Woolloongabba, Brisbane, 1995

Band: Carl and Wendy
Members: As above
Setup: Gibson SG, Ibanez GB10, Roland JC100

The last rehearsal room in Brisbane was one of mystery and wonder, Barsony black ladies, beaded curtains, plastic ribbon shades, cups of tea, biscuits and a record player. It was Wendy's loungeroom.

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I had met Wendy through Spank, a nostalgia for Jazz was shared, and we formed a duo.

Wendy was courteous to the point of formality when I went around, always ensuring I was comfortable with offers of green tea and cheese platters in her broken soprano voice.

But something changed when she sang, a visceral confidence, her voice transformed into a powerful musical instrument, with the added talent of adopting vocal characteristics of those torch singers she admired, some phrases almost a mimic. Wendy was the greatest vocalist I had ever performed with.

The songs included jazz classics like Black Coffee and Cry Me A River and some Lovs E Blur songs, In My Head, Paranoia. There were no recordings of some of the Lovs E Blurs tunes, so to work them out Wendy phoned Tony, who told me how to play them over the phone.

We played at Art Exhibitions, Wedding Receptions, parties and had a residency at a bar in the city. It was the first time as a musician that I was treated with respect at venues, and the compensation was better in the two piece than any of my previous rock bands.

The more we practiced and performed the more Wendy would ease the condenscention, and I would listen wide-eyed about the touring, the photoshoots, the boyfriends, the fashion, the homebake.

We were recorded onto a fourtrack tape by a friend of mine, Justin. No rearrangement of the room, just a milkcrate for the Tascam, two mikes, one headphone for the mixer.

I met Wendy and her boyfriend Brian once in Sydney when I moved down south. At the Judgement Bar. I had other things to do musically, I was too young for a jazz gig, I thought. You make your choices, don't ya.

Windsor Castle, Red Hill, Brisbane, 1994

Band: Spank
Members: Stewart (g), Id (k), Simon (d), Wendy (v), Carl (s)
Band: Rubber Glove
Members: Maddog (v), Ross (b), Carl D (d), Carl (g)

Windsor Castle was Dirt's residence on Windsor Rd, in which he had built a soundproof room.

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Dirt had a revolving door of residents, let alone musos for his room.

Spank was Id and Stewart's band, and their speciality was rock and roll sleaze. It was played to perfection, and every song had character. I was asked to play saxophone, without audition, on one of their recording sessions and the only dictum was to play like the crazy sax on The Stooges 1970. Fortuitous, as thats the only way I knew how to play.

Their songwriting was a mix of Stewart's passion for Detroit and Id's for the psychedelic and twisted. They had previously enlisted Angelo from Sister Christmas in an incarnation called Krank, but he went west, unfettered, they snared the vocal luminary Wendy, from Lovs E Blur.

The energy in the cramped and carpet lined room was tangible and uncomfortable, but of a good kind. Wendy seemed intentionally distant, perhaps as protection from the aggression of the music. I think that drove Stewart and Id into an even greater dissonance. Not that I or anyone could tell where they were going musically, they were a songwriting unit unto themselves, munted. Hearing the completed songs from them such as Song In A Dead Arm was a privilege. Hey, it felt like a privilege at last to play in a band where I didn't have to write.

I played sax with them at the Roxy in the Valley and bass for them at the Normanby Fiveways, which I think was their last. They were an awesome band, and Stewart continues in Kewpie Doll.

As a rule, I won't include cover bands in the blog. But Rubber Glove deserve a mention. They supported Dirt at his CD launch at the Oxford. It was Rubber Bug, without Big D, who was touring as a mixer for Pop Properly at the time, with Carl D on drums, and Rosco on the bass.

It was a one gig event, Carl D wore a shirt made of rubber gloves, Ross dressed as a Mexican (with an impressive sombrero), Maddog, the closet fag, in a dress, and I decided to wear a sleeping bag. I had heard the Butthole Surfers had a guy who played in a mattress. Not wanting to be a rippoff, I chose the bag. Holes at the top for the arms, wormy like feet on the wah-wah, hood over my head. It was hot in the bag, and for the last song I decided it was coming off, only to be met with a chorus of punters imploring me to put it back on.

Galveston, Silvia's Mother, Freedom of Choice, I Didn't Know I Loved You Till I Saw You Rock and Roll (Carl D on vocals, Mad D on drums), I'm Bored, Fly On The Wall.

