THE DAY THE BEAT
TURNED UPSIDE DOWN or Swindon conquers Australia! by Allan Jones
Melody Maker, August 1979 - Contributed by Mark Strijbos
XTC were at the Townhouse, Virgin's new recording studios in Shepherd's Bush. This was the evening of the first official playback of their new album. The atmosphere was tense, a little nervous.
Colin Moulding sat with his boots on the mixing desk, headphones clamped firmly over his ears. Andy Partridge would not be still. He paced the length of the control room, fussing, chattering, joking.
We were waiting for Dave Gregory, the guitarist who joined XTC when Barry Andrews, their keyboards player, absconded earlier this year after rows over the group's musical direction. Steve Lillywhite, the producer of the new album ( although the group's first choice was Nick Lowe ), adjusted various sound levels in preparation for the playback.
XTC were still squabbling about a title that night. The favorite title at that time was, apparently, 'Boom Dada Boom'. It has since been christened 'Drums And Wires'.
Terry Chambers was sitting on the leather couch, a six-pack of lager at his feet. "You probably won't like it", he said. Bright, earnest and hilarious, Chambers is the most loquacious and extrovert member of XTC. He's also the human anchor that seems to hold together the disparate personalities within the band.
"I don't know why they invited you...once you've heard the bastard, you won't want to come all the way to fuckin' Australia to hear us play it..."
Their first Australian dawn. A sky of fragile azure, creased with lashes of the palest vermilion. The continent below; asleep, indifferent.
And hey - look at this. Here they cone - Yes it's the Poms!
XTC, whistling through the blue. Still smiling, somehow, after 26 hours lost in orbit around the globe, their pulses still racing to the exotic beat of the East. - dancing to the rhythms of Bahrain, Kuala Lumpur and Singapore.
Bahrain had been the first brief stop-over during their flight to the outback. The Poms had fired back a round of beers and cheered the sun coming up over the desert. Mud huts and oil refinery towers shimmered in the distance, beyond the boundaries of the sweating, crowded airport.
The Arab barmen brushed flies from the table. Surly buggers with noses as crooked as arthritic fingers and eyes that looked like pickles floating in vinegar, they offered no hospitality. "Ere", said Terry Chambers, his voice a rolling carpet of Wiltshire vowels, "do you reckon these fuckers in kaftans would have our 'ands orf if we asked for another drink?"
Kuala Lumpur appeared on the horizon. The Poms bounced through the jungle, eyes glazed with fatigue, minds numb at the prospect of another 12 hours airborne.
The stars blinked like innocent extras in this preposterous escapade as the sun retired from the game and Singapore rushed out of the house to welcome us. Singapore airport looked artificial: a massive film set with flashing neon, alive with spurious activity. The Poms wandered like amateur somnambulists on a hike through the tropics, senses bewildered; strangers even to themselves in the teeming transit lounge. The heat and humidity wrapped themselves around us like a hot, damp blanket.
Andy Partridge shrank into his baggy serge suit, suffocating in the density of the night's overwhelming warmth. "I'm not dressed for this weather... I should have worn a Wilfred Hyde-White safari suit. It's like the Nashville on a Saturday night out here", he complained, exhausted. Back on the aeroplane, back into the atmosphere.
Singapore was just a postcard in the back pocket, a memory receding as fast as Howard Devoto's hairline. Sydney, our final destination, was still hours into the future. Steve Warren, XTC's resident sound mixer, groaned loudly and shifted his not inconsiderable weight uncomfortably in his seat.
Al Clark, once again playing Tonto to XTC's Lone Ranger, asked Steve Warren if he'd like something to relieve his suffering. "Yes", said Steve Warren, "A parachute."
Twenty-six hours in a flying Tupperware container wears down the strongest heart, but the news of our imminent arrival on Sydney's doorstep brought on the smiles like dancing girls, even at six in the morning.
