Gig Review: Blam Blam Blam, St Peters Hall, Paekakariki, 31 August 2019

Saturday nights don’t get much more Kiwiana than a quick drink at the Paekakariki pub, then popping over the road to the St Peters Village Hall for a nostalgia fuelled Blam Blam Blam reunion gig. That’s exactly how my Saturday night unfolded, and it was nothing short of terrific from start to finish. 

The Paekakariki set was the band’s sixth of seven reunion gigs played across the country in little more than a week, with the tour’s finale locked in for a matinee show at Wellington’s Meow on the Sunday. Personally, the Saturday night gig held a lot more appeal even if the surrounds were less auspicious and the venue itself - as a community trust-run hall - was unlicensed. There was just something so very fitting about it, and past experiences informed me that few venues in this part of the world could offer the same peak levels of acoustic clarity. I’d seen the band just once before, back in 1981, right at the start of their long and very fragmented musical journey. 38 years between drinks had been a long wait.

Phoenix Foundation dude, Luke Buda, offered a surprise support slot by throwing in a little bit of everything, managing to fit acoustic pop, guitar solos, loops, and keyboard-led power ballads into an impressive half hour set. Apparently, it was Buda’s very first live solo performance, something that I found hard to fathom, given his longevity and wider national-level profile. He was the perfect curtain-raiser. 

Blam Blam Blam - Don McGlashan (drums, euphonium, and vocals), Mark Bell (guitar), and Tim Mahon (bass) - took centre stage at 9.20pm and didn’t let up for something close to 100 minutes. Each new track - starting with rollicking instrumental ‘Dr Who’ and finishing with signature tune ‘No Depression in New Zealand’ - being greeted with large smiles and knowing nods by those in attendance. Which amounted to a packed hall of mostly 40 and 50-somethings. A few younger, and a few older, some local, and a lot of townies visiting the wilds for their own Saturday night fix. It was a full house. 

I already knew it, but I’ve probably never said it out loud before; if the gig confirmed one thing for me it is that Don McGlashan is a rare talent. A musical genius. A living breathing national treasure. I’d forgotten what a great drummer he is, and his stick work was a real feature of the night, but his mastery of the euphonium really is next level. That rarely used weapon (in a “pop” context, at least) added depth and texture to a number of key tracks, with the best example coming on an epic version of ‘Don’t Fight It Marsha (it’s bigger than both of us)’ near the end. That tune remains a genre-defying trip, all these years on. 

Mark Bell was flawless on guitar, driving tunes like ‘Battleship Grey’, ‘Businessmen’, and ‘Like My Job’ to inevitable peaks, while adding craft and subtlety on more eccentric stuff like ‘Got To Be Guilty’ and ‘Bystanders’. Tim Mahon was not without his moments either, holding things together with tight basslines, and providing a brilliant spoken cameo-vocal on what felt like a hugely ironic take on ‘Respect’ … where most in attendance were once those kids being asked to show “respect”, they’re now of an age where they’re the ones most likely demanding it. 

After virtually all of the band’s material from sole studio album ‘Luxury Length’ (and more) had been given an outing and the band downed tools, we knew it wasn’t over. The ‘No Depression’ box had yet to be ticked, so it was absolutely no surprise to see them return for a three-song encore; ‘Luxury Length’, ‘Time Enough’ and naturally, ‘No Depression’ to close. 

Well worth the wait, then. And a night made all the better for the presence of many old (literally) faces and friends amongst the crowd. If things don’t get more Kiwiana than that, they certainly don’t get much more enjoyable either.

Classic Album Review: Blam Blam Blam - The Complete Blam Blam Blam (1992)

There’s been a lot of discussion on my Facebook feed recently about the “lost” Silver Scroll award of 1981. For whatever reason, New Zealand’s premier annual songwriting gong wasn’t awarded that particular year, with APRA seeking to rectify the anomaly at this year’s upcoming awards (next month). The 2015 ceremony also doubles as APRA’s 50^th birthday bash so it presents an ideal opportunity to announce a belated winner.

