After breaking away from the grand and ghoulish Snowman, former frontman Joe McKee has found a more subtle form of expression as a solo artist. While his old band expertly drew listeners in using suspense and tribal drumming as its main weapons of seduction, in his new incarnation, loops and well-pronounced vowels do all the work. As an environment, the Grace provides buckets of support for Joe’s Burning Boy solo album launch, which tonight is attended by a comfortable – for that sized room - number of punters. The stage, merely a foot off the floor, feels less like a forced focal point but rather just a place for Joe to stand. Casually he glides on and off his cramped quarters and through the crowd when the mood suits him in order to sidle up close to a fan as his looped guitar shimmys away, never out-ranking the deep, sombre vocal in volume.
In these kinds of intimate performances, it’s not unusual for my attention to wander and fixate on some insignificant prop or even the movement of the performer’s feet as they jab at guitar peddles, but McKee had me and everyone in my immediate view hanging on every note sung. Even when fronting the raucous Snowman though, Joe has always displayed an effortless ability to draw you in and make all else melt away.
This fact is helped by several well defined staples of McKee’s performance. Firstly, he mixes with his audience mid-song, while still retaining that important sense of intrigue. Secondly, his band – a drummer, violinist and keyboardist - hop on stage only sporadically to add accompaniment and thirdly, he sounds out every word he sings, imploring us to listen. As a solo artist, Joe has slipped into the role of story teller, but even more so, he is exploring the power of words as sounds.
He understands that a deep resonant voice, which he possesses, drawing out every syllable can be just as powerful as any percussive instrument, and hold as much sway as the words themselves. I find myself held up by a lyric early in the set; “You just keep getting louder, while I fall into lunacy” where McKee’s seductive tone shifts suddenly into spine-chilling terrain, and any chance of an easy ride ‘polite singer/songwriter’ type gig is lost. Thankfully.
Perhaps the most remarkable thing about McKee’s show however is the complete lack of ceremony. Album launches are typically coupled with a sense of occasion, and maybe a ‘funny thing happened on the way to the studio’ story or two, but not this time. It’s as though McKee and his occasional backing band swept through the room on a wave and we all got caught up in it before being plopped back down again as it retreated out to sea. I left feeling as though I’d had my heart warmed and my bones chilled all at once. Pretty good result for a 45 minute set that featured all new, unknown material, I’d say.
lEIGh5
Joe signed my CD, "You have great taste in music!" So humble!
The following is a post I made in a forum regarding the CRA's recent whinge about having to play a small percentage of Australian music in their quota. The subject to me is infuriating to say the least, as it represents yet another change for the worse in terms of the ridiculous level of exposure given to cheap and nasty, mostly American, commercial pop. It seems as if the gap between popular music and product pushing is almost completely closed and to me, this is no trivial matter. Australian music is simply less likely to be affiliated with branding and looks likely to suffer as a result in a world where advertisers hold all the cash. The CRA (or Commercial Radio Australia) have long stopped pretending they give a damn about fostering local talent since realising they can get a bigger slice of pie playing overseas artists on labels linked to ad agencies whose jingles for the newest crap-tastic gadget are also the latest singles from Rhianna/Bieber/Maroon 5 etc...
I'd really like to dig my heels into the CRA and say how awful they are for considering such a proposal, but the reality is, they are reflecting a growing public indifference to not just locally produced music, but to some degree an indifference to anything that isn't totally mono-cultural. Not caring about what happens in mainstream, commercial music isn't enough for me. I can't be switched off to it when nearly every resource I access - by no choice of my own - rings with the sight or sound of the latest 'talented new-comer', who always seems to be either American (specifically LA based) or trying so hard to appear that way, its almost impossible to tell the difference. Then there's the subliminal hatred. I feel bad for hating people who lap up, apparently anything deemed 'hot' by the faceless arseholes who apparently have a lot to gain by you buying the latest shitty autotuned wankery. As far as I'm concerned the CRA are just more faceless arseholes with an agenda. What that is can probably be summed up by the complete flat-lining of any real diversity in heavily promoted music. Why risk losing listeners/money/advertisers on some 'weird local shit by some unknown wannabe' when you can get Timomatic and Reece Mastin to dance on command, look damn pretty doing it, AND sound like a combination of Black Eyed P!nk Marooned Beiber, or whatever the kids (apparently) all slurped up by the tonne last year?
Who's world, exactly?
My question is, are the CRA looking to drop all locally produced music from their playlists or just the stuff that wasn't produced, written and rapped on by some bloke in Hollywood called T-Party? In which case, haven't they already achieved their goal?? Creating a vacuum in which only this miniscule measure of success applies to musicians is so destructive in the long term. The apparent glamour (if you're a bogan maybe?) of US-style overnight stardom on the back of some paper thin soulless dance tune is of course hollow, but why then are so many young Australian artists seeing it as something to strive for? You could argue that the end of anything identifiable as Australian on commercial radio is already upon us, but I predict hard times ahead for people like CRA and other supporters of 'shit made in America's gotta be good, it sells like hot muffins'. They drop all Australian content from commercial radio, and eventually just run one long unchanging advertisement/song on an endless loop that gradually becomes a single droning autotuned note, a flat-line, if you like spelling the (by that time) much welcomed death of those withering arseholes who through the power of commercial media, want nothing more than to dull the wit of all who come in contact with them.
May they suffer as much as I do whenever I chance encounter one of their boil in the bag ready-made suck-cess stories flogging me an iPhone from the saftey of a mega-billboard and draining the life force outta me within seconds of hearing their corporate-endorsed shit.
