Josh Pyke: Leeward

by Poppy Reid

“It’s disappointing, I try to make myself not care about chart positions and stuff like that, but I think, you know - I was really keen to try and have all top five albums.”

Earlier this month Josh Pyke’s streak of Top 4 ARIA Chart positions was tainted by Australian retailer giant JB Hi-Fi. An admin error left his fourth LP The Beginning and the End of Everything in a warehouse for almost three days after its intended release. Later he told TMN the screw-up was “like your worst nightmare” - but one could never accuse Pyke of being precious. The Sydney artist wore a brave face during his promo rounds that day as a barrage of messages from confused fans choked his social media feeds and press baited him with pointed questions about his accolades.

For Pyke, it was a conscious fight to push his successes to the wayside while writing his latest opus - even from the humble surroundings of his garage-come-studio in Newtown.

“The minute you start focusing on that stuff in the writing process, I think you’re up against a losing battle […] If I start thinking ‘well I’ve got to write in a particular way so that it will be successful and debut in the top five,’ or whatever, I’d second guess myself and I think I’d screw it up.”

Unsurprisingly, Pyke is much more than the sum of his parts. Three records on the pointy end of the ARIA Chart, numerous award wins, Triple J Hottest 100 nods and sell-out shows were never on his list of goals when he took cues from Chris Cornell at inner-west school, Fort Street High and started writing in drop D.

“I just wanted to make records and maybe be able to quit my job at the record store [Fish Records in Balmain]. I want to stay true to my creative integrity,” says the 35-year-old. “Otherwise I feel like an artist should just get any old job that doesn’t require as much passion and life-force – for lack of a better word – that making music does.”

In the thirteen years that Pyke has been releasing records, his creative and moral stance have subscribed to the same calm, friendly disposition found in 2007 debut Memories & Dust. The release, like the five EPs before it were unassuming and candidly generous. Pyke is constantly dumbfounded by his own merits; when Middle Of The Hill - the first single from his Feeding The Wolves EP - was voted #19 on the Triple J Hottest 100 in 2005, Pyke resolved not to interpret success. “[Middle Of The Hill] was a pretty unlikely single, and yet that’s the one that broke me.

“The reality with success is you never know what’s going to be successful anyway, so you may as well make art that you actually love and can stand by for thirty years and that you wrote with integrity.”

The fact Pyke holds artistic credibility so high on his inner list of ethics will come as no surprise to anyone who’s ever crossed his path. A self-described “homebody who has to travel a lot”, Pyke’s vivid intent on growing Australian artists has prompted a slew of nation-wide charity events and projects. The most recent saw his Josh Pyke Partnership initiative team with APRA to mentor and financially kick start the career of unsigned musician GOVS. Ostensibly, part of his philanthropy stems from a seasoned career learning to graciously dodge industry pitfalls.

“You’ve just got to play your own game you know, you have to figure out your set of morals and whatever you consider to be your core of integrity - and you’ve just got to stick to your guns. Because over the course of your career and in interviews, things get brought up and decisions have to be made and if you’re making decisions with humility and integrity then you can’t go wrong.

“It might mean that you’ll be less successful than you could have been if you’d decided to write a song with a pop songwriter, and tried to get a top ten single or whatever, which is fine for some people, but it’s not my vibe.”

Pyke says The Beginning and the End of Everything was written “after an intense process of self analysis.” First-time fatherhood percolates each of the eleven tracks, anchoring the harmonies and intertextualising the stories with wide-eyed stir and fear. The record debuted at #7, quashing his top five run, but the idea of Pyke dwelling on anything for too long doesn’t fit his centered convictions, especially when he has a more important creation to rejoice.

“Realising that what I do for a living affects another human being - that I’ve just created - but not only that, realising that this is how I’m actually going to provide for my family. The fact that I was making a living and paying rent and going on holidays, now it’s an actual thing where I have to provide for a family. All those things fed into the creative process and how I was perceiving the creative process. Those things are much more personal intense experiences than I’ve ever had in my life before.”

Pierce The Veil: Accidental heroes

by Poppy Reid

Vic Fuentes is an accidental scene hero with a well-documented past: he’s soundtracked the beat of broken hearts and practically written his own autobiography over three albums. Along with his band Pierce The Veil, he’s also an advocate for bullying awareness and an ambassador for the Keep A Breast foundation. TMN sat down with the beleaguered frontman and bassist/vocalist Jaime (pronounce hai-me) Preciado at Sydney’s Sebel Hotel to talk about their ascent within post-hardcore and the genre-rewrite that’s leading the charge.

“Have you ever got a text from somebody, somebody that you care about and it’s like, ‘Last night was insane, I blacked out, I got kicked out of our hotel, I lost my shoes - it was crazy’."

Fuentes is talking us through I’m Low on Gas and You Need a Jacket, the fast-paced song from latest album Collide With The Sky (2012) that uses as many Spanish chord progressions as it does personal experience.

“It’s someone you care about so you’re like, ‘Ah, that’s not cool, that makes me really scared for you’… I can’t be with a person that’s like that.”

Unsurprisingly, it’s these accessible tales mixed in with his paternal Mexican influence and intricate breakdowns that have fans obsessing. In the city for three days during Soundwave Festival, Pierce The Veil can’t leave the hotel without bombardment. As this interview takes place, a flock of five teenage girls stalk the outside steps of The Sebel, and three rainbow-haired, panda-eyed minors have quietly made themselves at home near the refreshments, because obviously being in the band’s periphery trounces education.

“It’s strange when they’re at the airport,” says Preciado, unconcerned with the three girls. “Because in San Diego there’s security, but here you can just go in.”

“I don’t know what you look like when you get off an airplane,” smiles Fuentes before stretching his hair out sideways, “I look like an insane person. They’re like ‘is it him? He looks like 80-years-old!’”

Having formed in San Diego in 2006, Pierce The Veil, like most U.S. bands, spent their green years performing the myriad club venues across America. Sleeping in hired vans and on floors, all for a ride on the coattails of their comrades on a slightly bigger label deal. However, the slot with Soundwave opened doors to South East Asia where the band toured just before making their way to Australia last month.

“It was definitely crazy to think we’d never even been to some of those countries,” says Preciado. “To have a whole heap of kids show up out of nowhere. We were like, ‘Who are they waiting for? Oh wait, we’re the last band.'"

“It was almost like a rite of passage,” adds Fuentes, “covering another step in our musical career.”

Despite the fact the conversation is suffused with wide-eyed modesty, Pierce The Veil harbour an irrepressible belief in themselves; a ballsy gumption sprints through each intoxicating riff. America has cottoned on to the hype, having siphoned the crowd-drawers to headline the annual (and highly bucket-listed) Vans Warped Tour this year.

“When you’re a kid,” smiles Fuentes, “the headlining mainstage guys, that’s what you looked up to. Those are the guys we thought were the biggest bands in the world, and now that we’re in that position, it’s, ah…”

“It kind of clicks,” finishes Preciado. “All the work we’ve done over the last however many years, it’s great.”

The four members of Pierce The Veil have an enviable support system in their families. For parents raised in an era where heavy music fell in line with the names Rush, Deep Purple and Led Zeppelin, the brutality of post-hardcore can be confronting. For the first two years, Preciado’s parents dismissed his position in the band as something he would outgrow.

