Timeline link : 1979-1983-1986-1987-1991-1996-2002-2003:
1979...
Choirboys originated on
Sydney's northern beaches.
They started jamming
and writing songs together with:
Mark Gable - Vocals,
Ian Hulme - Bass,
Lindsay Tebbutt - Drums
and Brad Carr - Guitar.
1983...
A Choirboys demo lands in the lap
of George Young of the Easybeats.
The band, under the tutorage of
Vanda & Young, record an album
in the same studio famous for
producing the early AD/DC and
Rose Tattoo albums.
Their first single "Never Gonna Die"
is released with great success,
reaching No.21 on the national
charts. Their debut album is hailed
by Molly Meldrum as, "destined to
become an Aussie classic."
The band are invited to open for
Cold Chisel on their Last Stand tour.
1986...
Choirboys return to the live scene
opening for Deep Purple on their
World Tour.
1987...
Brad Carr departs during pre-
production of their 2nd album.
New guitarist, Brett Williams,
joins the band and they continue
recording with producer Peter
Blyton. The result is Big Bad
Noise, their first album since
1983. Run To Paradise is
released launching the Choirboys
to the No.1 spot in every chart
in the country. The album
goes on to achieve double-
platinum success. Boys Will Be
Boys & Struggle Town are also
Top 10 chart successes.
1991...
The Choirboys release their
follow-up album to Big Bad
Noise. Midnight Sun was
recorded in LA with American
Producer, Marc Tanner,
delivering the Top 40 hits
Empire and Rendezvous.
1996...
Choirboys head to Germany to record
Yo-Yo with Richard Lara on guitar
(Screaming Jets) and Barton Price
on drums (Models).
They return to Australia, opening
for US band, Cheap Trick, on their
national tour.
2002...
Choirboys begin work on
their 6th studio album,
"Evolver".
Former Ice House
member, Paul Wheeler,
joins the band on drums.
2003...
Choirboys commence their biggest tour
to date, The Great Pub Rock Tour,
taking their unique brand of Oz rock all
over Australia & New Zealand. Meanwhile,
the boys put the finishing touches on
new album, Evolver.
THE VERY START...
Ok! Lets start right at the beginning. We’re on Sydney’s northern beaches and the year is 1976. I’m doing what I hate doing most, working a day job, at the only music store that counted for anything at the time, “Farrell Music”. Farrell’s was on Pittwater Road in Brookvale, and was owned and run by a surfie bass player named Barry Farrell who had a bad habit of talking down to you at close range. As Barry was much taller than me (and had questionable breath), it made for a less than pleasant experience. I was a salesman coached by Barry on how to rip off young, idealistic musicians using terms like 'bitchin' and 'how quickly' to sound cool. At times, I was really good at it but more about that later…
Life up on the northern beaches was great for someone like me who loved having no responsibility. The weather was always perfect and life was easy and happy. Well… for me at least. My spare time was spent driving around in my green mini-moke, going to the beach, and visiting pubs from Manly to Mona Vale, looking at whatever bands were up and coming. This truly was the best time of my young life, and of course I didn’t know it.
But back to Farrell’s. As usual, I was behind the glass counter opposite the door so I could see outside where I wanted to be, when a tall kid of about sixteen approached me. He placed his white Fender bass guitar on the counter and asked with a cold expressionless stare, “Can I have the neck looked at mate?” His name was Ian Hulme and he told me he played in a band called “Hot Lips”. Every Thursday night at Narrabeen’s Royal Antler Hotel, Hot Lips would play their retro brand of covers to a pissed gathering of local surfies and doll bludgers. I was invited by young Ian to “check Hot Lips out”.
When I arrived at the Antler I was met by the usual scene. It was hot and sweaty, and there was a band on the small stage, which had no lights apart from a ceiling spot and a small column PA. The crowd was largely ignoring them and I couldn’t understand why. The singer was dressed as a schoolgirl, and as I walked in he was leaping from table to table, at last stopping on one to ask the bass player (my new friend Ian) to, “Get down on the floor and SHAKE BASS PLAYER SHAKE!”. Ian obeyed with such vigour it shocked me - he looked like a cheap vibrator dropped on a glass coffee table.
