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Posts tagged ‘Australia’

The best of the fringe and all of the backbone – Mojo Music, Sydney Australia

Mojo Music in Sydney Australia – The Kings of the Back Catalog.

They gots the best of the fringe and all of the backbone…

If you followed me at all on The 6149, you know that one my fave rave places, where some of my fave rave people in the world inhabit, is Mojo Music – located in Sydney, Australia.

Mojo is a real-deal, salt of the earth, bow-down good ol’ fashion record shop. The owner, shopkeep and resident maestro of the Mojo vibe is Nev … but, I call him the Kingfish.

I was recently contacted by a reporter from one of Australia’s top newspapers, The Sydney Morning Herald, and was asked to give my thoughts on Mojo as to why I think it was so special. This reporter did a bit of a search online and had seen my many blog posts on Mojo.

Here is what I wrote:

It is usually around 4:30pm on a Friday that I start to get the fever; I start to get the Mojo itch. It has been just over two years since I moved from Sydney to London, UK. Even now, try as I may, I still can’t scratch the itch that was my regular, four year long Friday night visit to Sydney’s Mojo Music.

I am from New Hampshire, USA. I moved to Sydney in 2005 and lived there for five years. I am a passionate music fan.  I love listening to, talking about and sharing my music. It wasn’t until the end of my first year in Sydney that I found Mojo. I remember walking into the shop for the first time; I had found my home away from home; these were my people; they listened to the same sounds; they told the same stories; they fanned the same flame. This was a place where my music became our music.

On first sight, to virgin eyes, Mojo would look like what it seems to be: a relic record shop still hanging on to the notion that people want to buy their music on CD or vinyl, let alone buy it at all. But, to the been-around-the-block, knowing-eye crowd, Mojo is the true music fan’s promise land: a place where people gather to immerse themselves in the music that they love: to listen to it, to share stories about it and to turn others on to it.

“If you ever get lonely, you just go to the record store and visit all your friends…” – Penny Lane, Almost Famous.

For four years my Friday nights started off, and most often ended up, at Mojo. After work I would get home, drop off the car and walk to Mojo. On the way I would pick up a six-pack of Cooper’s Sparking Ale (the unofficial beer of the Mojo Men) and bring it to the shop. I would meet there with regular “Friday Guys” and we would spin tunes, spin yarns and back-slap and tip back beers until after-hours became the wee-wee hours. Mojo wasn’t just my local record shop, it was part of my life.

Mojo exists for one reason: Nev Seargent. Nev is the owner of Mojo. In fact, Mojo is Nev. The look of the shop, the product sold at the shop and the vibe of the shop … it is all Nev.  Nev sets the tone and has established the ethos: Mojo is all about the “real” and the “authentic” and that goes for all the music, the people and the and feel that exists in the shop; there is no pretentious bullshit at Mojo.

Nev is a good mate. I call him “The Kingfish”. I copped that term from a Randy Newman song of the same name. In the song, The Kingfish is a New Orleans mayor, a man of the people, someone that gives the finger to the establishment and puts the needs of the people of first.

Kingfish, Kingfish
Friend of the working man
Kingfish, Kingfish
Who’s gonna save this land
It’s the Kingfish, baby, that’s who…

That is what Nev is doing. He is doing his part to keep the music shop alive and well … saving this land. When the music industry tells you that big box music stores are dying, that streaming music is the new buying music and that people just aren’t that invested in music anymore … Nev says, “oh yeah, there are still some of us left and I’m going to give ‘em a place to go.”

People go to Mojo, that is for sure. There are Thursday and Friday night regulars, people who make personal pilgrimages and those that wander in having been lured by the music that plays out on to the street.  As Nev likes to say, Mojo Music has the best of the fringe and all of the backbone.  That applies not only to the music they sell, but also the people they serve.