“They were like, ‘Get a real job, let’s get your life going’,” he recalls. “Then she saw us in a magazine she picked up at the store and she was like, ‘That’s my son!’

“Sometimes when we play our hometown shows she’ll get me off the bus and say, ‘Go sign for those kids,” Preciado claps his hands in imitation. “Let’s go!’”

Sideline parents aren’t the only difference for a band who are oft pigeon-holed into the post-hardcore genre; one minute Fuentes will be acknowledging other acts on the bill using profane embellishment before each tip of the hat, the next, he’ll be watching footage from the same show on YouTube at his father’s request.

The band have always taken the road less traveled, lyrics so descriptive they read like diary entries, but Pierce The Veil aren’t a band who are open to interpretation. While Fuentes sees no choice but to open his heart and bleed into each recording, that’s where it stops for some of his more personal omissions - One Hundred Sleepless Nights is one track he has never sung live.

“That’s probably the most personal song I’ve ever written,” he says quietly, eyes to the floor. “I can barely listen to it on CD because of the way things are between me and her.”

With a little push, Fuentes elaborates: “She had a baby with another guy and that solidified the fact that we probably won’t be together. She’s trying to make it work with that guy and it’s just a really confusing and hard situation.

“She thought it was the best song on the album,” he laughs. “There were mixed feelings, there was a little bit of anger, and I understand.”

Following this interview, Pierce The Veil will perform to a sold out Hi-Fi in support of U.K. metalcore band Bring Me The Horizon. Fuentes will invite our own Jenna McDougall of Tonight Alive onstage to guest on new track Hold On Til May (the Sydney band toured the U.S. with PTV), but Fuentes won’t let the ties stop there. As he tells TMN, he wants 21-year-old McDougall to guest on the band’s next record. “She’s such a great person, she’s so nice. We just got along well so I’m going to try and write something.”

People horde together by their passions and while straegised collaborations are now the norm to keep chart toppers on top, Pierce The Veil are one band who let their art manifest organically.

“I don’t sing on records for people that I don’t know,” says Fuentes. “I’ve been asked to sing on a lot of random records and I don’t want to do them.

“We try to keep it bands that we really respect both as people and as musicians. So whenever you hear something that we’ve done with somebody else it’s not just on a whim, it’s always very well thought out and meaningful.”

It's hard to imagine today just how important this band is; but whether they go on to make multi-Platinum records or sell out arenas isn't how we should measure it.

Album Review: Bring Me The Horizon, Sempiternal

by Poppy Reid

Bring Me The Horizon are a reliable bunch, never straying too far from their well-defined aesthetic. Since bursting into emergence with 2006’s Count Your Blessings, the British quintet have shifted between invective deathcore and the kind of melodic hardcore best exemplified on career highlight - 2010’s verbosely titled ARIA #1 - There Is A Hell, Believe Me I've Seen It. There Is A Heaven, Let's Keep It A Secret. Now onto album number four, Sempiternal sees frontman Oli Sykes and his thick Sheffield grit harnessing past influences while recklessly taking on new ones. If you thought There Is A Hell… was risk-splattered and genre-crossing, then nothing will prepare you for this.

Sempiternal is BMTH’s first on a major label, but RCA Records (flagship of Sony Music) have been gracious in their takeover from Visible Noise; the back-step in creative control has been left to a faint whisper on tracks like video game salute Shadow Moses and the nihilistic Anti-vist. Elsewhere, second single Sleepwalking sounds like major label placation, it’s brilliant but also their most accessible. The sounds and piano-driven rhythms are beguiling enough to be satisfying in their own right, the addition of vocals and precursory monologues (Hospital For Souls) only build on what is already a cascading soundtrack to your favourite art house film.

The record may have been produced by Terry Date (Deftones, Limp Bizkit, Pantera), but the renewed sound is stamped with the fingerprints of keyboardist and ambience mastermind Jordan Fish (formerly of the band Worship). BMTH gave a cutting farewell to Australian member Jona Weinhofen last year before re-recording his guitar parts and announcing Fish as a permanent member. His addition, and the different approach to recording – predecessors were helmed in isolated locations while Sempiternal was predominantly written on Syke’s laptop and recorded at Angelic Studio in Oxfordshire – stepped the band further into electro territory. BMTH deserve plaudits for taking as many risks as they have.

Lyrically, it’s Sykes most apologetic yet, Sempiternal brims with the stabbing pang of regret and self-reflection, understanding, and a promise to make good, all set to some of his most persuasive aural collages.

The fact this record leaked online forcing the band to stream it and bring forward the release date is not only a testament to their worth, but proof this band could very well stand at the pointy end of the charts once more. The metalcore underground’s loss is mainstream’s gain.

Sempiternal is out March 29 through Sony Music Entertainment

Live Review: Rodriguez, Sydney

by Poppy Reid

Tuesday, March 19Enmore Theatre, Sydney

Almost seven months ago, a documentary was released which told the incredible story of Sixto Diaz Rodriguez, an iconic ‘70s American enigma. And even now that he is found, even before a sold-out crowd at Sydney’s Enmore Theatre last night, Rodriguez remains a mystery.

There was a sense of ownership of the now 70-year-old musician from those new to the gate. Perhaps many weren’t aware that these Bluesfest sideshows (two more of which will see him return to The Enmore) weren’t just on the back of Searching For Sugar Man – Rodriguez sold out his last Australian jaunt with the festival in 2010. Regardless, his unlikely story created a mass support system in the crowd, the new knowledge affixing eyes as if to remember the entire set to call upon and replay later.

Supported and backed by The Break: the three founding members of Midnight Oil, Rob Hirst, Martin Rotsey and Jim Moginie as well as Brian Ritchie, of Violent Femmes, and Jack Howard from Hunters and Collectors, Rodriguez was in good hands – for the most part.

Helped onstage by two people, Rodriguez was jittery as he put on his black hat and sunglasses. Despite his smooth, articulate tone, off-the-bat charm and the fact he ran over the chords before each track, it wasn’t until four songs in, when he covered Cole Porter’s Just One Of Those Things that he seemed to loosen up; he played his guitar like a piano, softly caressing the strings.

Removing his jacket and showing off the fruits of his hard labour years, Rodriguez covered Lou Rawls’ Dead End Street before crowd sing-along, Sugar Man. Performing most tracks slower than on record did keep The Break on their toes, but it made for a fascinating and unpredictable set. Timing is irrelevant when you have before you a man who can lift you above your pedestrian routine with his performance poetry and peerless charm.

The expected scent of marijuana hovered above and Rodriguez said, “Sugar Man is a descriptive song, not a prescriptive song. Get your hugs, stay off drugs. Stay smart, don’t start.” He then went on to tell us two of the three U.S. states that have legalised marijuana. “Or have I said too much?”

Between tracks like I Wonder, Like Janis and …The Establishment Blues, Sydney felt it embarrassingly necessary to offer their two cents. Through marriage proposals (from either gender), declarations of love and a few offers to ’party’ with him, Rodriguez was ever the gentleman. “Thanks mate… I know it’s the drinks, but I love you back.”