Among the five songs shortlisted/nominated a month or so ago - and a clear first pick by my own reckoning - was Blam Blam Blam’s ‘No Depression in New Zealand’, which I think shades the alternatives offered by Split Enz, The Clean, The Swingers, and the Screaming Mee Mees. As a result of the heightened publicity and in response to those Facebook threads, I found myself returning once again to the music of Blam Blam Blam, and recalled an album review I wrote for another site some time ago (below) …
 
(And yes, I guess it is a little disingenuous to call a compilation album a “classic album” but it’s not the first time everythingsgonegreen has thumbed its pointy nose in the face of custom and it won’t be the last):

The Auckland-based three-piece Blam Blam Blam consisted of Don McGlashan (drums/other/vocals), Tim Mahon (bass/vocals), and Mark Bell (guitar/vocals) … and The Complete Blam Blam Blam is essentially everything of note the band released between 1981 and 1984. 19 tracks featuring the Blams’ sole genuine album release Luxury Length virtually in its entirety, its non-album singles, the relatively rare self-titled EP debut release, and a brief taste of the band live during its “reunion” tour shows of 1984.

I saw the Blams live in 1981 when it had a support slot on a New Zealand-wide Split Enz tour and it’s fair to say I was blown away by the vibrancy and originality of a young band whose only “previous” at that stage was a solitary track on a local post-punk compilation release (‘Motivation’, which appears here).

Later that year came the chart-crashing (well, the NZ Charts) anti-establishment anthem ‘There is No Depression in New Zealand’. An ironic and original slice of Kiwi Rock with a punky and subversive edge …

"There is no depression in New Zealand, there are no sheep on our farms, we have no dole queues, we have no drug addicts, we have no rebellion, we have no valium, valium, valium" ... etc.

It was ironic in the sense that those words more or less aped the level of denial being sold to more conservative sections of New Zealand society by a government with its head in the sand. It came out at a time when the country was split right down the middle during the Springbok tour debacle of 1981, and a time when the presence of riot police - the infamous “Red Squad” - was an increasingly regular feature on our streets. It was a genuine winter of discontent for all those living in NZ at the time, brought about by the government’s decision to accommodate a rugby tour which shook and stirred the collective conscience of all those opposed to the South African government’s appalling apartheid policy. Hence there was widespread violence on the streets as the protest movement collided head-on (literally) with establishment forces and its henchmen. The Blams, alongside many other bands with a left of centre appeal - such as tour-mates The Newmatics - in many respects provided a natural musical backdrop to all of the mayhem unfolding.

‘No Depression’ was a short-lived Top 20 hit but its fractious riff and sardonic lyrics became embedded deep within the nation’s collective psyche for years to come. The single’s B-side, the ska-tinged ‘Got To Be Guilty’, was equally politically motivated, telling the lurid tale of a local high profile early Seventies murder case, of police planting evidence, a wrongful conviction, an attempted cover-up, and an eventual, if controversial, pardon for the convicted man …

"He’s gotta be guilty, there’s no point in changing the subject, we didn’t get where we are today, by being soft on an obvious reject … he’s gotta be guilty, he called the policeman a liar, he costs this country money, and there’s no smoke without fire" ... etc.

The lead single off the subsequent Luxury Length album, ‘Don’t Fight It Marsha (it’s bigger than both of us)’, also peaked inside the Top 20. Written by the band’s lead vocalist and drummer, the multi-instrumentalist Don McGlashan, ‘Marsha’ was a somewhat different and more accessible take on the band, and to some extent perfect crossover fare, a drum machine-driven lament of lost love and the failure to fully let go. A true Kiwi Rock classic, whatever yer poison.

There generally wasn’t a bad track on the Luxury Length album, and the same applies to The Complete Blam Blam Blam, with a rejection of bland conformity being an obvious theme on tracks like ‘Battleship Grey’, ‘Like My Job’, and ‘Businessmen’. Other highlights include ‘Learning To Like Ourselves Again’, ‘Call For Help’, ‘The Bystanders’ and the menacing closer ‘Last Post’. Oh, and look out too for a raucous cover of the theme from ‘Dr Who’ (the B-side on ‘Marsha’).

Originating out of the nascent late Seventies Auckland punk scene - most notably via bands such as The Plague and Whizz Kids - Blam Blam Blam saw its flame flicker brightly but all too briefly, with the band suffering a premature demise when bassist Mahon was badly injured in a road accident. Throughout 1981 and 1982 however the Blams were fairly prolific on the NZ recording and touring circuit, and briefly reformed to tour again in 1984, and again, somewhat unbelievably, for a one-off series of shows in 2003.

