Nineteen twenty seven used to be a year, but after a while it turned into 1928 and all of a sudden 1927 was just another one of those ex-years, like 1788 or 5,648,827 B.C. and that wasn’t fair ‘cos 1927 wasn’t just another ordinary, run-of-the-mill garden variety year … 1927 was the year that jukeboxes and television were invented … and movies with sound … and transatlantic flights … and transatlantic phones (to see if the tranatlantic flight made it) … and Mr Stalin sent Mr Trotsky for a long holiday in Siberia … and Volvos were invented so that doctors didn’t have to walk anymore … but that’s not important right now, ‘cos we’re not here to talk about 1927 the year … but 1927 THE BAND … !!
Confusion. ‘I’ve been to the cinema, if that’s what they’re on about’ goes a mental murmur as one’s face begins to take on the hue of Ayres Rock on a sunny day.
“Thank God for that” they cry, a sentiment heartily seconded as the senile smile sits on these lips. “most people come in here and it’s the first thing they want to talk about. It’s really good you know nothing about it.”
Moving Picture, as the whole world apart from me seems to know, were an Australian band that had a huge amount of success circa 1980-84, including No. 1 album and single. Garry Frost was one of the main members. There, it’s done, I’ve exposed my shame, and in doing so committed the hideous deed of dredging up the past for contemporary comparison with 1927.
With That’s When I Think Of You, 1927 became, in media-speak, a new entry into the marketplace. In plain band speak, the hit single was the unexpected fruition of two years hard slog.
“We achieved much more than we initially set out to do. That’s When I Think Of You was meant to make people aware of the band, “ explains Garry.
For Garry in particular, the project has been a dream realised and a poke in the ribs answer to the ‘where do former pop stars go?’ question. After the demise of Moving Pictures, Frost spent some time as a professional writer before deciding to form a band – and in the process find Eric through the Hey Hey It’s … Red Faces TV slot, “A weirdo talent type thing that I did out of boredom.”
“I’d only been looking about a month” continues Garry. “A band is a stronger vehicle than solo acts for presenting material in this country. I considered the options and decided to recruit young players rather than the people I’d played with over the years. I think there is a negative viewpoint that comes with experienced musicians; they hate the industry and that’s a bad way to start. Also, I think a band should have as identity, not just a vehicle for one person. Eric has songwriting talents which were an added bonus. It was good to find out he could do other things apart from sing and swear.”
Given Garry’s track record, one would imagine the band being snaffled up quicker than a waffle on a hotplate, but getting the elusive deal was not that easy – despite the fact he had a considerable wealth of material ready to go. In the end it took producer Charles Fisher’s confidence to form a label and get the band distribution through WEA.
Sitting comfortably in WEA’s press office, Frost and Weideman make an improbable pair of collaborators. Maybe it’s the age difference of the experience that comes with age that divides them, but it somehow seems unlikely. Weideman has obviously learnt PR etiquette, although it is Frost who does most of the talking, giving a worldly, paternal feel to the interview. The highly accomplish of …Ish is undoubtedly partly a bi-product of Garry’s history – being a skilled craftsman with pride in his trade. However, despite having a clear vision of what he wants from 1927, he denies there is any calculation and manipulation involved.
“It’s not calculated to an end – ie” a hit. It’s calculated to sound good to us. We are highly critical and labour hard over the songs. None of the songs were written in under a month – That’s When I Think Of You took four. There is always the feeling that if you work too hard on a song you are contriving, which is not true.”
“There is no formula, each song has its own identity. Musically, its important to us that most of the songs on the LP have nothing to do with each other. Sure, it’s slick, but that doesn’t have to mean calculated. Music over the past five years has become more homogenised because technology is better and tastes have improved. There’s no ‘rough is great’ any more. People still like fire, passion and excitement, but not out of tune.”
1927 play, in journo-speak, MOR. It loosely implies non-experimental, rock style music. Garry and Eric are the first to clarify they bring nothing new to the Australian music scene, placing there priorities with the conveyance of sentiment and perfect production. …Ish was chosen for the name of the LP as an apt description of the range of the record; “It’s rockish, balladish, etcetera.”
1927 audiences, too, it transpires, cross the range from young to old. Knowing the gleam that comes into ad-mens eyes and promotional connivances, one enquires whether the younger end have been tempted along by a ‘teen sell’ of Eric’s good looks. At this point Eric is garrulous.
“We’ll have none of that. I’m just Eric, that’s who I am, it goes for all of us. The clothes I wear in videos and on stage are my every day clothes because that’s all I have. I don’t want anyone looking upon any member of this band as something they are not.”
Garry picks up the plot: “Also, it’s got nothing to do with us. We tackle some pretty strong issues and it’s stupid to have our songs performed by an image pop band.”
Indeed, a large proportion of the songs on …Ish have a socio/political bent. Propaganda Machine deals with TV indoctrination, Give the Kid A Break is a heartfelt cry for a future generation, Compulsory Hero and The Mess are anti-war songs, and All The People addresses Australians with the fact they have a lucky life here compared to existence in many other countries.
“I always write from something that effects me personally,” claims Garry. “I worry about the state of the world and kids especially, the sense of doom they have to grow up with now.
We don’t want to carry any banners, it’s not too easy for entertainers to moralise and preach – which is not fair, music is there to enjoy. That doesn’t mean to say you have to dish out mindless rubbish, but if you can take a small situation and expand that into the global it makes sense. That’s why our anti-war songs are such personal statements.”
Eric elaborates: “It’s much less offensive to say ‘Who is going to clean up the mess’ than ‘War is bad’ – war sucks. It’s personal expression, but as to standing on a platform, I could if I wanted, say what I like and maybe people would listen, it’s a bit scary to be an entertainer and be influential as well. It’s really American, all those performers getting behind politicians, but that doesn’t sit well with me. I could run up and down George Street yelling disapproval with all kinds of things, but what is the point? I don’t want to use music as vehicle for that kind of project.”
The full force of stardom has yet to hit Eric Weideman – the power of the media machine can do strange things to one’s psyche. Being a regular sort of a guy, it’s doubtful he’ll have problems, and there’s always the father figure of Garry to keep the band in check. After a whole year recording, they claim they know each other well enough to survive the strains.
“It took a whole year to record and produce …Ish. Every song went through a metamorphosis as we were recording until the production was perfect. There were tensions, but never altercations. Creating in a group is hard, that’s why lots of bands don’t make it past the first album. Creativity is being concretised and ideas put in, some are mutually exclusive. We kept that under control and discovered a lot about each other, breaking points etcetera.”
“In fact”, sums up Garry, “I think the whole world should go into a studio for a year, just to learn about each other.”
RAM, January 25, 1989
On vocals and guitar is Eric Weideman. Eric and Garry met shortly after Eric’s appearance on TV’s “Hey Hey It’s Saturday” Red Faces segment.
Bass guitar and backing vocals are handled by Bill Frost. He joins brother Garry for this, his first role in a professional band.
The drummer, James Barton, also participates in backing vocals. He fills in his spare time by imparting his percussion skills at Turramurra Music.