Dirt was watching and was most distressed when he had to go on, the greatest compliment, he was enjoying himself so much he forgot he was playing next.

I don't think Dirt lives at Windsor Castle anymore. I hope that room downstairs is still getting some good use.

Bridge St, Fortitude Valley, Brisbane, 1994

Band: Rubber Bug
Members: Maddog (v), Ross (d), Big D (b), Carl (g)

This room was a strange elevated garage on a dead-end street.

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And we have a picture of it, courtesy of Big D

The drum kit on the left is Ross's, the amps are probably Hateman's, we shared the room with them and Six Ft Hick.

Now it seemed to me that a common passtime for Brisbane bohemians would be to go 'up the mountain', meaning Mt Glorious. It was green up there, away from the city, away from the cops, and there was always someone up there with the gear. It was suggested we should record up there.

What an ideal place to record, except, there was no recording studio. Not to be stopped by minor hindrances, a recording studio was improvised in Marks house. The drums were setup in the basement, guitars in the loungeroom, mixing desk in the kitchen. We communicated with Ross by knocking on the floor. Maddog was later relegated to the basement for vocal overdubs. Mark and Big D did the mixing. There was only one pair of headphones between the five of us. None of us had ever heard of Trout Mask Replica, but this recording setup was not dissimilar. Mark got infuriated, the Bug got wasted, tensions flared and at about midnight we'd had enough and drove down the mountain. Drove. Fast. Midnight. Clifffaces. No street lighting. Skid marks. On my trousers.

I recall trying to record again with the Bug before they broke up, in some kind of house in the valley that was either under construction, or being torn down, I couldn't tell which. I don't believe any of these later recordings have survived.

Boulder Lodge, Brunswick St, Brisbane, 1993

Band: Rubber Bug
Members: Maddog (previously known as Gary) (v), Ross (d), Big D (b), Carl (g)

I think the owner went to the optometrist who shared a floor of the Warehouse with Ross. Whatever connection it was that got us in there, Boulder Lodge was an incredible rehearsal room.

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Boulder Lodge was an old theatre converted into a live music venue. The room was subterranean and cavernous. Best of all it has velvet curtains.

Gary had become Maddog, not a label he earned in the pen serving a sentence, it was because of a minor resemblance he had to a vivid history of Maddog-types with menacing dental and mental conditions. You see, his pet dog had jumped at him while he was laughing and broke his front tooth off in diagonal, which while on public health, could not be fixed for several weeks as it was deemed cosmetic only. Gary (as he was at first) was understandably not impressed by this imposition of the public health, but he found that it became an experience in social identity, and ultimately relished in it.

Commuters would jump out of the way on the bus when he opened his mouth to say 'excuse me'. Bank Tellers would twitch nervously when he asked to make a withdrawal. Parents sheltered their children from the maniacal grin of the generally congenial and cheerful Gary.

In six weeks, he had become Maddog, and even subsequent to the tooth being fixed, the name, and some would say traces of the caricature, Maddog, remained.

Back to Boulder Lodge, we rehearsed in it, we wrote in it, we performed in it (voila - no load-in) and in a demonstration of poor character assessment by the owner, we worked in it. Behind the bar. Ah, the old Dracula in the Blood Bank trick.

To pay for practice we were asked to work behind the bar when there were gigs on. Ridiculous. Punters were getting double shots, triple shots, we were getting quadruples, we'd work for two hours and then have to go to sober up or sleep off a resurgent hangover. I don't even know if the place was licensed, actually, now I think about it, there was no draught beers, no taps, no fridge, the beer was all cans in ice, the till was ancient, it was on a trolley on wheels. What was going on there, I can't honestly say.

But it made money. For a while, then it went bust and we had to move again.

Here's Rubber Bug Live to Air for the 1994 4ZZZ Radiothon. OK, so the recording starts in the middle, some knob forgot to turn the tape recorder on, don't point fingers at us, we were playing at the time. Be thankful it's been cut short, On Its Head is a multipart odyssey even as it stands. Nevertheless , this snippet has a little of everything Rubber Bug was trying to do back then, and it was cookin'. Engineered live in the studio by our long-time mixer, Thirsty Hirst.

Target Building, Fortitude Valley, Brisbane, 1993

Band: Rubber Bug
Members: Gary (v), Ross (d), Big D (b), Carl (g)

Even the bohos couldn't tolerate Rubber Bug practice. So we moved to the abandoned Target Building on Brunswick Street.