For both audience and the many and varied acts tonight at the Thornbury theatre, school is a comfortable enough distance away in time, that mocking its regiment feels like a rite of passage we can all relate to. Justin Heazlewood (aka; The Bedroom Philosopher) who established himself as one of the best observational comedians on the album, Songs From The 86 Tram, taps into that powerful uniting source of mirth and agony we call our school days in this latest in a series of themed concerts. Anybody who grew up attending an Australian school, recognised tonight the painfully accurate bad student poetry/music/acting in a show that - although aimed more at a Gen-X crowd –managed to remain broadly accessible.
Heazlewood’s type of humour works simply by identifying factors specific to average Australians. While Justin might laugh in a different part of the story to most of us, he usually manages to get his audience in on the joke without much effort. School, for those who excelled, was probably not particularly funny or remarkable, but for most of us, the experience is a source of pained amusement, which is precisely what informs Justin’s soft attack. Seated in what could easily pass for a typical school hall, we are presented with the atmosphere of a typical assembly, except for the first time, nobody is really expected to sit quietly and pay attention – or remain sober. The realisation sets in that Heazlewood has thrown his audience a golden opportunity to talk back, lounge around and generally rattle the nerves of those tiresome teachers and staff with no fear of a dreaded parental phone call.
Save from delivering actual canings, the performers in the Croxton School Assembly show maintain an engaging illusion of those uncomfortable, over-long school gatherings complete with authoritarian MC/Principle, (Ben Pobjie) and a better-than-in-reality school band, (Sex On Toast). The mumbling MC, who manages to embody every bored school Principle addressing a restless classroom, ever, becomes a figure of contempt as the night wears on. Between the main acts, he cops a deluge of paper planes and booing and hissing from the cross-legged ‘students’ spread out along the floor in front of the stage. Building on the already realistic atmosphere, he deals out ‘detentions’ in raised voice to even greater objection. But Principle Pobjie’s in-character droning, means reception for the performers is highly enthused whenever he leaves the stage, and with Tripod’s established guarantee-of-fun in place, the boys are swamped by applause after a particularly long head-masterly speech.
Tripod’s routine of songs, ‘unplanned’ cut-aways and geek-ified self-mockery is right at home in the Assembly, as is some stunningly awful poetry courtesy of Emilie Zoe Baker. The broad range of age groups – some with their own kids, some probably just out of school themselves – all respond with the same enthusiasm for being propelled into the horror of an amateur talent-night vibe. Crammed in among the ‘amateurs’ with his cover blown, Damien Cowell - ‘the guy who was in TISM’s’ new band, The DC3 displayed fitting irreverence for the whole event, (and Henry Wagons). Improvisational hooligans, Lime Champions fulfilled the role of class clowns, alongside stiff competition from TheBedroom Philosopher himself, who’s own set allows one notorious local identity to live out a school-age fantasy. Justin and his band, The Awkwardstra, deliver highlights their marvellous 86 Tram CD, plus newbie, I’m Leaving My Hairdresser, before unleashing their surprise guest.
The by-now even rowdier fans, roar their disapproval as Justin asks, ‘who here likes Aussie hip-hop?’ Not to be deterred, he jumps into We Are Tramily, a freakishly spot-on Hilltop Hoods send-up, during which the one and only John Safran, decked out in a silky tracksuit, bursts onto the stage, freestyling like a pro. Anyone who saw Safran’s MusicJamboree series, will recall the failure he endured getting his rap group, Raspberry Cordial taken seriously, but tonight he commands respect. That is, at least until he runs out of rhymes, and resorts to yelling ‘Raspberry Cordial’s in the house!’ randomly until the song ends in total disarray. Yes, it’s unplanned and a complete mess, but so much in the spirit of the Croxton school assembly, no-one cared. The Bedroom Philosopher along with a slightly embarrassed John Safran, file off stage to thunderous approval as our Principle returns to deliver joke-certificates to the performers. Closing the night, the mess of bodies played out on the floor hurling paper at the stage are treated to a medley of ‘90s rock songs by now partly de-trousered school band, Sex On Toast.
Justin Heazlewood took a huge leap of faith in making this theatrical, pretend-amateur show work. Whereas it could easily have come across as confusing and ‘just amateur’, Justin relied on, successfully it turned out, his audience’s willingness to go along with the joke for the duration of an event that gave little indication of what, if anything was expected of his fans. I suspect though, that the sight of half his audience turning up in school uniforms and behaving as if they were extras in the show, was the ultimate pay-off for Heazlewood and co. Other would-be comedy/musical acts should note: The Croxton high class of 2011 final exam results are in, and its distinctions all round people; time to pull your socks up.
Wendy Matthews was about as far removed from the meat-pie and beer Aussie rock landscape as her Canadian roots, but persistence in a realm way outside of her initial comfort zone, resulted in the willowy former session vocalist appearing on nearly every notable Oz rock album in the '80s. Finally stepping into her very own spotlight, from 1990 onward Matthews' true passion for poetic tear-jerkers reminiscent of her idol Joni Mitchell’s work was at last successfully indulged. Now, 21 years on from her against-the-grain solo debut, Émigré, the Australian (officially since 2005) vocalist, is celebrating the anniversary in a retrospective tour she’s calling Standing Strong, yet this landmark, I discover, is barely half of her remarkable story.