Closing with Forget It, the track he was rumoured to have killed himself onstage after singing, the very much alive and very much relevant troubadour removed his hat to bow with his band. Returning for two covers, Bob Dylan’s Like A Rolling Stone and his homage to Hirst, Rotsey and Moginie: Midnight Oil’s Redneck Wonderland, Rodriguez was clearly in his element. Here was a man who had been jibbed by his record company and lived a modest life of hard labour in Michigan before he was dragged into the spotlight in his late 50s by two zealous South African fans. Now touring the world with his intelligent, warm voice and fascinating tale, it’s unfathomable to imagine Rodriguez - with the insight gained from his philosophy degree and his political conviction - anywhere else but under the hot stage lights.

Live Review: Azealia Banks, Sydney

                                                                         Photo Credit: Jacquie Manning

by Poppy Reid

Wednesday March 6
Enmore Theatre, Sydney, NSW

When a 20-year-old Azealia Banks released 212, the foul-mouthed Harlem rapper preempted her multiple Twitter beefs and ensuing diss-tracks with young female rappers vying for the crown. And when an artist like Miss Bank$ (self-awarded moniker, not ours) holds hip hop over a barrel of glow sticks and fuzzy leg warmers, it’s bound turn up noses. But judging by the sold-out crowd of twerkers at Sydney’s Enmore Theatre last night, her genre-mixing and extolling of profanity is something the more ‘safe’ female rappers have been missing.

Taking the stage half an hour late in a flashing light-up bra and cut-off denim shorts - opened low enough to form a downward ‘V’ pointed at the namesake which first shocked our mothers – Banks and her touring DJ Cosmo Baker opened with the Fantasea Mixtape’s lead track Out of Space.

Unlike her last Australian performance with Splendour In The Grass, where she performed a lackluster 25-minute set, the crowd weren’t contemplating their navel during any track other than 212. This predominantly white, predominantly left-footed and out-of-time crowd, were familiar with her scattered discography.

:: VIEW OUR LIVE GALLERY FROM THE NIGHT

In tracks like her teenage opus Jumanji and Van Vogue from her EP 1991, Banks may not have been as enticing as her music videos convey – her diminutive figure opted for foot-stamps over whine gyrations - but her two backup dancers, Elayna aka E-Money and Matthew Pasterisa, were distracting enough.

What was lovely, and genuine, and contradictory to the character who spits rhymes like “open your face and let a bitch squat” and "I supply what your girlfriend can't provide that tight grip twat I got that slip and slide," was Banks’ constant resolve to pick up every gift that was thrown onstage to take home.

Closing with her breakout 212, Banks tipped her hat to fellow Future Music artist Prodigy with her own mix of Firestarter. Up against young women like Angel Haze, Iggy Azalea, Kreayshawn and yes, even Nicki Minaj, Banks holds her own, but not because of her live performance, she'll conquer that in time, it’s her undeniable ability to make her dirty thoughts delightful. Perhaps it’s her size, or the wide smile she offers when rapping the word ‘cunt’ for the 60^th time; the reason is irrelevant when even the most feminist prude is beguiled.

Live Review: Bring Me The Horizon, Pierce The Veil, The Chariot

by Poppy Reid

Tuesday February 27

Hi-Fi, Sydney, NSW

 

When Soundwave Touring chose to put The Chariot, Pierce The Veil and Bring Me The Horizon in one room, they would be arrogant not to anticipate anarchy.

But while promoter AJ Maddah has been accused of such over numerous times in recent memory, he had anticipated, and prepared for the damage that was to come.

For anyone unfamiliar with Georgian hardcore band The Chariot, frontman Josh Scogin left Norma Jean shortly after their first and seminal album Bless the Martyr and Kiss the Child, and while he’s still heavily Christian, the band’s live show sidles as close to danger as much as atheism sidles next to science.

As the band began throwing their drumkit into the crowd, preparing for their trademark drum solo finish from the pit, promoters swiftly closed the curtains, turned on the house lights and hit the play button on the background music. Sad? Yes. Understandable? Yes.

“We’re a bunch of Mexicans from San Diego, California,” introduced pint-sized Pierce The Veil frontman Vic Fuentes. “You guys like Mexican food right?”

Performing a healthy mix of their last three offerings, the four-piece looked as stunned by the turnout and verbatim recital of lyrics as we were by the immaculate delivery.

Tracks like Bulletproof Love and Hold On Till May, which he dedicated to his older brother Frank – “I just found out a week or so ago that he beat cancer” – were sung in duet with the crowd. While Kellin Quinn (Sleeping With Sirens) and Jeremy McKinnon (A Day To Remember) didn’t make it onstage for their guest cameos in respective tracks King For A Day and Caraphernelia, Jenna McDougall from our own Tonight Alive leant her vocals to Hold On Till May, before slapping bassist/vocalist Jaime Preciado on the arse.

After the widely publicised departure of Adelaide guitarist Jona Weinhofen and the hiring of keyboardist/programmer Jordan Fish, a lot was riding on Bring Me The Horizon’s Soundwave stint. But for anyone who has tasted new material from upcoming album Sempiternal, there really was never any need to place the Sheffield band’s skill on the shoulders of one member.

Without the use of a backing track, the five-piece seared our clammy faces with double opener Shadow Moses and Chelsea Smile. Frontman Olly Sykes was utterly obscene and in his thick Yorkshire accent – between meaty saliva projections – requested circle pits, a hand job and for us to scream his parts because he was “shagged.”

“Are you ready to punch someone in the fucking ovaries?” he yelled before Alligator Blood.

“I still want that hand job,” he said later.

Pierce The Veil’s Vic Fuentes made one last appearance for Sadness Will Never End and during Fuck, the track audibly about “sexual intercourse,” the bad proved they’d grown a lot – despite tracks names - since their last visit with Soundwave in 2011.

Live Review: Soundwave Festival 2013

                                                                              Photo credit: Ken Leanfore

by Poppy Reid

Sunday February 24
Olympic Park, Sydney, NSW

As the sound of guitars and distortion merged between stages and the hot steam rose of the thousands of heads at Olympic Park yesterday, it was easy to forget the plethora of surrounding blemishes in both the lead-up and the day of Soundwave Sydney 2013.

To all the detractors and naysayers who blame Soundwave Touring for the drummers who pulled out or didn’t make it, for the floods that forced Garbage off the bill and changed set times, or even for the security who let people hiding flares in their bags into the grounds - condemning promoters who put Metallica, Linkin Park, Blink 182 and A Perfect Circle all on the one tour only makes you a part of the problem.

Here’s a few reasons why TMN found the tenth edition of Soundwave the best yet.

Periphery

In 2011, the Washington D.C. band performed in a living room, with kids stretching back so far as… the kitchen. House shows may be common in the U.S. but here’s a band who wouldn’t change their energy with their surroundings. Frontman Spencer Sotelo was the antithesis of cool, his blue-mirrored sunglasses and dopey dancing were equally matched by his fans, some of whom were gathering bark and throwing it into the air.

 

The Wonder Years

For fans of twee, short beards, pop punk, the eponymous, early ‘90s television show and universal acceptance, you can’t go past The Wonder Years. Performing tracks like Summers in PA, Living Room Song and Came Out Swinging, the band had their modest crowd singing and hugging in the rain; a sight apparently so adorable that frontman Dan Campbell needed to grab his iPhone and capture it – for his mum.