The Poms stumbled wearily off the plane, delirious with relief. "I feel like a refugee from the Keith Richard's School of Wasted Elegance", Andy Partridge wearily intoned. "More wasted than elegant, though..."
"I feel on top of the world", roared the indefatigable Terry Chambers. "How can you feel on top of the world in Australia?" Colin Moulding wondered, bleary-eyed and laughing.
Terry Chambers had just celebrated his 24th birthday, 30.000 feet above New South Wales. This accounted for his dazed joviality. "I'm going to go straight out and drink the nearest bar as dry as Bah-fuckin'-rain!" he declared to our horror.
The group collected their suitcases and guitar cases, headed for the customs' desk.
"Yew a grewp?" asked the customs lady, an overweight brunette with an Australian accent strong enough to crack walnuts. "Whottcher caw yaselves?" "XTC" Terry Chambers replied as she rummaged through his underpants. "Teyn Cee Cee" she bawled, her face flickering with vague signals of recognition. "EX TEE CEE" Chambers repeated, thrusting his Y-fronts back into his bag. "Awwww", groaned the customs lady "Ay nevarr herd uv ya".
"I'm glad to see the natives are friendly, anyway" said Andy Partridge as we walked out into the sunlight of our first Australian morning.
They are at the airport to meet us in their XTC tour jackets and their record bizz smiles. The most notable among the reception committee here in Sydney are Ray Hearn from Dirty Pool, the co-promoters of XTC's Australian tour; his partner John Woodruffe; Glen Hansford from Festival Records, Virgin's Antipodean distributors, and his man Leon. And hey! these boys mean business. XTC have barely seen the inside of their eyelids for around 48 hours - and this mob has arranged a whole day of interviews for them. Starting now.
XTC's hands are still warm from the introductory handshakes as they are whisked into the press room at Sydney airport for a television interview. It's 7am. "Who the fuck is going to be watching television at this time in the bastard morning?" Terry Chambers wanted to know. "It's being recorded" a technician explained..."I should fuckin' well hope so" Terry replied, still bemused.
XTC were lined up on a sofa, facing a television camera. Lights were beamed on them. They winced in the glare.
"I'll confess to anything" cried Andy Partridge "just let me sleep". "Is this where you torture everyone when they arrive in the country?" Terry Chambers asked "Or is it just the rock bands you drag in 'ere and terrorise?"
Glen Hansford smiled indulgently. He had received similar complaints from another English band upon their arrival the previous week. Who was that we wondered. "Doctor Feelgood" he said "D'ya know 'em?" The Guvnors in Australia? My liver did a back flip. I told him that yes, we had met.
Then Graham Webb arrived. Graham Webb looked like Dustin Hoffman after a visit to the hairdresser. He was wearing an XTC tour jacket, a black polo neck sweater, a gold medallion and I fancy that he lisped as well. "G'day boys!" he beamed at XTC. "Can I get a beer from somewhere?" Colin Moulding asked.
Graham Webb was to interview XTC for National Sound Unlimited, a magazine programme that reaches 80 stations throughout the bush. Graham would also present XTC with plaques commemorating their first visit to Australia. XTC were asked to look surprised when Graham whipped them out from behind the sofa. "I'd look more surprised if someone gave me a beer" said Colin Moulding.
Graham pointed his microphone at Andy Partridge. "Ayndy" he began, "how c'me fooar boys fr'm Swind'n c'me t'be heer in Awstraylya?" "Wee-ee-ell" said Partridge, "we we're actually caught stealing a loaf of bread - and we're now paying the consequences. It's a stiff penalty code back in the old country. Where is Botany Bay, incidentally?" "Haw, haw" Graham gurgled.
"Ayndy - yew're the...ah..." He consulted his notes. "The lead vowculist and singur in the baynd, aren'cher?" "Yes" said Andy, "and Colin is the other lead vocalist and singer. And Terry's the lead drummer. And Dave...." He turned to Dave Gregory who looked as if he wished the whole charade would end quickly. "...Dave just stands there, 'cos we couldn't get a potted plant". "Haw, haw" Graham gurgled.