“I guess now is a good time to celebrate what I’ve been doing for two decade before my next album comes out.” She says in an accent equal parts Canadian and Australian. Work on Matthews’ new album of originals is already underway, following on from two covers sets (She and Café Naturale). Her anniversary tour will help fund its completion as, although despite multiple-ARIA wins and serious chart success in the ‘90s, Wendy found herself out of contract in 2007 and so began her own independent label, Barking Bear to release her music on. “I’m so glad I have this label as a resource, but I am crap at the business side of things. I wish I kind of cared more about how the whole thing works, but I am singer and a songwriter, not a business woman." She adds, "I’ve moved into the category of singers who don’t sell so many records these days, but I’m also part of this world of artists who make great music in their kitchens or whatever and with no record company judging what your musical life-span is.” A passion for singing since very early childhood, Wendy claims, was the only guide in what direction her life was to take.
“I’ve been a bit of a freak for most of my life, frighteningly enough. I’ve never had a real job!” She laughs, “This is all I’ve ever done and it did determine quite a lot how my life would turn out back when I was 15 and having huge doubts about what I was going to be.” Matthew’s continues, “I realise now that I was setting myself up for something that would last and was satisfying for me. I mean if I had’ve been making dance beats, as a lot of people were, it would never have driven me like say a Joni Mitchell record does.” She adds, “Don’t get me wrong, I think music should fulfill many functions – I can get up and vacuum the house to dance music in my undies and its great – but that’s never gonna stimulate me like Joni, you know.”
Her future direction became a little clearer when, while living in LA in 1983, Matthews - who was getting casual work as a backing vocalist - by chance met legendary Australian music mogul Glenn Shorrock, who convinced her to sing backing vocals on his album and fly to Sydney to tour in his band. “Glenn, almost to his detriment, was always passionate about music above and beyond the industry. He was the sort of guy that would come off stage after a gig and still want to sit around the piano and play music just for fun, so we had no problems connecting.” Wendy recalls. Her motivation to start a new life in Australia however was hampered at first by a fear of rejection by what she perceived as an unforgiving pub rock scene. “My first experience of a female singer who’d made it in Australia was Chrissie Amphlett of Divinyls and it kind of scared me a little, because she had this machismo - which I guess she’d developed because it was a very male oriented rock scene - and I thought I was never going to be accepted into that kind of world.” Matthews, in reality was not only accepted into the Australian live music world, but was in hot demand as a session singer with many of the top rock acts at the time.
“There are a lot of years of my life that have gone into making music and sometimes I glimpse back to those times and I’m so grateful to those bands.” Wendy says. For the rest of the 1980s, her singer/songwriter roots were largely put on hold while Matthews bumped shoulders with the crème of Aussie rock – Icehouse, Models, Richard Clapton, Barnes to name a few, were demanding her services – and even found time to dabble in advertising jingles to keep the land lord off her case; “I was the ‘L.J. Hooker… you’re the best’ girl for quite some time.” She laughs, “But you know not everything I did back then I’m proud of!” Her rise to top billing artist was still a way off, but during the late ‘80s, Matthews performed on three of the biggest Australian albums - Models, Out Of Mind Out Of Sight, The Rockmelons, Tales Of The City and Kate Ceberano’s You’ve Always Got The Blues - helping to shrug of any self-doubt she may have been harboring. The turning point came when her Models’ band mates split the group into two halves in 1989, resulting in the James Freud-led Beatfish and, importantly for Matthews, her then partner Sean Kelly’s project, AbsentFriends. At last the Canadian chanteuse was on lead vocal for the 1990 single, I Don’t Want To Be With Nobody But You - a cover of an Eddie Floyd song – which was so far as most Australian’s were aware, Wendy’s debut – and they liked what they heard. The single beat huge competition from a Skyhooks come-back, award-magnets Midnight Oil, INXS, Barnsey AND Farnsey to take home ARIA single of the year, cementing Matthews’ Midas-touch run.
“Things come in waves, and I guess that was my time for things to work out, but I know now that it’s impossible to keep the vibration going at such a high level for very long!” Wendy laughs. “I mean the thing about being independent is that you don’t get that level of marketing now, which is what labels are so good at, and so I see that time as wonderful, but also impossible to repeat.” Absent Friends only saw out the year before Sean Kelly went off to form The Dukes, while Matthews - still on her first wave of glory - went on to record Émigré – her solo debut. Nobody But You’s success was equalled by Wendy’s Token Angels single, and again she was picked as the industry’s favourite. Matthews was by now 30 years old, and having spent half of her life performing, acknowledges the weirdness of her bestowed ‘best new-comer’ status. “I’ve debuted more times than I can count!” She exclaims. But, discounting any uncatalogued nappy commercials, technically Wendy’s public debut as a vocalist, was at the age of four, witnessed by half of the Western world’s pre-schoolers… or so a large yellow bird informs me.
“Oh, god.” Matthews’ moans, “I got to do Sesame Street because I think they realised I was kinda able to hold a note.” This debut – which came about through family friends’ involvement on the show’s production - although undeniably glamorous, was hardly a sign of things to come. “All I remember is it was an alphabet song, and I just did the letter ‘O’ part, to which they put an animation of a goat with all letter ‘O’s coming out of its mouth.” She laughs heavily, “So, I guess my debut was as a singing goat on Sesame Street, yeah.” It’s hard not to get side-tracked by Matthews’ Sesame Street connection, but the ‘wow moments’ in her career keep piling up as our discussion continues. During a brief stint singing with The Rockmelons in 1988, a support slot on James Brown’s Australian tour led to Matthews sharing the stage with the Godfather for a couple of songs. “I hear myself talking about that, and it almost doesn’t feel real.” Wendy acknowledges, “It’s like I’m talking about somebody else’s experience, but you know, although it was amazing and everything, really I’m just glad I can say I’ve got a good James Brown story!” Many great music moments have come and gone for Wendy, but her finest hour was less a personal experience, but a song that most of Australia it seemed, claimed as their own.
