Dave Graney has put in a hell of a year - the most productive and creative of his long career. First came the existential Heroic Blues record, then the re-union of his first band the Moodists and the release of a double compilation celebrating their past glories. Before the dust had settled Graney and partner Clare Moore piloted the arduous sessions for the soundtrack to Tony Martin's cop comedy Bad Eggs. Now, without pause for breath, Graney has unleashed the evil and sinister sound of The Brother Who Lived - an album heralded by 'Midnight to Dawn' - Graney's most furious and catchy single in years. Along the way Graney also thought it necessary to knight himself and give his rag-tag outfit of musicians a regal title. They now go by the name 'The Royal Dave Graney Show'. Graney is a unique character on the Australian scene - one who revels in being distinct. He puts himself out there, calls himself 'supersized', and exudes a fuck you attitude. As a result he takes plenty of pot shots from all sides - slings and arrows from people desperate to slice him down to size. Critics write him off as kitsch, ironic, irrelevant or worse. But the re-energised Graney continues to plough his own path and take no prisoners.

You've taken the title of Sir David Graney and now play in the Royal Dave Graney Show ... would you accept a knighthood if it was offered?
Yes, unequivocally. Our country, Australia, loves to grovel to top shelf people who know better.

Are you a monarchist?
Only as far as my career goes. I'm heartened to see that Chuck is upping the royal ante by apparently buggering his page while the world mourned his missus, the town bike of Sloane Square. He's almost cool enough to rival the prince regent, George 4th who was carousing with Beau Brummel at Brighton while his mad father fought America and then threw the population of Blighty's gaols onto the shores of Botany Bay.

You don't usually deal in the political - but what would you say is the most political song you've written?
"I'm seein' demons" is very inspired by the Australian scene. The demons that have been conjured up by our political leaders to throw in the faces of the cowering bovine idol worshippers and keep them unsettled and in a state of thankful anxiety.

If you were to sample a piece of your own music for a new song what would it be?
I find it easier to write a new piece and play it than sample it. Having said that I do sometimes use the Zane Grey technique which is to start out playing something you've already done and then go off some side road that presents itself.

You don't use many hand claps in your music - why's that?
I like to do them live. I always used to but forgot. It's one of my trademark moves. As far as recording goes, I like them on Stones and Birdman albums. Tambourines and maracas and shakers are more of our scene.

Do you feel the recent Moodists best of and shows helped re-address the band's standing and importance?
Perhaps a little bit. It was very exciting for us in the band. We were all on such a high. Otherwise, we blew some young minds and saw some old time weirdo friends again. I loved it. As far as the media goes, they didn't register. There was one review of a show in Melbourne, some silly idiot going on about my clothes like it was a new thing. I mean, mentioning my leather trousers and waistcoat! It was all gear that I wore back then! And I get shit for it now! I also had a ring on my hand with "dave" on it. Something I got made in 1996. This cretin gabbed about it like it was some recent affectation. So, that really bummed me that the whole band was not noticed and it was an opportunity for some rock zombie to dribble shit on my shadow. Fuck 'em is what we said back then and its the same now. It was an amazing privelege to be able to play in the Moodists again, especially in such conservative times as these.

You recently did the soundtrack to Tony Martin's Bad Eggs. Have you had anymore offers to do soundtrack work?
A few, we're very keen to continue in that area.

A Sydney Morning Herald review on your Bad Eggs soundtrack opened with the lines "the tired crooning on Dave Graney's last solo album suggested he had little left to milk from his king-of-pop schtick" and "Graney's music benefits from the constraints of recording a soundtrack. Instrumentals help him avoid being tangled in his worn-out ego-boosting lyrics..." - how do you feel about such back handers?
I thought that was an amazing piece of onanistic wrist work. Some slob grimly masturbating at his desk over something we'd taken so much time over and had worked inside a machine made of other people all beavering together to create something. Fuck him. In the nose.

Do you think people purposely try to rattle you?
Not that I dwell on. We get ignored more than anything.

