Music: Maladies

Sunday 8th June at the Annandale Hotel, headliners were Front End Loader and Spurs For Jesus, two longtime Sydney bands. But the band that really impressed was The Maladies.


They're a relatively young band. Daniele, the singer/guitarist, told me they'd been in existence for two years, although he'd been playing for five. They have not yet released a CD, although they are recording at the moment.

The music? Very lively, passionate, very rock. Reminds me somewhat of Nick Cave, although there's no way Cave and co would be this energetic. All the musicians were very accomplished. The drummer, who sometimes beat drums with rather unusual sticks, including a maraca at one stage; the singer's delivery was riveting, his voice fluid, and his talent on acoustic guitar good enough to stand out on its own; guitarist and bassist both noticeably skilled, as well as having the musical ideas to make it all interesting and exciting.

They have a MySpace page here. The guitarist, also a Daniel, apparently teaches guitar in Sydney - here. But ignore a website called themaladies.com - that's some US band unfortunately sharing the name.

An exciting and thoroughly impressive band. I'm eagerly awaiting a CD.

Music: Died Pretty remembered

There's a lot bands (and specific albums) I feel like commenting on from time to time. But this comes with a certain topicality, given Ron Peno's appearance on (a repeated) RockWiz last night.

So I dusted off my Died Pretty best-of for a listen. So criminally ignored is the band that I suspect even I have not listened through the full CD more than a handful of times.

A guitar-oriented rock band with a touch of the psychadelic - not a bad thing in context - Died Pretty's heyday was in the late 80s and early 90s, a time when I was getting my maximum fill of live bands in Sydney.


Although I saw them a number of times, the only memory I can specifically place is a time or two I saw them at the Harold Park Hotel. They had a good reputation (which counted for something), but moreover, they were an exciting rock band: definitely a cut above the normal fare for Sydney bands, but never quite breaking out consistently enough to have unmitigated commercial success or fame.

On stage, Ron Peno always struck me - unfairly, I guess - as wishing he was Jim Morrison. His noticeably short stature was rather un-rock-god-like, however, but his very long black hair added an unexpected oomph to his writhing delivery. Peno and particularly guitarist Brett Myers unquestionably provided the guts of what made Died Pretty great to appreciate and listen to.

A little after this time - mid-90s album Doughboy Hollow - saw the nearest they got to commercial success, but it still wasn't enough, and they faded and broke up. And Peno turned up on RockWiz, singing DC with a decidedly short crop that was inevitably colour-faded and thinning. Still, he came across as a particularly pleasant guest, with a voice that stood out as rather better trained than most rock singers.

Recommended: Blue Sky Day, Everybody Moves, and Sweetheart. Also, a lengthy track called Desparate Hours, which I did not remember from the time, but which opens Out Of The Unknown (The very best of...) with great strength. Still to explore the bonus CD, which includes a cover of Ed Keupper's Eternally Yours.

Great when you're looking for a decent dose of rock that hasn't gone stale.

Pers: Memories of the Sando, and the best grafitti ever

In the late 80s, my whole household (I had four flatmates) would wander up to the Sando on Thursday nights to watch Roaring Jack. They were a heavily political Celtic rock band, playing songs like Thin Red Line, The Lads From The BLF, Yuppietown, We Don’t Play No Elton F****** John. A rollicking institution it was, the crowd packed tight and jumping all over the place, and we’d frequently stay until closing, where Dirty Old Town was the send-off and the leftovers would spill onto the streets.

In those days, the Sando was playing free live music seven days per week, with various residencies. Louis Tillet (Paris Green and other bands) would play there, so would Tim Freedman (Penguins On Safari); and various Hayes brothers in various incarnations: Tuesday nights had the Gruesome Twosome: Bernie and Stevie Hayes doing covers in acoustic mode; the Shout Brothers (Bernie, Stevie, plus a few more) was a great covers band for Sundays. It was definitely downmarket, always fun.

Roaring Jack’s residency ceased. Last time I saw Louis in the old days, he fell off the stage halfway through a song, and someone jumped up from the audience and finished off the set. Stevie worked behind the bar for a while, then as Stevie Plunder formed the Whitlams with Tim; Stevie later took a fatal turn in the Blue Mountains. Bernie Hayes went solo, producing some lovely CDs but little money. Tim (as the Whitlams) made substantially more money although not as interesting musically. Louis took several hiatuses (including a hospital stint from smoking in bed), and the Sando… well, it was eventually gutted, and became a very bland pub full of poker machines. In recent times it’s made something of a return to live music, but nothing like its heyday.

Musically, I think Bernie Hayes and Louis Tillet ended up faring the best. Bernie’s first album was a real treat, and Louis is always great on stage.

The best grafitti I ever saw was a collaborative effort by three unknown people in the men’s toilet at the Sando. The first one had written:

Question everything

Under that, someone added:

Why?

Under that, someone else wrote:

Why not?

13-jul-06 Update: the above photo is actually the result of me stumbling across a community art project one Saturday long ago. This is my first ever - and only - linocut. At short notice, it was the best local theme I could come up with. The linocuts were subsequently cast in metal and embedded in the footpath across the street from Newtown Station. At least two copies of mine remain, if you care to look. The first S is the Sando's logo in its heyday, and the last is my signature. Somewhat cryptic, but I'm sure a few people would have worked it out.

World: Louis Tillett: he’s back - more Brian than Elvis

Louis Tillett is back, in spades.

Not that he’s been absent for years - he always seems to pop up sporadically - it’s his renewed musical vigour and command that is noteworthy.

He’s been in the Sydney music scene for over 25 years, in various states and with various bands. I first saw him at the Sando in Paris Green nearly 20 years ago, and he’s there again, with a Sunday night residency. He has a superb band (double bass, drums and saxophone accompanying his keyboards and singing). He was playing the keyboards as an instrument of rhythm and of melody, sometimes both at the same time.

He was in fine form: older, yes, but obviously healthier than he’s been for a long time. He must be on the wagon, and it really shows up in the music, which was tight, complex, and strong. The crowd was small but vociferous; the songs surged, died, and were reborn, to loud acclaim.

The first piece I heard took a while to sink in, then resolved to Sailors Dream, and what more could I want? A magnificent journey, turbulent and peripatetic, fading out and in. It was followed by another of his Wet Taxis tunes, Clock On The Wall. The two together seemed to last over 20 minutes – and if that sounds like jazz, well it isn’t and it is. Jazz fusion has a bad name, and it wasn’t that. Although he veers through blues (and Paris Green had jazz tinges), I listen to him for his rock; Wet Taxis was certainly rock, and that’s what this was - albeit with hint of the sensibilities and musicianship of jazz.

Wherever you read about Louis, he’s trying to conquer his demons, drink and depression. But he has clearly risen above, in the last few years in particular. The tortured artist may be a quaint picture, but give me the artist in proper form, as Louis Tillett was and is now: a consummate musician and songwriter, pulling together an impressive band.

He’s got a great-looking web site, and you can download some music from it. He has a bio there, and a site called Divine Rites has a discography.


Well worth another visit to Newtown, another Sunday evening.


One note: The Sando – Newtown’s Sandringham Hotel – once an institution, is now a foreign country to me, despite its re-emergence as a venue. It’s been totally gutted and is unrecognisable from the venue and local that I knew and loved in the late 1980s. I’ll blog something on it soon.