As Melbourne new-wave legends The Ears prepare for a once-only reformation, TREVOR BLOCK talks with frontman Sam Sejavka, the inspiration for Michael Hutchence’s character in 'Dogs In Space'.

It’s a happy coincidence that The Ears’ reformation is happening around the same time as Richard Lowenstein’s 1986 classic Dogs In Space is finally being re-released. I think it’s karma; that there’s something flowing through the wires of the universe, and it’s working in our favour. It really is just complete serendipity, actually. Although there’s probably no better time than now to revisit the past before we all get too old to be able to make a decent show of it.

From my point of view, enough time has passed to look at what happened back in Melbourne in the late ’70s, early ’80s through the filter of history, and see that there was something unique about what transpired. It was a real period of change and flux. There was new music being played with a new attitude, inspired by the whole punk ethos, and helped by other things like developments in instruments – especially electronics – and recording methods.

Melbourne was very much in touch with the wider musical world at the time – and we embraced it – but there was a touch of conservatism about the place too. The time had come for it to be jolted out of that.

And now you have the benefit of looking back from a distance. For years I thought that something this intense and novel happened to every generation but now it seems that it was unique to that period. Certainly talking to people in the light of the new documentary We’re Livin’ On Dog Food – Lowenstein’s tribute to that era – I’m not the only one who feels that way.

What do you think of Dogs In Space these days?
Well, I enjoyed it more last week [at the Melbourne International Film Festival] than I did at the time, though that may be because it was the first time I’d ever seen it in a cinema. It moves at a modern pace, it’s very snappy in a lot of ways. But at the same time it’s has a very disconnected narrative, it doesn’t have a strong backbone at all. Pulling that off when it was made would have been difficult, although audiences are much more acquainted with that style these days. The sense of history it has, plus that style, may mean it works better with current audiences than it did when it first came out.

But yes, I really rated it, as opposed to the way I felt about it earlier.

You cover a lot of ground in the accompanying documentary, We’re Livin’ On Dog Food, from fond memories to some very somber times. Was that difficult?
Again, with the passing of time, I now find that a lot easier to approach. I felt the real story [of the death of partner Christine by overdose] needed to be told, on the record, and that this was the perfect platform. It really is a long time ago now, and it was more a case of remembering the emotions I felt at the time rather than actually feeling them all over again.

So I was comfortable with talking about it. And I was very aware that a lot of people would see the documentary, and so I was trying to treat it with delicacy as well as honesty. I understand there was never any malice on Richard Lowenstein’s part, it was just unfortunate that he based some aspects of the screenplay on second-hand information. I was always more angry at the film than at him. And in the end, you know, Dogs is fiction, so it’s OK for him to fool around with events to some extent. But in the documentary, with real people involved, it’s a tightrope.

I was confused by emotions at the time too. It was my first experience of real deep grief, and I wasn’t quite myself. My dad had died the year before, but that was kind of natural, just an expected part of life. But for someone to get taken so young was a lot more hurtful and confusing.

“The Ears were always a bit silly at times but I’d like to think that the music stood on its own by the time it was over. And, you know, today, none of us know why we broke up either. Probably some petty thing that was said to someone that no one remembers now.”

We treat the Ears very lightly in the documentary. But then, we really didn’t take ourselves very seriously ever. We were trying to develop as a band but always found it hard. The version of the band that inspired the film was an early version, by the time we split we had really developed a lot more than that. We weren’t on a level with some others I could name but we were pretty popular. Before the end we were getting great crowds. The Ears were always a bit silly at times but I’d like to think that the music stood on its own by the time it was over. And, you know, today, none of us know why we broke up either. Probably some petty thing that was said to someone that no one remembers now.

One pivotal thing that’s missing from the documentary is any real focus on Nick Cave. He really is the elephant in the room, and I’m not sure why. The prominence he and The Birthday Party went on to led people to wonder where he came from, what musical matrix spawned him, and I think that’s helped keep interest in the musical past of Melbourne alive.

Was it hard to put the “Sails of Oblivions” benefit show together?
It wasn’t as hard as I’d feared. It was Steve Kilbey’s idea. I was originally thinking of doing something in the theatre because that’s where I am now, where I have more current contacts now. But he suggested doing something musical as the best thing and he offered to help out … Then it was just a matter of who to approach next, so I started ringing around. Rowland S. Howard couldn’t do it, which is a real shame, but pretty much everyone I asked said yes. It’s a good bill, it’s just a pity that with so many people playing, the sets are going to have to be kind of short.

But the whole process has been pretty easy. Once we got some names, we approached the Corner, and they were very happy to put it on. And it’s been great working with [Melbourne band booker/promoter] Dolores San Miguel. I’m really enjoying working on nuts-and-bolts music stuff again.

I saw you after that first rehearsal and you looked shattered. How has it been going for you since then?
[Laughs] Well, I’ve been taking pretty good care of myself. I’m reasonably fit, just a bit paranoid about my voice in general. It’s sounding good, but I’d forgotten how loud it is in the rehearsal room, and how much volume you have to force out. So I’ve been a little hoarse off and on, after practice. It’ll come back when I need it, I’m sure. And musically it sounds a lot tighter too. And a little bit heavier too. [Bass player] Cathy McQuade couldn’t make it down for rehearsals, but she will be singing on the day. And Kerri Simpson will too. We’d asked her to step in when it looked like Cathy couldn’t do it all, and Kerri still wants to do it.

How have you been keeping busy since you left music?
The main thing for me these days is writing plays these days, and journalism. I do a fair bit of writing for Harm Reduction Press, around drug-related health issues. I’m delivering an address at a conference for them soon. I do some small theatre things, off and on, to keep occupied between bigger projects. I’ve been busy writing a fantasy novel and a fairly big play recently, both of which have been put on hold for the moment so I can give The Ears proper attention.

You recently appeared in a clip for The Stabs’ ‘The Woods/The Rain’. How did that come about?
That was through a long-term collaboration I’ve had with a theatre director Lynne Ellis, who knew Mat Govoni, who directed it. That was the connection there. It was just done in the studio, on a blue screen, with Lynne and I in the car. I think that it turned out well, and I like the track too. They seemed like a good band.

Do you listen to much music these days?
I don’t get out to see a lot of live music any more. What I listen to is recorded stuff from all over. Currently, I’m big on Alligator by The National, but I go through phases: Arcade Fire, Sufjan Stevens, Tindersticks, Yo La Tengo, Sigur Ros, Godspeed You Black Emperor and older stuff too like Tangerine Dream. They were one of the first concerts I ever went to. I have an iPod-based musical life now, though I do find that half the time you forgot who you are listening to. There’s just not as much connection with the bands as there used to be.

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Sails Of Oblivion, featuring The Ears, Steve Kilbey, Hugo Race, Nick Barker, David Bridie with Phil Wales, Sean Kelly and Ollie Olsen, is at The Corner Hotel, Melbourne, on August 16.