From The Scientists to Le Hoodoo Gurus, Roddy Radalj has made a career out of loving and leaving bands before their big break. But he’s not bitter – far from it. To create you have to destroy, he tells PATRICK EMERY from his hometown of Perth. Photos courtesy ERICA RADALJ.

Roddy Radalj’s influence on Australian punk rock is as significant as it is enigmatic. Born in country West Australia to immigrant parents, Radalj came of musical age in the potent and parochial Perth punk scene of the mid to late 1970s, alongside such punk rock legends as Kim Salmon, James Baker, Dave Faulkner and Boris Sudjovic.

Despite having a musical pedigree that reads like a first edition expose of Australian rock’n’roll – founding member of The Scientists, The Johnnys, Le Hoodoo Gurus and The Dubrovniks – Radalj’s position in Australian music history continues to be overshadowed by his propensity for leaving his bands just as they were on the brink of making the leap from cult interest to critical and commercial success.

Having left The Dubrovniks in the late 1980s, Radalj forged out on his own with some new rare-as-hen’s-teeth solo records, before returning to his native Western Australia in the mid 1990s. Radalj’s most recent album, Guns, Girls and Guitars (Timberyard Records) surprised many of his fans with its blend of surf, garage and eclectic European styles. But in many ways it was his quintessential record – for with Radalj, the only attribute that’s to be expected is the unexpected.

You were born in Dubrovnik, Croatia. When did you move to Australia, and what brought you out to Australia originally?
It’s a romantic myth, but the truth is probably more romantic than the myth. I was born in a gold mining town to immigrant Croatian parents [Anka Glamuzina and Ante Radalj] and that town was called Kalgoorlie, a truly frontier town. Even though I was born in Australia I didn’t get to speak English till I was nine. The nuns didn’t catch on as my twin sister Sharon used to translate for me in class. I was being groomed to be a fitter and turner.

What was it like growing up in Perth in the 1970s, in the days before online access to the rest of the world?
After Kalgoorlie we moved to Fremantle, which was mainly Italian, Sicilian, Portuguese and Spanish – all immigrants like us – plus the Australians. It was a rough town with a full working port and a rough element where you learnt a lot of street savvy, where to go and where not to go. A friend’s father owned a boarding house in the centre of the East End and we would hang out there observing merchant seamen with oddities such as a tattooed pencil-thin moustache and so on. I’d buy cheap foreign cigs and booze from down at the wharf and sell them to fellow classmates at recess.

You Am I drummer Russell Hopkinson lived in the next street. His brother Clay was a good friend. Growing up in Freo was a lot like Huckleberry Fin, rafting down the river, the beach, the port; a great place to grow up in. In the early ’70s I won the under-15 State Junior Chess Championship. I’m a huge Bobby Fischer fan - Bobby was to chess, what punk was to music! I was [also] a Stones fan and a Faces fan.

I worked weekends cleaning up a local drive-in, “The Stargate”, to pay for my records. My boss was an old WWII RAAF pilot who’d been shot over the Channel. He played in one of those cabaret bands that played at the ball etc. He said I should take up a musical instrument – good for earning extra money (ha ha!). He was a great guy, a real English gentlemen. That’s how I bought a sax. I tried to join the local Sicilian band, but the end result was a top 40 cover band with a crazy full-on sax player scaring the shit out of all young and old.

What was the catalyst for your own interest in punk rock?
One day I saw an ad, “Punk Rock Singer Wanted”. I was 17 years old and didn’t know what punk rock was, nobody did, but I rang up anyway and spoke to Ross Buncle. Ross invited me to an audition, and hence, my first encounter with punk rock: The Ramones, James Baker and Rudolph V I give him that name, it was “V” for “Valentino”). Go to The Geeks’ web page for the rest.

At my first rehearsal, my attempt at The Ramones’ ‘I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend’ (the first song I ever sung) was passable, but I was put on the bench after Lloyd, the retiring singer, decided to return to the band. I talked them into letting me play my sax and to my surprise, they were knocked out. Unbeknown to me I sounded just like Steve MacKay, the sax player on Fun House, The Stooges’ [1970] album. It was fantastic. I understood it straight away. You’ve got to realise this was new music, just invented, outta nowhere. Perth was cut off from the world. People don’t get that now, that it was unheard of before.

