In the mid to late 1980s,
Citadel Records was widely recognized as the premier Australian independent
label. Its releases received rave reviews from awestruck critics in the
United States, the UK, and continental Europe. In those days Citadel was
largely revered as a singles label with over 50 7" releases to their credit,
all of them beautifully packaged and most of them classics of Australian
rock and roll. This isn’t to say that the label didn’t have its share of
great lp releases as well, but the singles were definitely the thing.
After a financially
tumultuous early half of the nineties, Citadel has been quite active again
in the past seven years or so, but now the label’s primary mission is making
those great releases of the eighties available on CD, as well as to release
newer material by many of those same bands.
In a lot of ways, the
Citadel story is the usual tale of a record label launch. A band has
recorded a single and no label is interested in releasing it. So one of the
band members fronts the money and puts it out himself. Like a narcotic, the
label soon exerts total control over the label founder’s life and for the
next twenty years it raises him to glorious heights and periods of total
exhilaration and euphoria, but then drags him into depths of depression,
despair and financial ruin. But in this case the story seems to be coming
along happily, as Citadel’s founder has revived the once nearly comatose
label and re-made it into one that continues to promote the same bands and
music that made it so special in its earlier days.
Citadel Records is the
brainchild of John Needham, who was guitarist for the garage rock band
Minuteman in 1982. It was their single of "Voodoo Slaves" and "I Wanna Be
Your Minuteman" that launched Citadel as the label’s sole release in 1982.
Five more singles followed in 1983, another five in 1984, and then the label
caught fire and began to really become a force.
To gain perspective, it’s
useful to consider what else was happening in "hip" music at the time. By
1982 the late 70s punk rock/new wave movement had pretty much eaten its
young. The British Isles were crawling with bands like Adam And The Ants,
Duran Duran, the Human League, Flock of Seagulls, Depeche Mode, Spandau
Ballet and Soft Cell. The US underground had fallen into a black hole of
hardcore punk and thrash that left almost no room for bands playing anything
else. There was one little interesting corner of bands like the Cramps and
the whole Paisley Underground scene of groups like Green On Red, the Long
Ryders, the Salvation Army and the then-nascent garage revival scene. These
kinds of American bands were to resonate strongly down under, where their
themes were amplified a hundred fold, blended with heady memories of Radio
Birdman and Detroit rock influences, and paid back with interest to the rest
of the world.
Citadel music in a lot of
ways reflects how Australians come across as people: unpretentious, down to
earth music that doesn’t try to put on airs and is unafraid to be itself.
Citadel’s releases sounded incredibly refreshing by comparison to the rest
of the world’s underground because they weren’t self-consciously trying to
create something new and unique. Instead they were just playing what they
felt like playing, wearing their influences openly but adding in plenty of
their own nuances. And in the process, as if by accident, they created music
far more lasting and fresh sounding than most of those bands that were
working so hard at originality.
I’ve been wanting to
interview John Needham for a Citadel feature for at least 15 years, but John
is a busy guy and trans-oceanic interviews are a difficult thing to arrange,
so it had never happened. Thus when I went to Australia in May to see the
Radio Birdman re-union tour, I figured it was the perfect chance to pin the
man down and get his story out. The result is the long interview that
follows – it filled both sides of a 90 minute cassette and took me forever
to transcribe, but the interesting thing on reading it is that it feels as
though we’ve barely scratched the surface of the Citadel story. There are
key record releases never even mentioned, critical bands not named at all,
whole periods not touched on in the least. Hopefully the rest of the Noise
For Heroes website helps to fill in those holes…there’s a book here to be
written one of these days. But not now.
John is an interesting
personality. He has a well earned reputation for having a somewhat dour and
sardonic personality – much like the reputed and somewhat legendary
character attributed to New England farmers in a lot of ways. Every silver
lining has a cloud and that sort of thing. Before meeting him I was somewhat
concerned by this reputation that he might prove a difficult interview, but
we’d connected up in Sydney when I dropped by his house to pick up some
Citadel CDs for my mail order business and we’d talked easily for an hour or
so. John’s modest house was stuffed to the gills with Radio Birdman
roadcases and gear ready for transport to Melbourne, a situation rendered
that much more complicated by the arrival of several thousand copies of the
two newest Citadel reissues – Radios Appear and Living Eyes – in boxes
stacked throughout the place.
We met for the interview a
couple days later in a hotel suite in St. Kilda that John was sharing with
his sometime-partner Tim Pittman. It was early afternoon the day after Radio
Birdman had played at the Corner Hotel, so everyone was getting a late
start. Pittman was in an adjacent room and on the phone incessantly
throughout the interview. I-94 Bar author Craig Regan came along to listen
in and interject an occasional comment, sitting on the floor in one corner
of John’s room. I sat in the room’s lone chair, and John himself, who had
been walking around barefoot and in gym shorts for most of what had been a
pretty cool morning, sat in his bed and tucked himself under the blankets to
stay warm as we talked, looking a little bit like the wolf in grandma’s
nightgown in the Red Riding Hood story.
For much of the interview
Needham had both Craig and me laughing constantly as he recounted the now
long-past adventures he’d survived with his roster of bands. Only some of
the humor comes out in writing, since much of the hilarity came from the way
in which John would answer the questions – with long pauses, raised
eyebrows, deadpan responses. You have to imagine his speaking voice; a low
pitch grown scratchy from too many years of tobacco, with words carefully
chosen and spoken in a slow and sort of sonorous tone.
I’ve transcribed most of the
interview below. In a few places, given in italics, I’ve added more text to
add information and commentary to the topic being discussed. Thanks to John
for spending nearly two hours out of a pretty busy schedule with me, and
thanks also to Craig for being along and adding to the festivities.
Steve: What do you think of
the gigs so far?
John: You’re not going to
print this are you?
Steve: I might, if you’re
really lucid.
John: How would I know? I
was asleep in the dressing room! Um, the gigs so far…well, that’s really
hard. They’ve been good so far. I think it was a little bit slow starting
with the new bass player (Jim Dickson replaced Warwick Gilbert for this
tour - Steve) and not having played for five years, then just to do
three rehearsals and go out in front of 1200 people I think is difficult.
The first one was not as good as the second which was not as good as the
third, which was pretty good!
Steve: What did you think
about last night (the fourth gig at the Corner Hotel in Melbourne) compared
to Brisbane (the third gig)?
John: Um, I think that
Brisbane was probably a lot more edgy and exciting. But I don’t know because
I was trapped in the back stage area and I don’t know what it was like out
front. It takes half an hour to get from the front door to the back stage
area. Once you go through that crowd you don’t want to go back! It was a
tiny little venue and it was just jam packed. So I was back stage for nearly
all of last night. The sound was OK, but you really can’t accurately guage
what’s happening
Steve: Well, if it was
better in Brisbane than it was last night, I’d have liked to have seen that!
Because the one last night was one of the best shows I’ve ever seen. So tell
me about the Minutemen to get started on the Citadel story.
John: Minuteman. The
Minutemen were an American band. I can’t tell you about them. But Minuteman?
I dunno, they were a bunch of losers.
Steve: (laughs, corrected)
OK, OK, so how did you get that band together? Were you the guy who headed
that band?
John: No, no, I never
instigated it. But after the Birdman tour I came back overland to Australia
through the Middle East and the subcontinent and southeast Asia, and I got
back and I saw everyone from the old days, and they all seemed to be in
bands. And one of those people was a guy named Jeff Sullivan who was the
guitarist in the Passengers, and he said, well, you know three chords, we
can have a rehearsal sometime. And he got some other people including Doug
Lonsdale and we had a band. I don’t even remember what we were called. We
played a few gigs and then he went off to his other band – he was playing in
the Flaming Hands at the time. And Doug and I continued on with the drummer
and we got a bass player. The bass player I think was Jeff’s girlfriend’s
brother from memory.
We spent about 99% of our
time rehearsing in a garage down in Woolloomooloo, and we got some gigs –
just a three chord band. People left, new people came in. We recorded a
single and no one would put it out, so I had to do it myself. The band broke
up two minutes later, leaving me with all the bills. So I started from
there.
There’s not much really to
say about that band. It was just the usual stupidity and lack of dedication
that most bands are imbued with.
Steve: Well, it seems like
people like that single a lot.
John: Yeah, the A side’s
really good. There’s a nice circularity to it, I think.
Steve: Did you record just
those two songs, or did you do anything else?
John: No, just those two
songs, including that terrible B side that I detest so much. B sides are
always supposed to be a treat that you find, and you put that on – oh, god,
it’s so horrid. Run, cover! That’s Rob Younger’s fault, I blame him for
that. We just did it once and he says "You have no more time left. That’s
it!" And I go "What about the overdubs?" And he goes "No, no time. Let’s
concentrate on the A side." So that was actually a two take wonder with
absolutely no overdubs and a minimum amount of time mixing it.
Steve: When you put that out
was there any idea that this was going to turn into a big label that went on
for years?
John: No, the whole idea
with putting that out is that it was supposed to create circumstances for
the band to become big and go on for years. There was no feeling about
starting a label. That was a by product more than anything. In those days I
had no idea that things would progress.
Steve: After the band split
up did you try to form other bands, or did you stop playing in bands
completely at that point.