Billy Talent

Canada’s most flamboyant punk rock band last toured with the festival in 2010 and now with an extra album up their fans sleeves (2012’s Dead Silence), Billy Talent were as on point as ever. Tracks like Fallen Leaves and Devil On My Shoulder sounded as crisp and trained as they did on their respective records. This was made more astounding by the fact Billy Talent were one of the few bands on the bill to have their gear stuck in flooded trucks, they, along with Sum 41 and Flogging Molly were forced to hire all new gear for the day.

Sleeping With Sirens

Hearing the Florida band wax lyrical about unrequited love and broken hearts, mixed with frontman Kellin Quin’s seraphic vocals should have been enough for fans at Stage 3,; unfortunately the last few tracks were shadowed with crowd members throwing Coke and water bottles onstage. “We want you guys to song along,” said Quin. “In between throwing.” Finally Quinn’s beat boxing in Roger Rabbit (from 2012 EP If You Were a Movie, This Would Be Your Soundtrack) the track he dedicated to “all the pretty Australian girls,” calmed their throwing arms.

Sum 41

Pop punk mainstays Sum 41 knew exactly what a festival set was about: All killer no filler (pun intended). The Canadian band performed well-known tracks like In Too Deep, Fat Lip, Still Waiting and thankfully little from 2011’s Screaming Bloody Murder. Pint-sized frontman Deryck Whibley honed Johnny Rotten with his leather vest and bright red hair, but unlike the Sex Pistol, he invited a few of his zealots out from the heaving mosh onstage. The cover of Queen’s We Will Rock You was more awful than awesome but was a testament to the band’s modus operandi of getting their crowd to make waves.

:: CHECK OUT THE SOUNDWAVE SYDNEY LIVE GALLERY

Slayer

Slayer win the award for Best Shameless Self Promotion. A few bands on the bill sported their own logos but each member of the thrash metal legends donned their merchandise; utterly understandable considering the current 360 deals artists are signed on to.

With the recent firing of drummer Dave Lombardo, the good men over at Anthrax leant their own fill-in Jon Dette to the band. Slayer are renowned as one of the leaders in their genre, a rookie drummer couldn’t have even stunted the performance; thankfully Slayer’s level of tension and demonic demeanor mastered every faster-than-fuck riff with ferocious charm.

Linkin Park

A meticulous setlist, smooth sound and more heart than any other act we caught, Linkin Park were the standout performance of the day. Taking us through their weighty back catalogue with tracks like Somewhere I Belong, Waiting For The End, Breaking The Habit and One Step Closer, the band didn’t treat us like another leg of a festival stint, it was as if we’d all spent our hard-earned money on The Living Things Tour. Chester Bennington halted the set at one point after someone caught his eye in the crowd.

“Somebody's fucked up down here,” he said. The band anxiously waited until the fan gave them a peace sign before moving on.

The band were also the chosen slot to reveal the comeback of the Australian Vans Warped Tour. Revealed on the side screens, the skate-punk institution will grace our shores this December.

Metallica

As a headliner, there are a few responsibilities you must endeavor to adhere to. Your lights must not be outshone, your sound must trump your predecessors, your back screen footage should take your crowd on a journey, and your setlist should be lengthy and all encompassing. If it weren’t for the dingus who endangered the crowd and the band Bring Me The Horizon with his slippery fingers and a flare, Metallica would have knocked this one out of ANZ Stadium.

Opening with The Ecstasy of Gold and Hit The Lights, complete with backing film from The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, Metallica wasted no time cementing their place as the Kings Of Metal.

“Do you feel good?” yelled James Hetfield. “I feel fucking great let’s see if we can make it better!”

For a two-hour set, the furious four knew how to make time fly. The ‘Metallica family’ united and refrained from whining when they played one new track. “See that wasn't so bad,” laughed Hetfield after Broken, Beat & Scarred. The band performed a rousing instrumental tribute to late bass player Cliff Burton and honoured current bassist Robert Trujillo who marked his tenth anniversary with the band this year.

Metallica kept their audience in pieces and their legend in tact. To end a Soundwave Festival with such a behemoth act discounted the fault-finders and confirmed the live juggernaut’s place as Australia’s biggest live music event.

Live Review: Blink-182, Sydney

by Poppy Reid

Wednesday February 20
Allphones Arena, Sydney, NSW

The rise, breakdown and inevitable reprise of Blink-182 has been a steady one. Their first few albums were a 'must own' for anyone who even feigned an interest in NOFX or the pop punk genre, and their comeback album Neighbourhoods was skillfully deconstructed by music journalisms' elite in 2011. 

Now, in their 21^st year together (if you don't count the five-year breather) the band are still a formidable juggernaut and back in Australia for the first time since 2004. Last night's sold out show at Sydney’s Allphones Arena will be followed by another sold-out concert in Brisbane before the nationally exhausted Soundwave Festival kicks off this Saturday.

When they took the stage with fill-in drummer Brooks Wackerman, the disappointment in Travis barker's absence was obvious. But noone was insensitive enough to mention the missing tripod leg, he had a pretty rad reason for not getting on the plane three days ago. Any bitter despondency was spat out as soon as Wackerman sat down, his fervent skills honed with bands like Bad Religion, Suicidal Tendencies and Infectious Grooves meant Blink percussion already swam through his veins.

The 26-track set borrowed predominantly from the trio’s last two records, however tracks from Dude Ranch and Enema Of The State were met with the most avid response. Fans were tested with the 35-second song Family Reunion from their 2000 live album and Dogs Eating Dogs, Boxing Day and Disaster from last year’s EP Dog’s Eating Dogs - the last of which was preceded with Mark Hoppus claiming Tom DeLonge’s mother was “a whore, a dirty fucking whore.”

Those who caught DeLonge last year with Angels and Airwaves were relieved to see he hadn’t lost his toilet humour.

Here’s some highlights of Tom’s between-track banter:

“I think my underpants are going into my scrotum.

“What's a devil damn? Is that like a clitoris condom?”

“I've gone from dick jokes to fart jokes, you guys gotta grow up. You laugh at all that dumb shit.”

“That smelt like meatballs.” Said after he picked up a gifted bra from the stage.

What was abundantly apparent though, was the band’s underlying professionalism; beneath all the fuck, shit and dick slurs was a genuine desire to offer a pop punk show that stirred nostalgia and reckless abandon.

Closing with a two-part encore, Hoppus, DeLonge and Wackerman gathered at the front of the stage for acoustic versions of Reckless Abandon, All Of This and Boxing Day. If they had ended on that note, there may have been a riot; thankfully they switched back to the comfort of electric for Carousel, Dammit and Family Reunion. The white confetti fell, DeLonge and Wackerman left the stage but in true Blink style, Hoppus had the last laugh.

“Are you ready for the big finish?” he yelled. Down on bended knee he built the tension before a single, slightly off-tune strum of his bass.

Live Review: Converge, Sydney

by Poppy Reid

Saturday February 16
Manning Bar, Sydney, NSW

Returning to the same haunt they annihilated in 2010, Massachusetts band Converge reiterated their strong position on Saturday night as one of the most progressive bands in the hardcore genre.