There is always music being played at Mojo. Starting around 5:00pm there is a crowd gathered around the front counter listening to it. People come in to find a lost album or get turned on to what ever it is that Nev has playing on the front-burner. If you are in need of a recommendation … Nev knows just what you need. Many times I have said to Nev, “I’m looking for this kind of sound and feel … you got anything for me?” Inevitably, The Kingfish always knew just what I wanted. He would walk over to one the CD racks … straight to a specific spot … pull out a CD and say, “You got this one? You know of this cat? You need this.” His picks were always spot on.

I purchased a lot of Nev’s picks over the year; my music collection was better off for it.  There was a definite correlation between time spent at Mojo and cash spent at Mojo.   Buying my music at Mojo was always a pleasure. Not only did I add great music music to my collection, I was also giving back to Nev and the shop. Nev has created something special and everyone that goes there knows this. We all give back by supporting the cause. Once Mojo gets under your skin, you just can’t ignore it.

Under your skin … there’s that itch again.  Two years on and I’m still trying to scratch it. Currently I work in London. My office is riight next to Soho. Soho has a handful of great used vinyl shops. On Fridays after work I take the long way home, wandering in and out of the shops to see if I can find any buried treasure.  I usually find a few records that I take home to play, but what I can’t find is that Mojo feel; no one calls out my name when I walk in these shops; there are no friends there waiting to play me the latest re-release or or newly found used original Chess Records pressing on vinyl; there are no cold beers waiting for me in the fridge; there is no back-slapping and story-telling; there is no walking out the door with Nev at midnight and shutting the lights and closing the door behind us. There is only one Mojo and it is in Sydney, Australia. The “lucky country” indeed.

Mojo is a one-off; a mutation; an anommoly.  It is a place that still cares about the shared experience of listening to music. Not the kind of pseudo sharing that is done on the web. We’re talking real-deal, face-to-face, ear-to-ear, flip the record over sharing.  You go there for the music and you walk out part of a community of music loving Mojo Men. Someone has to keep that feeling alive, right? Some one has to continue to fan those flames. Someone … but, who?

The Kingfish, baby, that’s who.

6149 Turn-ons: From the Land Down Under – Bernard Fanning

Fanning

Aussie’s love their music. They are so damn proud of their music and their bands and they have good reason. For those of you who haven’t been there or spent a lot of time there…Australia is very far away from The U.S., let alone, the UK and Europe. Breaking a band locally is hard enough, but breaking a band globally from damn near the bottom of the other side of the Earth is insanely hard. In order to do that, your shit has got to be damn good. 

There has been a lot of damn good shit to come out of Australia: AC/DC (of course), Men at Work, INXS, The Bee Gees, Silverchair, John Butler Trio, Kylie Minogue (not my flavour, but hey, very successful), Xavier Rudd (saw him in Venice in front of St. Mark’s Basilica…killer) and Nick Cave…just to name a few. Then there are a few local legends as well: country star Slim Dusty, Cold Chisel and Chisel’s lead singer Jimmy Barnes (a star in his own right) and Powderfinger. 

Powderfinger is an Aussie rock band. I can’t say I have listened to a lot of their music, but I have listened to their lead singer’s 2005 solo album a lot. Bernard Fanning’s “Tea & Sympathy” was my fave rave Aussie album from my five year stay in Sydney. This album just makes me feel good. It is one of those albums that at first listen you feel close to it. It didn’t have to win me over, it didn’t try to hard and it didn’t shy from expressing itself. I want to say that it has a “feel”…but that can come off as some esoteric, snooty bullshit. That being said, it does have a feel…it is comforting and wise. 

Many, many repeat listens for me. 

This is Fanning’s only solo outing. Apparently the songs he write for Powderfinger, aside from being rock oriented, are external, more message driven (sometimes political).  This collection is inwardly expressive…revealing. As far as the music itself goes, here is what allmusic had to say in it’s review of the album:

Like a reprise of Stephen Stills‘ Manassas or Elton John‘s Tumbleweed ConnectionFanning‘s solo debut is awash in well-constructed pop songs that are dressed up with mandolins, Dobros, and fiddles. There’s a country veneer, but scratch beneath the surface and you’ll find some sturdy pop hooks and the kind of laid-back hippie sentiments that wouldn’t sound out of place on early-’70s FM radio…The opening “Thrill Is Gone” and later “Hope & Validation” both feature the kind of yearning, soaring vocals and infectious melodies that John tossed off regularly early in his career, while lead single “Wish You Well” and “Sleeping Rough” strongly recall Stills‘ work, both solo and withCrosby, Stills, Nash & Young. 