John: Well, after I started
releasing records – it’s quite a time consuming thing and I just never
really rallied – I didn’t have much enthusiasm for working with other people
in that context, of a band. I got to a point where I thought to myself, well
I can continue trying to learn a fourth chord, or I can put out records, and
putting out records seemed like an easier option. Because I found working
with other people of that temperament and stupidity to be really difficult –
on the level of being in a band with them when they presented me with those
problems. As a record label, when they presented me with those problems it
wasn’t quite as irritating or frustrating.
(John really undersells the
Minuteman single here – "Voodoo Slaves" is a really cool almost Cramps-y
piece of work with a kind of jungle movie theme feel to it. There’s not a
lot of chords, but the song relies on changing the way the chords are played
rather than changing the chords themselves. There’s lots of interesting
screams, yells and shouts punctuating the thing. And the flip is no where
near the throwaway he suggests, either. It’s a repetitive and droning sort
of number that creates a really nice atmosphere.
After "Voodoo Slaves", the
next two singles were the New Race "Crying Sun" 45 and the Deniz Tek/Radio
Birdman split single of "100 Fools"/"Alien Skies". New Race was a post Radio
Birdman all-star band consisting of Rob Younger, Deniz Tek, Warwick Gilbert,
Ron Asheton and Dennis Thompson that had done one Australian tour a couple
years earlier and produced a live record on the Warners label from it. The
Citadel single was a Radio Birdman cover from that album and the flip "Gotta
Keep Movin’". It’s a knockout pairing. The Tek/Birdman single was a demo-ish
Tek number and an unfinished Birdman instrumental, neither really being
together enough to make a strong impact.)
Steve: The next records that
you did, there were a bunch of them that were sort of re-issues or releases
of things that had been around for a while, like the New Race single and the
Deniz Tek single. How did those come about.
John, Well, after that
Minuteman thing – it’s probably been told too often – but when I designed
the label, you had to get like 10,000 labels made and they were all laying
on the floor there. And the thought of wasting them really bugged me. I used
to worry about it in the evenings. Couldn’t sleep. (laughter) So when Rob
came up with the idea that I should start a career making records that
wouldn’t sell, I thought, that’s a good way to use up all those labels. That
was his agenda, a way to spend all of my savings! And he was always
concerned that the New Race had never had a single, so that was the second
single, the New Race single, which was more so that Rob could have a single
of that band than anything else. And from there, I did Deniz’s single, and
it wasn’t until the fourth one, the Screaming Tribesmen single, that there
was actually a proper band associated with it.
But in those days, the money
thing was such that you had to make the first pressing and sell it pretty
much before you had enough money to continue on with your next one. It was a
very slow start – it didn’t happen quickly. Learning the various aspects of
the manufacturing side of getting the things made. Printing, which of course
is the most disappointing thing about the total whole thing of the music
enterprise. Printers are the worst aspect of it. You spend months making a
record and getting great artwork for it, and then you get back this shitty
print. God, I HATE printers. 95% of all problems I’ve ever encountered have
been bad printing, INCLUDING this recent reissue of Radios Appear
(when we met in Sydney, John told me a litany of artwork disasters that had
repeatedly held up the release of the reissues – Steve) . If you look at
it, it wasn’t stapled in the middle of the booklet, so there’s a white
stripe down the back pages. You spend months working on it and those pricks
do that. They can’t even staple and fold in the right place. Anyway…
Steve: Citadel was pretty
well known for the quality of the packaging in general.
John: Well, people would say
that to me and I’m going Jesus Christ, I’m just going through hell with
these printers and it’s NOT what I wanted at all, and people really admire
it.
Steve: Well, look at the
sleeves other people were doing. Singles were coming out in these black and
white xeroxed things. Just a piece of paper folded over.
John: Well, that’s punk,
isn’t it? It’s part and parcel of the sort of music that it contains. But
the stereotypical single for me was always the Lipstick Killers "Hindu Gods
Of Love", you know? The fantastic piece of vinyl wrapped up in a really
nice, starchy white piece of cardboard. That was always my goal, to make
everything try to approximate that record as far as its presentation goes.
But a lot of those early records, things come along, you’re on a deadline
and substandard packaging goes out. But people don’t seem to notice. I guess
if you’re not intimately acquainted with what’s going on you don’t really
perceive it as being shitty print.
(We turn back to the fourth
Citadel release, the Screaming Tribesmen "Igloo" single from 1983. The
Screaming Tribesmen at this point had one 7" ep to their credit – a roughly
produced and recorded set of four songs of which only one – "Trans 43" –
really held out much promise, sitting as it did in the same camp as tracks
like the Fun Things "When The Birdmen Fly". But "Igloo" was a fantastic song
co-written by Ron Peno and Mick Medew for the Tribesmen’s predecessor
Brisbane band, the 31st. Peno of course later fronted Died
Pretty, while Medew led the Tribesmen. "Igloo" is a mid tempo effort with
layers of ringing and shimmering guitar and a haunting vocal performance.
Its flip, "My True Love’s Blood", is a more rocking, garage-y sort of
workout. The ninth Citadel single was another Tribesmen record – 1984’s "A
Stand Alone" and "Move A Little Closer", which in my opinion was a major
step downhill for the band with a sort of heavy metal posturing in the
vocals that didn’t wash for me, although the guitar textures of "Igloo" are
still there. In 1985 the band line-up turned over completely with the
exception of Mick Medew, and the new group made their last Citadel record, a
4 track 12" ep titled after the song "A Date With A Vampyre". My own view is
that this was the best Screaming Tribesmen record ever, and I regard that
title cut as one of Citadel’s classic releases, with a great, staggering
drum beat and a killer guitar hook. This perspective is not shared by John,
as you will see. The Tribesmen subsequently rattled from label to label and
ultimately had a minor American MTV hit with "I’ve Got A Feeling". They
quickly disappeared after that, having traded their once strong underground
fan base for a fickle chart audience. Supposedly Medew is a Sydney cab
driver today, although now and then he treads the boards with his band The
Bluebirds.)
Steve: On that "Igloo"
single…listening to their first ep, I never would have guessed that
something like "Igloo" would be the next thing they would do, because it’s
such huge step up in sound quality and production.
John: Well, they recorded
that up in Brisbane at the time, because I’d met Murray Shepherd when
Minuteman was playing. He used to come to all of our gigs. Of course, the
rhythm section of the first Tribesmen was the Fun Things rhythm section. I’d
always loved that band and their record. So I was really interested when he
said, oh the Fun Things rhythm section is now in the Screaming Tribesmen and
they’ve got an ep. They must have recorded that at the same time as the
Minuteman single had come out. And I listened to it and I just couldn’t
stand it! It was terrible. It was just shoddy. So I met Mick Medew and I was
like, sorry! But I’d seen them play live. They’d come down to Sydney and I’d
seen them play and they were really good. And they had that association with
the Fun Things and with Ron Peno – he’d written the lyrics to quite a lot of
their songs, which were songs that had come out of that band the 31st.
So it’s sort of interesting, because live I thought they were quite good,
but that first record was just nothing to write home about. And now it’s a
very valuable thing on the collector’s market, which I can not understand,
because as a musical piece it’s terrible production and the songs aren’t
great.
But then they got Masuak to
produce their single, which I think was the really critical factor, because
the first record wasn’t anything at all like they were without Chris’s
input. He has a lot to do with those first two records. Peno wrote the
lyrics to those two A sides. But I should have known what direction they
were going to go in ultimately by listening to the B sides. Which is what
they did after those first two singles. They started chasing heavy metal, I
guess.
Steve: Actually, I didn’t
care too much for the second single, but I really liked the Date With A
Vampyre ep.
John: (long silence, then
speaks) You’re asking me to give a comment on it – I had an agreement with
them and the ep was going to come, and I don’t want to go into all this
nefarious bullshit that went along with the dismissal of the original rhythm
section and their ultimate replacement with other people and how Masuak
actually joined the band, but I was already committed to doing that ep. I
didn’t like it, because – I’m not passing critical judgment on it musically,
and it sold like hotcakes…it was a huge seller – but I thought I was getting
something like the first couple of singles and it was like a more metal rock
kind of thing. So I parted company with them really quickly after that
record. Because I didn’t like their management either.
Which is one of the great
joys when you run a small independent label – if you don’t like the band or
their management you can just throw up your hands and say "I’ve got no more
money" and they immediately want to leave you!
Steve: "Igloo" was a pretty
big seller, too, right? Wasn’t it independent single of the year for the
year it was released?
John: Yeah, but you know,
what’s that? 1500 copies? The label didn’t start selling in good quantities
for quite a while after that. That was another single that had to sell a
certain number. It sold a bit quickly…it had a better life than the ones
that didn’t have bands attached to it, because they were around and touring.
It got a bit of momentum, but it didn’t sell any great number.
In those days, for
alternative or indie single of the year they solicited like four record
shops around Australia, and there was a very strict definition of what
alternative or indie was. So there wasn’t much competition. It seems more
impressive than it really was. Although it had a good shelf life, that
single. It never stopped selling. So I actually made quite a significant
sales figure when taken over a period of about five years.
Steve: But in the short term
it sounds like it didn’t really give you enough money to make you able to do
a lot of other things.
John: No, I never had that.
It was only the Lime Spiders single ("Slave Girl"). That was actually
the first single that sold well immediately. All the others trickled out.
Died Pretty’s first single – Jesus, it took about eighteen months to sell
the first 200 copies. That was really hard. That single never sold until it
got a good review overseas quite some time later and the export kicked in.
But here it was just a total failure.
I thought it was earth
shattering, that record, when I first heard it. But it didn’t take at all.