Satiating fans at the Manning Bar with a predominantly ‘favourites’ filled set – No heroes, All We Love We Leave Behind, Dark Horse and Axe To Fall - singer Jacob Bannon let his gravelly voice take over, his movements and the crowd controlled by an inner vice of his own making.

“It's fucking awesome to be this far from home and see so many people come out to hear the noise that we're making,” he said, spreading his fingers tight and wide.

Having set the gratuitous tone for the evening, Bannon, Viking-sized guitarist/producer Kurt Ballou, bassist Nate Newton (who had just performed a full set minutes earlier with Old Man Doom) and manic stickman Ben Koller seared into a show that was as much about their zealots as it was about cementing their place on the pedestal they’d made home.

“It's like fucking playing to convicts,” laughed Bannon when the crowd endeavoured to dictate the setlist. As the fervent heat of final track The Broken Vow - from fourth record Jane Doe - sunk into the skin of his criminal followers it was clear they’d start a riot if he so wanted one. But that would never cross his mind; the nihilistic qualities of their songs and performances are equally met with as much passion for humanity and the hope for the ones who inspired even their most heart-bleeding lyric.

“What? Why are you so angry?,” he laughed. “Who didn't hug you?”

“This song’s about love. Last Light.”

Straight into the encore, the track was as bloody as it was soulful; Bannon pounded his fist to his head as lyrics like “I need you to be the might of their first kiss,” pounded through ours.

The crowd cheered for minutes after the final note, letting the house lights dry their sweat. Koller walked to the front of the stage to throw his sticks, shake hands and scold security.

“Hey security there's no need to punch kid in the fucking stomach,” he bellowed into Newton’s mic. “Don't do that.”

Converge are well aware of just who they are, and at this point in their career - 23 years in with album #8 forcing fans to bow down even further, noses to the dirt - they're still pushing the envelope, offering a more crisp intention of past distinctions.

Live Review: Of Monsters And Men, Sydney

by Poppy Reid

Tuesday January 30
The Metro Theatre, Sydney, NSW

Of Monsters And Men were always going to chart highly on Triple J’s Hottest 100 list. The Icelandic indie-folk band sold out their promo tour of Australia last July, saw their breakout track Little Talks spend two weeks at #7 on the ARIA chart, and sold out last night’s Metro Theatre gig long before the song shone brightly as Triple J’s #2 on the annual list.

But as the six-piece (and their one touring member) spent an hour-and-a-half transporting the crowd inside the fables of their songs, most were curiously quiet for the tracks that weren’t Little Talks or more recent single Mountain Sound.

It could be put down to the fact Australians are spoilt when it comes to live music; catching an overseas act on a school night has become part of our week and committing full albums to memory, or even buying full albums for that matter, hasn’t been the norm for years.

:: VIEW LIVE SHOTS FROM THE NIGHT HERE

That said, co-singers/guitarists Nanna Bryndís Hilmarsdóttir and Ragnar ‘Raggi’ Þórhallsson have lead a notable transformation over just two years; what started as an acoustic solo act's project to tell stories is now a famed addition to most mainstream playlists and forever sandwiched between Macklemore (#1) and Alt-J (#3).

During tracks like Love Love Love and King and Lionheart - the song which tells of a world where Hilmarsdóttir and her Canada-residing brother can be together - barefoot touring member Ragnhildur Gunnarsdóttir exhibited her chops on trumpet, accordion and keyboard. While the band’s stripped back version of Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ Skeletons could have been taken straight from their debut album; the harmony between Þórhallsson and Hilmarsdóttir is an indelible force. But the most beautiful expression from this collective of gypsies was in final track Six Weeks, OMAM loosened their collars and lost themselves in the percussion and swaying of their zealots in a spirit that seemed suppressed beforehand.

From winning an annual battle of the bands competition in Iceland to selling out venues more than 15,000 kilometres from home, Of Monsters And Men have inadvertently opened hearts to the art of storytelling and proven that sometimes a meteoric rise to global consciousness is best proffered to the faintest, most unassuming voice on the chart.

Album Review: Bad Religion, True North

by Poppy Reid

Bad Religion have lived and recorded through five U.S. administrations, and the now fifty-something-year-olds are still waxing lyrical about political injustices and socialism without an assumed tired reiteration.

 

Albeit, a meaty 16-strong tracklist can be off-putting, but when you’re only just getting warmed up and you’re three songs in on the 35-minute ride, it’s clear the band aren’t resting on their laurels. Interestingly, they’ve taken cues from Tom Waits for album #16; naming the record after Waits' Bad As Me single True North and mapping it on the indelible artist’s plans to write a record of two and three-minute songs. Some tracks are as short as 1:02 (Vanity), the longest track falls just shy of four minutes (Hello Cruel World), and each is a feverish bombast of past grievances (and some new re: the Occupy movement), except there’s a difference: this time they’ve taken a playful stance to their delivery.

In tracks like True North, the band show they’re still gusty but without the grit, the gorgeous harmonies are a welcome surprise from the punk rock magnates. In album highlight Robin Hood In Reverse, vocalist Greg Graffin is less lecturing and more story-telling, and the fast-paced, rap-rock of Land Of Endless Greed marks the record’s swindler – pure enjoyment overrides the message of America’s shame and a disgust in humanity. Bad Religion have fun with this record, the ethical standpoints, pointed warnings and altruistic relevance are all there, but it’s a step-up from a list of objections doused in aggressive percussion; this time it's a play on everything: genres, double entendres and Graffin’s vocal melisma.

While nothing can top Suffer and Stranger Than Fiction, it’s easy to forget Graffin has been offering his two-cents on U.S. government since he was fifteen, and co-founding member/Epitaph Records owner Brett Gurewitz since he was just seventeen. Presidents, policies and opinions have changed but Bad Religion have owned a sense of immediacy for 34 years.

Although political punk has taken the back burner since the everlasting ascent of bubblegum punk - whose leaders top alternative charts and sing about girls and disowning their parents - as long as bands like Bad Religion exist, those in their formative years may toy with the idea of insurrection and vigilantism, which is infinitely more interesting than floppy hair, auto-tune, and the artists who perform the President’s inauguration.

Live review: Mariah Carey

                                                                               Photo credit: Ken Leanfore

03 January 2013

by Poppy Reid

Tuesday, January 1
Gold Coast Convention and Exhibition Centre

For a woman renowned as a domineering diva – a trait which has only served her well along her 22-year career – Mariah Carey showed an undeniable vulnerability at her first Australian concert in fourteen years.

Bringing the glitter, five octave vocal range and a practised calm to the Gold Coast Convention Centre, the five-time Grammy Award winner may not have offered the concert she visualised, due to ongoing technical difficulties, but not once did she attempt to pull a woollen guise over her 4,500 capacity crowd. Instead she kept her ‘lambs’ informed every step of the way, even if that meant expertly turning her frustrations into a song.

Opening her first concert since June last year was husband Nick Cannon, despite his embryonic status in the music industry, the rationale behind her #1 supporter being her support act is obvious. “It’s my job to get the party started,” he yelled from behind the white DJ decks. Cannon’s set involved consistent advocacy of his wife’s upcoming performance, plugging the party that was happening ‘in the house tonight’ and singing over his iTunes playlist, which was more eclectic than a technicolour dreamcoat with songs from Blur, Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston and Gotye.