Do you feel like an easy target?
We have a policy of just continual work so it would hurt if we just stood on one spot. I guess.

You've mentioned that you were treated differently by the cine-scene than you are by the rock/pop world. How different are they? Is Australia big enough to have such disparate scenes?
They're both very small worlds. The film scene has more of a social cache, more respectable I guess. In that way, I like the music world a little more. There's also less government money in music. You live and die by the amount of people who come through the door.

What does Bad Eggs offer that's different from your DGShow records?
As far as doing the score went, it was great working in a team and trying make some tangible thing work in the end. We were in tight with the mood changes in the story and helping the flow in some scenes that had a lot of visual information. We also had themes to write for different characters and plot points. It was great fun, like a series of problems to solve. In the end, at the first screening, it was so great to meet all the other people who had worked also at such a micro level on their areas of the film. A great experience. It was also one of the most popular films of the year. Watching it get ignored by the Film Business critics and award givers was a momentary bummer. More for Tony but he'll work again.

You get labelled ironic - how ironic is your music?
I hate being called Ironic. I fought that tag back in the 90's when it first started being bandied about. I didn't know what it was. If I ever did it it's because that's what Australians do. I grew up in a totally ironic world. It was hard work figuring out what people meant when they spoke in opposites.

You were seriously ill a couple of years back and mentioned that The Brother Who Lived is the first album you've done in a while on full rack power...is it simply that this record is more energetic?
Yes, live shows recently have been incredible. I can't stop moving. I'm like a machine that's been switched on. I blame the Moodists as well. I am on fire!

The brother who lived ... when i heard the title my immediate reaction was it was about Elvis (who's twin brother died at birth) - what was the inspiration?
More Syd Barrett and Nick Drake or John Martyn. That world of English players in the music scene who straddled the American influence but were so English. The song mentions "all those parts we stole from those beautiful American records." Australians are outsiders to music even more. We had no folk traditions to add to it. It's all mimicry and chasing the real thing but never being totally at home in it.

'Midnight to Dawn' is a ripping single. Upbeat, hook driven - did you consciously want to write a poppier song to herald this albums arrival?
I wanted to transcend the situation where nobody heard our music as it was too soft. It was a direct inspiration from playing at the Moodists level of volume and power.

When I look at your records I'm always intrigued by the song titles and the many possibilities they offer - 'Brother...' is no different (eg. 'I'm Seein' Demons', 'Twilight of a Villain', 'A Boy Named Epic') how important is the song's title for you?
I'm not much at long melodic choruses. I'm more from the r&b/hip hop world of catch phrases and flip one liners. I like poems that have titles that drag you in too. Clare bought home a book by the black American writer Amiri Baraka called "funk lore". It's full of stuff about Monk and I love it. Black American writers are as good as the musicians.

The past year and a half has been an intense period of action - Clare's record, Heroic Blues, the Moodists, Bad Eggs, Brother...are you satisfied with your output and intensity?
I want to keep it up. I could do an album right now but I really want to do my best to get The Brother Who Lived out to people. I love it and think it's a great recording of the band and the songs and the songs reflect the times. I have always hated most contemporary music but think the mainstream of Australian music is worse now than ever. I want us to be closer to the centre of things. Yet untouchable. Like a Royal Court. A House of Lords! (Or Steely Dan!)

What's next on the agenda?
I'm working on some tracks with a young Melbourne synth genius called Milo. He plays in a band called the Emergency. We may call our act "the burnt orange heresy". There is also a track I did with an electronic act called Tiatto. The track is a sinister groove where I get to wind out the filthiest lyric I have ever put down. It is called "This old man" and is an international hit in the waiting.