(Died Pretty were one of the
longest lasting Citadel bands…there’s lots written about them elsewhere on
this website. John managed the band for many years, and Citadel released
almost all of their best records. The Pre-Deity CD compiles their "Out Of
The Unknown"/"World Without" single along with "Mirror Blues" and the
fabulous Next To Nothing 12" ep – all the great early tracks. Then there’s
the "Stoneage Cinderella" single, the awe inspiring Free Dirt lp (which
includes the best Died Pretty song not to appear on a single in "Blue Sky
Day") and the riveting "Winterland" 45. There’s lots more as well, and in
the late nineties the band reappeared on Citadel and has made several more
CDs with them, including a terrific career retrospective called Out Of The
Unknown.)
Steve: I thought that first
one was a little more subtle compared to something like "Mirror Blues". I
thought "Mirror Blues" was a really awesome one. Although that’s kind of a
weird song for a single the way it splits across two sides.
John: Yes. Well, that’s the
band. (long pause)
Steve: You sound like you
have something to say that you’re not saying…
John: They’ll read this, and
then I’ll be in big trouble. No, that band always has their own way of doing
things. I didn’t particularly agree to a lot of their philosophies in their
early years. The way they did things, I didn’t think that they made much
sense, but you know. As always, I was very laisse faire about that sort of
thing with selection of records and how they did it. It’s just how it was.
The real problem with that record was its record cover.
Steve: That’s the one stolen
from Ansel Adams?
John: Exactly. I’d never
even heard of Ansel bloody Adams. If someone had said Ansel Adams I would
have said it was a brand of condom. You don’t know what it’s like – I find
out two years later that I’ve bootlegged one of the world’s most famous
photographers! I was shocked by that, and the band thought it was hilarious.
(much laughter)
Steve: The first time I saw
that single, I knew what it was right away!
John: Well, I didn’t! You
know, they said we’ve got this really obscure little photograph, it’s really
cute and nice. A little cemetery somewhere in America. And I go OK, because
I didn’t have any idea about anything in those days. I didn’t even know what
copyright was until such time as a lawyer came and reamed me with it. Thank
god that never happened – I just deleted that as soon as possible, that
cover.
But it was released as a 12"
ep in England with the same cover. And I knew about it by that time and I
told the guy over there, but he just went ahead and put the same cover out.
The fact that it was never seized and operated upon by the estate was
nothing short of a miracle.
Steve: Probably just the
luck that the people knowing about the estate don’t have anything to do with
this kind of music.
John: Yeah, all they would
read would be geography journals.
(Rob Younger’s New Christs
went through a series of incarnations in the 80s, each time turning over the
entire band except for Younger. There had been one New Christs single, "Face
A New God", prior to Citadel, but the first two Citadel singles were the
records that forged an identity for Younger independent of Radio Birdman.
The line-up for these New Christs was assembled to support Iggy Pop on an
Australian tour, and it consisted of Younger, Celibate Rifles guitarist Kent
Steedman, and the entire Hitmen lineup (Chris Masuak, Tony Robertson, Mark
Kingsmill) minus Johnny Kannis. While the Pop supports were underway, Kanis
was involved in a serious car wreck. The fact that he was in no state to be
fronting a band led to the New Christs, in that form, continuing..
The A sides of these two
singles are among the hardest hitting, tough edged rock songs ever – time
tested classics of Australian music. Oz-rock historian Ian MacFarlane rates
the 1986 single "Born Out Of Time" as "surely one of the greatest Australian
rock songs of all time" and used its title for his recent and terrific
Australian indie compilation on the Raven Records label. John states below
that 1983’s "Like A Curse" was actually not on Citadel, but it does in fact
have a Citadel label on the record even though it’s licensed to Big Time
Records and has a Big Time catalog number. Ultimately, all four songs from
these singles are available on the Citadel CD entitled Divine Rites. It’s
also important to recognize here that John and Rob are fast friends, and
that John was winking and laughing as he recounted his trials working with
Rob professionally.)
Steve: Tell me about the
early New Christs singles.
John: Ah, the most expensive
recordings I’ve ever done. They had to be recorded three times, mixed three
times, mastered three times and go through three sets of covers. Thanks Rob!
They were really expensive and they just completely devoured everything at
the time. But I was just too weak in those days to say "fuck this, I am NOT
remixing it again". Because Rob would remix until the cows come home. He’s
never happy – that’s his artistic temperament.
The first one actually
didn’t come out on Citadel ever. "Like A Curse" – I licensed it. But that’s
just a whole lot of background stuff in there, being manipulated by the
music industry. God when this gets put in print…the machinations of all of
this. But I was pressured by the band’s management and publishing to license
that to a big company because I didn’t know what I was doing, but all that
was really happening was that I was being manipulated by these two people
into putting a huge amount of money into these two singles so that they
could set it up and walk the band off to a major record company deal, and I
would have spent all the money to feather their nests.
But it never worked out,
because the thing came out through EMI distribution and it just sold
NOTHING. It was a total stiff, that first record. Just didn’t do a bean.
So they were dropped from
that whole thing. And three years later the artwork from the second single –
because they were recorded at the same time – three years later the artwork
was given to me, and I sold in the first week about four times what EMI had
ever distributed. Which really goes to show you that you’re not going to
sell anything from a major company unless they’re dedicated towards it. That
was always gonna happen, that that single was going to die a death being
among a major company. Because they didn’t give a shit about the band.
Steve: So how many has that
sold up to now? It’s a really popular single among those who like this kind
of music.
John: What, "Like A Curse"?
Well, there were only about 1200 copies made.
Steve: It was never
repressed?
John: No. You’d think it
would be more imminently collectable than it is, with that picture sleeve
and everything. It was actually meant to by CIT006.
(In the mid 80s quite a few
Citadel singles appeared on labels in France, often with a different picture
sleeve from the Citadel version. Some of these were on a label called
Sonics, and others were on the excellent Closer label or its subsidiary
Teenage Records. I had thought that there was some issue about the
legitimacy of these releases, but was proven wrong by what John had to say.
European success has been critical for Citadel over the years. Many Citadel
bands have toured Europe and played to much larger audiences than they ever
received at home, and in many cases they’ve also sold far more records in
Europe than Australia. )
Steve: What’s the story with
the Sonics label in France that put out "Like A Curse" and the Minuteman
single?
John: Nice Frenchman! Good
boy! That was Stephane Saunier and he started up that label and he just sent
me a letter – this was before faxes and when telephoning another continent
was too expensive. He just said he’d had a fanzine and he’d written some
fabulous review of the Minuteman single and he sent me a letter saying he
had this record company in France and I want to release your record and I
thought, well, shit, why not. So I licensed that to him, and he was actually
quite influential I think in the whole penetration that happened in the
years following into Europe of all of that stuff. Because he promoted the
single and then he licensed the Tribesmen singles. But they had those funny
French covers on them. Only the French can understand.
So anyway, Stephane released
those singles and he started doing the promotion and that actually developed
a bit of interest in Europe. Because I think that what happens traditionally
with Australian bands – independent bands or mainstream bands – they all
head straight to London. And all effort goes towards the cultivating of the
UK, because the philosophy is that if you break the UK you spill out into
Europe. So bands that you would see in Australia that wanted to escape here
or weren’t getting noticed would go and live in poverty in London, which is
what bands like the Birthday Party and the Go Betweens, the Triffids and the
Moodists all did to varying levels of success.
But I’d been on Radio
Birdman’s 1978 European tour and I detested England and I had no interest in
the place. So I was really happy when someone in France came along and he
actually propelled us into the other European territories’ interest. And it
built up, and I think it’s because all those bands that went and struggled
and suffered in the UK – they never actually got out into the continent.
They didn’t tour much, and their records were exclusively English phenomena
rather than doing anything out there. So I kind of came in through a
different door into Europe.
And Stephane of course
released stuff and he himself had managed bands over there and toured, so he
started touring acts for me in France and it just built from there. He’s a
marvelous individual who I dearly love. I still see him whenever I’m around
in Paris. He’s a character!
Steve: I’m trying to
remember where I’ve seen his name around before. Did he have anything to do
with Closer Records?
John: Yeah, he worked for
Closer Records, and his label was tied in with them. So through his label,
the other Australian things that came into Closer, they were all things that
he A&R’ed for Closer. He worked for them until Closer bankrupted. Then he
got the job running Roadrunner, France, which he did really successfully, I
might add. And he’s now the musical producer of France’s biggest
entertainment – I don’t really even know what to call it – it’s a cable
show…they have chat and it runs for half an hour and four million people
watch it, and he does all of the acts that go on there. And he tells
Metallica they can’t come on and lets Deniz Tek go and have his three
minutes. He’s a character! But he was the tour manager of all the early Died
Pretty tours through France.
(The Lime Spiders had won a
"battle of the bands" event in 1982 where the prize was studio time. The
band took advantage of this to record the double single "25th
Hour", released on Green Records. This record later was regarded as a
classic but at first didn’t do all that much. They then did two singles for
Citadel, the garage classic "Slave Girl" and the monster hard rocker "Out Of
Control", the latter a fair rival to those early New Christs singles in the
hard hitting crunch rock sweepstakes. After this their stock among Aussie
rock fans was at an absolute zenith, but then they left Citadel and made a
series of progressively less compelling records and finally faded from view
in relative disgrace.
John and I had talked quite
a bit about the Lime Spiders when I visited him in Sydney, and he had a
number of very funny stories to tell that can’t be repeated here without
significant financial benefit to Sydney’s legal profession.)