That night I watched with great interest, as it soon became apparent there were two great elements in Hot Lips - Ian on bass (when he played), and the guitarist, Brad Carr. After the show I met the rest of the guys. They were the funniest bunch of people I had come across in a long time - they all had the same haircuts and used the same “speak” which took me a while to get the hang of. This meeting was to be the beginning of something, and we had no idea what it would be or where it would take us.
FARRELL MUSIC
In retrospect, Farrell’s was a great place for a young musician like me for two main reasons. The first was all the people you could meet, and the second was all the cheap instruments you could get. And I mean cheap. There was a guitarist, Karl Segglins, who was the Store Manager while I was there, and he had this crazy deal worked out. If someone came in and traded something like a Gibson SG guitar for say… a bunch of effects peddles, the retail value of which was much less than the actual value of the Gibson, we, the staff, would then purchase the guitar for the wholesale value of the peddles. This meant we’d be buying a $1000 Gibson for about $100, or even less. If you were the fortunate one that did the deal, and put a lot of heavy pressure on some unsuspecting kid, you got first choice on whatever item was up for grabs. Not surprisingly, Farrell’s eventually went out of business and I’m sure this less than ethical behaviour by its staff would’ve been a contributing factor. I’m not proud of my part in this, and put it down to being young and uncaring at the time. But all of this gave me a great insight into the way some musicians can be, including myself.
Now for that other reason – the folk that walked through the door. I met some amazing people at Farrell’s. Most notable were the guys from The Farris Brothers (later to become INXS), as well as Midnight Oil, The Angels, Dragon and Mississippi (later to become The Little River Band).
Let me start with The Farris Brothers. Kirk and Tim were a couple of guys that would come into the shop from time to time, and would always tell me with great enthusiasm what their band was up to. Later, Tim would audition for what I guess was the beginning of The Choirboys. He was crazy and always ‘up’. At that time, I had no experience with drugs so when Tim offered me, “some buddha man”, I didn’t even know what he was talking about! When it came down to playing he couldn’t even get hold of the simplest 12-bar blues. I put it down to “the Buddha”, but after seeing The Farris Brothers play, I could see they were a highly individual bunch of players that belonged together.
Now to Dragon. I was lucky enough to see one of their first shows in Australia at the infamous "Chequers Club". I was trying to sell them a PA, but wound up at their house in Bondi to watch them rehearse. There were a great collection of drugs and girls assembled, something that was a real eye-opener for me. They truly were New Zealand’s answer to The Rolling Stones. Later, they did their show to no crowd, aside from me and a couple of over-excited groupies.
It was backstage that my tenuous and short relationship with Paul Hewson, Dragon’s main songwriter and keyboard player, began. At the time I was a total non-drinker and absolutely anti-drugs. Paul on the other hand had a different approach to life. He pulled out a flask of the hard stuff and began to swill it down. Now I’ve always loved to help people with good advice even in those early days so I said, “Mate, you shouldn’t drink that stuff it’ll kill you”. Paul snapped the flask out of his mouth and barked, “ARRRR! GO AND GET FUCKED,” and promptly walked off. I only spoke to him once more before he died of an overdose many years latter, but not before he had given Australia so many great pop songs.
ENTER BRAD CARR...
The first time I saw Hot Lips was also the first time I had the chance to observe Brad Carr. I remember the night clearly. Brad was the quiet one, staying on the fringe, watching me and waiting for the right moment to assess me. I wish I could remember the exact thing he first said to me (did I say I remembered the night clearly?), but I can’t. All I know is it would’ve been something very weird or shocking, or he may have just come up and grabbed me on the dick. Ok, so maybe that’s not such big deal but Brad was very different (not gay, well at least I don’t think he was), and you never knew whether he was serious or joking. All I know is, it took me a long time to get used to his very, very odd sense of humour.