Wendy's award-winning The Day You Went Awayvideo
“I was honestly terrified of releasing The Day You Went Away into the climate of what was on the radio at the time. I mean it was just a piano and heartbeat and I thought I was gonna be eaten alive, but that song proved to me that your average radio listener out there was wanting different stuff to what was being offered.” Released around Christmas 1992, The Day You Went Away - from Matthews' second album, Lily - was arguably given gravitas by the fact Australian’s were still serving in the first Gulf War. Coupled with a video depicting a couple separated by war, the single outsold every other local release that year, which finally dissolved Matthews’ old fear of being seen as an outcast in the ‘hedonistic Aussie rock scene.’ “I’m somebody who loves to be moved my music, and the success of that song proved I was in good company.” She says, “It was a huge compliment to me that so many people responded to it in the way they did, but you know, reactions to it have been so, so varied, I mean I have had women say to me, ‘nothing helps my baby get to sleep like your voice in that song’!” She laughs, “So for a while I thought, ‘Oh my god, I’m going become known as the baby whisperer!’”
Melbourne Music's 2010 calendar is all about getting some pretty fresh ideas up and out there all in the name of nurturing our local talent. Events ranging from an awards ceremony for independent bands, to live street performances and stage musicals will run all throughout the city. Literally moving amongst the festivities, for his Live On The Tracks tram performance, will be none other than Justin Heazlewood's side-splitting alter-ego, The Bedroom Philosopher fresh off his Songs From The 86 Tram tour. He and his band of mis-fits known as The Awkwardstra will be emerging from the bedroom to share their particular brand of philosophy with Melbourne's commuters on board the 86, 96, 112 and City Circle trams at the request of Metlink and Yarra Trams.
Before Justin packs his guitar, public transport meanderings and gold-plated Myki and heads off to the station, he discusses iPods, private loos, dead chooks and owning his new tag. "I guess I turned myself into the poster-boy for public transport, so it seems logical I'd get the call to do this." Justin shrugs. "I was the obvious choice, wasn't I?" He adds cheekily. "Also I think Melbourne really needed another festival, things were getting a bit dull around the place, so it's nice that people will finally have something to do for a change."
Comparing live music venues to trams is a long stretch, but Justin happily runs with the notion. "I see it as a bit like The Tote crossed with a rollercoaster," he smiles. "People seem to be able to source alcohol pretty easily and it's got pretty good opening hours. The only downside is I won't be getting a curtained off area or private toilet, alas." Justin adds. "Also I'm gonna have to get used to people leaving during the gig, without taking it personally. My hope is that people find it so utterly captivating that they stay on board all the way to Bundoora." It's here that Justin prompts a possible concern that he'll in effect be competing with the scourge of public transport – the iPod army. So what plans does he have to distract his audience from their world of mp3 entertainment? "I was thinking maybe everyone could download my album to their iPod's and listen to it while I mime. I think that'd be quite a good post-modern gesture." He giggles. "Also because each track on the album corresponds to the suburbs the tram travels to, it'd be great if those actual characters from the songs get on the tram at the right intervals creating a kind of living film clip." The city tram is of course a haven for budding musicians in search of a captive audience – the singing driver has struck on many a visit in my own travels, not to mention the odd overzealous busker down the back. So what, I wonder, are Justin's thoughts on impromptu Awkwardstra wannabes? "Actually I'm really looking forward to the Smith Street leg of the journey – there's always the chance some dude with a harmonica might jump in, but in reality, we're a pretty reserved bunch in Australia." He pauses. "Whenever anything slightly unusual happens on a tram people tend to bury their faces in their books, so I hope that the good old combination of comedy and music will help ease some of that tension."
Justin, in standard Bedroom Philosopher mode, continues on a sharp witted analogy most commuters could surely identify with. "I think tram travel as like a detention for adults." He muses. "For ten minutes you have to sit in this room with other people you don't know and think about what you've done that day. I'm not saying it's a bad thing really, I mean they're pretty safe places to be when you think about it. It's not as if someone's gonna go nuts and hi-jack the tram and go for a joyride to Canberra." He adds in a mock aggressors tone; "We taking over this tram – we're going to Bundoora and then to docklands and then back to Bundoora again… And we're gonna keep going back and forth until our demands are met!"
Only at this point is there even a hint Justin's about to crack himself up. To get back on track, he bullshits masterfully about a cinema great that never was. "Did you know the original draft of Speed was set in Australia on a runaway tram?" He adds casually, "Only the bomb was set to go off if the tram went over five kph." He further reveals, "The psychopath was going to be played by Yahoo Serious, with Bill Hunter and Georgie Parker as the protagonists." Apart from re-casting trashy half-imagined films, through his recent single and video Northcote (So Hungover), Justin essentially revealed how he likes to spend his time on a long tram trip - by casting himself as the as a tragic hipster making his way home from the "Fitzroy Anti-social Club". I question where his well honed fly-on-a-wall interest stems from. "I just find people watching endlessly fascinating - which is probably a bit creepy - but I wouldn't have written half the material I had if it weren't for many years absorbing people on a daily basis." He adds. "I see the trams as a kind of free theatre and as an artist it's a really good resource to tap in to. Plus you get to hear the best stories." He recalls. "One I heard that sticks in my mind was about a woman who apparently got on board with a live chicken and the driver said she couldn't bring a live animal on the tram, and so thought about it for a sec, and just broke it's neck!"
