The rock and roll universe is littered with copy cats, people who climbed onto the backs of others, made a slight tweak and then found themselves basking in the limelight. A lot of the time the true pioneers had previously toiled away in semi-obscurity, foiled by an indifferent public, only to have their impact properly assessed far later. Very few of us were there in ’77 but judge for yourself, goddamn!
The Saints could be properly put into that category. Vying with Ramones as putting out the first punk rock single with the barn burner “(I’m) Stranded” in 1976, the band quickly found a following and also resistance with the authorities around Brisbane (Security City, indeed). A move to London after signing with EMI led to some band/label tensions, the group balking at getting force fit into the leather jacket and mohawk trappings that defined London punk rock at the time. The band sputtered to a halt after their third record Prehistoric Sounds, with Ed Kuepper and few years later Ivor Hay heading off for
other endeavors, leaving the band mantle to be carried forward by singer Chris Bailey.
With Bailey having passed on a couple of years ago, Kuepper and Hay decided to pay legacy to their tremendous work by recruiting some friends and playing some shows in Australia to coincide with the deluxe reissue of their debut record. And it wasn’t just the guys at the neighborhood pub who got the shoulder tap; they pulled together some heavy hitters. An original Boys Next Door/The Birthday Party/Bad Seed member? Check, Mick Harvey is onboard. How about Sunnyboys bass player Peter Oxley? Sure, he’s played with Kuepper in The Aints too, perfect fit. For vocals, they reached across the Pacific Ocean to ask Mark Arm who has no shortage of punk rock pedigree on his own, and has a bit of an Aussie connection via his work with bands like Bloodloss and Bush Pig. Consider this the (mostly) Aussie punk rock X-Men.
I had the tremendous luck to be in Melbourne for my day job when The Saints played two shows, and I caught the second one of the weekend. The Northcote Theatre is a stately room, a large floor with a bar in the back and a good sized balcony with VIP seating at the front. As if it wasn’t already on everyone’s minds, the perfect day became reality when the band launched into “This Perfect Day” and it all came roaring back.
Right off the bat the decision to recruit Harvey was obvious, his acoustic work blending perfectly with Kuepper’s electrifying electric guitar work, just like the double-tracked studio recordings. Oxley was totally locked in with Hay, providing a rock solid rhythm section that never yielded. And Arm? He understood the assignment. Sing with conviction, with heart, and pay service to the songs and Bailey’s delivery; he didn’t even address the crowd between songs. As he mentioned in an ABC Australia interview, “It’s not about me. This isn’t about me at all. I just get to participate in it.”
Though they were an angry fast band who were labeled punk, the influences of R&B and soul were pretty apparent in the material too, and the three piece brass section really put some oomph into the swing of songs like “Every Day’s A Holiday, Every Night’s A Party,” Kuepper shaking his guitar neck like he was trying to wake it from a dream.
The ending of the regular set was a brutal grab for the audience’s collective throat, a 1-2-3 assault of “Messin’ With The Kid,” “(I’m) Stranded,” and “Know Your Product.” It just doesn’t get better than that, and to enjoy it with the Australian audience, including my new acquaintance Gavin who works at the excellent Licorice Pie record shop and I met two days before, it made the scene and then some. The lyrics spoke to my direct situation (“Stranded, I’m so far from home/Stranded, yeah I’m on my own”) but even being over 10,000 miles from home, I didn’t feel alone one bit. (I’m a bit taken back that “Private Affair” didn’t get played that but that is the most minor of quibbles)
Alien Nosejob had the opening honors tonight, and I forget how I first heard their burner “Television Sets Are Going Cheap” but I was excited to see them, as I’d never get the chance back home in Boston. As luck would have it when I was in Licorice Pie, guitarist Izzo was also there, and so I got to see her twice over the weekend, lending rhythm guitar work to leader Jake Robertson. His high pitched vocals were a tad reminiscent of Daniel Johnston but the tannic cloud of dust kicked up by the six piece band was certainly no lo-fi folk effort; sax and clarinet can also be at home in a garage punk attack! I hope their set connected with the audience like it did with me, but if not I bet their kids are already clued in.