From then on it was fantastic. The whole punk movement was the most exciting thing ever to happen. I was just so happy that I was onto it straight from the start.

A lot of people never really understood punk. It had a dirty name right from the beginning. It was hard to hear what was going on with all that “noise”. People had had only really slow heavy metal or prog-rock in their ears. Punk was fast, loud, irreverent and short - it was intoxicating. Another thing people forget was the diversity of punk rock and the fact it evolved really quickly. It was considered essential almost not to have a musical past, not to be able to play an instrument, to be a virgin in a way, not to be tainted by experience. I learnt to play guitar on stage, Kim [Salmon] would tune it, and I knew nothing. But all us guys understood the essence. Now it’s a formula you learn. Sad.

The Geeks/Hitler Youth were rehearing and getting ready for a gig. We had booked to play in Freo, it might have been Cleos (I used to see Last Chance Cafe there with Reg Zar, who played on 5 Hail Marys and Guns, Girls and Guitars years later). At the time, The Cheap Nasties were playing around, but they were viewed as a rough rock band, and the Geeks were more Ramones-like.

There’s been some conjecture concerning the identity of the first Perth punk band. Ross Buncle contends it was the Geeks/Hitler Youth (featuring James Baker), while Kim Salmon claims his own band, The Cheap Nasties, was the first punk band to actually play live. What’s your opinion?
As to “who was first”, I’d have to say a dead heat. Then James and Ruddy [Rudolph V] formed The Victims with Dave [Faulkner], and I would get up and honk my sax with them. Shortly afterwards, Kim was tossed out of The Nasties and I approached him to join my band The Exterminators: Johnno [John Rowlings], me and Boris [Sujdovic]. Believe me, we really should have the title as “the first punk band”, cause not one of us could play a note. Kim must have thought we were a bunch of nutters, we had two bass guitars and drums, that’s it. After a few chats, I sold my sax and Kim and Boris bought the [Gibson] 335, which is the “Cheeseboard” I have today. I’m still playing the same guitar – how “punk rock” is that! Years later I destroyed the 335 on stage one night and this guy called Ringo retrieved the neck and pickups and presented them to me backstage. I stuck all the bits on a block of wood and it got nicknamed the “Cheeseboard”. Anyway, shortly after that The Victims broke up and we recruited Jim [James Baker] and The Scientists were born.

“I know a lot of guys stay faithful to one band and never step outside, but to me the act of conception is the most exciting thing. To create you have to destroy.”

Then I meet the love of my life. Erica Thornton, who was a friend of Baker.

Why did you decide to leave The Scientists?
As a band we rehearsed every night and had a great set. Before James joined, we really wanted to be like the Stooges, but James brought his pop sensibility and the band took a different turn. Boris, who would not dress in ’60s garb, was eventually kicked out of the band for this. Ironically, in a later incarnation of The Scientists, they all dressed like Boris! Shortly after this, I felt so bad. I left the Scientists to form a new band with my old buddy Boris called The Rockets. The Rockets put out our one-and-only single ‘Mean Mistress’ and we toured to Sydney on it. Erica loved Sydney and had lived there before and didn’t want to go back to Perth, so we stayed, and Boris and the Rockets returned. This decision by Erica was paramount. The Hoodoo Gurus, the Johnnys etc, the Sydney scene, everything, would not have happened the way it did. Spooky!

Erica and I ended up living in a three bedroom Darlinghurst terrace with 12 other people. Dave [Faulkner] had arrived from Perth and would come visit from his bedsit in North Sydney, bringing Kim Rendall with him. The terrace had no outside area, so us guys would climb outside the upstairs kitchen window and sit on the roof. The Hoodoo Gurus were formed there I suppose. Me and Erica got sick of the confined space and asked Dave if he wanted to move in with us and that’s when songwriting and ideas started flowing.

That’s another thing people forget, you lived with people out of necessity and no one could afford not to share. It meant you were living, breathing, rock’n’roll all the time. Everything was music - how you lived, where you went out, who your friends were, what you did, how you thought. There was no other world.