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The load in was a treat. Up the old car park on the Chinatown mall to the second floor, then manoeuvre the gear across the two story gap to the Target Building. The building was in excellent condition, but abandoned, and bands and junkies lived in the hallways and rooms. We got a lock on one of the rooms, a great one looking out on the Brunswick Street Mall, and practiced there.

It was a risk leaving your gear there, as we discovered, on the way to rehearsal all of our amps were piled in a shopping trolley down a hallway, making their way to Cash Converters. We never left our guitars there.

Around this time we were playing all over town, and even interstate (Whippedoo!).

Lismore.

Heyzeus, we played gigs there. Everything went titsup it that town, I'm surprised we weren't lynched. Gigs cut short, venues withdrew accommodation, nights in incarceration, checks were torn up (by venue management instead of band members, for a change). There were even times we went down there with mates and girlfriends, but they didn't come back with us.

Quickly relegating the experiences of Lismore to the past, we played on the next Livid, advanced further up the hierarchy, this time playing at 3PM instead of 8AM. The Bug put on a good show, Gary even had a vomit onstage, which he claimed was unpremeditated. When we were finished we bolted over to the second stage to see Kim Salmon and The Surrealists. Kim had declared himself a God on his album Essence, and he was. Shame the promoters couldn't spell his name right on the poster.

Here's a song we played on the day, a favourite
Leye

The Warehouse, Fortitude Valley, Brisbane, 1992

Band: Rubber Bug
Members: Gary (v), Ross (d), Big D (b), Carl (g)

Rubber Bug and Greenacres were quickly shunted from the Church, I can't imagine why. The next rehearsal room was at Ross's new residence, the Warehouse.


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This was a crazy joint. I don't know if anyone paid rent, there seemed to be residents migrating between floors, performance artists, installation artists, graphic designers, computer programmers, optometrists, architects, lawyers, musicians, boho central, there was art exhibitions, gigs, roller derbys, bashings and a lot of substance abuse at The Warehouse.

Ross used to practice there during the day. Many times I went to visit and he'd have the stereo on full blast, jamming with Helmet's Meantime, and nailing the chops. He was, and is, a machine of a drummer,and went on the play with the Go-Betweens, Grant McLennan (no relation) in FOC, and with some of the guys from Powderfinger in The Predators.

Once we were rehearsing on the third floor, the Rapeman song Hated Chinee, and a tall lanky dude had climbed up the fire escape to listen at the door. I couldn't see who it was, I never play with my glasses on. He was jigging, smirking, giggling and getting into it. We started another song and he gave the thumbs up, waved and left. Our audience with Tex Perkins.

Someone got us a gig as models. Laugh, I dare you, it's true. Models for the cover of a blank videocasette. Remember them?

7 AM we had to get to The Warehouse for the photoshoot. Ross, of course, although he lived there, was late, asleep, still half drunk. When he arrived the first thing he did was light a ciggie and was told that was not allowed on the set. One last drag, fuckit, stub it out.

It took about 10 minutes, we earned $70 each.

There we were, anonymous rockandrollers on a videocassette cover. And thats where we stayed, in fact.

Here's a pic of the site where the photos were taken, without a hint of cliche, the four of us against a wall with graffiti on it. The art installation pictured on the site, Wasteland by Craig Walsh, wasn't there at the time of the videocassette shoot, he set it up later that year.

Here's a Rubber Bug song. Lame start, admittedly, but the chorus is worth the wait
Metzengerstein

The Church, Fortitude Valley, Brisbane, 1992

Band: Rubber Bug
Members: Gary (v), Ross (d), Big D (b), Carl (g)
Guitar Setup: Fender Stratocaster, Mesa Boogie Mark II+ combo, Marshall Gov'ner, Jim Dunlop Wah

Like any self respecting band we also practiced in a church.


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The church was shared by practitioners of Faith in the daytime, and Greenacres and Rubber Bug in the night.

Robbie had gone to Sydney to play with the Died Pretty, Mr Id has gone to the UK to hang out with Stewart from Reptile House.
Rubber Bug adopted the MLO mixer Big D on bass.

Big D always had the bass gear, it sounded loose, deep, distorted, rich. The Bowel Movement we called it.

MLO songs were ditched and new songs were written, much inspired by the pregrunge US indie sound. Misguided? No question.

Ross used to play tennis with the organizer of Brisbane's biggest music festival, Livid, and bingo, we got an opening spot.

As a minor support band we were scheduled to play as soon as the gates opened. It was so early, I remember the mixer eating cornflakes. I have been told this wasn't true, but I distinctly recall it.