Steve: Tell me a little more
about the Lime Spiders. You were starting to talk about "Slave Girl"
earlier, and the other day you were telling me some things about them which
you may not want to appear in print.
John: Not now! When it’s
documented on tape, they’re a lovely bunch of guys, fabulous blokes!
No, I don’t know why, but a
lot of my most successful records have been with bands that no one ever
wanted to touch. No one wanted to release "Slave Girl". They’d had that ep
previously on Green, and Green disappeared and they could find no one to put
it out. So I just listened to it once and I knew that it was going to be the
first big record that I was going to get, and that’s exactly what happened.
It was huge in this country. It had a lot to do with the live circuit,
because they toured, and the label was beginning to develop a bit of
profile. That record was actually a very successful record – a good
financial shot in the arm for the label.
But they always had their
eyes set on a major deal, and they were very emphatic when they came – well,
they told me that I’d only ever get one single from them because they were
so great that a major company would sign them really promptly after the
release of this first single that no one wanted to know about. And that
proved to be correct, it just was after the second single, not the first
single.
But I never developed any
relationship with the individuals in that band. The manager at the time I
did, but the band I never got close to.
Steve: Tell me the story you
were telling the other day about the recording of "Out Of Control".
John: Well, the two guys in
the band sacked Younger and Thorne saying that they were incompetent and
they didn’t know what they were doing, and they went off and mixed it and
apparently it’s the greatest recording of vocals and drums ever made. Shame
that there’s no bass or guitar in there! So they were forced to admit that
they were idiots and Younger and Thorne were called back and gave them their
best sounding record. Because they never did anything good after that. And
that’s a really common thing from bands that have all that potential if
they’re treated in a correct way on that sort of small level, and they get
in with a major label and money is thrown at them and they just acquiesce to
everything and as you know, their records – I found them myself, well I only
ever listened to their first one after they went on their own – but I found
it a bit of a bland thing. And that’s the way it is.
The Trilobites, you know,
their first major record, they read in a magazine once about what a bland,
disappointing record it was. In fact the record’s really good, it’s the
production that stinks on that. And that was just part of the fact that the
producer was the son of one of England’s worst comedians. The joke was on
everyone he ever produced, I’ll tell you.
(The Trilobites did two
wonderful early singles on Citadel in "Venus In Leather"/"Amphetamine Dream"
and "American TV"/"Legacy Of Morons". Their sound fused power pop and
Detroit rock, and extra interest was generated via Mike Dalton’s unusual
lyric style, which often touched upon political topics or social observation
in unusual ways. The Trilobites left in hopes of getting a deal for an lp,
and ultimately did a fine live album for Waterfront. The studio lp John
talks about was recorded for rooArt, and includes totally overblown
production with layer upon layer of backing vocals. But it’s got some great
songs, like the witty "Girl From Mossad" for one. Would’ve been great to
hear this set produced by Younger and engineered by Thorne.)
But Died Pretty suffered the
very same fate with their first album with Beggar’s Banquet when they were
sent over to LA and had this American producer who took away every ounce of
character and everything appealing about the band was sacrificed for the
sake of a "commercial" sound that’s probably only once in fifty times going
to do anything as far as sales go, particularly in America.
Steve: What is it about
Younger and Thorne that made them create so many good records? It seems like
record after record after record that those two guys worked on sound like
the best records that the band ever did.
John: People came from
overseas to have those guys work on their records. It’s just one of those
things. I think it’s a bit of chemistry. Alan Thorne pretty much knew his
engineering, but Rob knew what he wanted to hear and didn’t really know how
to ask for it – we’re talking on a technical level here. The magic in that
sort of relationship is something to do with the bands at the time as well,
but Alan wasn’t the sort of engineer – and so many are like this – to go
"this is the sound that this band should have". Rob asked for certain things
and Alan gave him the sound and didn’t interfere. Rob’s always the sort of
guy that when he goes in there and produces that sort of stuff – he’s not a
technical producer or anything – but he always sees that one little thing in
there that no one else would even look at. He just has a knack of being able
to grab it and really bring it to prominence – to pull something out of the
box that makes the single. That was his great strength. Plus he’s really
good at getting a performance out of a band as well. I think that was the
thing, that Rob had those talents and Alan Thorne didn’t have any particular
personality disorders that made him a control freak or anything. He just
flowed along with it and tried his best to give Rob the sound that Rob knew
that he wanted but really couldn’t put into words that well
Steve: Speaking of bands
that came over to have them produce, one of them was Fixed Up, who you
released a few records by.
John: Yeah, Stephane Saunier
managed that band.
Steve: So what did you think
of the records that you put out by them?
John: Ah, well, you know, I
owed Stephane so many debts that I had to put them whether I liked them or
not. But I toured them out here! It was the funniest tour. Those French
guys! Carting them around Australia – Jesus Christ! They actually toured
with Porcelain Bus – it was a double.
I sort of liked their stuff.
It’s French – that’s the whole thing. Those French, they just don’t have the
same sort of rock traditions. They just don’t get it the same way English
speaking people do. But they were very dedicated and they were pretty tough.
Steve: To me, that can be a
plus that they don’t get it the same way that English speaking people do…
John: Yeah, well that’s why
their records are slightly a bit different. But they did that one single
"Who Is Innocent" and it’s THE worst selling Citadel record of all time. The
first press was like about 500 and it just never, ever, ever went into a
second pressing. And yet it’s far better than a lot of other things that
sold four or five thousand copies.
Steve: I think "Who Is
Innocent" is a terrific single myself. I wish it was a little stronger
sounding – it feels a little thin to me, like there’s not enough bottom end,
but other than that, it’s a great song.
John: That’s Rob.
(Fixed Up had a full length
lp called Vital Hours on Citadel in addition to the two singles mentioned
above. It’s an excellent record that sounds influenced by British pub rock
like early Dr. Feelgood – when they had Wilko Johnson. Very hard hitting
guitar but a sort of soulful feel as well. There are several other Fixed Up
records released only in France, but Vital Hours is the best. Fixed Up
frontman Francois Lebas went on to form the Backsliders, who are still
playing today and have released four CDs all told.)
Steve: You just mentioned
Porcelain Bus, who’s another band I wanted to ask you about, because I think
their stuff is great, too, and they weren’t exactly a phenomenal success.
John: You and three hundred
other people in the world. Ah, no, they were never…they only ever achieved
any sort of popularity in Germany, Austria and Switzerland – those three.
They never did anything here at all. I think I signed them or did their
first single because Waterfront was really interested in them, and I
thought, Jesus, this will really shit Waterfront if I steal these guys (much
laughter). Which I did!
Steve: Shit them or steal
them?
John: Stole them! They were
actually a bunch of people I did have a relationship with – I hung out with
them a lot. I always thought their records were actually quite good, and
they never sold because live they weren’t – I’m not going to say they
weren’t good, but they never did consistently good shows in Australia. It
was really weird, because I toured them in Germany, whatever year that would
be. Just before the Iraqi war, because I can remember when that started the
band was like (adopts pathetic, whining tone of voice) "Can we go home? Can
we go home? There’ll be a nuclear war. We’ve got to get back to Australia,
it’s the end of the world!". And I remember this happening – we were in some
place in Switzerland, and I remember hearing this harangue on the radio and
they hadn’t, and we got on the bus and I went, "Oh, by the way, war’s
started!" And I just remember we stopped somewhere and it was the weirdest
urinal I’d ever been to in my life. They had pink and blue fluorescent
lights shining and flashing in the urinal. The weirdest toilet I’d ever been
into. And I always associate this whinging about going home and the war and
this urinal in Switzerland.
But on that tour they were
fantastic. I don’t know, I think when they didn’t have their friends around
they didn’t have that thing in the back of their minds that was holding them
back. They played fantastic shows over there. Everyone was shocked at how
good they were in Germany. They just let loose.
I did some things that they
didn’t like over there. It was the only time I’ve ever made a band play the
same set every night. I made it formulated so that they could do things
without losing their momentum with five minutes of tuning. Songs where the
guitarist would always go out of tune, I’d go play this song next, because
it’s got a ten minute bass and drum intro and you can tune up!
So that’s what we did, and
they got into the flow, and it’s really great for them that they played
great shows and everyone wanted them back in Germany. The agent said,
they’re great, bring them back immediately! But there were internal disputes
among a couple of them and they just finished the tour and broke up
immediately.
It’s funny, there’s a
hierarchy of things that break up bands. There’s landmarks. Like a record
breaks a band up really quickly. A tour breaks up a band really quickly.
This is if you’re in Australia. The threat of going overseas can break up a
band, and actually going over there can also break up a band. It’s a strange
phenomenon over the years when you see this sort of stuff happening. But
they actually reached this whole lip where they could have gone on and done
a whole lot better for themselves, but they broke up at that critical
juncture. And that was it for them. (drawls out the band’s name…) The Bus –
the Porcelain Bus. Robbie McKiernan.
He’s a train fanatic, you
know? It’s all trains. He collects train artifacts. I told him that when I
was a kid I used to vandalize all the trains. In order to get to school I
had to ride for half an hour on the train every day. I detested the school
so much I vandalized the little trains. They had these little holes in the
toilets where all of the droppings would go down onto the tracks. And there
was a little sign that said: "Do not go to the toilet if the train is at the
station". And for years I took every one of these signs, and I told him "Oh,
I used to vandalize the trains – I had a box of all of those!" I mean, I had
like twenty or thirty of them, and when I moved up to Sydney I just threw
them all out at a local dump. You’ve never seen a guy more mortified. And
Rob says: "I would give ANYTHING for one of those signs, John!"