People watching can be a hazardous activity. I'm sure most of us have played a rousing game of 'trying-not-to-get-noticed-by-the-crazed-drunk-bloke', but Justin claims, despite his cracking commentary on Songs From The 86 Tram, he's not there to judge. "The thing is I am wary of becoming this retro bohemian looking down from his ivory tower, but the tram is a really equalizing arena I think. People kind of use the space for their own purpose in a way, whether it's to tell their life story to a stranger or break a chook's neck, everyone's on even ground I suppose." He adds thoughtfully, "I guess I am guilty of using it to my advantage as an observer and songwriter but its all relative really." Melbourne's trams certainly are fertile places for the imagination whether you're faced with little stimulus or grabs of overlapping conversations and colourful behaviour. If you're along for the ride, you'll find yourself among the company of slumbering/observing/participating/judging commuters not unlike yourself. Justin, naturally enough has a final philosophy on the topic. "I think it's important to remember, you can never really know a man until you've sat a mile on his tram line."
Sydney artist Lior's move to Melbourne last year and 12 month stint spent re-tailoring his song-writer's suit have resulted a glorious third album, Tumbling Into The Dawn. He's reconnected with his band following his hugely popular solo Shadows & Light tour, and is set to take his new - still proudly independent - set to the masses.
Lior's well rested now that his 'brand' has legs and work means more music-making than publicity. His debut album Autumn Flow and follow-up Corner Of An Endless Road won him global praise, and his latest offering is set to continue that seamless record. Perhaps a less grueling schedule is the reason, but a blossoming optimism is undeniably present on Tumbling Towards The Dawn. Lior describes. "I think there was quite a bit of melancholy about the last album, but I'd say this one's pretty bitter-sweet rather than being overly optimistic. A lot of my songs are about everyday struggle, but I think this album is more direct and less about mood. I wanted to make the songs jump out and speak for themselves rather than hide their emotions." Making album number three, Lior claims he felt a green-light to 'take it easy'.
"You know, this is my third album, so it was time to try new things and there was a feeling of 'okay, I don't have to prove myself anymore – I've gotten past the second album test'. I know a lot more about the recording process, I've become a better songwriter over the years and I allowed myself to have that bit extra confidence this time around." He continues. "Also I guess the first two albums were made during a pretty manic five years, so at the end of the last tour I kind of took a load of time off and tried to challenge myself as a song writer again, and the result of that is an album that moves around quite a bit more I think." Lior took his rest seriously before decided on where to go on album number three. He continues. "I isolated myself as much as possible because I've discovered it takes my mind about two days to fully switch into a creative zone." He explains, "In terms of why the album jumps around stylistically, I was really just trying to avoid repeating myself too much." For this album, Lior's new approach brought with it a few changes in behaviour behind the scenes. He describes. "I wrote most of the album on piano, whereas I'd always used my guitar in the past, so that really forced me to make everything I was writing have a stronger melody. Guitar lets you have a lot more subtlety, and I wanted to get away from that sort of, smaller sound."
Lior's songs, This Old Love, Daniel and I'll Forget You have become his signature tunes over time. Their common thread is memorable simplicity with the slightest of musical backing, in the vein of Damien Rice. He makes the point. "I identify as a singer mostly - that's my main instrument, along with song-writing, but I'm a musician lastly because I'm much more confident singing and writing than playing anything." He laughs. "I much prefer to surround myself with musicians who can play their instruments well rather than trying to do everything myself, because that frees me up to just be a vocalist which is what I enjoy most." He adds. "What always drew me to music was the art of song writing. I spend most of my time on lyrics and really only play guitar or piano to build the basic track around what I'm writing." He continues. "It's an obsession for me to write, but I think it has to be if you want to get better at it." What often resonates with Lior's fans are his clearly defined stories of the relatable moments that make up life. When I point out to him, he never allows himself to get 'too morose' or too 'celebratory' he responds. "I think it's a reflection of my personality, the whole yin and yang thing resonates a lot with me. It wouldn't feel right to do a completely dark record or a sickly sweet one." He says. "When I started singing and playing guitar, I automatically had this fantasy world unfold before me and I could make any situation happen in a song, and always thought it's too easy to just go with extremes, like all bleak or all joyful – life just isn't like that."
It's notable that Lior, despite his rapid rise to fame was never pushed by a label. In fact he readily admits that he 'made it up as he went along', and only in hindsight realises his obscene good luck. "I wasn't the savviest bloke growing up, I never knew at all how to go about making a career in music. It was only much later when I wanted to get my first album that I realised I was just going to have to learn to do it myself." He adds. "Offers to sign to labels came in pretty quick once I was featured on Triple J and that, but the appeal was lost on me because I already a profile and people turning up to my shows, so I couldn't see what they could offer me that I didn't already have, except for maybe a big budget video featuring me being fired out of a cannon." He laughs. "Having said that, being fired out of a cannon is still one of my main goals."
Last year, Lior embellished his live shows with a shadow-play performance designed by artists Stephen Mushin and Anna Parry. Visual representations of his songs were created on a grand scale for the Shadows & Light tour. But does the project have a future? "I kind of feel like moving onto something else now, but there is talk of doing a tour with some of the orchestras next year and if that happens, I'd be inclined to get that happening again." He continues a little non-plussed. "Although having a visual side to the concerts is great and everything, but I'm not really fussed about laser lights and explosions to be honest. I think that can be seen as an insecurity, like saying the music's not good enough to stand on its own, and I better have something else happening to keep people's attention."