The highly talented McGlashan meanwhile went on to greater things, commercially at least, with his late Eighties/Nineties pop rebirth as frontman for fringe indie contenders The Mutton Birds. Naturally, they too enjoyed a large Kiwi fanbase.

If you can’t get hold of Luxury Length (you’ll be lucky), keep a beady eye out for this release … The Complete Blam Blam Blam certainly provides for a concise overview of one of NZ’s truly great lost bands.

List: Five ‘Kiwi’ Desert Island Discs

Essential New Zealand albums of my lifetime:

Luxury Length – Blam Blam Blam (1981)

The backdrop to this 1981 album was provided by the nationwide unrest and sheer turmoil of the ill-advised Springbok tour. The presence of Riot Police on our streets was a new development for our hitherto innocent and untainted land, and bands like The Blams and tour-mates The Newmatics captured those bleak days perfectly with their own unique brand of post-punk angst. The chart-crashing and ironic single ‘No Depression in NZ’ may have been the release that propelled Blam Blam Blam to the forefront of public consciousness, but their Luxury Length album confirmed their status as the leading social commentators of the day. Few potential targets were spared, as Don McGlashan and co raged against everything from the SIS to big business. And how relevant today, in the wake of David Bain’s release, are the lyrics contained within ‘Got To Be Guilty’ (written about the AA Thomas case) … “he’s gotta be guilty, there’s no point in changing the subject, we didn’t get where we are today, by being soft on an obvious reject” …

Futureproof - Pitch Black (1999)

The aptly-titled debut release (under the Pitch Black moniker at least) for the thereafter prolific duo Paddy Free and Mike Hodgson. Futureproof is a quite startling collection of dubby, moody, and occasionally dark electronic tracks, and not only did this release raise the bar for all local pretenders within the genre, it also convinced this observer that advances in technology had to a large extent levelled the playing field for Kiwi artists seeking to compete with the more established international acts dominating the local dance scene. A landmark work for New Zealand electronic music, and it’s hard to believe this album is already more than a decade old.

Tiny Blue Biosphere – Rhian Sheehan (2004)

Tiny Blue Biosphere is the classically-trained Rhian Sheehan’s second album, a follow-up to the similarly gorgeous Paradigm Shift, and like its predecessor it deals with other-worldly, occasionally other-galaxy, conundrums such as … What does it all mean? Sheehan’s horizons are broad, and he doesn’t confine his search for an answer to the mere finiteness of planet earth. Featuring clever use of samples, washes of warm synth, and gentle flowing waves of acoustic guitar, it might be said that Sheehan puts the “way over” into the “out there”. This is head music, but parts of it will also make you want to dance - or at the very least have you dancing on the inside. Tiny Blue Biosphere is the perfect synthetic space and time soundtrack to one of those lazy do nothing days after a hard night out clubbing. Adopt the crash position and simply enjoy.

Anthology – The Clean (2003)

Short of buying every single, EP, or album released by this seminal Flying Nun band, you’ll never be able to fully appreciate the complete evolution of the Dunedin Sound or the prolific label behind it unless you hear Anthology from start to finish. From their early Eighties Lo-Fi four-track origins to the gloss and polish of their new millennium output, The Clean were consistently brilliant every step of the way. Containing witty and wry observations on all facets of bed-sit living in the deepest darkest south and so much more, Anthology captures all of this truly unique band’s most precious moments in one sitting. Priceless.

True Colours – Split Enz (1980)

This album provided the soundtrack to my final year at high school, and it was one that did much to convince aspiring musicians across the land that New Zealand artists could compete commercially on the international stage. With the arrival of Neil Finn and the release of Frenzy a year earlier, Split Enz had abandoned their formative prog-rock excesses to introduce a far more palatable pop element to their zany theatrics. Yet it took the new wave sensibilities of True Colours and its three epic singles to elevate the band to the next level. Kiwi pop hadn’t sounded this good before, and Split Enz would never sound this good again. True Colours was the first sign that in Neil Finn, we had a potential pop genius on our hands.

More to follow …