into with gusto. After
work I collect “M” and we head off into the long weekend. First stop is a shopping centre where I buy
my weekend listening. From there we head
off to “M”’s sister for dinner. In
between starting work and getting to dinner, I’ve ended up playing six albums,
all by Australian acts and all released between 1979 and 1986.
For me this was a great era in Australian music. The live scene in Melbourne was booming, FM
stations that played album tracks were on the air, quality music shows were on
TV, albeit late at night, and not many of the big overseas bands were coming to
Australia. This enabled punters to save
their money to buy more records and, more importantly, support the local industry
by going to gigs. At this time we were
in no doubt whatsoever that Australian acts could match it with the world’s
best and it was felt that it would only be a matter of time before these acts
would conquer the world.
None of the acts I played today did indeed conquer the world.
A couple of these did fairly well and just about every act that didn’t was able
to carve out a niche somewhere in the world marketplace. Listening
to these albums again, I don’t think the music was much at fault although I
think the production values were on occasion a little on the thin side.
But looking back I think I can explain why. My theory is the Australian acts that
have made it reasonably big have usually been those with something
different to offer at the time or were seen as a replacement for something that
was relatively scarce. Let’s face it, no
one in the world comes close to offering what AC/DC does. Nick Cave is probably viewed overseas as unique
as is most likely The Avalanches, Goyte and the Dead Can Dance. The Little River Band hit big in the States because
The Eagles took such a long time between albums and Men At Work were one of the
first bands to hit big through their ability to project a persona via their early
videos. Kylie Minogue had the advantage
of her Neighbours popularity (the Aussies soap opera being something the Brits
actually crave) to launch her attack on the British market as did Delta
Goodrem.
Ultimately I think that the world’s response to Australian music
is a little bit its response to anything we produce; in other words it will be
mass consumed only if the overseas marketplace sees a need for it. For the British and American music marketplace,
why would someone in say Leeds or Kansas City choose to buy a record by an
Australian act when there are other artists in their home country producing the
same style of music? If so, I think that’s
a shame as there is a great deal of fine music out there just waiting to be
discovered, such as;
(# 409) Midnight Oil –
Place Without A Postcard (1981)
For a micro second during the 80s it did appear that the
Oils were going to take over the world but ultimately I think they were just
too Australian and confrontational in
outlook for the world’s music lovers and, let’s face it, Peter Garrett’s voice
really is an acquired taste. Place
Without A Postcard is just about my favourite Midnight Oil album. It is extremely parochial in outlook,
especially over the original vinyl side 2 which contains Burnie, Quinella
Holiday, If Ned Kelly Was King and Lucky County, all song titles rich in
meaning to Australians and probably no one else. It’s also the album that contains Garrett’s
least convincing vocal performances, the a capella start to Love’s On Sale
being a particular low point.
Additionally the production by Glyn Johns has its critics as being a
little on the thin side. And yet all of these
factors have conspired to produce a great record. Vinyl Side 1 contains the flat out rockers
Don’t Wanna Be The One and Someone Else To Blame, the mid tempo Brave Faces that
continually builds in intensity before culminating in barely controlled chaos
and the sombre Armistice Day. The Australian tracks along with Love’s On
Sale on Side 2 basically amount to a suite about the 1980s Australia that is
still relevant today. Lucky Country is
as good a summation on Australian life as has ever been committed to vinyl.
(# 410) The Celibate
Rifles – Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang (1986)
The Celibate Rifles (the title is basically the opposite of
Sex Pistols) are unquestionably my favourite Australian band. This is the first of two live albums on the
market, this one a recording of a show at CBGB’s in New York City in 1986 and
showcases tracks from their first four albums.
The Vinyl Side 1 of this album contains the most hair raising punk you’re
ever likely to hear as the twin guitars of Dave Morris and Kent Steedman go for
broke. Back In The Red is a ferocious opener,
with the band barely stopping its attack as it careens into Temper Temper and
JNS. Pretty Colours features a
scorching intro before settling down into a pleasing mid-tempo grove. Nether World picks up the pace again and
Some Kinda Feeling brings the side to an raging conclusion. It is about as perfect a side of live music
as you would ever want to hear. Side 2
pales a little in comparison but does
contain covers of City Of Fun (The Only Ones) and Burn My Eye (paying its
stylistic debt to Radio Birdman). Covers
are a Rifles live speciality and an album full of those – especially their
awesome take on Donna Summer’s Hot Stuff – would be greatly appreciated. In a word, essential.
(# 411) Hunters &
Collectors – Hunters & Collectors (1982)
This was the debut album for this Melbourne band that took
their name from a track by German experimental band Can. Their early albums, and especially this one,
sees them trying to mesh 70s German (i.e “Krautrock”) song structures with heavy
doses of percussion and Australian pub rock.
(After all they needed to have something that would enable bookings in
Melbourne’s band venues.) For the most part the results are incredibly successful
and surprisingly melodic, especially on the opening track, and unlikely hit single, Talking
To A Stranger. Alligator Engine and Skin
Of our Teeth are very much in the same vein and Boo Boo Kiss betrays a debt to
The Birthday Party. But ultimately
everything bows down before the mighty 9 minute closer, Run Run Run, where
jerky post punk guitars, claustrophobic percussion and sheer melody all collide
to magnificent effect. Strangely, the
next album, when they employed the producer most associated with Krautrock,
Conny Plank, was nowhere near as effective. Nevertheless this debut set the foundations
for a two decade career and a formidable reputation as one of this country’s
finest ever live acts.
(# 412) The Saints –
The Monkey Puzzle (1981)
This was the fourth Saints album and the first without the mercurial
Ed Kuepper and his patented buzz saw guitar sound. Lead
singer Chris Bailey was then free to pursue his vision of the band and with
this release moved the band away from the raw punk on the early albums to a
much more melodic slightly poppier sound.
It is one of the most overlooked Australian albums containing a number
of gems including Let’s Pretend, the magnificently catchy In The Mirror, Simple
Love and a ramshackle version of Dizzy Miss Lizzy to end proceedings.
(# 413) Ed Kuepper – Electrical
Storm (1985)
After leaving The Saints, Kuepper formed The Laughing Clowns
and released three great albums of jazz influenced rock. Electrical Storm is his first solo album and
sees him fronting a trio alongside pianist Louis Tillet and drummer Nick
Fisher. The album introduced a number of
tunes that were to remain staples of the Kuepper live set for a long time
including Car Headlights, Told Myself and the wandering title track. When The Sweet Turns Sour also shows Kuepper’s
mischievous streak incorporating snatches of what appears to the theme to
Spiderman cartoon series. It proved to
be a nice low key introduction to a long and fruitful solo career, although he
is today a member of Nick Cave’s Bad Seeds.
(# 414) Mondo Rock –
Primal Park (1979/extended version 2009)
What’s this doing here?
I suspect anyone asking that question only has memories of the top 40
mainstream pop band this act mutated into.
But this is a rather wonderful debut set of footstomping rock, all
overseen by one of Australian rock’s true pioneers, Ross Wilson. The original album was split between a
studio A side and a live B side.
Question Time, Searching For My Baby and the title track dominate the studio
side all catchy tunes with taut guitar work and excellent vocals from
Wilson. The live side shows an
unexpected tougher side to Wilson’s work although closer Live Wire – The Mondo
Showdown is probably longer than needs be.
The extended version, released by Aztec Records brings together the
singles which preceded the album’s release, including the great The Fugitive
Kind, and additional though less impressive live tracks.
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