When Sydney band Glide called it a day in 2000, it was in the most sombre of situations. Their last concert together was at a wake for the friends and family of their singer, William Arthur, who died suddenly and mysteriously towards the end of '99. His death at 34 spelled Glide's end after a ten year run as one of Australia's most endearing shoe-gaze acts but now another decade has passed, the band are on a timely mission to remind us what we lost in Arthur - a songwriter of great stead. Glide's complete and much sort after catalogue is to be reissued through iTunes, coinciding with a two date live performance, which will see Youth Group's Toby Martin – a long time fan – step into Arthur's shoes. He will be joined by the surviving Glide line-up, bassist Marc Lynch, guitarists Andy Kelly and Tim Scott and drummer Jason Kingshott in celebration of William's work at the East Brunswick Club. I catch up with Jason Kingshott today as preparations mount and the buzz builds for what promises to be a very memorable night.
"I think the early to mid '90s was a pretty exciting time for music, especially in Australia." Jason begins, "That said, I always though Glide had a very international sound. We had a lot of fans in New Zealand and England and the overseas influences were strong in our music, and in a way I think our potential wasn't really picked up on at the time because we weren't really 'typically Australian'. I think we were up there with our contemporaries though." Many agreed, and Glide, although never reaching mainstream success, bashed out a solid underground niche for themselves alongside the likes of Clouds and Smudge. Their breakthrough came when two overseas contemporaries at their peak, Blur and Ride, requested Glide as a support on their respective Aussie tours. A chance to meet their musical idols and even match them in concert was too good to pass up, Jason recalls. "You don't get cocky about it, but we thought it makes sense that those bands would want our band to open for them. It wasn't intimidating because we felt we had a kinship with them and when it came to performing, we also had that wall of noise thing going on and were just as able to fill those big venues with our own sound too."
After stumbling upon internet forums discussing Glide, many fans up til now have seemingly been swapping the bands rarities in mp3 format. Actual CD reissues were never really discussed, Jason explains, as Glide's complete recordings are finally available in digital glory. "I just think iTunes is a more immediate way for people to get hold of the music, and a lot of our older fans will already have the CDs so there wouldn't be any need for physical releases. Also doing it this way means people can fill the gaps in their collection and get songs that were previously only out on B-sides or EPs." With just two reunion shows and Glide's reissues on iTunes only, it all seems a little understated. Perhaps as Jason pointed out their appeal was quite marginal in Australia and a full fledge re-emergence would create confusion. A small backlash has inevitably occurred, but it's difficult to fault Glide's reasoning. Jason responds, "When the press release first came out there were some people saying, it's wrong and this sends the wrong message or whatever but I honestly don't care about that." He ensures, "It (Glide) was a big part of our lives and also why not celebrate William's skill as an artist. Further more we have the full support of his family for these shows so I am completely at peace with our decision to go through with this because we're doing it for the right reasons."
I recall The Triffids reunion/tribute shows back in early '09 as Jason speaks, and the addition of TobyMartin as one of the late David McComb's stand-ins. As a long time fan of Glide, Martin once again is set to re-visit his from-fan-to-conduit role. Kingshott says on how Toby came to be involved. "We were already acquainted through friends in the music community, but the turning point came after I had a conversation with Andy a few months ago along the lines of wouldn't it be great to play together again and get Toby to front it." He exclaims, "Being that its 20 years since we started the band, and ten since we performed William's tribute, something just clicked and Andy actually told me he'd been thinking about the exact same thing." He adds, "The fact that we both had been thinking it suddenly meant it could be tangible and before we knew it the whole thing started to come together. Plus it turned out Toby was a big fan of William's music."
Kingshott on his Glide band mates, believes making music was the glue in their friendships. He further describes. "Andy and I still would get together for drinks and so forth but there was always that other side to our friendship not really being indulged - making music – and it was pretty hard to ignore, so when things started coming together with Toby we already knew we could see it through properly." Jason continues, "Toby has been so committed too, and he can even get those bizarre chords that William came up with. Everyone's been playing so well in rehearsals but even though it's harder for Toby because he's following an existing blueprint in a way, he really gets it."
The man whose untimely death all this is in response to, William Arthur must have had quite an impact on his band mates. To revisit all of his work and relive music they made together would surely carry with it a painful twinge for a lost mate. Jason contemplates. "It is very bizarre looking back at some songs I had shivers down my spine to be honest, particularly because they evoke so many memories for me. It definitely affects the senses." He adds, "You have to step back from yourself sometimes, which is kind of how I remember William in a way. In the early days we all loved a drink and many an after party would go on into the wee hours in these indie clubs in Sydney and Melbourne and William would always be there just taking it all in." Rumoured to be somewhat anti-social, Arthur was instead all about moderation. Jason continues, "Contrary to the belief that he would retire to his hotel room after shows, don his smoking jacket and take in a little Norman Mailer," Laughs, "William was human and needed to blow off steam as much as any of us, but he was a very creative and intellectual guy, you know, he just didn't like to dance."
Seeing as Glide are now a full band again, the question of future projects with Toby staying on as the singer seems relevant. Jason concludes, "I gotta be honest with you that did cross my mind. I haven't spoken to the guys about it yet, but I doubt we could release anything new as Glide because that was William's band. But talking about it now makes me think that maybe the idea I had in the back of my mind wasn't so crazy after all."
The theme of Australian-specific subject matter has been a constant in Paradise Motel's music and for that alone they qualify as a rarity. To my ears they are suitable carriers of the torch left once The Triffids expired as a band, especially on this new album - their first in eleven years. In the case of Australian Ghost Story, that torch highlights the dark tale of baby Azaria's mysterious death at the start of the '80s, and the subsequent trial by media - the first of its kind in this country - of the one-time accused woman at the centre of the story, Lindy Chamberlain.