When we got home I spent a
lot of my time traveling around here, and I used to love telling him how I
used to go travelling around India on all these really famous train lines.
You know, the Upline Lucknow Express and shit like that. And he’d go
(assumes a dreamy, starstruck tone) "Oh, you took that train!". And I’d go
"Yep! Sorry Robbie, I did. And they were all steam trains!"
(for more on Porcelain Bus
see the feature elsewhere on this website.)
Steve (after much laughter):
So there’s a couple of Perth bands you did…the Stems and the Bamboos. So how
did you get hooked up with those guys? It seems like a long way to go for a
connection.
John: Well, there was
nothing happening for anyone original in Perth. There wasn’t a Perth label
as such. By this time, what are we talking about, number 11? Well, at any
rate, there might have been a few stores over there, and there was some sort
of thing by that time happening around the label. And they had a manager.
And he turned up one night…Died Pretty was playing at the Old Chevron – the
hotel that was built for R&R in Sydney during the Vietnam War. They were
playing with someone – I forget – and this guy came up and he introduces
himself and he tells me that he’s the manager of the best band in the world.
And I go OK, yeah right! And he says, I’ve got a tape here for you, and I go
OK, yeah, this is going to be fucking crap if they’ve got this guy for a
manager. (Steps out of the story for a moment…) I’m not a very friendly
person, let’s get this established now (laughter).
So anyway, I took the tape.
I always listen to tapes. It may take me six months, but I will listen to
it. And he was insistent that I listen to it. He described it as a boogie
shuffle. You know, when a manager describes the band that he’s touting
as a "boogie shuffle" and you’re dealing with inner city alternative music,
it’s not really a selling point! So he says, I’m gonna get the PA guy and
I’m gonna play it through the PA for you. So I just left the venue.
But a week later, I had the
tape and for some reason I went in a friend’s car and I was driving down
Crown Street in Darlinghurst and I thought, oh, yeah, this bloody Perth
band, I’d better listen to it. And I put it on and about ten seconds into it
I thought (assumes a voice like a mad scientist brewing up a formula) "Oh,
I’ve found my Shadows Of Knight!" So I’m at a light, and I’m really
ecstatic, and then a car ran right into the back of my friend’s car at the
corner of William and Crown, this huge big smash, and then escaped! So I
always associate the first time I listened to the Stems, this great rush of
the Shadows Of Knight and then the jolt of the car accident that cost me
hundreds of dollars in panel beating.
But they were a very, um,
they got rid of the manager very quickly. They actually got rid of every
manager they had very quickly. They had a succession of managers. I put the
single out, and at that time Richard Lane, who was the sort of keyboard,
guitarist guy and not the main vocalist, but he wrote a lot of the songs, he
sort of managed the band and was their organizer (they got rid of him,
too – Steve). They put out the record and they immediately just drove
from Perth to Sydney at a time that the live market was so vibrant that they
turned up, and they were there for just six weeks, and they turned up and
they did one show at the Trade Union and within a week their other five
weeks were filled up. Just immediately – GIRLS! Girls liked the band! And
they just took off and they sold really very well.
Steve: They were really
young, too, weren’t they like 20 or something most of them?
John: They were younger than
that when they first arrived. Mariani was a little bit older than the rest
of them. And the drummer was a little bit older. But Julian and Rich were 17
or 18.
(The Stems did two smashing
singles for Citadel in 1985: "She’s A Monster" and "Tears Me In Two". All
four songs on these two records featured a kind of magical alchemy of garage
rock and power pop, with keyboards, fuzz guitars, wild freak-out screams and
classic boy/girl lyrics. Subsequently in 1986 they did a mellower four track
12" called Love Will Grow, that has a more psych rock kind of feel to it.
The band then moved off to a bigger label for their debut lp. But Citadel
has licensed all their later material back and reissued the best of it along
with those early singles on the CD entitled Buds. Meanwhile, Dom Mariani
continued on with the Someloves and then the great power pop outfit the DM3,
the latter band recording for Citadel once again during the 90s. The
Someloves first record was on Citadel in 1986, and it was actually quite
some time later that they became Mariani’s primary project. Lane played in
the early lineup of the Perth power pop group the Chevelles. There are
articles on both the Stems and DM3 elsewhere on this website.)
Steve: How did the first
Someloves single come about?
John: Well, Darryl Mather
was in the first Lime Spiders and since that time he’d always wanted some
band to send his songwriting into the future with. He met Mariani when the
Stems were over here, I think. There was some association – he might have
had that association before the band actually came. But he and Mariani just
got together and did this as a side project with the idea that it would
develop into something else in the future, which it sort of did.
Steve: Quite a long way in
the future. But the other Perth band I was asking you about was the Bamboos.
John: Yes. (dead silence)
Steve: Is there an unhappy
memory there?
John: No, I never had any
problem with the Bamboos. Oddly enough I think their first manager was the
same guy who’d been managing the Stems. And he brought me the Bamboos and
then I put that record out and then they fired him immediately as well. I
thought "I’ve got a track history!"
Steve: So that was the last
band he brought you, I guess!
John: I think it was. He’d
been a promoter over in Perth and he moved here to Melbourne, and he’s still
doing stuff in Melbourne. He books the venue down the road from here known
as the Prince Of Wales. So he’s still around and does stuff.
But the Bamboos – their tape
just came, and I thought, this is pretty good. My thing with these bands is
that it’s a very risky thing. Because how many times does a band have one
single that’s good and everything else is rubbish thereafter. It just seems
to be a recurring theme at this level. It’s always a risk, you never see
them, you don’t know what they’re like, you just hear something and you
think "That’s really good. Christ, I hope their follow up single is as
good." But I really like it, and they weren’t a difficult bunch of people to
work with. They toured.
The sound of that single,
"Snuff", it was produced in Perth.
Steve: It’s got a sort of
Gun Club-by feel to it.
John: Yeah, they were really
into that, but Christ, the singer – ever lyric was about killing women, I
later found out. Seriously! That was his thing – serial killing and murder!
I mean, I didn’t really much know that guy. He was very impenetrable sort of
quiet and very reserved guy who just wrote about murdering people. Snuff!
Virginia!
Steve: "Dead Girl" – that
was my favorite!
John: Yeah, that was a
laugh. But they were just a band who came along that their live thing – they
were a bit difficult to take live. I don’t think they had the vibrancy. They
were a bit too dark for an Australian audience. So they really withered a
little bit on the vine. They never really struck a chord in Europe, whereas
a lot of bands like the Stems and Died Pretty, the Lime Spiders and the New
Christs all had a really big – and the Trilobites as well – sort of big
European following. The Bamboos, no one ever really took to them over there
as well. Maybe they had some sort of sound that they didn’t associate with
being Australian. The interest was in things Australian.
(For my money the Bamboos
were a pretty fascinating band. Musically they reminded me a lot of groups
like Green on Red, the Gun Club, or maybe the later period Barracudas. The
songs had a country-ish edge to them, but they were dark and rocking as
well. Russell Hopkinson, later of the Kryptonics and Nursery Crimes and now
playing with You Am I, played drums for the Bamboos for a while. Their
single "Dead Girl"has a kind of down home feel and a Neil Young styled vocal
with classic lines like "Every time I’m with that girl I feel so alive".)
It’s a cyclical thing. It
was the right place at the right sort of time with the right sort of sound.
You came from somewhere exotic as far as they were concerned. Then of course
after that early penetration into Europe it got so that every Australian
band could get a record out there and it killed it. And then Seattle came.
That was the next flavor. But that took off of course in a far more serious
way, because it was American, so it had that promotional clout that only
billions of dollars of multinational money can buy.
Steve: I always thought when
I started to see Waterfront and AuGoGo putting out records by American bands
that the Australian scene was probably going to be in trouble. It didn’t
seem like there was a lot of need for them to be doing that then. And they
were wasting all their energy on stuff that already had enough promotion
behind it.
John: Well, they were
probably thinking that because of that promotion that they would make money
from it. Because it’s a struggle financially. It’s always been a struggle to
survive if you do this sort of thing. Australia’s a small place – when you
compare it to America, it’s a VERY small place. There’s a lot of capital
cities just separated by large areas of not much life. Touring’s different
here and the whole market is small. It’s really hard to survive. I’d never
have been able to survive on anything I’ve ever done in Australia. Without
Europe I’d have never done anything. I’d have died fifteen years ago, got a
job in a bank, and now I’d have a house and a stable life and my liver
wouldn’t be swollen and my attitude wouldn’t be so cynical.
Steve: But what you’ve just
said is why I think it was a really bad idea for those labels to do singles
from America. Because they didn’t have the European market to sell them
into. They only had the Australian market.
John: That’s true, but
there’s always been a big market in Europe for Australian pressing in
American copyrights. I knew somebody who used to sell reams and reams of
AC/DC Australian pressings to Germany. It’s quite illegal to do that, but
they did it. All that Fixed Up stuff – I never sold anything here, it was
all export back to France. It’s a long way to come to get a release to have
it sold at home!
Steve: There’s one other
band I wanted to ask you about, because nobody ever says anything about this
band, and I know nothing about them, is the Inner Sleeves? I’ve never heard
a single word about that band. (The
Inner Sleeves had one Citadel single, 1986’s "End It All"/"Heartache". It’s
pleasant power pop material but not the first water level of music that
their Citadel labelmates were making. Ian MacFarlane doesn’t even show an
entry for them in his encyclopedia.)
