We all know the Whitlams as one of the great outside chance success stories
of the '90s. A band that's been toiling for 7 years, releasing independent
albums and playing up and down the East Coast of Australia surprises unwary
pundits when the single from 1997's Eternal Nightcap album strikes a chord so
strong it makes Number One in Triple Js "Hottest 100", a listener poll so
comprehensive it makes the recent Sydney elections look like American
democracy. Accolades, ARIA's, 200,000 album sales and major record label
record deals follow.
So finally, it seems, Tim Freedman has a chance to make the album he's
always dreamed, with the budget and the push to match it. You'd expect him
to be feeling the pressure.
"It wasn't pressure because we're now on a major label," he explains. "It's just
the first time I'd ever made a record where people knew I was making a
record, or people even gave a stuff!"
So was there a grand plan, for an album which in the end has been created
on a grand scale? "Aw, I had no idea!" he laughs. "The record's pretty
schizophrenic because of that… hopefully it's an album that takes you on a
journey, rather than throws you around the cabin."
So what do you do in this situation, stick to your roots and work on an album
which has an easy familiarity that can only be created through collaborations
with eccentric mates and associates in your local neighbourhood (inner
western Sydney)? Or go for a full blown internationally produced opus of
stadium proportions?
Freedman has decided to do both.
Looking over the extensive credit list for Love This City, you'll see many
familiar names. Bernie Hayes, brother to ex-Whitlam Stevie Plunder, appeared
on Eternal Nightcap. Here he contributes not only backing vocals but a song
of his own, "You Made Me Hard."
Louis Burdett, a man Freedman made infamous with the line "Stop bagging out
the band…" on Whitlams single "You Sound Like Louis Burdett," plays raggedy
drums as only he can ("I wanted to prove he's a real person," Freedman
explains. "People seem to think he's some French philosopher.")
Freedman wrote "No Aphrodisiac" on Chris Abrahams' piano (he had to make it
up quickly, as Chris was asleep on the second floor). And now he's using one
of Abrahams' songs from the same timeframe, and including the noted Sydney
musician as an additional pianist.
"I said to the band, this record's gonna be done like Eternal Nightcap was,
where I'm going to use the people who are best for each distinct song," says
Freedman. "I just use a collective, just drawing on them and getting them to
do what they do well. People re-appear all the time. Louis is on the first and
the fourth, Bernie played guitar on the last one, and is singing on this one,
Chris has been on the last three…"
Perhaps most surprisingly you'll find the same songwriting team behind "No
Aphrodisiac" also wrote new airplay fave "Chunky Chunky Air Guitar." The fact
that he wandered down the road to the home of Machine Gun Fellatio (an
eclectic electronic collective which has just scored a deal of its own - look
out world) to get help from mates Glenn Dormond, Matt Ford and Ross
Johnston isn't what's surprising. It's the song, which has about as much to do
with No Aphrodisiac as the Beastie Boys' Sabotage. It's a frivolous, layered
two chord funk rock workout.
"It's my first ever throwaway pop chorus," says Freedman. "It means nothing.
There's a strange surreal fairly tale story in the lyrics," he adds, muttering
something about a woman sold into slavery, a dream and a jailbreak. "There's
a story in there but you gotta look real deep."
"Chunky Chunky Air Guitar" is so aggressively funky and upbeat that it's
almost unrecognisable as the Whitlams. But it's a good indicator of the mood
of the album.
As the name suggests, Eternal Nightcap was an introspective album for
late-eve listening. Freedman makes no secret of the fact that he's had a ball
since he wrote that record, and that sense of exuberance is all over Love This
City, from the playful doo-wop break down and cute pizzicato outro of "Make
the World Safe" through to the rollicking, joyful feel of opener "Thankyou"
(which must be the strollin'-est summer party song since the theme to
Welcome Back Kotter).
The sheer groove of it all must in part be put down to the rhythmic work of
bassists Alex Heweston (a legend in Sydney's funk scene through his work
with Swoop and the outrageously funky Professor Groove & the Booty Affair)
and Terepai Richmond (ditto as low slung drummer for proto acid jazz outfit
DIG). But the joy behind the writing is down to Freedman.
The constantly changing yet still cohesive melodic thread, and the
Wilson-esque harmonic detail behind waltz time epic "Make the World Safe" is
a good example of what's on offer here. For all Freedman's claims that he
entered the album without a clue, there's a load of musical ambition
somewhere behind this.
If Freedman has stuck to his roots in terms of the musical family he's involved
here, he's created a truly international sound as well. Freedman talks about
the anti-gambling anthem "Blow up the Pokies" as a local issue wrought large.
But listening to the huge production, with an uplifting string section to the
chorus's call to arms and timpani thrown in for good measure, you can't help
thinking 'wrought widescreen' is more like it.
With the help of ex-pat Brit producer Rob Taylor, and a stint recording in the
US with silky smooth session pros Greg Morrow and Michael Rhodes and
Yankee producer Joe Hardy, the Whitlams have a fine combination of polish
and feel here.
Much of the album works this balance - intimacy delivered with the full force
of the musical cannon available to todays recording artist. Love This City uses
samples and rhythm loops up against vintage instrumentation, classic
songwriting arrangements and genuine southern downhome feels.
And they've managed to keep it local, as the album title suggests.
Which brings us to the most obvious question. A slinky, jaded jazz number
(featuring backing vox from first lady of Australian pop Marcia Hines) which
questions the integrity of our fair Olympic city? As its protagonist
counterpoints the mythology of Sy-de-ney 2000 with details of his own, less
glamorous urban reality, this city looks like an over eager debutante tarting
itself up in unnecessary chiffon for its coming out, perfect for the sanguine Dr
John feel and ill voodoo sheen.
Is the title track a case of guts or gall?
"I started trying to write that when the Whitlams performed at the Alternative
Olympics event on a Thursday night at the Lansdowne Hotel," Freedman
explains. "We got onstage at 3am, and at the end of it, the TV came on and
they announced Sydney had won… There was the crowd going crazy and
thought 'What's going on here? I just didn't like the way everyone was joined
behind the government and held hands. That's something that always
frightens me. It reminds me of frightening social movements of the 20th
Cenutry, where everyone thinks the same thing. So I just wrote a song which
had a different opinion, just for the sake of plurality, really."
"I mean I'm gonna go to the Olympics," he concludes. "I've got tickets to the
boxing down at Darling Harbour, and I'm also going to the ping pong final. And
I'm gonna enjoy them! I can't stop the Olympics now!"