"I feel like one of the fuckin' Beatles up 'ere" said Terry Chambers, "what is going on?"
"I should be in bed" said Partridge. "I need my 11 hours. I'm a real sleep addict. I started off just napping. Then I got into the harder stuff...siestas. Before I knew what was happening I was a sleep junkie."
The plaques, which looked like gold albums with a map of Australia where the record would usually be, were brought out. "Ooooh" said XTC. "What a nice tea tray" Andy Partridge beamed. "My old dear will love it. She's got this Styrofoam statue of a woman with big tits at home. It'll go very nicely with this".
XTC were shown the door. Graham shook hands with Colin Moulding. "Hev a gud tyme in Awstraylya, Terry" he grinned merrily. "I'll try", said Colin.
Room 706 at the Telford Motor Lodge in Bondi Junction has been reserved by Festival Records. XTC will meet the Australian press and radio here. Al Clark and I tumble out of the elevator. The volume of noise and raucous laughter suggests that there's a circus in full and riotous swing in room 708. It's just Terry Chambers celebrating his birthday.
Chambers is on his fifth or sixth can of lager when we arrive. It's about 11am. He's already on his way to a momentous hangover. Andy Partridge sits on a bed near the window. He's being interviewed by Debra Robertson from the Sydney Sun.
"Ask us how long we've been together, then" Partridge tells Debra. She smiles uneasily. "We write all our own songs, you know? It's all self-penned." "'Ere" says Chambers lurching towards Debra, "you gonna have a beer or what?". Debra declines. "Well" says Chambers, "I'm goin' t'fire back another..."
Partridge treats Debra to a few anecdotes about Swindon's notorious Penhill Mutants. Most of the stories involve acts of sexual deviation. Debra begins to look flustered, but wears it well.
Chambers staggers around, beer in hand, looking and sounding more than ever like Robert Newton. A journalist from some kind of punk magazine takes over the interview. He has some serious questions. Chambers insults him roundly. He apologises a moment later. The punk looks disturbed. Andy Partridge takes his list of questions and begins to tick off the answers.
"I'm the birthday boy" Terry Chambers declares. The punk smiles nervously. "Could we get this on a more serious level" pleads the punk. Terry Chambers falls over. The punk asks about the Hipgnosis designed sleeve of 'Go 2'. "Fuckin' terrible, it was" shouts Terry Chambers, "they've got some six year old child does most of the artwork around there". "We went around and asked them for a sleeve" says Andy Partridge, "and they came up with the usual stuff - lots of chrome taps and women getting out of cars in the middle of nowhere. We turned them all down and they cam up with this..." He holds up a copy of 'Go 2'.
There is the inevitable question about Barry Andrews. "Basically" says Partridge, "we didn't like playing his songs. Children grow up, you know. They leave home. That's about it."
The punk asks Andy Partridge about XTC's aborted plan to work with Brian Eno on 'Go 2'. Before Partridge can reply, Terry Chambers steams in. He really is getting out of it.
"I don't think he could've handled the job, frankly" he states emphatically, "oi mean - look at him, a balding fuckin' charlatan...For fuck's sake, bring in Lee Brilleaux. BRING 'IM IN! I got more in common with Lee Brilleaux than I 'ave with Eno. I got more time for the Feelgoods than I have for bloody Eno and his Oblique fuckin' Strategies ...'scuse me, I'm getting well oiled 'ere..."
Terry Chambers's eyes are rolling like marbles down a drainpipe. His behaviour is becoming increasingly hysterical. "I think maybe I'll come back and interview you later. After the first gig." the punk decides.
"You probably won't" shouts Chambers. "We're playing at some Italian club to a bunch of wops. We'll probably be terrible. And when we're bad, we're bad..." He pauses for a moment, reflecting on the prospect of playing to an audience of Italians. "I know what - I'll wear my Inter Milan shirt. It'll be encores all around...It'll be like the Tonypandy Naval Club all over again."