When Carey stepped out onstage, a sparkling hourglass walked by one of her six, vested male dancers, the sound problems had already begun during opener Can’t Take That Away . Her crowd paid no attention however, to make a Mariah Carey performance astounding, the only ingredient needed is her voice.

“Anything from last year or any year that you didn't like - play that track because I would like to shake it off.” through four outfit changes, hits like Shake It Off, Touch My Body, Always Be My Baby, Don’t Forget About Us and a reeling Jackson Five cover (I'll Be There) with special guest Trey Lorenz (initially recorded in 1992 for a MTV Unplugged set), Carey was transparent in her annoyance with her crew and her band.

“I know there's like 200 of you, can one of you fix the ear thing?” she laughed before settling us with an impromptu rhyme about the Gold Coast. “And you're not starting the song without me being ready. What are we thinking?!”

Long-time fans of the 42-year-old almost praised Carey for being the diva she has long been publicised as, but for an artist who has sold over 200 million records on the back of thirteen albums, a little upset is apposite. The true surprise for her zealots though, was how humbling her helplessness was; the Gold Coast witnessed a rarity in the stunning career of a pop superstar. “I would say thanks for nothing if the band didn’t hear it though,” Carey only half-joked.

Closing with Hero and We Belong Together before a festive mash of All I Want For Christmas Is You and Auld Lang Syne, Carey had come out on top, her fans swayed their homemade signs, danced between the confetti and lost themselves in her songs that shaped an MTV generation.

Brian McFadden: When Irish eyes are smiling

14 March 2013

by Poppy Reid

It’s almost 1am and minus four degrees in Glasgow, and Brian McFadden is standing outside a pub, glass of wine in hand, relaying his next career move to become the antithesis of everything he’s ever been.

“I did it with Just Say So and a couple of songs over the past few years, they’ve not been my best work but they’d been tailored to fit a radio programmer’s brief. I’m not doing that anymore. I wanna make songs that I’m proud of, that don’t fit into any kind of template.”

After an almost two-decade career which saw him recover from a boy band stint (sans publicised drug abuse), come out on top of a plethora of tabloid-making relationships, moonlight as a shock jock and talent show judge in Melbourne, and record three solo albums, McFadden wants to quietly ease away from the limelight.

“This is kind of hard for me to say but I started making my most successful music in Australia on radio, but by far my least quality work,” says the 33-year-old, “they’re the weakest and poorest songs.”

Although he’s just finished his support tour with ex-Westlife manager and regular collaborator Ronan Keating, McFadden realistically could be touring his own album at this point; it’s been a work in progress for over a year now but riding on his Irish ally’s coattails was a conscious step outside his commercially-influenced mentality. This month, McFadden will release his digression: The Irish Connection, a covers compilation featuring many of the artists he pays homage to.

“This project was so quick, it’s not like an album where you end up releasing three singles and it can last up to a year, this kind of project you don’t even put out a single,” he explains. “It was good for me to steer away from writing, kind of concentrate of the production and the performing of songs.”

The Irish Connection is McFadden’s revolt, despite the fact it features tracks by Snow Patrol, The Cranberries and Damien Rice, and duets with Sinead O’Connor, Aslan’s Christy Dignam and of course, Keating, the album is an anti-hit, it hasn’t got a chance at commercial airplay, but that was precisely the point.

“The last few years I’d be writing songs and the first question I’d ask is ‘would radio play it?’ and that’s a stupid way to look at things. So I think doing this covers album where the #1 rule was that it was never going to be about radio, it was just about making a record. I don’t have to worry if radio stations are going to play it or not.”

Finding collaborators was somewhat of a cakewalk for McFadden, the track with Keating (U2’s All I Want Is You) was arranged via text (“I sang on your last album, you’re singing on mine”), and his duet with O’Conner on traditional folk song Black Is The Colour, was arranged via email. “I just sent her the song, I didn’t really have to try, I just sent the song to the people that are on it,” he says lightly, “and they all came back straight away.”

Following each of the ten tracks’ recording, it didn’t even cross McFadden’s mind to approach the original artists for their input; not even O’Connor has heard his version of Nothing Compares 2 U.

“I wouldn’t give a shite,” he laughs. “I’m not into that, kind of, when people get too critical about their art. I think a song’s a song, I did my own version and I wasn’t trying to justify it to anybody else.

“She hasn’t heard it yet. She came into the studio and she goes, ‘Did you do Nothing Compares 2 U?’ and I go, ‘Yeah but I haven’t got it here.’ I wouldn’t play it to her. She can buy the album like everyone else!

His duet with O’Connor is arguably his most important yet, as McFadden tells it, the courageous Dubliner was generous during their time in the studio.

“She was almost teaching me the whole time and giving me tips, you know, even though I’ve been doing this for nearly twenty years, I’m still learning everyday,” he says, “and someone like her, she’s one of the most amazing singers on the planet, she has the most incredible voice… It’s a machine in itself.”

At 33-years-old, McFadden has come to a very crucial fork in the road; he’s been both in the wings and the hot fog of commercial limelight, and his recent shift of ambition, helmed with the recording of The Irish Connection, has put him in a very unique place.

“I found a comfort zone in making this album,” he says. “I’m starting to see more the direction I want to go and develop a more adult sound. I think Wall Of Soundz (2010) was a huge departure from my first two solo albums. I think I may have steered a bit too far away from where I actually sit.

“I probably tried to make a radio record rather than make a record for me. This covers album has given me direction again for where I want my sound to be. Sounds a bit wankery,” he laughs, repaying his words. “I hate people that talk about their art and their direction.”

While his first collection of originals since Wall Of Soundz won’t be finished until late this year, McFadden seems phlegmatic about the effects his decision will have on an Australian chart placing. Perhaps it’s the Irish blood that keeps his thoughts nonplussed, but it’s more likely the thought of making music on his terms.

“If people like it they’ll buy it, if they don’t at least I know I gave my best effort on it,” he says bluntly. “I’m not even considering about 2Day FM or Nova; how are people going to hear it is the next problem, but that’s for the record company to figure out.”

Bad Religion: Finding True North

26 February 2013

by Poppy Reid

In an age where more than three decades together habitually equates to a band’s brand-making, Bad Religion have maintained immediacy and a new collection of followers with each album cycle, sans trite propagation.

Much of this, is thanks to wide-eyed linchpin Greg Graffin, the band’s own punk professor. Graffin is on the phone from his farmland home in Lansing New York, and he’s got just over a week before rehearsals begin in support of album #16 True North. He’s avoiding the writing of his second book The Population Wars, the overdue deadlines of which are ‘hounding him,’ but he’s surfeited with the fact his most recent frustrations he sees both in himself and in society have been partly purged.

“We tend to want to blame people and hope they’re responsible. We try to find scapegoats and people we can pin the problems of the world on and we want to believe that people have free will and they’re not exercising it if they do something wrong,” he says, speaking slowly and ruminative. “But at the same time that’s human nature,” he laughs. “The more I think about it the more I realise we can’t be calculating and we can’t all predict the outcomes of our behaviours.”

As a lecturer at New York’s Cornell University where he’s currently teaching evolution, and as a doctor of zoology, Graffin could be discussing a number of issues really. But he’s referring to the first track on True North called In Their Hearts Is Right, the track which kicks off 35-minutes of intellectual anarchy overlayed by Bad Religion’s trademark pummelling punk rock, three-part harmonies and themes of the Obama administration, generational unity and philosophy inspired by Sagan and Chomsky.

