Supernaut - Unemployed 7" Polydor 2079 116, 1978

As mentioned last week, more top shelf Aussie glam-punk is on the table. Here's a tasty treat of dole queue defiance from 1978 by a band better known for gender-bending than genre-blending, Perth's Supernaut.

Ahhh, Supernaut. Famous worldwide now for their absolutely brilliant glam masterpiece debut I Like It Both Ways and the fantastically suggestive flipside to their second 7", Lick My Lolly. There's an LP and five 7"s from their glam era, all but one (Young And Innocent) worth tracking down.

Unlike Branded, these guys tasted massive pre-punk success, I Like It Both Ways being a Number 1 smash. Following the also successful LP, which came out in December 1976, the band set up camp in a Melbourne studio to record their second album (provisionally titled Test Pressing). Recording stretched out over a year or so and eventually the album was scrapped as too dated. Part of this decision must have been based on the band catching a whiff, as 1977 waned, of the new thing coming from England and thinking, "Bloody hell! We can do this!". All that was released from the session was this punky 7" from April 1978. Props to the band for following their noses, especially given that major label land and radio ignored punk pretty much completely here.

Maybe they weren't just looking at the UK but immersed in it. In an online interview vocalist Gary Twinn (an English ex-pat, as were the blonde Burnham brothers) talks about going to see the Clash in London and buying tapes of the shows at the markets the next day, so they may well have spent time in London during '77 and '78.

Wait! Wait! Come back! This doesn't sound anything like the Clash.

So what do we have here. Mid-paced but high energy glam-punk, with a distinctly punk lyric and sneering vocal delivery. It's clearly more East End and Sarf London than Westway. If I had to name names I'd say a bit of Sham with a big dollop of Cock Sparrer - both bands with a history in glam and Faces style swagger. With anglo accents and backing vocals from the (Fremantle Oval) terraces it's definitely LDK-friendly, though those low down kids might wonder what the CES is. We're thinking of reclaiming simple thuggy drum beats as an Australian thing because here's yet another prime example. Maybe this is the true wallaby beat.

The lyrics are great too, we particularly like the couplet "Listen to the news at six, all those lies about statistics". Overall a really infectious song.

Unemployed

Unemployed era Supernaut, working it live. More here.

After Unemployed the band signed with Wizard and issued one more 7" as Supernaut before becoming The Nauts and issuing an album and one final 7". We're in two minds about featuring that stuff here, check back in 2012. Some of the early glam singles (interspersed with songs from The Nauts era) were briefly reissued on CD in the mid '90s, a time when Supernaut was affectionately viewed as a campy joke (at least in their home town). The disc seemed to disappear almost instantly, and amazingly, no subsequent reissues have surfaced.

To avoid confusion over the Englishness of it all,
a special company sleeve exists.

Branded - You Been Branded / Generation Breakout 7" Infinity K-7044, 1978

In our last installment, David Burnette, Lee Cutelle and co. had just released two singles as Beaut - classic pre-punk powerpop on the first, and a disappointing, less realised version of same on the follow-up - both with negligible commercial success. Come late 1977, and after nearly a decade of toiling away with not much to show for it, the changing musical climate in the UK seemingly gave Burnette and Cutelle pause to reconsider their approach (after all, they weren't alone in the scramble to react to punk). The result? A record perfectly attuned to the zeitgeist of...1974!

Reconstituting themselves as Branded, the ensuing single (released in early '78) projects superficially as a Sweet song generator set to one part Chinn/Chapman, three parts Connolly/Priest et al., with the output fed through a Never Mind The Bollocks filter. You Been Branded bludgeons with a powerchord-driven riff and an all-downstroke verse, and continues Beaut's proto-thug drumming absent the "proto". Generation Breakout takes thematic cues from Teenage Rampage (and swipes the chorus for good measure), but delivers its lyrics with a more direct, punked-out attitude. The verse from Fox On The Run makes an appearance as the central riff, and it's all driven by a reductionist Rock And Roll Disgrace beat. An argument could be made that the phased guitar sound dominating both sides is Sweet-informed also, but given the timing, we reckon Anarchy In The UK is the more likely inspiration here.

Now, all parlour game deconstruction aside, this is no mere pastiche. If we can adopt the talkin'-to-the-kidz tone of the Generation Breakout protagonist for a sec, do not let us stand in the way of the geniuses-at-work composition of these tunes, and your enjoyment of said. Anyone can take/copy/play with their influences but we all know it's rare that the results gel as perfectly as they do here. To pull this off requires innate understanding of rock'n'roll, an ability to margin walk the dumb/smart line, songwriting chops (optional) and gonads the size of cantaloupes (mandatory).