"Do shut up, Terry" Al Clark pleads.
"It's just birthday frolics" says Terry Chambers. "Anyone for another beer? I'm going to peg another one back..."
Mark Waterman from 2MBS-FM, a Sydney radio station, has arrived to interview XTC. He has brought an engineer with him. He sits on a bed, tape recorder on his lap, headphones on his head.
"What's he doin' with these 'eadphones?" Chambers demands. "he's listening to Van Halen", says Partridge. "Look at his head going."
Waterman looks perplexed. He attempts to introduce some order into the conversation which is sprawling in all directions, the general anarchy being conducted by Terry Chambers. He has unfortunately arrived to find Terry Chambers in full flight, arguing with Al Clark about capital punishment.
"Those fuckers in bloody Bahrain've got the right idea - chop the bastards' 'ands orf!" Terry Chambers bellows. Waterman looks increasingly disturbed. "Get on with it man - ask us some questions!" Terry Chambers yells at him.
Some dogs start barking outside the hotel.
"There you are, Al" shouts Terry Chambers. "The Australians've got the right idea - they've just thrown some bastard to the dogs. Even as we speak someone is being eaten alive. Probably stole a can of Chum or
something..."
"Do you think we could get a little heavy?" Waterman asks tentatively. "I'd like to ask you about your feelings on the music industry - your attitude seems to be fairly ... ah ... casual". "Our earnings are very casual" says Terry Chambers.
"But you don't really regard yourselves as serious musicians?" "Tell me what you mean by a 'serious musician' ", says Partridge, "and I'll tell you whether or not we fit your definition".
"I'd classify a serious musician as someone whose work furthers the progress of music", says Mark Waterman. "I don't think there are any serious musicians", Andy Partridge says, "there are a lot of boring musicians."
"I suppose you like Rick Wakeman" Terry Chambers tells Waterman. Waterman looks for a way out. "Ah...what about a word on the future?" "There IS no future" Chambers announces definitively.
"I MUST sleep", said Andy Partridge. "Not yet", insisted Glen Hansford. "I suppose blinking's out of the question too", said Colin Moulding.
The debacle in room 708 had ended around 6.00pm. By that time there must have been 20 or more people locked in verbal combat, drinking, laughing, asking questions. Terry Chambers retired at 5.30. When he left the afternoon had already assumed the chaotic proportions of the cabin scene from Night At The Opera.
The day was not yet over for Partridge and Moulding. There was one more interview. At 2JJ, which - we are assured - is the most influential FM station in Australia.
There were two hours to kill before the kick off. Hansford attempted to keep the crew awake by driving us on a sightseeing trip around Sydney. We went to Bondi Beach. The sun had packed up and gone home. We drove through King's Cross, Sydney's red light district. We drove across Harbour Bridge, up to Bennelong Point. A cold moon hung above the abstract beauty of the Opera House, an eerie shark-finned monolith in the moonlight.
Mac Cocker, an expatriate Englishman from Sheffield, was waiting at the 2JJ studio to interview XTC on his evening show. Cocker has the perfect late-night FM voice: as dark and relaxing as a mug of Ovaltine. It makes an amusing contrast to Partridge and Moulding's Pinky & Perky West Country drawl.
Andy and Terry had been out to 2JJ that morning for a 'Good Morning Sydney' broadcast. They had also selected 20 tracks to be played later on Mac Cocker's show. It was an intriguing selection, ranging from Sonny Rollins's 'East Broadway Rundown' through Iggy Pop, Marley, Desmond Dekker, the Residents, Frankie Lane, Fripp - "Just wanted to hear what Andrews sounded like on it", Moulding said after a track from 'Exposure' - Danny Kaye, the Ramones and Nat King Cole.