Erica and I had returned from a weekend at Katoomba in the Blue Mountains. Coming from Perth, which is all limestone and hot sun, Katoomba was a jungle. We came back with the beginnings of [Le Hoodoo Gurus’] ‘Leilani’: “Katoomba hey/Katoomba ho/Umgowa!” That’s why on the original single release the back-up singers are called “The Three Sisters” [the Howard sisters] and “Orphan Rock” [Thornton]. Everyone had a stage name or alter ego to escape the SS (Social Security). You see, we all lived on the “Government Art Grant” – the dole – and identities had to be hidden. Almost all the songs on [The Hoodoo Gurus’] Stoneage Romeos were written at this time, and a few more that turned up on later albums, with a thin disguise.

After a few months, James Baker arrived. He’d left The Scientists in Perth and we asked him to join us. The line-up had three guitars and a drum kit, unheard of. We started rehearsing the songs and bingo, it all happened. I put the word “hoodoo” into the Australian vernacular and in no time it was being used in everything – even sporting telecasts. James contributed the “guru” bit. Le Hoodoo Gurus’ first gig was at a party at The Sydney Natural Museum, another irony.

You left just before the Hoodoo Gurus’ first album [1983’s Stoneage Romeos] was released. It’s been said that you didn’t agree with Dave Faulkner on the band’s direction, and that you decided to leave as a consequence. Is that true?
Success happened and then I left. Kim Rendall had decided to leave first and Dave wanted a bass player. It compromised the whole experiment. So I left too. Bye bye Hoodoo Gurus, hello The Johnnys.

How did the formation of The Johnnys come about?
Graham Hood had unsuccessfully auditioned for The Gurus, Clyde Bramley got the spot. We got together and started hanging out. Erica’s best friend at the time was Joanne Scott who owned Da Bodysnatcher, the forerunner to all the groovy rock’n’roll shops. They got together and formulated the whole Johnnys look - you know, the chaps, the spurs, the 10-gallon hats, the neckerchiefs, the whole cowboy look, everything. It was outrageous and people loved it. Everyone wanted to be cowboys except a certain section of triple j who banned our first single ‘I Think You’re Cute (In Your Cowgirl Suit)’. It was banned in two states (Victoria and Queensland) as sexist. Girls can be cowgirls and not undermine “The Cause”. Strange times.

Why did you decide to leave that band?
The Johnnys were an instant hit and toured constantly. I missed Erica too much and left. I formed The Love Rodeo just doing gigs around Sydney and pissed off the touring.

By this time I had three working bands under my belt – The Scientists, Le Hoodoo Gurus, The Johnnys – all constantly playing and recording my songs. It was time to take a holiday so I left for London. Big mistake, it was crap. But I did end up working for Vinyl Solution in Notting Hill. That record shop had the acetate of ‘God Save the Queen’ and I met Robert Plant, so it wasn’t all bad.

Whose idea was it to form The Dubrovniks? The Dubrovniks had some very good pop songs (though still with a strong rock feel). Did you think The Dubrovniks could have “broken through” for greater commercial appeal?
I returned to Sydney via Perth, looked up the old cronies and got back into the saddle. James had got sacked from the Gurus and was looking for revenge – ‘Born to be Punched’ was formulated around this over a few longnecks. Erica came up with the “I met him at the liquor store” bit, but didn’t get to the recording session. After this release, The Adorable Ones (Me, James, Boris and Peter Simpson) morphed into The Dubrovniks and continued playing under this title.

There’s an apocryphal story concerning your last show with The Dubrovniks, involving a brawl at a Melbourne show in the late 1980s. Was that the reason you decided to leave The Dubrovniks, or were you already thinking of leaving?
Touring, touring, touring. Peter didn’t want to tour anymore and said he was leaving the band on the eve of yet another tour to Melbourne. It all came to a grisly end on stage at the Greek Theatre. Peter told me to “fucking turn down my guitar” one too many times. After his “prima Madonna” bit and turning up at the airport at the last minute, I broke and decked him. Sorry Peter. It was a full house and not a good thing to do, I suppose, I did apologise. But it was a legendary outburst. Band members popping band members became the order of the day after that. Everyone was doing it. Even some journos got popped for writing bad reviews, it was pandemonium. Touring gets stressful, creating gets stressful, other band members are definitely stressful. It was stressful! At least I didn’t sit on him. Kim Salmon sat on Tony Thewlis at a Scientists’ gig I went to. Most amusing.