What have you got left to prove?
Music is a funny scene. I like it. I got into it to tell my own story and then it got taken away from me. People told me what I did and I hated it. I'm just getting it back where I am the man with the voiceover happening. I've got things to tell people about. I know the truth and I have the licks to tell it. Music is also maddeningly square and slow moving. That's why it occasionally jumps whole eras and seems all full of possibilities once again. I would love to work in the US with some totally black artists/producer types. Just for the thrill of it and because they are the true creators of it all. I could handle working in France as well. Australians like square shit with folky chords and squeaky voices. It's a country full of people all hopped up on some shallow shit they believe about themselves being good and fair. All we are is lucky, it was said many years ago and remains true. They need people like me to set them straight.

©2003 Christopher Hollow

If Dave Graney were a character in a hard boiled novel he'd be a dandy in a drop dead suit, buttoned up. Small, seemingly vulnerable but too sharp to be one-upped. On the streets looking as inconspicuous as a huntsman on fairy bread.

Throughout his music career Graney has revelled in playing different characters, adopting different personas. But with his latest outing ‘Heroic Blues’ one wonders if Graney is in character or playing it deadpan straight – struck by a moment of clear, insane honesty. The centrepiece to the album is the title track – a song that succeeds in being unsparingly candid about rock life and romantic at the same time.

The interior monologue goes: "I'm standin’ in a bar singin’ my songs. There’s six people hangin’ around they've got nowhere else to go. I'm a hero that’s what I do. No one buys my records. No one knows my old songs. I've played here before there were so many people. Looked at from another direction, this could seem pretty sad, tragic even. I gotta pull somethin’ out of this moment. That woman at the back of the room she’s travelled so far. I'm a hero that’s what I do. I'm livin’ out the other side of a dream. I'm comin’ down. I'm flattening out. I'm slowly makin’ my way back to the big room. I've seen this place before. I've been around three times. There must be somethin’ I could do. Am I in colour? Or is it black and white from now on? Am I losing? Am I winning? How long have I been playing? When did it become a game? I'm a hero that’s what I do. You know they can't breathe this atmosphere. People off the street can't live at this speed. I'm ridin’ over the scene. I'm all over the room. I'm a hero that’s what I do. I got blues heroic blues. I don't just lose I make heroic blues. It’s a star vehicle and I'm the writer and I'm the director and I'm the player. I'm editing in camera. I got blues. Heroic blues. My life has a life of its own. My dreams have dreams of their own. My blues have blues of their own. I got blues. Heroic Blues."

The title track Heroic Blues is very naked, emotional song.
It is in some ways. The music track is improvised and the vocal track is improvised in one take but it’s put together in an artful way. It’s supposed to be an interior kind of thing. Like a thought, someone’s thinking.

The subject matter is very raw.
Stephen Cummings doesn’t like it because it makes him really depressed.

Most people will see it as a commentary on your own situation.
Probably. That’s okay. You’ve got to trust that your experiences are universal in some ways. A heroic thing isn’t like Michael Hutchence at Wembley Stadium with thousands of screaming fans. That’s not a hero to me. A hero is someone putting themselves through some other kind of thing. So it’s tragi-comic. I’ve been in those situations where the person is grappling for some reason for what they’re doing and they’re saying, ‘Man, I’m heroic’. It’s kind of silly.

You’re fond of saying that you deal in abstract truths. What is the abstract truth behind the Dave Graney Show?
It’s a line from a favourite jazz record called The Blues and the Abstract Truth. I was probably trying to collar a bit of that cool, intellectual vibe. I’ve never written really highly emotional songs but I haven’t failed to notice that the more successful performers deal in emotional kind of ways. Like Nick Cave is really emotional and his audience really responds to it. I was talking to Ollie Olsen about it one day and he said the same thing. Like he knows he hasn’t reached a wider audience because he can’t come at doing that. So most of the songs I do are pretty abstract but most of the music I like is really abstract. I don’t really have the time to listen to people being really emotional all the time. But some emotional music I like but I find it really annoying if people criticise me for not writing love songs or whatever ‘cos I think there’s plenty of people doing that and that’s about 99.9% of recorded music is still love songs.

So what’s the real truth of the Dave Graney Show?
The real truth is probably pretty abstract.