Mac wanted to know what had happened to Chambers. "He collapsed after drinking a small sea of lager" Andy explained. It is decided that they will dedicate the first track of the evening to him. Partridge goes on the air...
"Hello, country with a monopoly over bizarre animals" he says addressing himself to Australia. "The first track was actually chosen by Terry Chambers. It's the Pink Fairies' 'Snake'. Terry saw the Fairies at Swindon College in 1969. He was dressed in his mum's fur coat and they were the loudest thing he heard in his life."
Mac asks them about Swindon. "There's no skyscrapers" says Andy Partridge. "In fact, there's only one building over four storeys high..." "And someone threw themselves off that", recalls Colin Moulding.
Mac asks Andy about XTC's relationship with Talking Heads. "David Byrne sends me postcards occasionally. Things like - " he adopts Byrne's high-pitched East Coast whine and clipped manner of speech - "Hello. I. Like. Cleaning. Love. David. Bye".
Mac is a fan of reggae. He wants to know more about Andy's interest in the music. Andy tells him he used to hang out with some black musicians in Swindon at one time. Mac thinks Andy must have been really into all that ethnic jive.
"Not really" says Andy Partridge "It's just that one of these guys had a Futurama guitar with leopard skin spots. I used to hang around waiting for an opportunity to steal it . . ." "The bitter comes out better on a stolen guitar, eh?" "No" says Andy "I knew the girls would like it. One look at a guitar with leopard skin spots and they were on the back of your Czechoslovakian moped faster than you could say plectrum."
Mac decides to play something from 'Drums And Wires'. He selects 'Roads Girdle The Globe'. "This" he says, his voice melting like chocolate in our ears, "is the one that really got inside my head".
I look across the studio. Al Clark is sitting in a corner, a cigarette in one hand, a can of lager in the other. He is asleep.
Andy Partridge went straight back to the hotel after XTC's rehearsal. Chambers, Moulding and Gregory went to the Stage Door Tavern - where they would be appearing at the weekend - to catch the Feelgoods doing the business for a crowd of some 1400 berserk Australians.
"This is the kind of music people want to hear" said Terry Chambers at the bar. "I mean, can you imagine havin' a drink and a chat at the bar with us thrashing out 'I'm Bugged' or 'Crosswires' ?"
They went to meet the Feelgoods backstage. Brilleaux had been very taken by Australia. "Marvellous country. Handsome women. You can drink the beer - what more could you ask?"
Sparko was leaning against the wall, drink in hand. "Sfunny" he said "I don't feel upside down".
XTC's first Australia gig is at the Marconi club, in the suburb of Fairfield, 30 miles from the centre of Sydney. XTC are in the dressing room when we arrive. They have spent all day at the club, rehearsing, attempting to overcome the problems set by the hired equipment and PA. There is a lot of nervous chatter.
"We're really going to miss Andrews and his toy organ" says Andy Partridge. "Nonsense" bellows Chambers, the lifebelt of the band's spirits, "we're going to steam on like Thin-fucking-Lizzy tonight". "Us?" laughs Colin Moulding "we're the wimps of the new wave". Partridge laughs, "XTC - the four dwarves of punk. That's us." "Oh well" says Chambers "let's get this joke show on the road".
You could see the surprise splashed all over XTC when they came on stage at the Marconi. The place was built like a barn; a massive beer parlour packed to the rafters... There were around 1.000 roaring Australians sinking pitchers of beer, dancing, shouting. XTC were halfway "Beatown" - and the audience was singing along. They punched their fists in the air to "Meccanic Dancing", jived to "Life Begins At The Hop", stomped their feet to "Roads Girdle The Globe", demanding with increasing force that XTC play "Are You Receiving Me?" and wouldn't let the band back into the dressing room without playing five encores. Al Clark and I were speechless. "It's like a Rod Stewart concert" said the man with the golden tongue.