Good company and good commentary. I’m not sure I hear the same tones and sounds as in those two specific albums, but, again…that feel is there.  Fanning hasn’t made a full go at breaking in the States yet. He did open for his coutnryman, Keith Urban in 2006 (I think it was 2006) and was distributed by Urban’s label, Lost Highway. 

If you are looking for a new Turn-On, check out “Tea & Sympathy”. I find it goes best around dusk with a few deep glasses of red (an Aussie Shiraz is my flavour of choice).

Wikipedia: Bernard Fanning
Website: www.bernardfanning.com
Rdio: “Tea & Sympathy


“Songbird” – Bernard Fanning

 

“Yesterday’s Gone” – Bernard Fanning

“Not Finished Just Yet” (Live)  - Bernard Fanning

Here is the entire Tea & Sympathy Album (be sure to check out “Thrill is Gone”…not a B.B. King cover…and “sleeping Rough”). Enjoy…

http://listen.grooveshark.com/widget.swf

The KIngfish checks in with new nuggets from Mojo Music down in Australia

It is said that the only two things in life you can count on are death and taxes. Well, that may be true, but I have one more for you: killer blues recommendations from The Kingfish. That’s right…the Kingfish is like the “Axis”: he knows everything

 
The Kingfish is my very good friend, Nev. Nev owns Mojo Music…a true independent record shop located in Sydney Australia. Here are a few Mojo themed prior posts to put you in-the-know on Nev and the Mojo vibe. 
 
I used to go to Mojo every Friday night for near five years. Nev is a master curator of real-real-gone, down home blues music. Nev knows his blues shit….in all flavors, shapes and sizes. He has deep knowledge of artists, labels, scenes, and sounds. He has turned me on to many, many artists and sounds that I never knew before. I have amassed quite a collection of Nuggets over the years.
 

Nev’s_Nuggets_(by_album)_2.pdf
Download this file
My own private collection of Nev’s Nuggets
 
 
I used to call all these turn-on’s, “Nev’s Nuggets”. He even dedicated a spot in his newsletter with that moniker (see below). I left Sydney in September 20009. When I left, I gave The Kingfish a chunck on money to use to send periodic instalments to me here in London. 
 

Mojo_Newsletter.pdf
Download this file
The latest Mojo Newsletter
 
 
 
I just received the latest and greatest yesterday in the mail. Hey, just because you aren’t in your neighborhood doesn’t mean you can’t support the neighborhood indie record shop.  I haven’t been able to put my ear to all of this yet, but at first listen…it is pure Mojo:
 
Jericho Alley Volume 1: Blues In Los Angeles 1956 – 1967 (Check the top three albums for track listings at this link). I’ll let The Kingfish describe it in his own words: 
 
“With the 3rd volume just released, this excellent series of compilations provide a fascinating view of the LA RnB scene from 1955 to 1967. Artists featured include Harmonica Slim, Gus Jenkins, King Solomon,Louis Jackson,and plenty more. These comps play really well and are highly recommended for fans of the second tier blues front runners.Tough Guitars, plenty of fine harp blowin’, and some killer vocal performances make these packages hard to resist. Jericho Alley is what you buy when you think you have it all.”
 
The Animals: “Let it Rock” (Live, 1963): This is a live recording with Sonnyboy Williams blowin’ loud on the back half of the album. Check out the pictures below for Nev’s handwritten notes on this album. 

 
Magic Sam: “Magic Touch“: Unfortunately Brother Sam left us early at 32 due to a heart attack.  He was on the rails towards true legendville and his influence is still felt today. Sam didn’t leave a lot of studio material behind, but what he did was the such front-burner material that nothing was left on the table. We blues fans are natural born gold-diggers…treasure seekers…vault sniffers. We look for more juice to squeeze from every piece of fruit we see; squeeze no more. This live set from the Magic Man, Magic Sam is real-deal.
 
