Once I'd finished the first draft of the book a started rewriting it and within weeks I was immersed in a thickening swamp of self-aware cleverness that the elements of the story became indistinguishable from the in-jokes. That was just the first chapter which I was still working on three years later. I attempted to read it a few years back and saw that I'd spent all that time refining some truly deluxe garbage. But at the time, strolling out on a sunny Fitzroy afternoon, bumping into someone good on Brunswick Street and going for a drink with them or just a coffee at Marios made all that go away ... until I sat down in front of the manuscript again.
While I still listened out for music I found it discouraging how formerly interesting bands went from Alternative Music to OzRock, absorbed by the syrup-dipping mainstream. Everyone moves on and should but the equation of The Models with Mondo Rock was horrible to watch. It was as though we'd just been told we'd won the change while the lardy lords of commercial FM radio polished up the world of Safeway Punk. I remember a little later seeing Ross Hannaford playing reggae with a three piece while his old band-mate Ross Wilson on tv blathered out some more dad rock with the word bop in the title.
I noticed two trends in the mid eighties that saddened me: a general blanding out of musical substance in bands that were highly celebrated and a return of the dominance of guitar rock. The encouraging signs in the early decade that music was moving free of the old templates with the adoption of electronics and dub were visible long enough to be smeared by power chords once again. Inevitable, I guess, but still a pity.
REM - Life's Rich Pageant
If you didn't know what was happening this album sounded like a streamlining of the band's approach. From the big guitar punch of Begin the Begin to the ultra pop of the cover version of Superman everything felt a little heightened and clearer than before. You could make out pretty much everything Michael Stipe sang and the song structures felt more classic. Peter Buck's guitar was set to stadium because that's where the band wanted to get to. The follow up, the also highly enjoyable Document, made it clear that this wasn't a progression but an abandonment. REM threw away its mysteries and roadside charm. They got rich and famous but also more predictable and less interesting. This one can be left on when it's put on but it always reminds me of when I wondered, in my early twenties, if I was getting too old to care about new bands. That would take over a decade to really kick in but this is where it started to really crack.
The Smiths - The Queen is Dead
I hated the Smiths for the irony in the pose and the pose anyway. I hated them for the blandness of their guitarist's muzak tones and Morrissey's over reliance on a few melodic tricks. I hated the cleverness of the lyrics and the screaming self-importance of all of it. But boy did I love the first three songs on this record. I softened to them after that, while never actually warming, and gave How Soon is Now a bow. They were one album away from disintegration and I didn't care. My flatmate Tracey loved them. Well, we at least shared REM records.
Sonic Youth - Evol
Flatmate Miriam was a drummer and came home from practice one night with a cassette of a unidentified band. She played it over and over in her room and to us. We took to it, too. The atmospherics, the soundscapes between songs, the cinematic textures and vocals that went from conspiratorial whispers to screams. I bought the LP and loved the endless groove at the end of each side. I also bought records previous and some to follow but loved none of those. I loved this one and still do.
Elvis Costello - Blood and Chocolate
I'd left Elvis C to himself after the ho hum of Trust, happily returning for the much better Imperial Bedroom but only temporarily, and it wasn't until a friend whose faith was stronger alerted me to some of the great gems in the C-ster's current bag. I can still leave this one on but I also still hang out for Tokyo Storm Warning and I Want You.
The Fall - Bend Sinister
A friend was heavily into the Fall and lent me a handful of cassettes. This was my favourite. It's still a put on and leave on.
Coil - Horse Rotorvator
The hardness of the commentary in the music and voice in this set is magnetic. My standout is Ostia for its beautiful vocal and sheer severe eerieness. Lists of demons, Marc Almond lashing his tongue around some gleeful debauchery. And somehow it's also mostly beautiful. Beyond its release date it's still fresh.
Go Betweens - Liberty Belle and the Black Diamond Express
As the GOBs sound got bigger they also got closer to the airy pop that they made in their final years. I still saw them when I could and they were always a breezy pleasure live. I liked Spring Rain and a few others but didn't get into this one. After this I enjoyed them almost as though they were another band. Aren't they allowed to develop? Yep, but they are also allowed to go beyond my interest. I probably wouldn't put this on today. Maybe I should, though, just to see.
Husker Du - Candy Apple Grey
I could hear the song craft but winced every time a song started with a wash of distortion pedal blah. A few songs have acoustic guitar and one has piano but this punk-a-decade-late sound wore me down. I still like Don't Want to Know. This could be a could candidate for a Nouvelle Vague style reinterpretation.
New Order - Brotherhood
The only band I liked who could get away with overproduction. Side one was like the earlier band, the slightly sunnier outgrowth from Joy Division. Side two was more like the band that did Blue Monday but lusher and more complex. Bizarre Love Triangle is still brilliant. The last song, Every Second Counts starts as a jokey take on Lou Reed but builds beautifully to a distorted mass which then gets stuck like an old LP. A friend of mine referred to this as "the Lou Reed album" because of the first half of this one track. He still characterises people that way to this day which makes him like a a character in a New Order song.
Hunters and Collectors - Human Frailty
Led by the glorious irony-free pop of Throw Your Arms Around Me, this album was the first step away from the giant clank and chant of the earlier incarnation of the band and toward the tv lights of OzRock. The choruses turned up within the first minute of each song put down as a potential single and, while there was still enough leisure in the observation and some luscious ensemble brass playing it would be the last Hunnas album I'd care about at all. Pity, as I had just moved to their homebase of Melbourne and no longer had to wait a year between their gigs. They were still good to see live but nothing can erase the earliest shows I saw where they turned the quite ritzy surrounds of the New York Hotel into a soundscape of jungle sweat and joyous chanting. I bought the 7 inch of Throw but that was it.
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