There had to be a typical Australian climax to the evening. There was. As the crowds were milling out of the club, a brawl developed behind us. Everyone in the vicinity dived in. Including Mac Cocker. It was hardly the behaviour one would have expected of Bob Harris. Fists and feet flew furiously and the air was thick with colourful oaths.
"Terrible do" said one of our Australian friends, emerging from the fray. "Didn't see one decent punch thrown".
The next morning XTC are in Melbourne. Melbourne is grey and dismal. It looks as if the city has drawn a coat over its shoulders for the winter. XTC are here to record an appearance on Countdown, Australia's most popular television rock show. The show has been pushing the band enthusiastically since they first ran a video of "Are You Receiving Me?" The video has since been repeated three times. XTC will be recording "Life begins At The Hop - their current Australian single - and will feature in a brief interview with Ian Meldrum, the show's host and, apparently, one of the most influential media figures in Australia.
Andy Partridge is sitting in the back of the car on the way to the television studios. He is talking about 'Drums And Wires'.
"It's going to get battered out of sight" he says "I think we're going in for a terrible pummelling when it comes out. One of the reasons I agreed to this tour was so that we'd be as far away as possible from England when it was released. I think very highly of it. But I won't be reviewing it. And we've been written off so many times in the last year. I think some people are just waiting to put the final nail in the old coffin, you know... I think we're probably the most popular unpopular group in England at the moment. That last tour - the critics were really at our throats. But what can you do? Cry over their typewriters and ask for mercy? they all get us in the end..."
XTC are on stage at the Countdown studios. Neon lighting strips flank the stage. An XTC backdrop, provided by ABC, rises behind them. Five takes of "Life Begins At The Hop" and the television crew are still arguing with the director. The floor manager paces the studio, asks for another take.
Countdown, and Ian Meldrum, is the focus for considerable criticism in Australia. That very week there had been a vitriolic attack on its format, content and presenter in the magazine Nation Review. Meldrum was described as being the show's 'resident buffoon'.
'Molly' they call him in Australia for reasons that become obvious when you meet him. He counts Rod Stewart, Elton John and John Reid amongst his 'close personal friends'. We watch him in action when the show is broadcast. he seems incapable of putting together a coherent sentence. His conversations consists of so much small talk you'd be forgiven for thinking he was being manipulated by a midget ventriloquist.
"He makes Bob Harris sound like Sir Kenneth Clark" observed Al Clark, after one especially hilarious interview with Victoria Nicolls, an Australian songstress.
"Welcome to the show -a gain" Molly said "Last time...eh..you... eh, er...helped compere it! Now you've become a...er....singer!" "Yes!" chirped Victoria in a voice as brittle as a fine bone. "Wow!" grinned Molly.
Molly attempted to interview XTC. He kept referring to "White Music" as "The White Album". "Paul is not dead" said Andy Partridge "I was the walrus". Molly was bemused. The man had all the wit of a small brick. He presented Partridge with a plaque of Australia. "Just what I've always wanted" said Partridge "a map of Portugal".
That night XTC appeared at the Flicks, a club in Manly. Manly is a northern suburb of Sydney, on the headland across the harbour from Bondi Beach.
The chaps were changing in the dressing room. Before they came out to Australia they were given £50 for some new stage clothes. "Our manager thought we were beginning to look like the Grateful Dead". They spent most of the money on trousers from Mr. Howie.
"This band has such a trouser problem" Chambers complained, fastening himself into a pair of enormous purple slacks. "They told us we'd look fashionable in these. We look like a bunch of old men. The bastards, I'd like to give that Mister fucking Howie a hiding..." Colin Moulding put on a pretty sharp suit made out of hessian. "They sold Moulding a sack" said Chambers.
The club, a converted cinema that looked like a curious hybrid of the Music Machine and the Venue, was as packed as the Marconi. The audience were boisterous and drunk. The bouncers were large and efficient. XTC were marvellous.