Discerning critiques of rock will go to these festivals to see the early bands, because their appearance is rare and to witness their potential, and the late bands, because of their appearance is rare and to witness what was once their potential. I'm serious.

We performed, we packed down, and I think I had a bacon and egg roll. What seemed like 48 hours later I was hearing Nick and Kylie doing Wild Rose, from under a tonne of VBs in the prone position.

I thought I'd be better off buying a ticket next time. But we were on it again the following year.

Rubber Bug played for many years. Here's the only track that survived from MLO, written by Robbie and Gary. It's a great tune, the guitar line is a version of the scales in Joe Diorio's Intervallic Designs. The scratched record ending lost on generations.

If I can

The Castle Cawdor, Woolloongabba, Brisbane, 1992

Band: Slaughterhouse Joe
Members: Paul (d), Jim (b), Carl (v,g)

The Castle Cawdor had something strange about it. It had a corridor that led straight from the front door to the back door and eight rooms running off it, four a side. One room had a sink. We called this the kitchen. And that is also where we rehearsed.


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This was where SHJ played their last gig, a party in the kitchen. 60s all over it, oil lamp projectors, band equipment covered in al-foil, sandalwood incense. Paul was going to the UK to work, because SHJ weren't cutting it in the fashion scene, although the T-shirts were starting to make appearances on the fashionistas around town.


Paul also played in a band that actually paid him money - a cover band called Subway that had a regular Friday night gig entertaining the cops at the Police Headquarters Recreation Club. Eric, their bass player, wasn't available for a couple of weeks, so I filled in, and Castle Cawdor is where we rehearsed.

Playing at Police HQ was fun, and each time we lifted a carton at the end of the night, hidden inside the kick drum case. I really enjoyed playing bass for Subway, perhaps too much, as the more I drank at HQ, the longer and more obnoxious the bass solos became.

I vaguely recall Steve, the guitarist/singer, throwing money at me at the end of the night - not in an adulating way, but in mild disgust, as I was semiconscious on the floor.

Subway and SHJ folded after Paul left, although Jim claims we never did break up, we're just taking an extended break between gigs.

Salisbury, Brisbane, 1991

Band: Mona Lisa Overdrive
Members: Gary (v), Id (k), Robbie (b), Ross (d), Carl (g)

The room was a purpose built rehearsal room in Ross's parent's house.


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The room was dark and cramped. Perfect for generating a large sound with only small PA and amplification system.

The Reptile House that I had seen a week before were no more, they had changed into Mona Lisa Overdrive, and the guitarist Matthew had left the band. So I was told.

Robbie had done all the negotiating with me at the venue and over the phone up to now, I had known him as a friend of Lorenzo's at Griffith Uni. Robbie seemed to be the leader of the band and had very strong ideas about where and what the band should be playing. One thing is for sure, Robbie appeared very determined, and eventually his determination would score him the bass position in the Sydney band, The Died Pretty.

We jammed on a couple of old Dementia 13 songs like Mr Driftwood, as I believe Mr Id wrote the music to them. I thought that the guys might like a new song, so I had written a riff during the week and gave it a go. They seemed to like it, particularly Ross, the style seemed to agree with his drumming, and there were times even in the first rehearsal that he let us know that he thought the some of the other songs were pedestrian.

Then Matthew showed up. He hadn't left the band. Well, at least he didn't think he had left the band.

Awkward position to be in.

Figuring it had nothing to do with me, I just launched into another song.

I think Robbie gave him the news later that the band had a new guitarist.

Not long after that I become friends with Matthew, I bumped into him often at Ross's apartment at the Pink Palace in Spring Hill, he was a good guy and didn't seem to mind that he wasn't in the band anymore. Although I do suspect he was the one that slipped me a magic mushroom cocktail at a party at the Palace once.

There were a few gigs with this lineup, but we put on a particularly shambolic performance when we supported Concrete Blonde at Griffith University. The band communication was shattered as we were on a stage the size of a football field instead of the usual postage stamp. After the show we went backstage, to hang with the 'crete, and I was somewhat disappointed as I had neither envisaged an international rock band with a table of fruit as a rider, nor the sight of Paul Thompson from Roxy Music wearing a bumbag. Gary, the MLO singer, was catatonic, and when we were handed our payment for the show, he blurt out a series of expletives and tore up the check in some symbolic gesture.

Robbie handled all finance from then on.