In addition, there appears to be a schema of punk rock at play here that genuinely views the likes of the Sweet and the Pistols as interchangeable, and it's that insight that enables the parts to be assembled so artfully, subtracting their sum from the whole will leave you with change. The end result is a glam-punk monster - arguably the most effective collision of those genres produced in this country (though admittedly, competition on that front is slim; we revisit the subject next week).

Unfortunately, we have no hard facts to relate when it comes to scum stats, only the frustration born of personal experience in locating this record. It surfaces less frequently than the Beaut 45s (and even more infrequently with the generic - and purely rhetorical - pocket sleeve pictured below), perhaps indicating the label's diminishing patience and a pressing size closer to actual demand (i.e. none). This would be the band's only single (the Branded who had an LP were a South Australian country band), and the end of Burnette and Cutelle's association with Infinity. As far as we've been able to ascertain, other '70s recordings remain unreleased.

Post-Branded, Messrs. Burnette and Cutelle seemingly went into hibernation for a few years. When they re-emerged, their next move would unleash collector scum nightmares for decades to come. Stay tuned.

You Been Branded


Generation Breakout

Q: And missed this?

A: And missed this.

Upsets - Back To Afghanistan / Heartattack 7" EMI Custom PRS-2899, 1980

"Hey Puddle, what's happening?" The Upsets in someone's backyard.

The Upsets sole 7" was for a long time one of the most obscure Australian punk records. A third tier Brisbane punk band sitting below even our favourite miscreants from the Shake/Savage label, and a long way below the Leftovers, Razar and the Numbers, both in reality and in the revisionist collector scum collective universe. The reasons for this include: the geographical - they came from the town of Ipswich just outside Brisbane's western border (maybe surprisingly we have at least three more records from this locale to feature down the track); that they were a little younger and later than the aforementioned bands; and probably an outsider attitude coupled with a lack of self promotion.

The record itself though is an absolute cracker, further bolstering Brisbane's punching-above-its-weight reputation in punk rock circles. Lots of cool features - mid paced, neat guitar lines with a slightly metallic tone, a great guitar solo on Heartattack, off kilter song structures and lyrical approach, and sound effects (guns, heartbeats). Special mention must be made of the opening scream of Heartattack.

The band formed in 1978 and the single came out late in 1980. 300 copies were pressed. The record should be considered a sleeveless record (copies come in a standard issue EMI custom blue diecut) but a very few copies had the folded promo poster pictured to the right included as an insert.

After the single's release the band attracted the attention of the management company behind Midnight Oil, who were impressed by the songs' energy and the political side of the lyrics. As a result the band moved to Sydney to work but eventually fell foul of big city vices and fell apart.

By 1982 the members had limped back to Brisbane and recorded some more tracks. One of these, Atomic Run, has survived - taped from a 4ZZZ radio demo show in 1982 or so - it shows the band moving in a post-punk direction. The energy is still there and the guitar is still good, but...fucking 1980's drums, spare me. We include it for interest below.

Guitarist and singer Rob Hesp (a.k.a. Vespa) later morphed the band into Resistance. A demo tape was recorded but we haven't been able to track it down. Drummer Brad Cox ended up in Dumb Show and The Skeletones, amongst others. Other members were Neil Roberts on bass and John Armstrong on guitar. Armstrong was replaced by Pat Dow for the 7".

Back To Afghanistan

Heartattack


Atomic Run

Nice waistcoat Brad. No, seriously.
(Hesp, Cox, Armstrong; Ipswich 1980)

Thanks to Cold Sweat for photos.

Toxic - First Time 7" XTO? VUT-004, 1979

A band so mysterious, even its label appears to be having an existential crisis. For the benefit of those whose Cyrillic is a little rusty, "XTO?" translates to "WHO?" in Ukrainian (y'know, as in "Toxic...WHO?". Perfect). XTO? was a small Sydney advertising and production company which, in collaboration with a four-track voiceover/jingle studio called Fly By Night, entered the fray as an independent record label in the late '70s – this fuzzed-out, amateur hard rock 45 is the last of the four singles in its catalogue.