The story of Azaria Chamberlain's death has been told and re-told to the point of fictionalising and wild assumption; perfect fodder for a songwriter, which in The Paradise Motel's case has been generously applied. The band have lyrically always offered fragments of often menacing stories and scenarios of nameless characters, but with their new album set for release on the 30th anniversary of the Azaria's death, the subject of the stories has a name and the scenarios are documented. Really though, menacing is hardly broad enough a term for what is on offer here. Each track's narration jumps from reflection to mythologising to accusation incorporating the viewpoints of all the stories mainplayers, including the unique environment of the Red Centre. On opening track The Witnesses, it isn't apparent who the narrator, vocalist Merida Sussex, is voicing until the line 'my wife tracked the footsteps/we found her guilty' and the listener is suddenly reminded of Lindy's tragedy at having her husband turn on her during the trial. The song quietly berates the witness testimony's given credence at the time, yet avoids dwelling in heroes and villains territory as might be expected.
Chamberlain's trial is touched on during a couple of the songs, but it's the descriptions of the landscape and its role in the Chamberlian case, and when Merida gives a voice to Lindy that really draw you in.A Bend InThe Terrorfor example sees the mother telling her deceased daughter 'now she is free', all the while reassuring herself and questioning her memory of the events, maybe even imbibing them so as not to forget the short time in which Azaria was alive. The imagined letter from Lindy to Azaria, Stations Of The Crossis kind of half spiritual babbling mixed with intruding cold reality, making for an engrossing finale to the band's rendering of this story. Musically Paradise Motel are swimming in familiar waters, they go between bare accompaniment and sweeping orchestral numbers, all while Merida's voice remains a central steady pace and pitch. Perhaps because of the subject matter, the band have gone for a more soundtrack-ish approach to the music. The string laden tunes are memorable but not distracting from the tales being told in the detached way in which Sussex sings.
The mood with which the band tells this now legendary story is at odds with such familiar things as the tragic-comical news footage often wheeled out showing Chamberlain's famous dingo remark. They instead choose to highlight things such as Lindy's deeply religious beliefs at the time of Azaria's death and the betrayal she felt by her husband and country. The Paradise Motel have written a concept album devoid of obvious romanticising about actual events, instead they present an impressionist, cloudy observation as would happen with a familiar story after many years of being retold.
I for one am overjoyed that The Paradise Motel have decided to record again after such a long break, and to tackle this particular subject makes their return all the more delicious. At a time in Australia when junk media trialing saturates prime-time TV, it's all the more important that this story and it's consequences for one Australian family are remembered. The legacy of Azaria Chamberlain's death has been a plethora of artistic statements; from the Meryl Streep film (Evil Angels), to countless paintings, and that bizarre opera to name a few. Australian Ghost Storyis a fine continuation of that tradition and a very welcome return of The Paradise Motel.
Bertie Blackman following the recent release of Secrets & Lies: Remixed – on which the former Sydney folky turned her break-through 2009 album over to a group of largely unknown dance producers – is on a short break from a writing exodus in the US to headline the second annual Ben Sherman Big British Sound Show. The event features upcoming and independent Australian acts paying tribute to a favourite artist from the UK during their regular sets. Today, a pre-rehearsal Bertie talks bats, Brits, club mixes, Spice Girls and living in several places at once.
"I just got back from Chicago the other day, I'm writing over there at the moment." She reveals, adding why she chose the windy city to work in. "I really love that cities music scene, it has this really cool underground electronic and punk scene, plus and I wanted a change, and it's a lot cheaper than going to London to write." The singer exclaims, "Also its Gotham City you know, it's where they filmed the Batman movies." Giant camp bats aside, Bertie says of her motivation for being so far away from home; "I'm just enjoying being out in the world right now. It's like a big reality check for me to be so far away from Australia, I find myself imagining what it would be like to build a life over here away from my comforts. Also because I'm writing my next record, it's necessary to defrag a bit and immerse myself in a totally new environment."
During the making of her last album Secrets & Lies, Bertie was adapting to her new home in Melbourne – she's from Sydney – a transitional time, which she admits to enjoying as a song writer; "I like to move around a lot I get itchy feet. I come from artistic stock and they are all nomadic in their hearts and I guess I am also… but in my feet." She laughs. It is widely known that Bertie's father is renowned impressionist Charles Blackman, famous for hisAlice in Wonderland series of paintings. We discuss Bertie's connection to him as the restless world trekker; "I have actually been to a few places that he had lived in many years ago, but he spent more time in Europe and London where as I'm more keen on the US at the moment. I still like coming home to Australia though, I play a gig there probably every month, but the way things are now I can do any promotion I need to do remotely via the internet and follow that with a few shows while not actually needing to be there all the time."
Blackman's not planning on kicking back any time soon either, like Bowie, Nick Cave, Lou Reed and so many others before her – she has her eye on a certain European city synonymous with those musicians greatest work; "I'd really like to go to Berlin next, but I haven't told anybody that yet because they already think I'm insane. I mean my family calls me up and the first thing they usually say is 'where are you this time?'" Bertie giggles. "When I moved to Melbourne I just packed the car and went without telling anyone so they're kind of used to me being spontaneous, and I don't really have things tying me down so, it's not a big deal to do that."