The Kingfish also sent me a new Mojo t-shirt hot of the screen press. I’ll be wearing mine specifically for my Nuggets listening session. 
Img_0187
Thanks again, Brother Nev.
 
 

 

“The Mathematics of a Good Album”: Kip comes a calling from Oz with a guest post on Peter Parcek

Our friend from the Land Down Under, Kip, has chimed in with an album review. The album is from one of the members of The 6149′s “Honor Roll” (seen in the sidebar), Peter Parcek. Peter’s latest is called the “The Mathematics of Love” and was just released last week.

It is always a treat when Kip comes a calling with a thought or two on music.

Kip is muso of the highest order. Whilst living in NYC, Kip worked for Rolling Stone mag. Kip was their Aussie correspondent for all things Aussie music related…and then some. Kip and I have shared many a “music summit” together. These summits consisted of equal parts conversation, storytelling and ice cold, delicious Aussie ales and lagers. Spinning yarns with Kip is a joy. I encourage you to do so here at The 6149.

Thanks, Kip, for taking the time to share your thoughts after your full-on, four hour-plus listening session with “The Mathematics of Love”. After reading his take on Peter’s latest ten song class act, real deal, guitar legend in the making album, you’ll know why Jann and crew were keen to keep Kip on the payroll.

Disclaimer: I have to mention that my connection with Peter runs deeper than a near twenty year fan and friend relationship: I now work for the label that released Peter’s album. That, my friends, is a story I will tell another day, soon.

So, without further adieu…Kip’s review.

—– The Mathematics of a Great Album

Peter Parcek is one of those unknown legends we stumble upon occasionally. Very occasionally. They’ve paid their dues many times over but, for whatever reason, they’ve remained a relative secret to all but a devoted few. But when we find them and start listening, a knowing smile joins our closed eyes and lolling head in instant appreciation.
The Peter Parcek 3 have just released a new album, The Mathematics Of Love, and it’s an absolute top-shelf cracker.

The paradoxical title announces the album’s intentions immediately: a patchwork quilt of carefully measured pieces that ultimately creates a unique whole that is far greater than the sum of its impressive parts. The set is a beautifully integrated production with each musician sharing the honours and each playing a vital role. A classic, tight, three piece led by an out-and-out geetar maestro.

The PP3 have sown their seed in fertile blues/roots territory but they also show a masterly touch at driving a toe-tapping, funk/jazz groove. The band’s obvious infatuation with three-piece grooves provides a welcome relief from the radio-ready synthesizers and compressors often found in contemporary blues projects.

The overall feel of the set is helped enormously by Parcek’s clever choice of covers. From ballsy alt-country darlings, Lucinda Williams and Jessie Mae Hemphill, through blues thoroughbreds Peter Green, Harlan Howard, Cousin Joe Pleasant and Mississippi Fred McDowell, Parcek approaches each cover as if they were a semi-blank canvas. The resulting musical whole is often-times spellbinding; allowing you to luxuriate in the idiosyncrasies of these monolithic tunes.

Unlike its bastard child Rock ‘n’ Roll, the Blues is filled with rules, but it has a logic that allows remarkable freedom within the well worn grid of notes and chord sequences. If, like Parcek, you submit and are in total control of your ‘canvas’ and are willing to go where the music takes you, old songs are just waiting to be had and new songs, for the gifted, are there to be written. And rest assured, the four originals here are well chosen, beautifully written and provide the rock solid foundations that this record is built upon.

Parcek is an axeman who teenage boys should be dreaming of while doing their best SRV/Hendrix impersonations in bedrooms and garages across middle America. He taps those same well-worn resources but does so with taste and a healthy dollop of soulful grooves and jazz inflections. Indeed, the upright bass and drumming on Kokomo Me Baby and Rollin’ With Zah is straight out of a late-night gig at The Blue Note. Or, a road-side rockabilly joint in Kentucky, for that matter.