_{The Housewife's Choice?}

You’ve adopted a few personas in your time like the Golden Wolverine, the Savage Sportsman, the King of Pop and the Housewives’ Choice culminating in El Supremo. Have you every copped much flak from putting yourself out there and up there?
There’s been a bit of a watershed in the last year or so. We’ve taken a bit of time off and have been going out and checking out a lot of other music and experiencing things. There’s been moments in the past where I’ve been more remote from other artists and other music things. So I deservedly got some flak for that. But I like remote and abstract things so I’m not apologising or anything.

Would you agree the only persona you haven’t really portrayed is yourself?
It’s not a big worry of mine. People that know me know I’m pretty laidback. The personas are all the parts of you that are inaccessible and anti-social. If you walked around like that all the time you’d be a pompous ass. I’m sure there’s plenty of people like that. Perhaps if I was like that all the time I might be more of a household name.

The Heroic Blues album appears to be a return to the singer-songwriter feel of 1993’s Night of the Wolverine. Have people been asking you to return to that sort of record?
That’s the first a lot of people heard us. For us it was funny because we’d been through the Moodists, we’d put out My Life on the Plains, I Was the Hunter and I Was the Prey and Lure of the Tropics before that. But you can only be new once. That’s the thing you find when you put out records. It’s difficult to get people’s attention again. That was a very abstract record in its way but people say it’s really emotional.

Did you approach Heroic Blues differently to the last two Dave Graney Show records?
The last record had a lot of smart ideas but didn’t have the energy. This has more of a searching energy of mine in the songs. It all started from an acoustic guitar. I wanted to play very open chords so you could take it anywhere if you were just by yourself with a guitar or with a whole band. I guess that’s the main thing. The last two records had a lot that was built up by Clare and I. There’s only two or three songs on this record like that.

Your partner Clare Moore has said this is record where she’s bowed out.
She’s only saying that because she’s superstitious. It doesn’t have any less involvement from Clare than any other record. Clare got a lot out of putting her own album out and she’ll probably be doing a second after we do the film soundtrack. So she’s saving up all her wise cracks for that.

‘I Don’t Know Anything’. It’s an interesting song from you because your narrators are nearly always all-seeing, all-knowing, intuitive types.
It’s just about getting older where your experience and scope of vision widens and your sense of self diminishes. I was reading an interview with Richard Hell and he said, ‘Man when I was younger I killed everybody but now I don’t have the juice.’ It all sprang from that and I really admire him for his career path. The more you see the less effect you imagine you can have on events.

What about something like ‘I Will Always Hate You’?
That’s one of my songs that starts off from a cheap joke but works it’s way into other areas. Love and hate are both equally valid emotions both leave the person powerless. The other person that they love or hate has the mozz on them.

Who do you hate?
I wouldn’t say. I like to think about them every now and then if I have to work my poisonous magic on them in the dark.

Do you put much time into negative thoughts, feelings and energy?
Not anymore. No. But there are people if I ran into them I wouldn’t know what would happen. Only one or two.

When was the last time you were in a dust up?
Years ago. I was a terrible, terrible fighter. It was very comical. I annoyed this guy in Adelaide at a party until he thumped me. I went down and all my mates jumped on top and it was like a cartoon free for all. I crawled out the bottom and by the time it was finished I was drinking a beer in the car.

You once told a friend of mine when he asked how you and Clare coped having both a professional and personal relationship, ‘it’s not like I’m mining for coal’. But you’ve been together for around 25 years. It is a beautiful love story.
It is but you don’t want to carry on like we’re in ‘New Idea’. It’s another dimension in our lives. We’ve been like equal artists although I’ve been the public face of it for the latter part of it. In the Moodists we were equals. I’ve never been a person just working by myself so within the interior workings of our different collectives like the Coral Snakes or the Dave Graney Show everybody knows we’re equals.
                                           

_{'It's not like I'm mining for coal...'}

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©2003, 2002 Christopher Hollow