"Hello, Surf City" Partridge announced as they turned into 'Beatown'. "Here's a selection of old Frank Ifield numbers for you."
For the next hour their feet didn't touch the ground. Partridge has never been especially introverted on stage, but previously his performances have occasionally seem mannered, as if he was trying too hard to communicate his enthusiasm to his audience. Now he plays with a natural abandon that hits you in the chest with its sheer exhilaration. Moulding, too, seems to have broken through some personal barrier, all sense of reserve broken down and packed into the wardrobe.
Gregory's guitar has added a new weight to the group's sound. The new XTC are more direct, exciting and streamlined. There are fewer deranged, epileptic detours. The songs are concisely despatched, played with real attack. They've grown in stature too. 'Battery Brides', especially, has assumed epic proportions. A synthesised tape loop creates an eerie, disturbing musical backdrop over which the guitars meander in an overlapping conversation before locking into the main theme. 'Making Plans For Nigel' has a similarly hypnotic atmosphere, with Colin Moulding delivering his lyric with a kind of dead-pan anguish over Chambers' cyclical drum patterns.
The final part of the set comes on like a cavalry charge. 'Outside World' with its tongue-twisting, alliterative lyric, is the bugle call. 'I'm Bugged' which now incorporates a dazzling guitar / synthesiser duet, is the first rush at the wall. 'Crowded Room' has Partridge and Gregory exchanging power chords of such intensity that one was almost tempted to cry "Good axe!". 'Radios In Motion', 'Are You Receiving Me?' - with Chambers almost drumming himself out of his Mr. Howie pants - and 'Set Myself On Fire' crack the final whip. The audience cheers the band back onto the planks.
"Thank you for coming" Andy Partridge told the sweating horde around the front of the stage at the Flicks. He looked up at the balcony. "Thank you, too" he said with a wink.
"Dear me" said Al Clark "that was a bit Sammy Davis Junior"
There is a party for XTC after the gig, hosted by Larry Danielson, owner of the Flicks. Partridge and Gregory call in briefly and split for the hotel. Chambers and Moulding, meanwhile, seem determined to drink Australia under the table.
The party is at Larry's opulent penthouse apartment, down the block from his club. The carpet is so thick that Graham Parker would need stilts to keep his head above the pile. The other guests are friends of Larry's. There are a lot of women in chiffon gowns, flashing mammaries and jewellery.
TC hitches up his Mr. Howie fashion pants.
"Fuck me" he says as Larry comes around with the champagne, "if I wasn't wearing these trousers I'd really feel out of my depth. I mean - we're just four boys from a railway town in Wiltshire. We're not used to the high life".
Larry Danielson forces another round of beers on us. Larry is the first Australia we've met who actually conforms to the popular stereotype of the hard-drinking, blasphemous, raucous Aussie bushwacker.
Al Clark makes some remark about the bouncers at the Flicks.
Larry tips back a whiskey a roars with laughter. "They're a grayt teem, Al" he says "Rough as guts 'n' twice as strong. There isn't a fart on the teem".
Terry notices the alligator hide on the wall. "Catch it yourself, did you?" he asks our host. Larry knocks back another large one. "Caught it, fucked it and killed it" he laughs riotously.
Colin Moulding asks Larry whether he thinks XTC will prove to be popular with audiences throughout Australia.
"Colin" Larry replies "Jesus Christ was the son of God. And he was nailed to two bits of wood. So what chance have you got to being liked by everyone?" His laughter would have stirred Beethoven.
Larry has a friend named Brian. Brian is clearly and outrageously gay. He's also extremely drunk and in a bitter mood. He looks like Rod Steiger as Mr. Joyboy in The Loved One. He's wearing more jewellery than the Queen Mother and has a lisp you could wallpaper.
"Thith party'th getting very plathic, Larry" he bitches. "Don't mind Brian" Larry says, ignoring him. "He always gets like this when he feels his period coming on".