Parcek drops in some jaw-dropping technical wizardry, but he does it in a timely and measured way that avoids blatant wankery. Indeed, his mastery allows his guitars to achieve heights never reached by even the most accomplished speed freak heavy metal guitarists.

But whether full throttle or in after-hours mode, Parcek makes it all immediately indelible. And his vocal – often a counterpunch – is just as warm and indelible as his incendiary rapid-fire fretwork. His cool voice has a range, versatility and timing that is essential in carrying this collection of tracks to their respective peaks. The gut-wrenching vocal by-play on the slow burning Tears Like Diamonds is positively gorgeous and one of the many vocal highlights.

Every year or two, if you listen to enough music you finally get to hear something exceptional – but The Mathematics Of Love goes beyond that lofty designation. Whether it’s the semi-angry lament that runs through the title track, the rollicking bar-room groove of Busted, or the ‘everything old is new again’ feel of Williams’ Get Right With God, Parcek’s evocations of urban grooves are always engaging and seriously entertaining. Do yourself a favour and get a copy of this gem. Trust me, you will not be disappointed.

—–

Peter had an album launch party at the House of Blues in Boston last week. When I say it was a bow-down event…I mean it was a BOW-DOWN event. I will have lay down the full low-down another time; but, have a look at some video one of the guests shot of the Peter Parcek 3 in action. Peter and the guys played a one and a half hour set complete with five crowd inspired (demanded!) encores. Here is the link to check out vids that were crowd captured.

http://www.youtube.com/user/spi534

(apologies for the crude link/no imbedded video. I am on a plane flying to Italy as I type this and I can’t perform any web wizardry at this moment. Just the same, go check out the link…you’ll be glad for it)

Wilco Delivers! (a guest post from Kip who caught the gig in Sydney, Australia)

Over its 15 years as a band, Wilco has explored a varied range of sounds, from early alt-country tendencies to a sound influenced by classic rock, pop and folk. Ever restless, the band reinvented itself in the early-noughties by pushing its music in a more experimental direction. And when it seemed they’d become a band preoccupied with sonic experiments, it switched gears (again), putting out a melodic, folksy album, Sky Blue Sky, followed by an almost straightforward mainstream guitar album — last year’s king of the creepers, Wilco (The Album).

By single-mindedly pursuing a career based on slow organic growth, as opposed to intermittent commercial hits and a quick buck, Wilco have evolved into a live act that is seemingly beyond comparison. It’s difficult to imagine a tighter, more confident sextet, particularly when one considers the sonic breadth of their setlists. Great bands create a wall of sound when playing live; paradoxically, Wilco’s wall is a soft blanket that envelops its audience.

Wilco established the tone for a recent sold-out Saturday night Sydney show early on, opening with the chugging beat of Wilco (The Song). Over the song’s playful rhythm, frontman Jeff Tweedy sung, “Wilco will love you, baby,” and at once a sense of joyful openheartedness pervaded the mood for the rest of the two and half hour, 29-song set.

Early on, Wilco launched into another song off the new album, Bull Black Nova, a jarring, paranoid rocker with a clanging Spoon-like keyboard rhythm that recalls the piano chestnut, Chopsticks. The intensely claustrophobic Bull Black Nova was an abrupt transition from the light-hearted opener, but it signalled that the band was in the mood to rock out, and the setlist for the rest of the night favoured songs with driving guitars and opportunities for the band to unleash its unique wall of delicious sound.

The band’s two multi-instrumentalists – Pat Sansone and Mikael Jorgensen – laid down waves of interlocking sound with buzzing, squeaking and humming electronics as drummer Glenn Kotche masterfully filled in the spaces. It was easy to close your eyes and get caught up in these swirling acoustics as the understated lights that dotted the stage pulsed and glowed in the State Theatre’s darkness.