Sometime in early 1979, Toxic laid down the single's two tracks at Winkfast (how's that for an Ivor Biggun-inspired spoonerism?), a small studio more orientated towards the folk pop practiced by its owners than to recording actual rock and roll bands. Unsurprisingly, the band was unhappy with the results, and Fly By Night head honcho (and former Bad Boy) Kim Humphreys was approached to remix the tapes. It's uncertain just how Fly By Night came to be chosen to rescue the project (after all, its output of radio commercials hardly screamed rock and roll either), but we're sure glad it was. The recording itself is suitably raw and loud, but the real stars of this show are the numerous "oh shit" production elements. Check out the much-too-loud, slap-back reverbed backing vocal leaping out of nowhere; or the nasty phasing on the drums; or the Sir Lord Baltimore/Tapeworm-style stereo-panned guitar solo. Indeed, in this instance "WTF?" may have been a more suitable label name. Recalls Humphreys:

"To be honest, the wild mix was to cover up the performance of the band which was a bit loose and out of tune. I just went bananas with the phaser, the flanger, echo and panning".

Kimbo, we salute you. In reality, though, nothing short of an electromagnet applied to the master tape could have masked the looseness of the band. Notes are flubbed, and rhythmic irregularities abound. Now, we're not talking Afterbirth-level ineptitude here, not even close, but it's fair to say that any self-respecting "pro" hard rock band would have recycled the tape rather than immortalise it on plastic. Thankfully, Toxic had the testicular fortitude to follow through.

Having satisfied themselves with the final mix, Toxic requested help in pressing the record, and XTO? was more than happy to oblige. 500 copies were pressed through Powderworks, and like all XTO? releases, distribution was handled solely by the band. The 45 wasn't actively sold through record shops, which perhaps explains its elusiveness.

Musically, First Time sits firmly in the realm of hard rock, though not exactly in the '70s Oz tradition. And though the song has a definite metallic edge (especially in the lead guitar tone), neither is it attuned to the riffs, speed, and anthemic aspirations of the emergent NWOBHM. It's more Sleaz Band than Soundhouse Tapes - think Midnight Man with a bulldozer approach to dynamics and guitars set to "peel paint".

So that's all very well and good, but just who were these mystery men, anyway? Good question. As it turns out, Toxic occupies a place in Australian punk rock history for being, under their former moniker Hot Spurs, the other band on the bill at the infamous Paddo Town Hall gig. If you were lucky enough to catch the Saints and Radio Birdman that night in April 1977, chances are you first had to endure a rendition of First Time at maximum volume. Though the reaction of the hippies, Hell's Angels, and other assorted freaks in attendance remains undocumented, Hot Spurs must have impressed someone as they managed to score a gig at the Oxford Funhouse the following month. And as stylistically disparate as the lineup appears on paper, it's unlikely that our heroes would have felt too out of place among the other longhairs on the bill - we're picturing a band of four Kym Bradshaw lookalikes. Footage of their set would surely confirm. Does it exist somewhere in the ABC's archives?

And finally, what of the rest of the XTO? discography? Unfortunately, those expecting more of the same are likely to be disappointed. The other singles are: Metropolis (XTO? creative directors Val Udowenko and Tony Wong performing lite pop and '40s swing); our man Kim Humphreys (two instrumentals, including an Atlantics cover, which were precursors to his Brave New Wave LP); and Ian Betteridge and the Ramblin' Country Band (work that one out for yourself).

First Time

Benders - You Make Me Pewk, Incognito MA-12228-A/B, 1979

Malvern Country Club (1975) became Brown Eye (1975) became Lois Lane ('76-79) became the Benders. Pub rock with this one punque rocker. I would've stuck with Brown Eye.

The one intriguing thing about this song (from the Picnic At Oakleigh Rotunda LP) is the nominal similarity to Johnny Demon and the Devils' You Make Me Spew and slight musical similarity to Shut Your Mouth - any member sharing or other cross pollination?

You Make Me Pewk


We're the first to acknowledge that some of the actual music featured in September dropped our mean quality index down a tad so we vowed to make October special. However, late breaking news/contacts on the two records we're working on right now means you're gonna have to wait a week or two. How annoying! Mission accomplished then. And to our favourite annoyed Anonymous commenter, consider this song a thinly veiled message to you, with the veil removed.

Sunday Painters - I'm A Car Crash 7" Terminal 003, 1981

Over three 7"s Sunday Painters hit all the touchpoints of international DIY, 1980 style. Each is quite different: the first is rambling non-songs - sometimes engaging, sometimes not, as goes with that territory. The second leads with a fucked up version of Rebel Rebel, followed by Part Two, a polemic lecture on rock music, and a 10 minute rehearsal room dirge. It's all interesting and deserving of your attention, but we feel they hit their peak on this, their third 7".