Here's a few tracks from MLO's 6 track tape, Earthly Delights. Backing vocals on Rivers and Morella courtesy of Ann Della.

MLO covering Syd Barrett's Lucifer Sam. A most bizarre arrangement by Robbie, but it kind-of works.

MLO Rivers This song gave Mr Id the opportunity to wig out. I lifted the leitmotif for guitar in the end direct from a recording I had heard performed by Stewart from Reptile House.

MLO Morella This is the only song where I have ever used an e-bow. Ross excels on the triplet of cymbal pings and Mr Id's strings in the middle-eight is the wonkiest keyboard sound I've heard since While My Guitar Gently Weeps. It would have been entirely intentional by Mr Id, I'm sure.

The Country Homestead, Boggo Road, Brisbane, 1991

Band: Slaughterhouse Joe
Members: Paul (d), Jim (b), Carl (g,v)

The Country Homestead was a sharehouse, an old Queenslander, and SHJ practiced in the living room.


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There were all assortment of visitors at the Country Homestead, but Frank was the only one to bear witness to a SHJ practice there. That's if you call sleeping off a hangover, bearing witness.

All natural light, no PA.

There isn't a lot to blog on about with this room, but at this time we did support the punk band Nunbait, at an underground venue on Elizabeth St in the city. Nunbait's vocalist was Ivan, who used to vocalize in Dementia 13. They were a fantastic punk rock band and I found their stage show and lyrical content hysterically funny.

They played two nights at the venue, first night supported by Reptile House, and the second night supported by SHJ. The guys from Reptile House came to see Nunbait again the second night and saw SHJ, and asked us to play with them. It was later on that I realised that they were asking me to play in their band as the guitarist.

Why not have a look? So I agreed to meet them at their rehearsal room for a jam.

West End, Brisbane, 1990

Band: Slaughterhouse Joe
Members: Paul (d), Jim (b), Carl (v,g), Id (k)

SHJ never paid for a rehearsal room.


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This room was the first floor of the fashion label Tschico, where Paul worked as a pattern designer. It was a warehouse floor, and again, No PA.

Practice sessions with others bands were all in enclosed systems, which you entered and exited at night. The SHJ rehearsals were always during the day, in rooms with natural light, and I expect that had an influence on what we chose to play.

Jim was the guitarist for Dirt and The Rebels, and took Brendan's place on the bass when he left for Melbourne. We had lost a great character in Brendan, but his replacement had no less powerful effect.

Jim had a vision for music and he found his collaborators in SHJ. The vision was 1960s, and, hey, doesn't everyone want to go there? The band itself was different from other bands I played with, in that there was no menace in the music.

The only studio recording was made at Red Zeds in Red Hill, engineered by Jeff. He was sceptical at first, but he seemed to like some of our ideas, which included a Latin prayer that sampled Benedictine monks and a sample of Peter Fonda for the Wild Angels theme.

Today, sampling is a common term, but the parameters of rock music of 1991 dictated that using someone else's sound in your own recording was only acceptable if it was appropriated as an affect, or as a catalyst to an altogether different and original song. The technique of sampling became legitimized in the 90s through the success of hiphop, and since varying degrees of sampling have pervaded contemporary culture including songwriting - in some cases the sample is no longer a catalyst, but a foundation. Lifting someone else's riffs has almost become an advantage, because the public do not have to navigate a new terrain, they are already familiar with it.

Where was I? The Red Zed 6 track went to tape, Jeff played a solo on it, he was preceded with a reputation as a shredder, which he is, but I imagined Hendrix, and out popped Eddie Van Halen. Still, it worked a treat on the recording.

SHJ scored some gigs, and somehow we landed one at the Downs Hotel Drayton, west of Toowoomba. It was an afternoon show in the courtyard, we were the only band, $5 entry, lucky door prize, sausage sizzle and first keg free. We set up, had a beer off the keg, and then the doors opened at 12.30, and one beanie-clad dude who had been waiting outside for an hour, coughed up the $5, got himself a jug and sat in front of the stage. You beauty, I thought, the punters are going to be rocking up soon.

Sadly, no. This guy was the only punter to show up, and he drank there by himself enjoying the show. At about 3, when fan number 1 was fairly trashed, the licensee switched off the keg. Then this guy wants the lucky door prize. The manager reluctancly gave him a six-pack.

A few years later I saw the Drayton punter again. I got to know him as Geoff and he went on to sing for Greenacres and then Six Foot Hick.

