A new Chapter Music compilation captures legendary Sydney psychedelic outfit Tully in full improvisational flight, writes RENÉ SCHAEFER.

Tully were about as huge as an underground band could get in Sydney’s post-psychedelic progressive music scene of the late ’60s and early ’70s. They had built their reputation for wild live shows as house band at Darlinghurst venue Adam’s Apple, in the same way that Pink Floyd had been identified with the UFO Club in London.

Tully became a draw card for their willingness to experiment with improvisation, light shows, non-western musical influences and re-interpretations of jazz, folk and classical motifs.The band formed in 1968 from the remnants of an R&B covers band at a time that saw many musicians distancing themselves from the commercial pop idiom. A solid grounding in musical theory meant they had the chops to blend these disparate elements into a compelling and listenable whole. Unlike a lot of bands of the era, Tully’s sound eschewed electric guitars, instead according equal billing to organ and wind instruments.

Wider recognition came soon though, when only a year later they were contracted to play the score for the premier Australian run of the hip new counter-culture musical Hair, which had already been a huge hit in America. Alleviating the boredom that soon set in having to perform the same music countless times over a six-month period, the band would occasionally throw the odd improvisation into the mix, keeping the actors on their toes.

On their nights off, Tully would let off steam at their own gigs, one of which forms part of this extraordinary document. Sights & Sounds Of 69 captures Tully in full improvisational flight at the Sydney Town Hall. Over its 32 minutes, a multitude of ideas are pitched back and forth between musicians Terry Wilson (vocals), Michael Carlos (organ), Robert Taylor (drums), Ken Firth (bass) and Richard Lockwood (reeds).

“In turns, there are quiet, pastoral passages, free jazz freak-outs, medieval melodies and quotations from popular music.”

In turns, there are quiet, pastoral passages, free jazz freak-outs, medieval melodies and quotations from popular music. The effect is not as jarring as might be assumed, as all band members quickly lock into a new musical theme, develop it for a little while, and then move on to the next section in a very fluid fashion. It is clearly apparent how much fun the players are having. Unlike the dull prog plodding of a lot of their peers, Tully were not afraid to engage and charm audiences with their wit and irreverence. The audience would have hung onto every twist and turn of this wild journey.

The other track on this album is a real curio. In 1968 the ABC commissioned Australian classical composer Peter Sculthorpe to compose a work for the Sydney Symphony Orchestra’s “Proms” series. The work he staged two years later was Love 200, based around the theme of the 200th anniversary of Captain Cook’s landing in Australia, to observe the transit of the planet Venus (named after the Roman goddess of Love, no less).

Sculthorpe conceived of a collaboration between the orchestra and this weirdo long-hair rock band. He also enlisted singer Jeannie Lewis and psychedelic light-show operator Ellis D Fogg into his scheme, which was viewed with trepidation by some of the classical musicians and pundits at the time. As Sculthorpe recalls in the liner notes, despite the fact that the performance of Love 200 was a great artistic success and attracted a sell-out crowd of young people, there was little applause from critics. Reviews complained about the “brutally amplified” noise, the “uneasy amalgam” of musical styles and instrumentation, and declared the event an “unmitigated disaster”.

In hindsight, listening to this recording originally released in 1970, it is possible to hear why some writers felt that way. Wilson and Lewis’ vocals sound awkwardly theatrical and don’t gel too well with Lockwood’s flute and the lumbering drums during an early section, but this is made up for by some stunning organ passages and a descent into orchestral chaos before Lewis unleashes some full-throated operatic excesses. There is a bit too much emphasis on the vocals throughout, to the detriment of Tully’s music, which doesn’t really get the chance to really take flight. Still, this performance was a bold experiment at the time, one which Sculthorpe still thinks of as one of the most memorable moments in his illustrious career as composer.

In the end, it is the previously unreleased Sights & Sounds of 69 which provides the real thrills here and demonstrates why Tully were held in such high regard in their day. As with their other reissues of lost classics from Australia’s post-punk era, such as the Can’t Stop It compilations and the “Little Bands” scene document Primitive Calculators And Friends, Chapter Music deserves to be applauded for unearthing some real milestones in the history of Australia’s experimental music scene.

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Tully’s Live at Sydney Town Hall 1969-70 is out now through Chapter Music.