I'm A Car Crash is a fierce art punker - driven by drum machine and dirty guitar, underpinned with interesting savant clarinet, and finally here the band sound like they get up off the couch and deliver an involved, attacking (dual) vocal. We particularly like the "uuuuhhhhaahhhhuh" bit at 1:16.

Of course we're wrong too. The other tracks on this one are comparatively weak - take Let's Be Moderne: a twee, shooting-fish-in-a-barrel attack on easy targets like Mi-Sex and Stuart Coupe (at the time journalist for national music mags); at least on Part Two they turned the spotlight on themselves and the dichotomy between their own disdain for rock music and the fact that in the end they too are a rock band. Whatever, I'm A Car Crash is one for the ages.

Still, we're right as well. A lot of the first LP, recorded over late 1981 and early 1982, successfully continues the approach of this song: Paths Of Glory, Flesh, and holy shit, check out the frantic 1:01 of Emotion Sickness. Ditto the Surface Paradise side of the Fourth Annual Report LP (recorded 1983, released 1985).

Sorry to tease with these descriptions but there's a full retrospective forthcoming and we aren't gonna step on their toes. So here's a taster to whet your appetite:

I'm A Car Crash


I'm A Car Crash came in an edition of 250. There are three different sleeves but in a handy sop to collector scum teeth gnashing, all three versions come with each copy, phew. Here are the others:

Check the full discography at their website. There are also three live cassettes advertised on the first LP booklet, along with one by sister band the Art Throbs, and a "Wollongong incest" tape of interrelated side projects.

TERMINAL RECORDS...
... and they blame home taping!

Update: June 2015

From Michael Train, driving force behind the excellent Sunday Painters reissues on What's Your Rupture? records:

Last week we lost one of the great diy musicians - Dennis Kennedy, bassist for The Sunday Painters, the early-'80s band from Wollongong. Dennis had been working as an IT consultant in Singapore. Although he had been struggling with diabetes, his death was unexpected.

Dennis was a brilliant, footloose, charismatic, garrulous fellow whose passions were worn proudly, so he had stories galore, whether from his punk and activist days in Wollongong, or from his wanderings across the US and Canada. He’d hung out with rock royalty (his brother was a Moody Blues roadie), met Celine Dion, and chatted up Lady Gaga. He was charming.

His music remains powerful. He played fiercely and beautifully; he could deliver the rock-solid repetition crucial to post punk (see the live version of “In My Dreams” on YouTube), go slack on the loungey “Be Objective,” or put the band into overdrive on “Emotion Sickness,” maybe the quickest bit of industrial ferocity to come out of punk. He helped write “Flesh” and “Love Factory,” two of the finest art-punk songs ever. And he is missed.

It Never Ends: Marching Girls - True Love 7"s

We thought we'd throw you in the shallow end of Australian It Never Ends fanaticism with a trio of records the armchair collector can round up pretty easily. Auckland band the Scavengers first recorded True Love in 1978 and it appeared on the truly great AK79 compilation LP. In 1979 the band moved to Melbourne and changed their name to the Marching Girls. Their first single was a March 1980 re-recording of True Love backed with First In Line. This version is more toned down than the Scavengers, but it remains a superlative piece of pop-punk. Bruce Milne's AuGoGo records from Melbourne got the ball rolling putting the record out as their eighth release (ANDA-8, July 1980):

Next up was a New Zealand pressing - 400 copies on Simon Grigg's Auckland label Propeller (REV 4, August 1980):

Finally Bob Last's Edinburgh label Pop Aural got in on the action in June 1981 (POP 011) with a yellow wash over the background. This is the version that is slightly more elusive than the others, at least in Australia:

Like I said, you can complete this set fairly easily. Completism only gets harder from here on in.

Scavengers - True Love


Marching Girls - True Love


Marching Girls - First In Line

Marching Girls play Melbourne with a selection of local New Wave and pub rock bands, including our friends the Inserts

Works - (You're Just A) Button On A Shirt 7" Piranha Brothers PRS-2649, 1979

The Piranha Brothers, London extortionists with a fear of giant hedgehogs and a proclivity for nailing their enemies' heads to the floor, will be known to anyone familiar with Monty Python's Flying Circus. For some, the sketch has been killed by the tendency of Python dorks to quote it verbatim; for me, it's this malodorous Sydney label that has engendered eternal reluctance to revisit the adventures of Doug and Dinsdale. The label's general tenor should be fairly self-evident - nudge-nudge wink-wink dinosaur cabaret-boogie and flaccid comedy turd-rock. However, buried among the dross are a couple of noteworthy releases, namely a single (through RCA) by Sydney mods The Clones, and this underappreciated powerpopper by The Works.