Unfortunately, a typical “hip” Sydney audience is cowered into fear of expressing themselves the wrong way at the wrong time, making the collective feel self-conscious about their presence at a gig and wondering how they’re supposed to participate. Doesn’t sound like a fun-filled experience, does it? Bollocks! Wilco are so sure of themselves now that the typical Sydney audience had little baring on the outcome.

Wilco came, saw and conquered. Sure they noticed the blatant audience coolness and they did their absolute best to change it – Tweedy’s banter, at times, was like a mischievous kid with a blunt stick prodding a hornet’s nest. But it mattered not.

For most groups who relish the interaction of a live show, playing the hits involves a delicate balancing act. On one hand, many people don’t like to have their memory of a favourite old tune radically altered. On the other, there are few worse prospects for the seasoned musician than the idea of being reduced to a living jukebox, churning out songs for which you have long since lost any affection. This was a problem that Wilco obviously circumvented a long time ago. There are no throw-aways; nothing is ever rushed.

The exceptionally talented lead guitarist Nels Cline stole the show with some surprisingly spectacular guitar playing that was so impressive that (some) people even jumped to their feet to whistle and applaud! Guitar solos can easily become indulgent, but I was blown away with the precision and grace of Cline’s playing, the way his often frantic strumming served the song and how he was able to consistently wow the audience without going overboard by laying it on too much. Normally I get impatient for long guitar solos to end, but Cline is the rare exception when I would’ve been happy to hear more.

At times Tweedy carries the look of a man who enjoys being dragged backwards through hedges. But this is a good thing in the context of a Wilco gig. Whether it’s his deadpan between-song banter, his ironic facial expressions or his folksy back porch demeanour, Tweedy is comfortably wedged in the driver’s seat.

Turning a stately 100 year-old theatre adjoining a mid-town Maccas into a back porch is a feat more readily associated with Uri Geller. But Wilco have magic in abundance. They are a band at ease with their lofty place in the live music world today. Happy to be enjoying their slow evolution from alt-country darlings to all-round sonic magicians. The boys, are quite simply, in outstanding form right now. If they ever stop-by your home town, do yourself a favour and pull-up a pew. You won’t be disappointed.

Special Guest Post: Music Copyrights and Wrongs – Time to Kook a Burra, Mate!

Have you ever heard a song…for the first time…that flat-out resonates with you. Instantly, at first listen, it becomes one of your classic “go-to” songs?  The kind that never fails to bring a bit of joy to your day or your life.  I have. 

I have also come across a scant few people in my life that have made me feel that same way. One of those people is my good mate, Kip. I met Kip when I lived in Australia. Actually, we met at a Stones gig. How fitting.

Fitting indeed that we should meet at live music gig (the Stones!). Kip and I are music fans to the core. Fortunately we dig on the same styles and are joined at the musical hip.  Over the years we have shared many a musical experience ranging from live shows, song swapping and story telling to introductions to new music, old faves and lost classics. 

We also share a passion for the stories that are part of the DNA of the songs and the lore of the legends we love. We’ve shared many a beer just waxing on tale tales about our heroes. Every now and then we would hold a music summit. We would meet up at one another’s flats with a bag full of sounds and just let ‘em rip…for hours.

Kip is one of the most tried and true (blue) Aussies I have ever met. That being said he is traveling soul, too. Kip spent a decade in living in NYC. His musical exploits and brushes with fame would keep you entertained for hours. For while Kip earned his living as a journalist. He wrote for, to name a few, travel magazines, Sports Illustrated and…drumroll please…Rolling Stone magazine.  

I love Kip’s work…you should read one of his emails…and am very happy to have him contributing to The 6149.  I think he just raised the stakes on me!

Cool Kip Fact!  AC/DC played at Kip’s high school dance some 30+ years ago. You heard that right…Angus and Bon playing a high school gig when the band first started out. Beat THAT!

Kip is a loyal reader and commenter at The 6149 (thanks, mate). I asked him if he wanted to write something for us from time to time. Fortunately, that stoked his creative fire. Kip has pulled together his first 6149 post for our reading enjoyment. 