There are a great many stories I have about this eccentric man, some of which I will relay later. But let me start by telling you a little about his old man. There were three boys, including Brad, in the family. Brad’s father was an ex-graphic designer named Max, who'd been very successful back in the 50’s, 60’s and early 70’s. By the time I met him he was no longer working and the whole family lived in a huge house at Beauty Point, designed by Max. Now Max was no architect, but still he gave it a shot. As I got to know Brad better, I found myself spending more and more time at the Carr household, and as a result, more and more time with Max.
I loved Max and he was even stranger than Brad. He’d become an inventor in his retirement, creating such gems as “floating concrete” and “The Invisible Bird Cage”. Max had been so proud of floating concrete he’d replaced the slate top of their pool table with it. Of course in time, it warped and made the table completely useless, but we still tried to play with the balls weaving all over the place. The Invisible Bird Cage was another goodie, consisting of two pieces of clear plastic running horizontally across the top and bottom of the cage. The “bars” were made of fishing line to give the appearance of invisibility. To put his new invention to the test Max purchased two expensive finches and the family gathered around to watch. As soon as Max placed the birds in the cage they flew straight to the invisible bars, squeezed through, and made their escape past the bemused family and out across The Spit to freedom. Max was also a philosopher and believed we all lived in the axe handle of a giant, and he'd go to great lengths to convince me of such. He also liked to control his three sons in certain areas of their lives. This was particularly evident at election time, when Max would stand over their shoulders and make sure that they voted as he liked.
On one occasion Max decided to get rid of the family cat, with the help of Brett (the Carr’s youngest son). They put the cat in a cardboard box and went for a drive down Spit Hill to a discreet location where Max planned to dump the unfortunate pet. They had not gone far when the terrified cat made a run for it, flew out of the box and into the confines of the car, thrashing about wildly like a tornado. With Max still driving, the cat finally ended its rampage on his head, ripping off his toupee! Max used to wear this ratty hairpiece in the belief that no one, including his family, would know he was bald. As he groped for the wig and struggled to regain his composure in front of his now hysterical son, the cat made good its escape out of the window and was never to be seen again. As far as I know, Max still wears that thing on his head, and has no doubt blocked out any memory of being exposed in such an undignified way.
I have not seen Max for a long time. I hope he is well and as crazy as ever.
ENTER LINDSAY TEBBUTT...
It’s now 1977 and I’m going out with a girl (Helen) who helped me to look just like a university student. Every day seemed like summer, and I can’t remember anything bad that happened before or during this time. I was having a ball, if there were troubles in the world they were someone else’s. Helen was attending Sydney University and I just loved the place - hanging out at the Union, having lunch at Manning and even attending lectures. I had no idea what they were about, I just thought it was cool and loved the idea of belonging to something that was a haven for so many young people starting out in life. The place had great appeal for me but it was only a short-term fantasy.
The band was now beginning to form, but I had no real idea of what it should be or who was going to be in it. Helen had a girlfriend at uni who was going out with a drummer, so the two girls’ conspired to have the poor unsuspecting bloke give me a call and arrange an audition. A few days later there was a knock at the door of 32 Lagoon Street, Narrabeen, the house I shared with three other crazy people. There stood a longhaired young man hunched at the door. “I’m here,” were the first words he said, and our relationship began. Officially, I think Lindsay and I were the first ones in the band, as well as a collection of people I can’t remember too well that came and went. I don’t recall much about the early days with Lindsay – then he was quite unremarkable, both as a person and as a drummer. He had the flattest feet I have ever seen, mumbling speech, bad posture and was painfully shy. He was very keen to play with a band and would keep banging away till he got it right. He also hardly said a word. His then girlfriend, Jane, made up for all that by being extremely extroverted and loud. She would often show me how she performed oral sex on him by putting her thumb through his unzipped pants and sucking on it. Lindsay would never bat an eyelid. That was the thing with Lindsay, no matter what happened he never seemed to be concerned. He’d just hang in there for the ride, and boy what a ride he was going to have.