Kris Griffiths meets the new wave of Australasian garage-rockers

Over the past year, a rash of Antipodean bands have come under the microscope of the British music press, whose level of interest in them has become near-obsessive. Trading in the same kind of guitar abuse that their forefathers AC/DC first harnessed, the majority of these new southern bands seem only too happy to step over the out-dated shadows left by compatriots such as INXS and Rose Tattoo.

RC interviewed three of the most acclaimed exponents of this new Oz-Rock movement — the Vines, the Datsuns and the D4 — and found a warm, mutual respect, as well as a healthy respect for rock's classics...

If we hop over to that rather large land mass called Australia, we find a quartet of early 20-somethings sitting pretty at the top of the zeitgeist tidal wave and surfing towards our island. With the foam trail still visible from the last tsunami set in motion by the Strokes, and the colourful black & white/red & white mists of the Hives and the White Stripes still lingering upon our shores, the Australasian invasion has to be loud and clear in its statement of intent to be taken seriously. Leading the battle cry is 24-year-old Craig Nicholls, armed with a guitar, good looks and a primal scream that has seen the music press jump swiftly to attention. His band is the Vines, and they have brought us a bounty of raw rock'n'roll stripped down to its roots and fertilised with 21st Century attitude.

The band's debut album, Highly Evolved, has already earned classic status: the music froths at the surface, all Nirvana and Supergrass, and crashes about on a bedrock laid down by the Kinks and the Beatles. 'Factory', their debut single, takes the bouncing gaiety of 'Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da', sprinkles it with 'Lithium' and blasts it into outer space with a distortion pedal. A drug-aided first listen evokes the pleasing image of Dave Grohl booting Ringo off his stool, Kurt Cobain barging Paul away from the mic and both of them launching into a jam with the ghosts of John and George. Trippy stuff. Elsewhere on the album there are wafts of West Coast whimsy and Radiohead-ness, with 'Autumn Shade' and '1969' raising fat spliffs to 90s Britpop and the Beach Boys. But the three singles released from Highly Evolved are indeed epitomes of how the modern rock single has evolved: the title track is a 90-second tempest in a teacup, 'Outtathaway' is two minutes of the Stone Roses getting pistol-whipped by Guns N' Roses, and 'Get Free" is an early contender for single of the decade. All compact, catchy and cutting: they don't get any better than these.

Fragile frontman Nicholls has two healthy addictions in his life: marijuana and McDonalds. At 15, he met bassist Pat at his local fave burger joint in Sydney. Pat introduced him to weed. They formed a Nirvana covers band, enjoyed a few years of stonehead songwriting, aired their demo on a local radio show and before long they were recording in LA's Sound Factory — an old sonic stomping ground of Led Zep and the Stones. The most potent weapon in Nicholls' armoury is his voicebox: his visceral vocals exude an extraordinary quality most palpable during live performances. To witness his wild antics for over an hour with his voice oscillating between throat-destroying screams and soothing harmonies is to witness a burgeoning greatness, following the line in style and stature of Lydon and Cobain. 

Just like the latter's vocal transition from 'Scentless Apprentice' to 'Heart-Shaped Box' on In Utero, Nicholls' voice has the power to be as mad as it is melodic. And in the same way Cobain purloined his "Teen Spirit' guitar riff from Boston's 'More Than A Feeling', Nicholls is not afraid of attending the Noel Gallagher school of songwriting, with more references on the album than you can shake a magpie at. Oasis are, incidentally, big fans of the Vines, as Patrick attests: "I met Liam at Coachella (festival). He said, 'eard your band's cool, man". Then he started raving about fuck knows what".

If the D4 and Datsuns are reliable A-roads on the new rock road-map, then the Vines are more like the M25, not just because they run rings around most opposition, but for causing great frustration at certain points. There is more of a what-you-see-is-what-you- getness about these Kiwi outfits, alongside some other interesting parallels: both albums last exactly 39 minutes, the D4's first track is 'Rock'n'Roll Motherfucker' while the Datsuns second is 'Motherfucker From Hell'. Surprisingly, the Vines' debut is profanity-free, but Nicholls' onstage conduct has recently been not so much highly evolved as amusingly messed up, displaying all the composure of someone who's just washed down a fistful of ecstasy pills with a bottle of gin.

Many have been far from amused by this unhinged demeanour, many allured by it, and many don't really give a toss. The tunes are there and nothing else matters. With a new album out by Christmas, and Nicholls now refraining from lobbing microphone stands into the crowd, it will be fascinating to witness this band's next phase of evolution. (Note by me: the following interview was conducted with Patrick Matthews)

Did you have any idea that you'd be received this well in the UK?

No, although there was an obvious disparity when we were first in the UK early last year — between what the press seemed to think was fashionable and what your average British band was coming up with, which was something like Linkin Park. So they liked us more.

What was the first and last record you bought? 

Appetite For Destruction by Guns N' Roses and You Are Free by Cat Power.

In retrospect, what five albums would you say played the biggest roles in your development as a musician?

The Stone Roses' first album, Nevermind by Nirvana, I Should Coco by Supergrass, Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain by Pavement and Best Of The Pye Years by the Kinks. I left out the Beatles but they're really a Top Five all by themselves.

What would you say is different about today's new breed of rock'n'roll bands?

I think there's a bit of ambition and a bit of élan in the mix, just like there's always been. If you're in a rock band now and you wanna play to a crowd you've still got to appeal to kids who buy records: so that something that's profoundly simple in essence, and that feels the best, re-occurs and you get a rebirth of rock music.

What are your views on who are considered your peers, the D4 and the Datsuns?

It seems unlikely that I'll ever get to see them play unless we're at a festival together, cos they're bands that tour all the time, like we've been doing. I own the Datsuns' record and particularly like the song 'Harmonic Generator'. I think that, from stuff I've read, they think we're phonies in the Holden Caulfield sense. I don't think we are. 

Have you had any Spinal Tap-style disasters yet?

Every time we try to sing harmonies for a new song, eventually it ends up like the bit at Elvis' grave.

There is a popular school of thought in this country that Burger King burgers are better than McDonalds'. What's your take on this? 

Burger King drowns everything in mayonnaise but at McDonalds everything is just fattier. We like Wendy's because they're square.