They say “write about what you know” and Kip has done just that: music and Australia. Kip has a crack at sussing out the recent copyright squabble over Men at Work’s “Down Under” (I like the bit on “quoting” as it relates to jazz).  

Have at it Kipster…
_____

Music Copyrights and Wrongs – Time to Kook a Burra, Mate!

The mainstream music world was rocked recently. No, it wasn’t because new illegal download figures had been released. And it wasn’t because the Stones had announced their retirement. It was all due to a lawsuit being upheld against the writers of an iconic 80s anthem.

Australian Federal Court judge Peter Jacobson ruled that the flute passage in Down Under, Men At Work’s popular new wave ode to life in the antipodes bears a resemblance to Kookaburra Sits In The Old Gum Tree, a children’s folk tune written 75 years ago by a humble Aussie schoolteacher.

“I have come to the view that the flute riff in Down Under . . . infringes on the copyright of ‘Kookaburra,’ because it replicates in material form a substantial part of Ms. Sinclair’s 1935 work,” stated the judge in his ruling. Men At Work’s lead singer and songwriter, Colin Hay, maintains that the flute passage was unconsciously borrowed by the band’s flute player (not a writer of the song) during a performance, several years after it was written. The brief interlude, therefore, was part of the arrangement, not a part of the original composition.

Hear for yourselves:

To me, though, the question shouldn’t be whether a riff was borrowed consciously or unconsciously, or was part of the composition or the arrangement. And it’s not about who owes whom money. The question now is whether culture can grow and thrive under conditions where a few notes can land you in a courtroom.

Copyright exists to give artists a monopoly on their work and to incentivise further creativity — this benefits society, because we all want new music and art, and the more the better. Too much regulation, though, and copyright starts to stifle creativity. No art, whether it’s literature, painting or music, is created in a vacuum — all works borrow (consciously or not) from the artistic milieu in which they were conceived. If an artist has to be afraid lest a tiny corner of his or her composition contains a recognisable element from somebody else’s, art suffers, and society suffers.

As Harvard copyright professor Lawrence Lessig has pointed out, where would writing be if you had to secure permission from the rights-holder of a text when you wanted to quote a paragraph for illustration or review? It’s too absurd to contemplate. Yet in other media, we are headed increasingly in that direction. It’s a good time to be a lawyer, but not to be an artist.

That there was a connection with the Kookaburra song was seemingly taken as a fait accompli by the judge, but I can’t remember it ever entering my mind, and friends that I’ve asked are similarly confounded. Voltaire once said that anything too stupid to be said is sung. Judge Jacobson should have dusted-off an eight track deck prior to handing down his queer judgement.

The judge made much of Hay’s admission of conscious or unconscious references, but there hasn’t been a piece of music written that wasn’t unconsciously referencing some past song, at least since Mozart (he was the deaf one, wasn’t he?). Robert Plant was gracious enough to admit that songwriters are one long line of beggars and thieves, and how can that not be so.

I think any reasonable person would suggest that whatever similarity was found, the supposed lifting of a few notes added exactly nothing to the value of the work, or its popularity, and should be compensated at that level. And that’s before we even get into the argument about whether copyright should be maintained some 75 years after the original ditty was penned, and a decade or so after the writer’s death.

The money is a big issue, but it’s the principle that stinks.

After the surprise ruling, Hay published a lengthy and very emotional statement. “The copyright of ‘Kookaburra’ is owned and controlled by Larrikin Music Publishing, more specifically by a man named Norm Lurie. Larrikin Music Publishing is owned by a multi-national corporation called Music Sales. I only mention this as Mr. Lurie is always banging on about how he’s the underdog, the little guy. Yet, he is part of a multi-national corporation just like EMI Music Publishing. It’s all about money, make no mistake,” he wrote.

You know, Colin has a point.

“It is indeed true, that Greg Ham unconsciously referenced two bars of ‘Kookaburra’ on the flute, during live shows after he joined the band in 1979, and it did end up in the Men At Work recording,” Hay conceded. “When Men At Work released the song ‘Down Under’ through CBS Records (now Sony Music), in 1982, it became extremely successful. It was, and continues to be, played literally millions of times all over the world, and it is no surprise that in over 20 years, no one noticed the reference to ‘Kookaburra.’”