Back in the rehearsal room we thought we'd wander further down 1960s lane, and there was no-one more qualified to enlist than Mr Id, who we knew from Dementia 13. Brendan played in D13 until he was thrown out for being too drunk, or some other unlikely excuse.

The band played around at UQ, QUT, Carseldine, St Paul's Tavern. There were original songs, inspired by Sonic Youth and Straightjacket Fits, but there was also The Beatles' She Said She Said, The Who's See Me Feel Me.

We wanted to be free to do what we wanted to do. We wanted to be free to ride. And we wanted to be free to ride our machines without being hassled by The Man. And we wanted to get loaded. And have a good time.

And, can't complain, it was a good time.

Wynnum, Brisbane, 1989

Band: Slaughterhouse Joe
Members: Paul (d), Brendan (b), Carl (g,v)
Guitar setup: Epiphone 335, Marshall Guv'ner, Fender 75

Some call it Wynnum, some call it Lose 'em.
This one was quite literally my bedroom. Talk about convenience.


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This was the lineup before Brendan went to Melbourne. I had met Paul through a friend, he was a drummer, surfer, skateboarder, fashion designer. Again, to consolidate this band at the start we relied on Joy Division and Wipers covers. The Colonies and Nothing Left To Lose appeared in every setlist until the band split in 1994.

There was no vocal mike or PA in this room, so when we played live it was the first time the band heard the lyrics. There was a performance, pictured below, at Wynnum, and another at a Sports Club in Wellington Point, where Brendan excelled in a particularly vitriolic white-noise bass solo to Booker T's Green Onions.

This picture was taken by Mr Id at a party in the garage - Note Queensland's finest in the background, they came to shut the party down. Brendan here has done his best impersonation of the distanced stare of the bass player from the Wipers featured on the back of the Rivers Edge soundtrack - He was always a great impersonator. Brendan was on fire at this stage, he was heavy on the bass and had extreme confidence. His stepping out style was JR Ewing.


Mr Id was later to play guest keyboard with Slaughterhouse Joe.

The Ballet School, Charlotte St, Brisbane, 1988

Band: Hotel Breslin
Members: Lorenzo (v), Brendan (b), Jim (d), Carl (g), Simon (k)

This was the last room for Hotel Breslin. First floor, underneath the Ballet School. God knows how they used to rehearse ballet at the same time we were practising. Although it was a bonus to see the girls leaving at end of class, we were upskirt connoisseurs before the information superhighway.


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The atmosphere in this room wasn't the cheeriest. We had our disagreeances, we had different ideas about the future. Brendan was going to leave to do a PhD in Philosophy in Melbourne, and the enthusiasm had fallen away.



We wanted to do something different for our last show, the Last Shout. Not down the Valley. Lorenzo booked the Boundary Hotel West End, around the corner from where we first rehearsed. Unintentional, but on reflection, poetic.

There was no stage in the joint. Lorenzo got one at the last minute, but once set up it was about twelve foot high, and the ceiling clearance was fifteen. Great stage for a group of smurfs. Somehow he exchanged for a lower one. The new one wasn't really secure and with the PA on it, it was a bit shakey.

The support band was Who's Gerald, and some of the guys in that band became Custard Gun, and then Custard. They all wore school uniforms on the night. Girls school uniforms. Nice touch.

We played, and it was good. Even the grim reaper showed up. There was extra tension in the band, as a result of the impending collapse of the stage, the PA falling onto the moshpit and/or spilling a beer. A good time was had by all.

The guys from Hotel Breslin kept in touch after that, but didn't all get together for about 15 years where they played a reunion show in 2003 for 4ZZZ. They are some of my closest friends.

Jeans Off, Elizabeth St, Brisbane, 1987

Band: Hotel Breslin
Members: Lorenzo (v), Brendan (b), Jim (d), Carl (g), Simon (k)

Jim knew a guy who ran a Jeans retail outlet on Elizabeth St, who let us rehearse upstairs in the store room. This was a great rehearsal space, and it's where Hotel Breslin's music consolidated.


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The relationship between the members, however, was becoming fractured. Each member thought they were the front man, which made for a good live show, but not so good in the Rehearsal Room. People hurled abuse, people hid in toilets, people kicked doors down. Bah - Nothing that couldn't be fixed with a couple of beers down at the Victory Hotel or the Stock Exchange.


It was at this room that Deathrow Road was written. It's doesn't deviate from Amaj but centres around the F#min riff (Edom7th to F#min6th), which is like a sped up Stooges 1969. The lyrics are sung first person from the third person figure, the psychotic brother, in Iian Bank's Wasp Factory.