But while Graffin has been commentating on culture since he was 15 with Bad Religion, and later studied anthropology and geology, his frustration in humanity, unlike most who educate themselves, has softened with age.

“I think I’ve grown more tolerant,” he says. “A lot of people get older and they grow less tolerant. I struggle with that too because part of me wants to be very calculating and precise, that’s kind of the science background I have. Part of me wants to be unforgiving. But there’s something in my bones - I don’t know what it is, it’s just the way I’m made - that I tend to be very accommodating and forgiving of people and I think I struggle with that.”

Thankfully, his bandmates share the same ideological values, it’s surprising though, considering their different upbringings. 50-year-old guitarist/vocalist and Epitaph/ANTI Records owner Brett Gurewitz was raised Jewish; bassist Jay Bentley was brought up in Kansas and was part of the skate-punk surge; guitarist Greg Hetson was a member of innovative hardcore bands Circle Jerks and Redd Kross before Bad Religion; guitarist Brian Baker is a founding member of minor threat, his first album with Bad Religion was 96's The Gray Race, and drummer Brooks Wackerman - who recently filled in for Travis Barker on the current Soundwave tour - started his career in '91 with heavy metal band Bad4Good. His musical background before he joined Bad Religion in 2001 ranges from pop punk and funk metal to comedy rock and industrial rock.

“We all had varying backgrounds when we were young kids but pretty much we were all from very liberal households that were pro-education. Even though I’m the only guy in the band that went to college, the other guys are intellectuals in their own right in terms of they all read books and see movies. It’s kind of like those cultural things that some families don’t expose their kids to.”

Having basically grown into their own together, it wasn’t always political punk and mosh pits. Bad Religion, like any band who has reached global stature, have experienced their own tumultuous times. The negative press surrounding Graffin and Gurewitz’ fallout, Gurewitz’ drug abuse in the early ‘80s and the myriad lineup changes may have stunted their ascension, but 34 years on, the band are still questioning establishment and provoking chaos at their shows. Graffin has a tradition where at each show he’ll ask who is experiencing them for the first time – “and remarkably it’s like 60% of the audience.”

“That’s not just true in the United States,” he enthuses, “that’s true in Australia and Germany, all over Europe and all over South America. It’s almost like every year there’s a new generation of people that decide they’re gonna turn punk rock and they come out to our show ‘cause they’ve heard so much about us but they’ve never actually seen us live. I realise it’s a privilege, because it means our audience is continually getting refreshed.”

While Bad Religion aren’t active members of the Hollywood club scene anymore – they’re each entering or nudging their 50s – Graffin says the fact the community even exists makes him very hopeful.

“We are not living the life of punk rockers anymore,” he chuckles. “It’s not exciting to me go to a club and come home at 2:30 in the morning… But even if the community isn’t as small and intimate as it used to be you can see it branching into other areas of culture too, where people actually do put a premium into ideas and art. That’s very rewarding to see that.”

It would be easy to surmise that Bad Religion are more influenced by Graffin’s studies now more than ever, but as he tells it, his higher education has very little input.

“The intellectual portions of it helps to stimulate ideas but I think the emotion in the song, the melody, even some of the phrasing, that comes from feelings. Those feelings were stirred I think more from my own personal relationships, my family, my friends.”

The title track on True North was greatly influenced by his immediate surroundings. With a son in his early twenties and a daughter away at university, the generation they belong to are just now discovering themselves, their ideals and thankfully, Bad Religion.

“When kids decide to go punk, it’s when they first start experiencing the world on their own and they head out into that world with some direction, usually what their parents tell them, but also their teachers and their religious leaders,” he says thoughtfully. “But they head out into this world and they realise nothing that they’d been told makes any sense at all, and it’s completely out of touch with what they really have to experience. So the idea from that obviously came from my own kids who are now teenagers going through what we went though, exactly a generation later.”

The truth is that while his children are one of his greatest inspirations - they’re a direct portal into the mindset of the band’s newest group of followers – that’s as far as their involvement with Graffin’s music goes. To him, it’s his most personal project and his two offspring sensed that at a young age.

“Even though the kids are aware of what I do for a living and we’ve got a pretty normal family life, we don’t really talk about, that’s kind of like ‘dad’s work’ we don’t sit around talking about music at the table. I don’t share any strategies with them. I don’t talk about songwriting.

“I have to say though, it would hurt me very badly, if it was embarrassing. I’m very proud to say that they’re not embarrassed by what I do for a living because I can’t say that about Dick Cheney,” he laughs. “His kids must have it a lot harder.”

Bad Religion’s back catalogue is a weighty, all encompassing one. Over sixteen records and five U.S. administrations, the band have an ongoing relevance that, because of the state of society, won’t taper off anytime soon. Even during early records like Into The Unknown and seminal album Suffer - when the six men were just boys – they were touching on issues denoting universal themes and modern life.

“21^st Century (Digital Boy) was written what, 25 years ago?” Graffin remembers. “The metaphors we were using in that song are still very viable today and we’re happy to play that song live almost every concert.

“The first album we asked the question, ‘how could hell be any worse when life alone is such a curse?’ If society would have cured all of its evils that we were talking about in 1982, that song would quickly become irrelevant but that’s not the case, things have just gotten worse it seems.”

Forever the intellect, Graffin has been awfully aware of the influence Bad Religion has on youth since he was one himself. Unlike a lot of frontmen in the heavy music realm, he feels a responsibility to enlighten fans and use the music as a medium to fuel self-reflection and awareness.

“I always thought, if you’re gonna be in a rock band or a punk band, there’s been so many of them throughout history that I always wanted to add a little added value. There’s got to be something more than just going up there and parading around as a rock star,” he states. “I believe Bad Religion’s tradition has always been to stimulate thought in the areas of philosophy and cultural significance and current events rather than fashion and hairstyle and what the latest trends in New York City are.”

True North is out now through Epitaph Australia

Ronan Keating says it best

                                                                                                  Photography: Ken Leanfore

13 December 2012

by Poppy Reid

"I didn’t want to tell stories of other people, I’m very adamant about that. I’ve hurt enough people. I didn’t want to hurt anyone else.”

Spring feels more like summer at a bar in Darling Harbour today, and in black jeans, shirt, waistcoat and jacket, Ronan Keating is dressed much warmer than Sydney requested. It’s only been a few days since the release of Fires, his first album in six years, but he’s wholly relaxed. Coming back from a hiatus whilst on the judging panel for X Factor Australia has provided an immediate soapbox, but perhaps it’s the safety net he found in recording a completely fictional pop album that sees him so at ease.

“There’s things I’ve been through in my life, situations in my personal life,” he trails off in that swift Dublin dialect. “So I just didn’t want to go there. I didn’t want to bring up old stories; I was the cause of these problems, so I don’t want to talk about that.”

At just 35-years-old, Keating has a musical and personal past that has given him enough fodder to record another Bring You Home, but it seems the divorce to his wife of thirteen years last year, was enough to have him re-evaluate his comeback.

“I didn’t know what I was doing,” he admits. “I was a bit lost, musically, I didn’t know where I wanted to go or what I wanted to do. After being in the industry so long you kind of question what’s next.”