Brian takes a liking to Steve Warren. Steve stands up - six foot, 13 stone of home cooking and Wiltshire air. Brian smiles appreciatively. "You should thtand up more often" he tells Steve "You're tho rugged".
"I don't know" says Chambers. "This is all beyond me".
The Church of the Open Air is just winding up its evening service on the grassy knoll, below the railway station. Down in the square Sydney's punks are gathering for XTC's gig at the Stage Door Tavern.
"They could be waiting for the UK Subs at the Music Machine" remarks Al Clark as we tread through the ranks of safety pins and bondage trousers and leather jackets smeared with slogans.
Flowers, a local band who are supporting XTC throughout Australia, are on stage. They are one of the most popular new groups in Sydney. Their repertoire consists mostly of T.Rex songs and Lou Reed impersonations. There you go, I thought. And there I went. Off to the bar.
Australia still has some way to go: its rock 'n' roll heart is still pumping to the pulse of the early Seventies. The country's favourite indigenous group is the Angels. They're wildly popular. They're all 1972 poses: warpaint and smoke bombs and the kind of hardrock riffs that make you wish you'd been born without ears.
There's some hope on the horizon, though. The Sports we know already. They have good album out in Australia now, called 'Don't Throw Stones' which Stiff should be releasing in September. And there's a marvellous Sydney band called Mental As Anything, who have a classic single on the racks. It's title is 'The Nips Are Getting Bigger'. They're sly and funny and sharp and hit a mean beat. They have another great song in their repertoire called 'I Want To Be Your Spanish Gardener'. Virgin are apparently eager to sign them.
Flowers, anyway, are pulling down the blinds on their set. XTC come on. The front rows push forward, hands outstretched. This is the last Australian gig Al Clark and I will see. Fate and Colin Moulding conspire to ensure an evening of drama. We noticed the bass player signalling frantically to Andy Partridge early in the set. We didn't think much of it at the time. Then the group began skipping numbers. Colin Moulding wasn't signing much. He wasn't smiling either.
XTC should have ended their set with Moulding's 'Set Myself On Fire'. They finish with 'Are You Receiving Me?'. Moulding dashes for the wings. The rest of the band, perplexed, follow him off. The audience is cheering for an encore. Partridge, Gregory and Chambers return. Gregory picks up the bass.
"It's the Jimmy Edwards Experience" says Partridge. "Our bass player's just collapsed".
Moulding is on the floor of the dressing room, vomiting violently. The band play on, to great cheers from the audience who know a bunch of troupers when they see them. Moulding is still vomiting like a madman, can't stop.
Ray Hearne, XTC's Australian tour manager, is off the mark like a whippet. Has Moulding off to the casualty ward in minutes. The car dash through Sydney is hectic. Hearne jumping the lights, Colin hanging out the window, evacuating his stomach. "Never a dull-fuckin'-moment, is there?" says Chambers on the way back to the hotel. "I suppose I'll be sharing a room with a corpse tonight".
The last night Al Clark and I spent in Sydney, we go to dinner with XTC and some people from Festival and some other people we seem to have picked up on the way. We go to the summit, a revolving restaurant 48 floors up a bloody great tower. Sydney sparkles below us. Terry Chambers is overawed and doesn't mind admitting it.
"It's incredible, really, isn't it? I mean 'ere we are, four chaps from Swindon. I mean - just because I bang the drums in a pop group, I'm being wined and dined in a restaurant halfway up to heaven...and the
bastard's going round as well. I feel like Prince Charles at the moment...".
Steve Warren is confused because he's seen David Nixon on the television. "I thought he was dead" said Warren. "He is" said Partridge "You didn't think he'd brought himself back from the dead, did you? He could do it with rabbits, doves and volunteers from the audience - but not with himself...".
The restaurant was gliding past the Harbour Bridge, Bennelong Point and the Opera House. Chambers stared out of the window.
"If this is Australia", he declared flamboyantly, "I want it".
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