Negatives/Reals
Dumbworld

After the re-release in 2007 of the ill-fated Lethal Weapons punk compilation and La Femme’s eponymous debut album, Shock imprint Savage Beat! has continued the current nostalgia bent, releasing two CDs that showcase the work of Melbourne punk Garry Gray -- from his fledgling work in the 1970s, to his work in Melbourne cult legends the Sacred Cowboys.

Gray was the product of suburbia. After the obligatory period of juvenile confusion, and swamped by purile pop fads, Gray made the acquaintance of Chris Walsh (later of the Moodists), found punk, cheap booze and started a band … or three. Dumbworld aggregates the recordings made by Gray and Walsh’s 1970s outfits.

The earliest tracks featured on Dumbworld are taken from Gray and Walsh’s first band, the beautifully titled Judas Iscariot and the Traitors (after all, this was the era of Jesus Christ Superstar). Barely audible in the face of amateur recording techniques of the time, compounded by the passage of time, this is music to fry your brain -- but squint over the noise and you get a sense of where Gray and Walsh thought they were heading.

The Reals tunes (taken from two live shows recorded between 1975 and 1977) on Dumbworld are a straight split between Gray/Walsh originals (including the signature Dumbworld track) and Stooges/Iggy Pop tunes. Not surprisingly, it’s nihilism turned up to 11. Fast, furious, rough, raw and only marginally ready, this is the sound of teenagers hell bent on constructing their hedonistic lifestyle as a mutated political statement.

The Negatives (who were featured on Lethal Weapons) were formed from the ashes of The Reals, and continue down the punk path bludgeoned by The Reals. In addition to the Stooges’ patented anti-establishment arrogance (‘This Is Your Life’), the band has discovered the buzzsaw guitar of The Ramones (‘Song of Joy’). Walsh’s thundering bass fights with Gray’s unhinged tirades for supremacy, and the ensuing cacophony of noise is every snotty punk’s ideal world.

With the benefit of hindsight and a genealogy embellished by the neighbouring presence of contemporary punk icons such as Nick Cave and Dave Graney, it’s easy to subject Gray and Walsh to a level of punk-rock hagiography. Yet it’s just as likely Gray and Walsh and their primeval outfits were ignored as much their perceived musical incompetence as for the trans-temporal qualities commonly ascribed to so many ‘forgotten’ artists. That said, a compilation of this type is measured not by its objective musical value, but for its subjective cultural merit -- or at least that’s a more plausible basis for appreciation.

by Patrick Emery