Having sold 25 million records worldwide as a solo artist and 30 million alongside the recently reformed Boyzone, Keating shows artistic integrity in wanting a transformation. However, after his lowest charting record in Australia since 2005’s Turn It On (#25), moulding Fires (#12) on the type of pop topping recent charts may have backfired Down Under.

“It’s pop’s turn: girl bands, boy bands, Justin Bieber, Katy Perry, so it’s alive and well - we’re all riding that way. That’s why I felt it was the right time for this album.”

Keating explains his writing process as “flowing” – he wrote the track I’ve Got You in an hour and with the help of 23 songwriters including Shelly Poole (Janet Jackson, Massive Attack) and Rick Nowles (Lana Del Rey, Weezer), Fires was one of his most pleasant opuses to create. “It just felt good,” he smiles.

It wasn’t too long ago that Keating was as renowned for his philandering and infidelity as he was for his philanthropy and innocent serenades about love. Roguish media whispers created an image that, as a father of three, painted him in a cripplingly unflattering light.

“I think it was wholesome for a while. You don’t want to be one of these people who are in the press for negative reasons, I never wanted that.”

One constructive outcome of the past decade though, is Keating’s firm sense of self. Now dabbling successfully in film - his first project, Australian film Goddess, premieres in January - and with a Boyzone reunion tour in the works, Keating now boasts he is at peace with any self-appointed epithets.

“As a kid I battled with who I was, what I sounded like, the respect, the credibility as a boy band member,” he notes. “It’s just naivety, and immaturity. You grow up and realise it just doesn’t matter, that kind of rubbish.”

It’s clear that, although Fires is Keating’s first record with no autobiographical leanings, it has nothing to do with his musical morality. Protecting his loved ones is paramount and as he suggests, if you’re good enough, then it is enough.

“I think it comes down to the live performance. If you can make people believe it when you’re performing it live. I’ve always had a connection with that - it’s in the song.” It’s unlikely that any future releases will eclipse his 3x Platinum debut Ronan (2000), but you sense that for Keating, a man regaining his impeccable aplomb, making headlines for the right reasons - whether that be for his performances or whatever the mischievous tabloids choose to publish - is now right on the top of his list.

“It’s hard, you just want to live a good life, I have kids, and you’re leaving a legacy behind - you’re leaving a story. I want to leave them something good. I try my best.”

Alexisonfire: All farewells should be sudden

                                                                         Photography: Vanessa Heins

10 December 2012

by Poppy Reid

When Alexisonfire announced their split in August last year, fans of lactating, contortionist strippers and Canadian hardcore went into mourning, but while most cursed themselves for encouraging linchpin Dallas Green to pursue a solo career, the dichotomy of City and Colour’s success wasn’t wholly to blame.

“The confusion that lies in the whole process about what happened,” says Green down the phone from the US, “was when I left the band, the band didn’t break up. They spent a lot of time deciding whether or not they were going to continue as a four-piece or add another member, or whatever.”

After guitarist/vocalist Wade MacNeil got an offer to front English band Gallows in July 2011, the band accepted their collapse and Green could finally breathe easy. City and Colour interviews and fan interaction underwent a year-and-a-half of white lies and diversions, and for an artist renowned for his blunt honesty and allegiance to his band brothers, the repression was difficult.

“I had been holding the fact that I had left the band in for so long,” he admits. “I had to deal with people finding out that it was me who started the demise of the band. I think that the general response was good because for one, we could talk about it, but it was an interesting period… I sort of twisted [the band’s] arm and forced them into a tough situation, so I can appreciate how they were looking at me-or not at me-at that moment in time.”

With the Australian leg of band’s farewell tour just days away, it’s an awkward feeling to know that their last visit in 2010 was surrounded by tension in the band. “At the time, only ten or twelve people knew that I was leaving the band so we were on the road with all of our friends touring, trying to have a good time and show everybody that we were happy-go-lucky,” says Green. “Meanwhile, every time we played, we knew that we were getting closer to the end, it was hard to celebrate.” The shows were feverish and raw, their onstage brotherhood seemed more devoted than ever; but as Green explains, between each performance came an uncomfortable quiet.

“Everyone was really depressed when we were playing that last tour, I think that a lot of that depression had to do with the fact that we weren’t talking about it,” Green considers. “It was really a bummer, but I think it’s good that we didn’t [tell people] because it hadn’t really allowed us to sort of move on with our lives.”

With just fifteen dates and a rightful US snub on their final tour together (“Those people should have come to see us play at any time in the last ten years,” MacNeil told Tone Deaf), Alexisonfire have been marking their ten-year anniversary with the same energy yielded during their embryonic years when they were “five kids who decided to try out this weird style of music and write songs.”

“I think everyone is in a wonderful place right now,” says Green sincerely. “Almost back to the beginning in a way, but we don’t have anything to lose or gain from it, it’s more of a twelve-year-old celebration of what we’ve accomplished, which will allow the legacy of our band to live on instead of the hope of that last tour.”

While City and Colour releases reach Gold and Platinum status across the globe, missing the camaraderie within Alexisonfire is only a faint throb. “Even on the worst days we’d still be able to talk to each other and go onstage and put on a great show,” he reminisces. “We’d sort of all forget about it after the show, because of the performance, because of the music, you know?” However, a life that could turn a man into a self-entitled, sycophant-seeking, rock star has only had positive effects on Green, who can thank the band for his “motherly instincts” and accolade acknowledgement.

“In the first few years with those guys, especially in the early years when they were still teenagers and I was at the old ripe age of 21 years old, I definitely had to take on a more responsible role than I thought I’d have to.

“I also think it’s allowed me to develop a sense of appreciation for everything I had accomplished in my life creatively, I had to work from the bottom up. I went through touring in a van where you’d have to sleep in the van - we could never afford a hotel - I had to sleep on people’s floors, things like that, that now whenever something good happens I can look at it and think ‘I earned it’.”

With ten years of nihilistic fervour and poetic anthems for the square-pegged, Alexisonfire won’t be easily forgotten. One could measure their success on the sold-out tours, the myriad independent awards and #1s, or their ARIA chart placings, but for Green, it’s always been about the music’s integrity.

“The fact that we went on to make four records, it’s pretty good that it sits how it is, I think that’s far more – that we accomplished – than we had set out to do in the first place.

“To quote a recent comment that I read about myself – Alexisonfire is testament that you don’t have to be attractive to be successful. I’m half joking when I say that,” he leers. “We were just a bunch of weird kids who played this weird sound and people grew attached to that. Hopefully we just inspired that honesty that there is a chance for honesty in popular music, or hardcore music - I wouldn’t call us that popular.”

Green strategically finished his latest City and Colour opus before the tour (“so he could approach it with an open mind”), but while Alexisonfire have released the obligatory anthology collection and a new EP (Death Letter), it would take an ignoramus to not pre-empt and salute their intended parting gift.

“We didn’t start the band so we could become rock stars and make millions of dollars and fly around in private jets,” Green says with his infamous frankness. “I think a lot of band’s probably don’t start off that way but often that’s why they want to get into it, that’s what they deem successful. But with us I mean, we just wanted to play. I still feel that way, I just want to play.”