Well, Colin certainly has a point, there, too.

If any of the “Men At Work” did notice the imitation, they surely would have assumed that the song was ‘traditional’ and in the public domain. A payout to a rights-holding company nearly a century later in no way helps the author. It does nothing for struggling artists today, just as none of the millions paid for his paintings go to Vincent Van Gogh. Property law and art are poles apart. The law should change.

The most likely thing, I reckon, is that flautist Greg Ham “quoted” the riff as a clever and witty way of underlining and reinforcing the Australiana vibe of the song. Quoting is a jazz expression used when a soloist consciously references another song, generally during an improvisation. It is a common device and it is generally understood to be a compliment, not a rip-off. Maybe if they’d used that line of defence and offered some sort of compensation to the Kookaburra people the whole matter could’ve been settled amicably. Dunno. It’s all about money, I hear.

However, now that His Honour has handed down his verdict, can we expect that common sense takes control and damages are assessed at say $100, with all parties to pay their own costs? Sadly, I doubt it.

I went to see the musical Wicked the other day. Unmistakeably in the overture there are a few bars of Somewhere over the Rainbow. But I’ll shut up for $50,000.

Of course, this particular case occurs in the middle of a world-wide panic amongst luddite music labels over the matter of illegal downloading and file sharing, so I wonder if the times just did not suit Hay and his co-defenders?

Now, there might be something of a witch-hunt mentality surrounding illegal downloads (though I don’t think many professional musicians think so), and there is certainly a good argument that current copyright laws are badly drawn, have become draconian and exploitative and are inhibiting creative expression, the complete opposite of what they were originally designed to do, but it seems to me that even if all that were not the case, there is still a minor argument for compensation being paid to the Kookaburra copyright owner.

But that compensation should be fair. I saw an article in the aftermath of the case where Norm Lurie suggested he was seeking 40-60% of the royalties from Down Under and that strikes me as insane, even as a bargaining position. Less than one percent would be reasonable for “his” contribution to the track.So I feel a great deal of sympathy for Colin Hay. In part because he’s a great musician — I’ve seen his solo shows a bunch of times and many of his solo albums are simply brilliant — and in part because I think it really would be a serious injustice if he was forced to cough up 40-60% of the royalties from Down Under. But in an age where musicians, quite legitimately, worry about their work being stolen in the form of illegal downloads and other sorts of unauthorised transfers, and where major labels have made a point of suing individuals over such infringements, you can hardly expect musicians themselves to be exempt from having their use of copyrighted material questioned.

Possibly the most famous plagiarism suit is the 1970 George Harrison classic, My Sweet Lord vs. the minor 1963 Chiffons’ hit, He’s So Fine.

George was gigging in Copenhagen with Delaney and Bonnie in late ‘69. He remembered the song that became “My Sweet Lord” was conceived when he slipped away from a yawn-inducing press conference and began “vamping” some guitar riffs, fitting the chords to the words “Hallelujah” and “Hare Krishna.” Later, members of the band joined in, fired-up a doobie and the dreamy lyrics developed from there. Although Harrison is solely credited with the birth of “My Sweet Lord,” the song obviously had many mid-wives. Legendary keyboard side-man and ad-libbing genius Billy Preston was also in attendance that day.

In 1994 John Fogerty was sued for self-plagiarism after leaving Fantasy Records and pursuing a solo career with Warners. Fantasy still owned the rights to the CCR library and sound. Saul Zaentz, the owner of Fantasy, claimed Fogerty’s song “Old Man Down the Road” was a copy of the CCR toon “Run Through the Jungle.” The court, in a moment of inspired ‘juris obvious’, made the landmark judgement that an artist cannot plagiarise himself. Zaentz was arrested later that night for raping himself.

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Have a go at these tunes…no worries, you won’t get sued for playing them.


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