The band was seen by the music coordinator from the all powerful 4ZZZ (there was no tripleJ) down the Valley somewhere, and he fell in love. He offered to record the song to cartridge at Creative Space in Milton in some spare recording time, and the song started to appear occasionally on ZZZ.

Death Row Cart Version

We had airplay and we had $1000 saved from all of the gigs over the last 3 years. A book or a record? The book already had a title: Licking The Shit, as previously explained, it would be an expose of Brisbane rock in the 80s. But no, we chose to record a single.

David, the recording engineer and 4ZZZ music coordinator got us lined up at Sundown Studios for a proper recording. No, not Sun Studios Memphis, but Sundown Studios South Brisbane. Deathrow Road and Too Far Gone were chosen.

If you've downloaded the cart version, don't bother with this one, it's almost identical
Death Row Single Version

The original photo for the cover was taken by David Barker (who later went on to direct Powderfinger videos), and is of yours truly in a carpark under Jeans Off.


500 were pressed, distributed by us...meaning to say about 10 made it into record stores. Some made it to Sydney and Melbourne, we don't know how.

You can buy the single online

As a single it got played on ZZZ more and more frequently, and then suddenly at our gigs, more people showed up. Strange, I wondered, we've played the same songs for three years, nothing different here. But now queues of people...and we didn't even know them personally.

Another recording was taken by the 'head', live at Dooleys. The 'head' was just that, a styrofoam head with headphones on it that were microphones, a setup that was meant to emulate the true audio experience of a punter in the audience. That is, if the punter was ten foot tall and balanced above the mixing desk. I've not since seen a recording setup to equal it, in amusement value.

City Of Red live at Dooleys Brunswick St Fortitude Valley recorded on the HEAD

Ahhh, the romantic sentiment of City Of Red...

During this period Simon went to study Psychology at the University of Boston USA, so at live gigs we called upon his brother Daniel, or a guitarist friend from school, Ben. Neither could play keyboards, but we stuck numbers on the keys and got them up there. Sounded great to me.

Woolsheds, Teneriffe, Brisbane, 1986

Band: Hotel Breslin
Members: Lorenzo (v), Brendan (b), Jim (d), Carl (g), Simon (k)

Hotel Breslin played the Bandshake at Queensland University the day after Lorenzo was out of plaster. He hopped on stage with his crutches, threw them aside, and staggered around the stage, maintaining a balance between his good leg, his withered leg and the microphone stand. A review in the Semper noted that the lead singers dancing was a unique take on post-punk.


Around this time Brendan scored a gig at UQ for the Government Students Association. $5 entry, all beer free. Half way through the gig the party was gatecrashed by a series of nudists, who obviously heard about the free beer. The audience was a curious sight, part fully clothed mod, part nude. One intoxicated mod became a converted nudist, and then went on the balcony and threatened to jump off. I don't recall how that ended up.

The band was starting to pick up more gigs, but through no end of hassling. Chasing up gigs and networking was fondly known as Licking The Shit, and none of us were particularly good at it. Management, we'd never heard of it, and I don't think Brendan's militant left stance would have tolerated it.

The extent of our touring was the Ann Street Shuffle in Fortitude Valley; The Love Inn, The Outpost, The Acherly, with luminaries like Victor and The Grasscatchers, Aloha Pussycats, Ceramic Eggplants, Sanity Assassins.


Simon joined on keyboard. No audition, he was a drinker and had a black sense of humour, he was in. At his first rehearsal we had to make space in the room for him. Four wheelie bins of stubbies later and his keyboard was setup and ready to go.

As anyone who has done their own roadying can testify, the drums are the hardest to move. There's a lot of pieces, most of them unwieldy. Jim had an idea of optimizing this.

His theory was simple. One box. One big box.

Jim made a box that could fit his entire Pearl 20 piece kit inside it - assembled. Appearing at gigs, it took the five of us to lift the behemoth from the back of his RX7. How it even fit in an RX7, I'm not sure.

Eventually, the Woolshed management caught us 'testing' the equipment, and we were evicted. Time to look for another room.