Unlike The Clones, The Works evidently had a foot in both camps - that is, ties to the old guard (Captain Matchbox Whoopee Band) as well as the new (Numbers, Brave New Works). However, if there's any trace of Oz Rock in (You're Just A) Button On A Shirt, it's below the threshold of detection for these ears. Catchy, uncomplicated and with a neat guitar hook, the song drives along at a tempo and with sufficiently rough edges to leave you with some dirt under your fingernails. Good stuff.

A label retrospective CD has been cobbled together by Canetoad, where The Works and The Clones sit incongruously among the aforementioned turd bands, bullshit neo-rockabilly, and worse. Click here if you have a strong stomach.

(You're Just A) Button On A Shirt

Mighty Little - Burning Sands Of Bondi 7" Phoenix PRS-2626, 1979

That pic sleeve – wow. These guys heard Computer Games, foresaw the future of music, and didn’t like it one bit. Perhaps the matrix grid don't care, but Mighty Little certainly did - enough to respond with amps stretching over the horizon, helmed by a proto-King Diamond/evil monkey hybrid, staring down a bank of data tapes in a fight to the death (thus anticipating Japanese hardcore in the process). Bravo fellas, bravo.

For a record that states its intentions so boldly, the mix is a little on the tame side. The "full-frontal bass" (delivered by the remarkably vertical "Horizontal Smith") is just that, but the rhythm guitar really could’ve been brought to the fore. For the most part it’s all in the pocket, almost to the point of understatement - it’s not until the final bars that things start to get savage (unless of course you factor in the couplet that begins the first verse, which goes straight to the pantheon of sexist opening salvos). But in the end, the production shortcomings are overshadowed by the sheer meanness of the song. A tough guitar riff pinned down by a one note bassline is a defining element of '70s Oz hard rock, and this example holds its own against the best of them.

Equally, there's an Oz punk 'n' roll tradition of guitarists appropriating pop culture/TV themes as guitar solos (see Radio Birdman, Celibate Rifles). Here, axe-wanker Barrington riffs on Lawrence of Arabia, thereby lending the song its title. What this has to do with the musical culture wars depicted on the sleeve is anyone's guess.

There are at least three other singles on the Phoenix label, each worth hearing for the adventurous of spirit and/or low of standards. Variously, they are: shambolic, Raincoats-like all gal pop with shaky English and even shakier musicianship; oddball hard rock with mild overtones of Chrome circa Blood On The Moon (actually a reissue of The Flush 7” sans sleeve); and punky powerpop in the style of early Scientists. The likelihood that any of those reference points were intentional? Minimal.

Burning Sands Of Bondi

Is our man Barrington he of the post-Kuepper Saints?

Update 18 June 2011
Thanks for the comment Steve. Here's the Youtube video Steve mentions which has a more balls-out version of Burning Sands Of Bondi (with guitar up front, where it belongs), over some great rehearsal room photos. Not quite the Dunedin Sound.

Replicas - I Wanna Know The Truth 7" no label REP001, 1979

"A minor record to be sure".

Many years ago, when dinosaurs still roamed the earth, The Professor took time out from hunting woolly mammoths and working on his prototype of the wheel to carve these words on the cave wall that is the Australian punk discography. (These scratchings have, of course, been of great interest to subsequent generations of musical archaeologists. Perhaps someday he'll update the bloody thing. But I digress...). Despite the ongoing re-evaluation of records at the margins that has taken place since, the sentiment conveyed by those six words rings true today as much as it did way back when. The Replicas' sole 45 is a minor record. Still, it's a good one, at least if you're willing to recalibrate your expectations to the "minor record" sliding scale. Cool forceful drumming, no guitar, but bass way up front. Some keyboard noodling too, which somehow doesn't manage to ruin the whole shebang.

The Prof ended his assessment by saying that I Wanna Know The Truth "could use some guitar though". Now here I must beg to differ, for the evidence suggests that adding guitar was, in fact, a terrible idea. Try spinning The Replicas' only other vinyl appearance, a track on the Sydney local radio Homegrown Album sampler (1982), and see how long you can resist the urge to yank the record off the turntable and throw it out the window.

I Wanna Know The Truth

Some copies come with a screenprinted diecut sleeve.