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A Brief History Of Australian Rock

A musician is the sum of everything that he or she has ever heard or experienced. No "About Me" can be complete, in the musical sense, without providing as a context a background to the Australian Rock scene, in other words, to the musical environment in which I grew up. So, over the next page or six, that's what I have endeavoured to provide. Any errors in the history, either of omission or of commission, are soley my responsibility, and I apologise for them. Bear in mind, too, that this is written from a very personal perspective, and motives may be attributed, or actions ascribed, to individuals or groups which may not be not strictly true - but which were, and in some cases are, a personal interpretation or perspective on events. I've done my best to distinguish statements that are matters of personal opinion, and possibly incorrect in their assumptions, from historical fact. I must acknowledge the Book and Boxed Video Set of "Long Way To The Top", and Glenn A. Baker's book "External Combustion", which served as essential referance and research source for these pages. I heartily reccommend anyone interested in Australian Music's history to buy them. Any errors of omission or commission ae entirely my responsibility, and any opinions are purely personal in nature. Feel free to disagree with me!

The Beginnings: The 50s

The history of Australian Rock is the story of a war between two distinctly different schools of popular culture, of the sweeter sounds of pop competing with the sweaty bellows of rock. It's the story of music shaping, and being shaped by, an emerging cultural identity, the story of the alternative, and innovative, becoming mainstream, and the story of leaders - and followers.
Rock and Roll in Australia starts with Bill Halley's "Rock Around The Clock" and the movie that popularised it and brought the concept of the teenager into the public consciousness, "Blackboard Jungle". Almost immediatly in it's wake, local bands sprang up from seemingly nowhere in vast numbers. The seeds had been sown years earlier, as Australians learned to enetertain visiting GIs bound for the Pacific Theatre of World War II - Jazz and Jitterbugging, Crooners, and all the other hallmarks of then-current US culture. Immediatly, there seemed to be a market where none had existed before. But this was an era of passing fads, and if the sensibilities of a more straightlaced community were offended, they were able to take comfort in the knowledge that "Rock Music" would vanish like the others had, in a year or so.
Six men were directly responsible for the birth of Australian rock. Stan "The Man" Rofe, a Melbourne disk jockey; expatriot American entrepenuer Lee Gordan; The Jacobson Brothers; and Johnny O'keefe. Between them, these 5 created the australian record industry.
Lee Gordon was the first big promoter in Australia. His philosophy was simple - what made money in America would make money here. It drove him bankrupt several times, but it also gave him his biggest successes, as he brought to our shores the artists that Rofe was making famous. But Gordon was not interested in anything so lowly as local music; arranging gigs for the local acts was the province of the Jacobson Brothers, amongst others. Colin Jacobson and his brothers Kevin and Keith began to act as their own promoters for their band, Col Joye and the Joye Boys, when they realised they could do the job just as well as anyone else - and make money at it. Taking their cue from the travelling circuses and rodeos that had brought entertainment not only to the cities but to the smaller towns of the outback, they slowly built up a travelling rock-and-roll circus that crisscrossed the country.
But the biggest star of them all was Johnny O'keefe. A man whose genius for self-promotion was often overlooked, O'keefe also managed himself, and did it superbly. He got a recording contract by circulating a rumour that he had already been signed to Festival Records - which was news to Ken Taylor, the Artists & Repetoir manager of the label! But he was sufficiently intrigued by the audacity of O"keefe to give him a listen.
Arguably, O'keefe's biggest coup to date had been persuading Lee Gordon to put him on the bill with Bill Halley & The Comets when they toured here. Being the warm-up act on the tour was a gig that he literally had to beg for, and it is known that when he first went on stage, he received a chorus of boos from the Sydney crowd. It was a reception that wouldn't last - using the same charm and wit that would come to characterise "four lads from liverpool" in the next decade, he won them over.
O'keefe's success convinced gordon to make local acts a regular part of his shows, and Gordon's success convinced the Jacobsons to set up their own touring agency. Booking local acts into small venues all over the country proved a shrewd move. O'keef's first recordings weren't brilliant successes, but eventually he got the formula right. Other bands had followed him through the doors at Festival, generally recording cover versions of material sourced from overseas. But the radio dj's weren't playing them; While there was a slow penetration with individual announcers, the policies of many radio stations precluded rock music. To the management, rock was still a passing fad. At first, they were intent on playing American - if they played rock at all. Unusually for the era, TV beat them to the punch.

By the end of 1959 there were two rock-oriented television programmes on the air, with two distinct styles. Col Joye and his gathered band of artists featuring heavily on "Bandstand", hosted by a man who would become one of Australia's most-respected newsreaders, Brian Henderson, presented a wholesome, family-friendly style, while O'keefe's "Six O'clock Rock" was far more raucus, sweaty, hard-edged, and bluesy. Col Joye was the King of the pop world, Johnny O'keefe was the Prince of Darkness. The former were often lipsynced performances, to ensure the quality of the performance - and that the audience got exactly what the producers had selected and no surprises. The latter was live, and O'keefe was everywhere - he chose the bands, he chose their material, and if they didn't do it his way, they were off the show. "Six O'clock Rock" was aimed directly at the teens, the first time that the group had been given a specific marketing focus.
The epitomy of the Bandstand style, and it's lasting contributiuon to the world of pop music, was giving Barry Gibb and his twin brothers their big break. They might have started as a novelty act, but they had a Genius that could not be contained. The used to perform for pennies between stiock car races; it was the other pair of entrepeneuarial brothers, the Jacobsons, who came to their rescue. They soon had a recording contract with the Festival hit factory, but when Rock began to die, they were released from their contracts; the Bee Gees left for the UK, forced to look elsewhere for the musical growth and support they needed.
It was OKeef's show that inspired Stan Rofe to start adding Australian artists to his playlists. Okeefe, aware of Rofe's efforts, did everything he could to support the dj, and he and Rofe formed a synergy that sent the australian rock scene into overdrive. Rofe took advantage of the tyranny of distance... QANTAS pilots bringing back singles way in advance of their australian release dates. These were then handed out to local acts for cover versions. Quite often, the original version would not be on the market before the local cover was in the charts - to the Australian Public, overseas acts were doing cover versions of what they had already heard. Some were even better than the orginials. There was little-to-no incentive for local acts to write their own material.

Eventually, O'keefe decided to try and crack the big time overseas, an attempt which failed. Returning home, he reinvented himself, in an attempt to lighten his image; rock was already beginning to wane, and the pundits were more than ready to pronounce the last rites. Overseas, artists like Paul Anka had also begun to work at softening the harder edges of what had become somewhat marginalised, and it looked like the fad was indeed passing.; it had lasted for 4 years instead of 9 months, but the writing seemed to be on the wall.

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