Here's an mp3 of Hotel Breslin's only anthem, inspired part by Joy Division's Wilderness, part Johnny Rotten/Richard Hell, but a whole lot by Constable Damien Hayden's tales of civil disobedience. This was recorded at Dooley's on the HEAD
Said the Magistrate

Woolsheds, Teneriffe, Brisbane, 1985

Band: Hotel Breslin
Members: Lorenzo (v), Brendan (b), Jim (d), Carl (g)
Guitar setup: Tenady 335 copy, Marshall Gov'ner, Fender 75

After eviction from West End, there was a brief hiatus. Jim organized another rehearsal room, but this time we were going to have to pay the rent, so it was a dodgey room in the Woolsheds on the wharfs at Teneriffe. This part of town didn't even have lights.

Unfortunately, the room didn't have power either, which is not conducive to angsty rock and roll. The room was officially a storage room, and we weren't to rehearse in there. Jim asked for power so we could 'test' the equipment if required. Our intention was to test it for a couple of hours two or three times a week. Power was installed, but it was three phase. This didn't stop us, we just ran an extension lead through a crack in the ceiling to a power point on the abandoned upper floor.


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The floor above was sometimes inhabited by contemporary artists, who left their works scattered around. Occasionally we'd go up, peruse the art, have a beer, and come down to practice again. Like Warhol's Factory scene, as if we had any idea of who Warhol was.


It was about this time that Lorenzo had surgery on his knee, to correct some kind of injury he sustained at soccer. He was in plaster for weeks, but that hardly stopped him partying, he was legendary for driving to the Redland Bay Hotel with Sean, who at the time was temporarily blind with conjunctivitis. Sean sat in the drivers seat and worked the pedals, Lorenzo in the passenger seat worked the steering wheel. Any DUI charge would have to be shared. Some of his experiences at this time, including conversations with old drunks and the proprietor, Kel O'Shea, would later feature in his live intersong banter.

The cast didn't stop the man from coming to rehearsal. After a few hours of practice we'd invariably go for a beer at the Waterloo hotel. After a session, Jim had gone, and the rest of us were going to take off when we heard an angelic chorus. We followed this chorus across the carpark, across a few streets, and to multistory building, the epipheral choir was coming from upstairs. So up we went, Lorenzo taking a little longer on his crutches, dazed, hypnotized, drawn by the sound, to a huge double door.

The singing suddenly stopped. A marching of feet. Lots of feet. The doors were flung open and the choir was met by three mesmerised quasi-punks. Not a word was said between the two opposing parties.

We turned about and rushed down the stairs. Well, except for Lorenzo. Richard the Third, limped his way perilously down the narrow staircase, step by step, followed by an army of singers wanting to go home.

West End, Brisbane, 1984

Band: Hotel Breslin
Members: Lorenzo (v), Brendan (b), Jim (d), Carl (g)
Guitar setup: Ibanez Blazer, Ibanez Tube Screamer

Brendan, Lorenzo and I met at high school. Lorenzo had met Jim somewhere on the revolving floor of the nightclub, Images. One degree of separation, so emerged, Hotel Breslin.

Jim organized the room and we didn't ask any questions. The room had amps, which was fortunate because Brendan and I didn't have any. It was soundproofed, not that it mattered because in 84 this location was the in the middle of nowhere.

We never saw any administration of this room, we just gave Jim the rehearsal money, upon which Jim would jump in his Triumph Stag and drive to the bottlo for a carton. Sharing a beer became fundamental in the sound and style. Some might suggest we indulged in this style a bit too much.


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Brendan couldn't really play bass, but he knew what kind of sound he wanted and he had attitude. Jim had never played before, but we couldn't tell. In that first rehearsal we tried Joy Divisions Means To An End, and it worked. We played this song at every gig until the band broke up in 1989.

We rehearsed two nights a week, and went to White Chairs and then the Tube Club at the Lands Office on Friday nights. We recorded a six track at Burbank Studios, but not knowing what we really wanted or what we were doing didn't help the quality of the final product.

One of our first public performances (notwithstanding someones 21st at the Darra Cement Works, pictured below) was in the Battle of the Bands. We were messy but we went for it, and stood out I suppose. We won a round, returned for the semi-final and got booted.


But there was a journalist, Kevin Meade, at the Telegraph who saw those shows and singled us out for a write-up. His description pretty well matched what we were aiming for in image and sound, and that worked as an assurance to us.

One night Lorenzo got a call from Jim. There was an emergency eviction from the room, if we didn't get out gear out there, it would be impounded. Lorrie took us up there in his Fiat, we met Jim and scrambled the gear out. Apparently the carton that Jim provided was funded by the rehearsal room fees. We didn't hear from Jim for a while after that, I thought it was finished. I was glad when he got back in touch with us.