Anyway, alone again, but this time I managed to take all my material with me.

After leaving The Dubrovniks, you started a solo career, releasing a couple of surf/trash albums. Was that a reaction to the more accessible rock’n’roll style that you were playing in The Dubrovniks?
Lost Lonely and Vicious, the title says it all. It was a new venture into a solo career. I gathered up all my dear friends and into the recording studio we went. Lost Lonely and Vicious was released on Regular Records of Sydney. It was followed by Orgazmatazze and Mouth Full of Chicken on Shock Records of Melbourne. I call it a “solo career” but it soon developed into Roddy Ray’da and the Surfin’ Caesars.

Your most recent album (Guns, Girls and Guitars) took a few people by surprise with its very eclectic styles. What were your trying to do on that album?
The eclectic style of the album came from this type of “kung-fu” recording style – everything in the moment. All my other albums had come from a working band situation, the songs were honed on the stage over a period of time and then recorded. These recordings are my pride and joy. They contain work from the best musicians in Australia [including Chris Masuak from Radio Birdman, Paul Larsen from the Celibate Rifles, Ron Peno from Died Pretty, Phil Hall from The Lime Spiders and Greg Perano from Hunters & Collectors]. This is what makes them unique. Most structured bands can only create from within their own framework, the band members. I set out to try something new. I’d call up the guys and get them into the studio – whoever could make it on the day – often with no pre-written material, and then the magic would work and we’d come out with killer tracks. All of the songs on those albums were written this way.

There’s a freshness to this method that’s been forgotten through overindulgence in studios, high-flying producers and gizmo technology. The Scientists, and all my old bands, worked in this method, mainly though a lack of finances, but we rehearsed a lot and then it was one or two takes in the studio … The Easybeats also worked like this. I gave a copy of Guns, Girls and Guitars to Adam Fleet and he played it to [Gordon] Snowy [Henry Fleet] who liked it and also remarked that each and every Easybeats hit was a first take. Anything that had to be worked on in the studio, never saw the light of day. Food for thought.

What projects are you working on currently?
I’m playing in a band called The Smokin’ Eldorados with Matthew de la Hunty (Tall Tails and True), Loz Singara and Tim Bates, as well as GTS Eliot with Rod Bailey (AC/DC) and Neil Fernandez (Cheap Nasties, Manikins).

You’ve been described as the ‘eternal midwife of Australian rock’n’roll – always there for the birth, but never sticking around. What do you think of that description?
You ask if I regret leaving any of my bands. No. Never. The “eternal midwife”? More like the “eternal Don Juan” – love ’em and leave ’em. I was there for the conception, not the delivery. I know a lot of guys stay faithful to one band and never step outside, but to me the act of conception is the most exciting thing. To create you have to destroy. Each new creation is formed from the ashes of the past. The Gurus were built on the ashes of The Scientists, The Johnnys built on the ashes of The Gurus and so on. None of those bands would have happened if I had stayed faithful to The Exterminators back in Perth. I never could stick the touring. My bag has always been the thrill of the new idea. All my bands are my successes. The fact that I dragged them into existence, that’s really the name of the game to me. What people think of my bands, successful or not is up to them, I just created them.

I was inducted into the ARIA Hall of Fame on July 18, 2007, along with The Hoodoo Gurus. It came out of nowhere but was very much appreciated. For a guy that had never won anything, suddenly the Big Kahuna.

I understand that you and James Baker got on stage with The Scientists during the “Don’t Look Back” show in Perth last year. Was that the first time you’d played with Kim since you’d left The Scientists? How did it feel to be playing with The Scientists again?
Yeah I got up with The Scientists. It was all over YouTube within hours. Pretty historic. All four of us guys hadn’t hit the stage together in me than 20 years. It was all impromptu, just like that. Kim asked if me and James would do it. I played barefoot cause I had sandals on and it would have been so uncool to wear sandals, thank God I had a good shirt on.

Your solo albums are almost impossible to find these days. Is there any chance they’ll be re-released?
There’s some mp3s and Roddy Radalj CDs available at www.squarejaw.com.au. That’s the closest I’ll get to re-issues at the moment.

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