In 2009 Secrets & Lies, Bertie's third album, earned her previously unknown stardom and accolades. The folk/rock/dance collection was just the right combination for a more mainstream cross-over. The dance element, however was being embraced long before radio picked up the album, and Bertie found herself an unlikely hit in the clubs. Capitalising on this somewhat, a new remixed version of the album has been released. Bertie discusses; "When I was first making Secrets & Lies we already had a bunch of mixes done straight up, and they were doing well in the clubs – I even had a couple on Ministry Of Sound compilations. It was very far away from my world, I've never been a dance head type, I'm more of a rock'n'roll kind of girl but I do appreciate the dance world and it's always interesting to see how other artists interpret your work. I mean there were a few mis-fires that didn't make the cut, I had to approve the final versions that were to be used, but really in the end we were spoiled for choice, so Secrets & Lies Remixed is just all of the best mixes compiled in one place."
Recently Bertie has performed in London at a Club NME showcase, much to the delight of the many Australian expats living there; "Everyone that came up to me after the show had an Aussie accent, which was so bizarre!" Now she's bringing a little bit of London to Melbourne as part of the Ben Sherman British Sound line-up. The event simply brings together artists to perform a couple of their favourite British songs in a festival atmosphere. Blackman explains her involvement; "Basically I was just asked to be a part of it, and I said yes. The line-up is great and I have a chance at last to show off my best British accent." She laughs, and continues without giving too much away of her chosen covers, "I'm going to keep it a surprise until the night because I think it's more fun that way." I ask Bertie if her current cover of Siouxsie & The Banshees' Peek-a-Boo is any indication of what to expect, "Yes, I'll do that one, but I can't give away any more." Blackman's part in the show promises to be quite spectacular, she divulges; "We're going to have a bit of a Spice Girls thing in our set. I've asked some girl friends to join me on stage and we're going to have Scary, Sporty and the others – I can't remember all the names now – I'm probably going to be either like a more controversial Victoria Beckham - because she's not really controversial enough as she is", Laughter all round, "Or maybe Moody Spice but I'm not sure yet, people will have to wait and see."
I'll be updating regularly with new interviews or articles as they arise, so as soon as I confirm an interview I'll post here to say who'll be showing up...
“If people want to see a band drilling holes in the stage or tearing down walls they should go and see Rammstein instead... We are NOT Rammstein!”Blixa Bargeld, Einsturzende Neubauten.
"When getting back together, we knew there would be battles to get through, but in New Order, that’s just how we play." - Gillian Gilbert, New Order.
"...Some people will tell you when you're using samples, you're just copying, but that's musicians for you... They can rip off songs all they like, but don't dare say that to them!" - Dr Alex Paterson, The Orb.
"When Lydia (Lunch) asked me to play bass in her band, I knew she just wanted to fuck me." - Jim Sclavunos, Grinderman.
"...And I thought to myself, 'that's when you know you've made it... When you're a damned Halloween costume!"- Cheryl Wray, Salt N Pepa. "I dream about dogs a lot. Not cool ones like wolves or dingos... its always garden variety spaniels."- Kier Nuttall, Fatty Gets A Stylist.
"Well, if I'm being totally honest... I guess my actual debut was as a singing goat on Sesame Street."- Wendy Matthews.
"Music makes it all better for me, but looking back, I'm glad I was kicked out of Dinosaur Jnr. It was an amazing gift awarded to my mental health."- Lou Barlow, Sebadoh.
"I need somebody who can play the keyboard, you see. I can't play a thing.... but I do push a damn fine button, I think."- Tom Ellard, Severed Heads.
"After Ride split up, I went a bit funny and ended up living in a walnut orchard in France for a couple of years."- Mark Gardener, Ride.
"I'm just lazy mate. I'm like a painter who stands around looking at the walls all week, and then come Friday 5pm, I frantically work through the weekend just to get everything done in time."Jon King, Gang Of Four.
"They're gonna have to invent a new six star rating system when my new album comes out."- Dave McCormack, Custard.
"We're gonna turn into a traveling freak show, man. Like the bearded lady or the fucking human dick, you know what I mean?"- Mani, Primal Scream.
"For the first time, I actually wrote some songs on acoustic guitar and Graham (Lewis) wrote some lyrics... I imagined that's what it must be like to be in a normal band."Colin Newman, Wire.
"I'm disgusted by Dave Grohl. I mean it's (Foo Fighters) just boring fucking jock-rock, isn't it?.... What do you call them in Australia... Bogans isn't it?"- Ian Astbury, The Cult.
"How could I not want to be involved with a film about a 3000 pound wild boar that terrorises the pot fields of Northern California. You don't get those kinds of opportunities very often in life."- Les Claypool, Primus.
I'm a freelance music journalist working out of Melbourne, Australia and have enjoyed subjecting some of my favourite artists (I'm a music obsessive above all things) to an often unrelenting probe. This blog is my way of sharing some of the results with whoever's interested. You'll also see some concert and CD reviews and topics of interest.... so feel free to share your thoughts on those and leave a comment!
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ta. x
Venue: The Grace Darling
In these kinds of intimate performances, it’s not unusual for my attention to wander and fixate on some insignificant prop or even the movement of the performer’s feet as they jab at guitar peddles, but McKee had me and everyone in my immediate view hanging on every note sung. Even when fronting the raucous Snowman though, Joe has always displayed an effortless ability to draw you in and make all else melt away. 
He understands that a deep resonant voice, which he possesses, drawing out every syllable can be just as powerful as any percussive instrument, and hold as much sway as the words themselves. I find myself held up by a lyric early in the set; “You just keep getting louder, while I fall into lunacy” where McKee’s seductive tone shifts suddenly into spine-chilling terrain, and any chance of an easy ride ‘polite singer/songwriter’ type gig is lost. Thankfully. 