John: (groans like an ex-con
being asked about his prison record) Well, you’re asking the wrong person –
I don’t know anything about them!
Steve: But you put out their
record!
John: Well, I’ll tell you,
the history of that was that I had this sort of golden period where
everything worked and everything sold and by the time we get into that
period I was doing my own distribution. And distribution is a very weird
animal, really, that insists that to perpetuate you have to have more and
more things. You can’t run distribution without more and more new things
coming all the time or the back catalog doesn’t move. And that’s where the
real money is. So by then I was distributing Flying Nun, distributing Red
Eye, Greasy Pop, Phantom, quite a lot of things. And with Citadel I got to
the point, right at that time, where I actually started releasing records
that I shouldn’t have touched. And a whole string of them came thereafter.
Plus I wasn’t in the country that much. So I’d never seen the Inner Sleeves.
That was something that was done to start fulfilling the needs of the
distribution, rather than fulfilling the staunch criterion that had
previously been enforced on what a Citadel release was.
So I didn’t really have much
to do with those guys. I met them a few times, and I know that they went up
and played in Sydney and tried to tour, but I was in Europe so much doing
tours over there that I never really knew them.
Thereafter there were things
released on Citadel that I didn’t even know they were released. They were
done by the troops back here, looking after the distribution while I was
over in Europe in six month alcohol hazes.
Steve: What were some of the
other releases that fall into that category? I never realized you had
another group of people working for you that made decisions like that.
John: Well, you know (shifts
uncomfortably at the idea of answering this question). The people who read
this will hate me... If I had the written catalog here in front of me I
could point them out to you. The Vindaloonies should never have been
released on Citadel, and that happened because my manufacturing guy was
their manager. But Rob did sanction that, actually. But that sort of stuff –
once you start doing that you’re fucked. You’re out of the picture, because
you’ve dissipated – it’s OK for multinational companies to release
everything in a wide range of styles, but when you’re a small indie label
you’ve got to release just one genre of thing or you’re in trouble. Once you
start trying to widen things out, that’s a problem for certain.
Steve: How about the Bam-Balams?
John: (in visible
discomfort) God, I hate the idea of these people reading this thing, but the
Bam Balams bass player worked for a newspaper and I never had any money, and
for years and years and years that guy did all of my promo for free, and I
owed him! So when they came along they got on Citadel because I owed the
bass player, not because their record deserved to be on Citadel.
They were nice people,
though, the Bam-Balams. They were friends. And that’s another thing, when a
band comes along and you don’t know them – you release their record and then
develop a relationship with them – that’s very workable. But when you start
releasing records from people you know who are already your friends before
their records – that’s going to be a problem too. Those sorts of things.
But you know, in those days
it was like I was just traveling and I was out of my mind the whole time,
and these things just propel you forward. The real trouble was that I never
knew zip about economics. Didn’t know the first thing about accounting, and
that was always the trouble back then. I know that it’s a long jump from "I
didn’t know how to balance a spreadsheet" to "I signed the wrong act", but
there’s a sort of trend there that I understand, anyway. But those things
all went hand in hand and that fueled the distribution – I had no idea about
cash flow. Absolutely zip. It was always spontaneous fan shit, really. Like
"Whoopee! A new record – let’s release it!" But some of those records just
sold a LOT of copies – the Bam Balams and the Vindaloonies. They didn’t lose
money as far as the sales went. They sold quite a lot of records. But I
think they dissipated the strength of the label. People started to go "we’ll
listen to this new release before we buy it" rather than race out and just
buy everything.
So if I could turn the clock
back, there would be a certain time there when I would have gone out and
bought a book on accounting and said no to a lot of people even though it
was going to hurt their feelings and they’d helped me out financially.
And in the end, the Green
Fez label was actually created to take care of those sorts of problems.
That’s where the Plunderers for instance started, although the Plunderers
perhaps shouldn’t have been made to start there.
Craig Regan: (has been dead
quiet for almost 45 minutes, but perks up now) Johnny Teen?
John: Yeah, Johnny Teen.
Johnny Teen actually turned up at the gig last night. Greg and Doug. My man,
Johnny Teen! He’s the solution to all your financial problems. He’s gonna be
big! Their records just sold so well – it was just amazing. I sold a LOT of
copies of that. No export, no interstate, just all in the Sydney beach
suburbs.
Craig: Why? They used to be
at the Caringbah Inn every Friday night every two weeks. And people packed
the joint out. Dreadful!
John: Craig, you don’t
understand. For a guy who works for a multinational drug company (Craig
has a senior media relations position at his company – Steve), you’ve
got a very narrow view that people don’t buy any sort of shit. But Johnny
Teen was basically a novelty act, except their novelty was naughty sexist
lyrics and they were like the Psychotic Turnbuckles – dressed up in wigs.
But they were a novelty act and they appealed to the – you know – people who
like novelty acts!
Steve: That "She Stinks Of
Sex" single was pretty funny, you have to admit. But the rest of them
weren’t that great.
John: Yes, it was! Well, I
only did that one single by them didn’t I?
Craig: I think you did two!
John: Well, I was very good
friends with the people who were their management company. The people who
managed them owned – well, they didn’t own, they managed – a venue called
the Petersham Inn. And I never lived anywhere – I had no fixed abode when I
went bankrupt – and they let me live in the pub for a year and a half. So
that’s how the Johnny Teen record came out. My two landlords managed the
band. They come up to me and say "My man, we’ve got this great act!".
They also coerced me into
releasing the Tav Falco album that I did. Because "My man, we must have a
new album! We’ve got Tav coming in three months." So they brought Tav Falco
out here and then on the day that they were supposed to go off to the first
dates in Melbourne they’re out there on the footpath in front of the pub
arguing about whose responsibility it was to have hired the van that was to
be their transport to get up there! Tav Falco’s wandering around, you know!
Anyway.
Steve: Then you had that
deal with Festival for the Blue Mosque label – what was that about?
John: Oh, yeah. How that
happened was that after the Stems first single they did their ep and sold a
LOT of records, and there was a big vibe on the band, and I never had long
term contracts with these people. And I don’t know how it – oh, of course,
Festival did all my manufacture. I started off using them because Festival
had the most marvelous pressing plant underneath their offices. They never,
ever pressed defective records. Everything they ever pressed was perfect.
They had beautiful quality control. And through that I’d met the people down
there, and they were there of course at the time going "Jesus, we’re
printing a lot of records for this guy!" And suddenly the managing director
up there liked the idea of the Stems. And Gudinski from Mushroom would come
along, and he was sniffing around and basically flying over to Perth and
telling them that he was going to make them stars and so on, so I had to
find some source of money. So I went down there and convinced Festival that
they should sign – because Festival never signed acts in those days; they
were solely a distribution firm – to sign this act. And they offered that
band the most amazing deal, and they didn’t take it and went with Mushroom.
But the whole process of
working with them and talking about deals – basically I was going to become
like this weird A&R offshoot of Festival with this deal – so when the band
eventually went with Mushroom I’d already sort of made these relationships,
particularly with the general manager down there at Festival, Jim White. And
he goes "Oh, well the Stems have fallen through, so you’d better bring us
something else, then." And Died Pretty had gotten big enough by that time,
because they’d done a lot of overseas touring, and my distribution just –
for a band that may have had the ability to leap into a chart position –
what I was doing just couldn’t fill that promotional need particularly. And
so I said "Oh, I’ve got Died Pretty and no one else wants them". And Jim
White goes "OK, we can’t have the Stems, we’ll have them!" Which is sort of
basically what happened. And they were just given an imprint label, which
was Blue Mosque.
So I had Green Fez, which
was primary school, and Citadel which was high school school, and Blue
Mosque, which was tertiary education. That’s how I used to view it. That’s
how stupid I was! And so Died Pretty went into Festival for
distribution. Of course, their first one for them was Lost which came
out and just doubled what they’d done. There’s no way my distribution could
have done that. The deal with Festival was quite successful – and they were
able to survive for many years on the back of Festival’s work and making
their money out of live touring in this country. So when this Festival thing
came on line, they actually spent a lot more time in Australia touring. They
made money there and then got a concurrent deal out of Beggar’s Banquet.
But that’s what that was
meant to be – if I could develop bands for Citadel that suddenly require
twenty people working the promotion rather than just me calling up people
and pleading – journalists who probably didn’t return their calls, but would
take the calls of a known publicist – that they would go into that. So the
New Christs – and at that time I went bankrupt so I didn’t have a
distribution. That’s right! So the New Christs and the Porcelain Bus went
into that thing as well. But those two acts were very unsuccessful because
the company couldn’t grasp Rob Younger or where he was coming from, and the
Porcelain Bus – they did actually sell a reasonable number of their last
record from memory. And they got airplay on Triple J. But then they went to
Europe and broke up.
That was supposed to be the
gist of that – that Citadel would work bands up to a point where I could
just license them to the bigger distribution without actually signing the
act to that distribution, which meant that I’d actually be in control of the
copyrights.
Steve: Tell me about the
whole bankruptcy ordeal and how you managed to come out of that on the other
end.
John: Well, I came out on
the other end, but I only had about twenty percent of my mind left. I never
recovered from it. It was one of those things where you find out that you’re
bankrupt nine months after it’s really happened because you don’t understand
about cash flow and accounting procedures. But that had more rumbling around
in the background. The real problem was that I was never here, because I had
the office in London and I had label licenses happening in Greece and Spain
and Germany, and Rough Trade doing distribution in England, and I just never
attended to what was going on here. When all the shit hit the fan and
ultimately I was forced to audit everything and I started to come to
understand that you’re really stupid if you spend more than you make. And
that’s what had happened – more had been spent doing things here. I’m not
going to actually say that I’m not responsible, because ultimately if you
own a business and things happen that you don’t know about you’re still
responsible, but the singles were being recorded by all these bands that I
didn’t even know. You know, I’d get a phone call saying, well, I’m going to
do this new single by such and such, and I didn’t know that meant that I was
paying $5,000 for a single that would sell a thousand copies. So a lot of
those records, when I got to do the auditing, I didn’t know that I was
paying for those singles. And that just ate up so much money. Singles from
the Dubrovniks. Singles from the Bam Balams. Singles from the Vindaloonies.
All this sort of stuff…non-sanctioned stuff. And people who in fact were
being paid to do their job and weren’t doing it properly. Just weird shit
that happens when you run an office with four or five people and you’re
never there.
So in fact really with a
sort of thing like that you are really ill advised to go off and start and
office on the other side of the world and be there and run that office. You
should stay at home and hire someone for the other territory. It was all
very traumatic. It was all a huge amount of debt. But I was never officially
bankrupted because I went around and pleaded with everyone that if they
didn’t allow me the time to pay off the debts over a three or four year
period, that I’d just have to make the bankruptcy official and they’d never
get a cent anyway. So everyone acquiesced to that, and then Died Pretty took
off with Doughboy Hollow and all my management commissions for years
and years when into paying off the great bulk of my debt.
Some of that debt remains,
but I can’t figure out what it actually is because the book keeping while I
was gone was so bad, and there are huge gaps with invoices missing left,
right and center. It was really bad, because the tax department came along –
the sales tax department first and then the income tax department – and that
was like four years of fear. That whole thing – the ongoing payment of back
taxes and stuff. And after that it really soured any liking I really had for
doing what I was doing. I just do it now because I don’t know anything else.
I hardly get much pleasure out of it. Not like the old days. It was exciting
then. Now it’s just mundane. I’m good for nothing else. What can I do?
Steve: Well, you’re still
doing a good job. Obviously there’s not that much new stuff that you’re
coming out with.
John: Well, the thing is,
I’ve got an opinion on new stuff. There ain’t any of it that’s any good!
Actually, I’ll take that back. There’s nothing that I like. What kids come
up with today, I listen to it and I’m just not enamoured of it. I did
actually try to go out there and work with a few new bands – I thought maybe
they’d give me some sort of new enthusiasm for everything, but it never did.
It was just like – I’m very limited in my musical likes.
I’m not a musical snob – I
don’t care what people listen to. I don’t care if twenty million people on
the planet buy something I think is absolute shit. I really don’t care. I
just do what I do. That’s fine.
But the younger bands these
days – that’s why I just do reissues now, because at least the reissues is
stuff I like. But if you ask me who are some good bands today, I’ll have to
be quite honest that I don’t even know.
Steve: Well, the one playing
band that you’ve been doing a lot with, although now they’re not playing any
more, is DM3.
John: Well, DM3, God, they
never leave Perth. They go to tour regularly in Europe but they can’t get it
together to come to Sydney. In fact, they’ve only toured once. But the thing
is, when I bankrupted I owed the Stems a truckload of money in back
royalties and I rang Mariani and explained it to him, and he unlike so many
others didn’t persecute me and give me any shit, even though Dom can be
quite difficult to deal with at times – he has his own agendas – but we kept
that relationship going. And the DM3 stuff, it doesn’t sell here because he
never got out here and toured, and all of the acts and the sort of music and
the people that I like working with can’t sell records in any great number
in this country any more because they’re too old. Young kids don’t want old
people playing their music, that’s all. Or what they perceive as old people.
So you’ve got this huge spectrum of people like from Kim Salmon and people
like Dom, who are really talented and mature musicians who have really got a
lot to offer but no one’s going to listen. So yes, I’ve been doing the DM3
stuff and working on some other stuff – some Stems live stuff, and maybe a
best of the DM3. It’s a bit of a talking point with Dom at the moment.
Steve: Tell me about the One
Way Street label?
John: Is that guy in the
other room gone yet? (referring to his One Way Street partner, promoter
and manager Tim Pittman, who’s been on the phone in the adjacent room the
entire time we’ve been talking). Well, that was a thing where I just was
quite happy to do the paper work and stuff and I went into partnership with
Tim who was going to do the A&R. But he had a different vision for how to go
about it than myself with One Way Street. It was a one way street to
poverty. And I’ve already had two decades of that! It was like the same old
street, is what it should have been called.
It was a good idea, but he
wanted to do things much faster. But my idea of a label is not to do a whole
lot of press releases. If you’re a new label but you’ve got no acts, you’ve
got to get acts first and develop your label profile from what you actually
do. That way you can develop a profile that’s going to attract the people
you might want to work with. So that was just me trying to do something
where I wouldn’t have to A&R and go out to a smoky venue. Cigarette smoking
– having been a smoker for thirty years and spent twenty years
professionally for five nights a week in smoky venues, I can’t stand
cigarette smoke. I just don’t want to do it anymore. Cigarettes – it’s a
young person’s trade.
Steve: Well there’s a lot
less of it now than their used to be. I noticed last night compared to when
I was here in the late 80s there was vastly less smoking. In California they
don’t allow it even in a bar now.
John: Good for them!
Steve: Well, you know I
think that Wonderfools CD is great…
John: Well, Tim came across
them. And I actually think that’s a marvelous record because it’s so
youthfully snotty and stupid. It really appealed to me. The first time I
heard it I thought it was wonderfully funny. But it never sold. I thought
that main kid in there, Tomas, is actually quite a talented sort of guy. But
you know, we signed this act as far away from this country as you could
possibly be. And it’s sort of like if you flew around the globe they’re like
almost at the halfway point, so we never really ever got the control over
its development. I think they floundered over there.
Steve: When I was in Oslo
this winter I went into a record store and said I really like all these
bands like the Wonderfools and Basement Brats and Yum Yums and stuff like
that, and who else here is like that? And the guy goes well, nobody likes
any of those bands here. They only sell overseas. Those bands don’t play
here, they can’t get gigs. They only like death metal here. So they go to
Spain and play, I guess, and they do well there.
John: Well, you know that
saying, no man is a prophet in his own land. The same could be said about a
lot of these acts that couldn’t get a gig in Australia and would go and do a
ten week tour in Europe.
Steve: What do you think of
these compilations that have come out, Do The Pop and Born Out Of
Time? They seem to be creating a bit of interest in those older bands.
John: Well, I don’t know, I
haven’t listened to them. I don’t listen to music! I just listen to world
affairs. That’s the only thing I’m interested in. (Puts on a Strangelove-ian
stare…) When’s the big one going to get dropped? I want to be the first to
know that the world’s ending in five minute’s time.
I don’t know, it’s sort of
like – to tell you the truth, someone told me that one of them hadn’t been
mastered properly so that there were dramatic level drops – is that true?
The Raven one?
Craig: The Raven one, yes.
John: They did not spend –
I’ll reserve my judgment until I actually listen to the thing – after this
Birdman tour I can probably afford a CD player now. But someone told me
there’s level drops in it and I wouldn’t be surprised because those people
have no concept of quality!
(Personally I think the
Raven package is excellent…there might be a little inconsistency in levels,
but it’s not something I’d have noticed without John’s comments. And the
liner notes and the rest of the package is wonderful.)
Craig: The Shock one sounds
fantastic.
John: The Shock one they
spent a lot of time and a lot of money getting that one together and
although I don’t like half of what's on there – I only like the half that I
licensed to them – or the half that used to be mine but ran out of contract
so they licensed direct. But I was a little saddened by them all, because
it’s sort of like you wake up and suddenly these things come out and you’re
history, if you know what I mean. There’s something sort of sad and final
about it as if there’s no future in it. It’s like PS, in 1986.
Craig: Like you’re reading
your epitaph.
John: No, not an epitaph. I
don’t see it like that. It’s more a personal sort of thing. I feel a little
sad because times were better then. I know times were always better than
they are now, but…
Craig: But I think it’s
great that they’re actually coming out.
Steve: The way I would look
at it – you think of what the Nuggets compilations did and all the
bands – it seems like half the bands in Australia in the mid 80s were
listening to Nuggets sort of records and it had a huge influence on
people. And with a little luck the same thing will happen and there’ll be
another cycle now. To me it looks like – I mean, I wasn’t in Australia at
the time that Radio Birdman got started, but everything I hear about it was
that there was no place to play, there were no good bands…
John: Well, there were lots
of places to play, but the band were never asked back. The only place they
played more than once in this country was the Funhouse. Well, and the
Paddington Town Hall, but that was a place that you’d hire anyway. But they
overcame that just by finding their own venue. A novel approach! We’ve got
our own venue! We can play whenever we fucking like!
Steve: Well it seems like
that’s what it’s going to take again too. Some young band that can put
together a scene like that, who has enough vision.
John: Yeah, well, I don’t
think that can happen now because things have changed enough. In those days
it was really exceptional for an Australian act. And when I started – that’s
why a lot of my early records were really good. If it was now, and those
bands were all coming along now, they’d all be signed by majors before you
even heard of their name being mentioned in the press. That’s what it’s like
now. In those days it was a great thing that the major companies were just
totally disinterested in this sort of music, one, because it allowed me to
release it, and two, because they weren’t in there with their fucking dumb
ideas about everything. Because with them it’s all marketing. You’ve got a
guy who starts out cleaning ashtrays in the office and fifteen years later
he’s telling you what sort of a sound you need. That’s what happens when you
go into that level of things.
And because they weren’t
interested in the middle 80s there, bands just made records for themselves,
and that’s the great strength of that music and why it’s much stronger than
a lot of the stuff that’s done today. And it’s more identifiable – I hate to
sound nationalistic, because I’m not a nationalist – but it’s more
identifiably Australian. Because the problem nowadays is that if you’re in a
band – they have courses in schools and colleges about how to be in a band!
It’s like – fuck me dead, what’s the world coming to? All these kids,
they’ve all got this idea that we can have this career in music and we’re
going to go out and learn that. And the first thing that they learn is like
– whoever is successful at the moment, they all get played on Triple J, so
they’ll go, oh, well we’ve got to make a record that gets played. That’s
what they all want. So they all listen to what’s getting played on Triple J
and it’s all American derivative. So almost every local act makes a record
that’s more American than local, and they’ve lost…I mean, Americans are
always going to make American music better than anyone else, because they’re
Americans! Forgive me if I’m going on long here, but these people lose their
local focus.
I’m just trying to think
when there was a band to come along in this country that really had a local
focus. I think maybe Midnight Oil was the last one? But that whole Midnight
Oil era, that just went down the tubes with Silverchair. Silverchair are
hardly influenced by things local. They probably did listen to Australian
acts, but their first album was so big in America. It’s selling coal to
Newcastle, isn’t it? Hey, there’s a double entendre!
But that was just like
Seattle to me, that whole thing. And I think Silverchair defined a whole new
Australian era. Because when they came along everything, just all of the
Midnight Oils, the Died Pretties, the Ed Kueppers, the Celibate Rifles – all
those acts – were just gone when Silverchair had their first hit. A whole
page was turned over. It’s a new page, and it’s like "you’ve gotta sound
like you’re American", and all of that identity.
I’m not saying that in that
period there weren’t bands that listened to American music, but they had
something extra rattling around in the back of their head that these modern
ones don’t have. So there’s nothing to me that’s strikingly original about
any of the bands. In fact, I’m just trying to think what local bands I like
apart from the ones that I work with, and they’re all blokes over the age of
45.
Steve: Do you like Asteroid
B-612?
John: No, or their singer.
Steve: Have you heard their
newest CD?
John: I heard one single
that I liked on the radio. I just feel like for 7 or 8 years there every
bloody act was Detroit influenced and when that comes along to me it’s like
– when the Hellacopters came everyone was excited and said let’s go see the
Hellacopters, and I’m going, yeah, they’re a B-level Citadel act from years
ago. There were so many of those bands before that did it so much better
that I’ve seen in my lifetime, so I’m not impressed by that. I mean, I like
You Am I.
Steve: How about Challenger
7?
John: (ignores or doesn’t
hear the question) I liked You Am I, and I like Even, but they’re about
the only two acts in this country that I like. I like Even because – I
actually like Ashley, the main guy in that band, because he was in another
band previously who toured with Died Pretty so I actually got to know him
personally. I saw him the other week up in Sydney. They’re really good. They
really play well. They’ve got great harmony.
Craig: How about the
Monarchs?
John: The Monarchs I
actually liked, and they had a good show and everything, but I thought that
they committed a really bad mistake by doing too many things at once. And I
find their record like – when you listen to something, you’ll go "this is
fucking great, it’s just like the MC5" and then suddenly the next song comes
on and it’s like Badfinger? There’s just too many influences going on at
once. I thought their record suffered because it wasn’t any definable one
thing, if you know what I mean. Maybe that’s my preconception. I listen to
it and I like bits of it a real lot, but as a totality it didn’t grasp. But
that’s something that might have ironed out and might have rectified itself
had they continued.
But I like them when I saw
them, because they played with Deniz Tek some time ago. So I went and saw
their live show and I actually had a lot of fun watching them. But I
wouldn’t put them in the same bracket as I would put Even and You Am I who
I’ve seen and they consistently deliver a show. And You Am I are more
English influenced than American influenced as well, and I’m more English
influenced in my own musical tastes.
Steve: Of those bands back
in the 80s, are there any ones that were on other labels that you would have
really liked to have on Citadel?
John: Yeah, the Eastern Dark
first single was probably the big one that got away. I mean, I really would
have liked to have been dealing with the Scientists at the time, but they
already had their relationship with AuGoGo, even though it was a sour one.
But as far as Sydney bands, I felt that the inability to talk James Darroch
into anything…James and I had a very combative relationship because
Minuteman and the Celibate Rifles used to play a lot. So I knew Darroch from
the Celibate Rifles, and he was an irritating little prick. And he and I
just from the word go were very combative towards each other. He was always
in my face, and so I made sure that I was always back in his. So when he
came along with his single, which I thought was really great, he went to
Waterfront. So that one got away. But I think that that was always going to
happen because he was just – he put his record out there, and he knew I
wanted it. And he teased me! (says this in a mock pouting tone of
voice, producing much laughter between Craig and me) He teased me! He hung
it in front of me like a big worm on a hook knowing that he was always going
to go to Waterfront. That’s what I think in retrospect, because we’d had a
whole lot of shit going down from all those times when the Rifles and
Minuteman played on bills, and we’d be there at soundchecks at each other’s
throats.
But apart from that, I’m
just thinking.
Steve: What about the Hard-Ons?
John: I was never big on the
Hard-Ons. I never liked their production qualities. That was one thing that
I really didn’t like about them. Although I released their "best of", that’s
just because their manager talked me into it.
No, they weren’t really –
things were pretty factionalized in the music scene and they weren’t in my
camp at all. I never really even met them until I released their best of. I
didn’t mind them – I saw them play a few times live. I’m not saying they
were bad or anything, but I didn’t like the sound of their records. I mean,
when all the stuff I was releasing was having money spent on it to try to
make it sound really sparkling and vibrant and rich.
Steve: What about the Happy
Hate Me Nots?
John: Well, I just never
liked their music. It didn’t ever do anything for me. Obviously I knew those
guys, but it wasn’t music that I’d listen to and say that’s fucking great! I
always found that there was no shade in their music. It was always straight
up and at you and there wasn’t any respite from that. But that’s just a
personal thing.
Steve: How are you doing now
selling all these reissues? Is that working pretty well financially?
John: Well, the reissues, I
mean, the Scientists reissues seem to have covered themselves now. These
reissues, a lot of them are just for two or three hundred people in the
world, so that’s what some of these things are going to sell. I’m not too
bothered about that. I think the real future for me is probably not as a
record label but as a mail order record shop that will over a period of time
expand out to be more of the income source than anything else. I have to use
someone else’s words, but some years ago I saw a documentary on Orson Welles,
and it was near the end of his life, and he was a really big old fat scam
artist with a beret, and they said, well, what is it that you do? How would
you define what you do? And he goes "I make films that no one watches". And
I went shit, that’s my life! You can just put in the words "I make records
that no one will listen to". And that’s how I view it, because all that
music market – it’s a niche thing now, and luckily – because I wouldn’t
survive without the internet – they can find it now and search it out. But I
don’t see myself dealing with bands that come out and sell lots of records.
But I’ll just chip away and release the old things from the period of time
that I liked music.
I mean if something new was
to come along, I’m certain that I could get involved in it, but nothing
comes along that I like. So that’s what the future is, is making records
that no one listens to. But the three hundred people that do listen to them
will be happy to have them, and if I’m really very tight with the finances,
they won’t impact, and I’ll just chisel away at releasing them.
Steve: Did you consider
doing the New Christs CD?
John: The new one? Well,
they fired me as their manager, so there’s no way I’d ever touch another
record that had those cocks on it! (long pause, then as though he’s just
realized what he’s said…) The two that I had conflicts with – I’m not
talking about Younger or Creed. I’m talking about the other two. I don’t
want to know about them.
Someone else has to spend
the 20,000 dollars to get it out of jail. Not ME! My days of getting the New
Christs out of jail are over.
(At this point we’d talked
for an hour and a half and the tape ran out. In reading this, I feel like
the story is still only partly told. There are whole periods not mentioned,
bands not discussed. We never mentioned the Moffs, or the Super K single. We
didn’t talk at all about the New Christs awesome Distemper lp or the handful
of great New Christs releases on Citadel in the nineties, like Lower
Yourself or Woe Betide. Not a word about the brilliant Louis Tillett and his
terrific Ego Tripping At The Gates Of Hell or the Wet Taxis single "Sailor’s
Dream". And how could I overlook the Visitors lp or the Lipstick Killers’
Mesmerizer or Harem Scarem’s Lo And Behold? There’s just too much great
stuff on Citadel to cover it all in one sitting, so the handful of stories
here will have to suffice.
John Needham is one of those
guys that the rest of us music fans owe a debt to. Citadel Records has
fundamentally defined his life, and while it’s often been good, it’s also
had its bad times, too. The music his label has released makes up an
incredible body of work, and in a fair world he and his stable of bands
would have made piles of money by now. But that’s not how it works, and as
its 20th anniversary nears, Citadel continues to just make ends
meet financially while succeeding beyond imagination artistically. It’s a
true trademark of quality.)
For a full discography of
Citadel Records, click HERE.