There are those Cold Chisel fans who have little interest in journeying beyond the band’s hits. For such observers, the idea of linking arms with a stranger and gargling pints to ‘Flame Trees’ is where the pleasure lies.
There’s nothing wrong with that. That’s their enjoyment – their point of connection to the band.
Still, one wonders what their mindset may have been had ‘Flame Trees’ or ‘Khe Sanh’ not pricked their ears to begin with. What if, say, a lesser-known cut like ‘Dresden’ was their introduction to the band?
Would they dig deeper into the Chisel treasure chest or continue to skip to the classics?
For some – and perhaps the bias of this writer is overly evident – a song like ‘Dresden’ is Cold Chisel.
Jimmy Barnes’ vocal is subtle. The licks of Ian Moss are his finest. While Phil Small and Steve Prestwich don’t have as much to chew on, it is Don Walker’s startling imagery of a city approaching annihilation that lingers long after the track’s cinematic fade-out:
Old Dresden burns above the breeze / The traveller, he’s on his knees / He’s watching sledge-wings dip and play / So far above the holy throne.
It’s a track like ‘Dresden’ – a cut inspired by surrealist author and Dresden survivor Kurt Vonnegut – that epitomises Cold Chisel’s next wave: The Live Tapes.
“It was so sudden when Steve went. We don’t take it for granted anymore“These (The Live Tapes) are for the diehards. They’re almost like authorised bootlegs, you know what I mean?” Jimmy Barnes quips with more energy than any 57-year-old former addict ought to possess.
“We’ve got shows that we recorded in 1978 and 1979. Shows that were at pivotal points of Chisel’s careers.”
The new round of live releases have come about as a result of Barnes and the remaining members of Chisel purchasing the license and rights to their own back catalogue.
But it’s more than that. Much more.
The loss of sticks man and pivotal songwriting contributor Steve Prestwich initially ripped the guts out of the group. The band lost a drummer. A founding member. A brother.
Eventually, however, his tragic passing served to reinforce the value of mateship within the band. Each member has taken stock and is embracing what they had before and what they still have now.
“Losing Steve before the last tour really brought the band home and how important it is that we can enjoy each other’s playing. We now just love what we have and how we work together.”
“Your thoughts are always there with him because he is one of our dearest friends. People always say when someone dies you really take advantage. You really take it for granted that people are there and we just always thought we’d be mates and always be around for each other.”
“It was so sudden when Steve went. We don’t take it for granted anymore. We ring each other up and tell each other we enjoy each other’s company and tell each other we love each other.”
This new-found perspective has transferred in equal parts to their live shows. Indeed, the Cold Chisel live sound has evolved – and is arguably finer than ever.
Place a record needle over old live Chisel albums Swingshift (1981) and Barking Spiders Live (1983) and you’ll find a near-incompressible Barnes and a lightning fast Moss burning through each song as if a tipsy groupie was waiting for them at the interval (heck, there probably was).
These days – and as the first of the band’s live taping at the Hordern Pavilion demonstrates – there is subtleness in the performance. It was evident in their last live release Ringside (2003) and is even more pronounced now.
“In ‘78 Cold Chisel rocked. In 2013 Cold Chisel roll. You know what I mean? For 30 to 40 years I kicked the band’s arse and made them play harder and faster and louder and after 30 years that sort of became the way we played music.”
“These days I don’t have to do that. I don’t have to kick their arses. They play hard and loud and tough without making them play fast as well, so the band sort of digs in more.“
The type of talk is vintage Barnes. He is – as he always will be – the frontman of Cold Chisel. Upfront. No bullshit. No lies. When he speaks about the band and their live virtuosity, he speaks from the heart, albeit still in that frantic Scottish rasp that makes transcribing his words to paper nearly impossible.
“There’s more of a groove,” he continues. “I think it’s more tougher than when we played hard and fast. It’s much more meatier, much more menacing, more contained. That’s what the band’s got going for it. It was still a great rock n’ roll band then. I just think it’s more menacing now. I also compare it to that we’ve gone from youth and enthusiasm to aging treachery.”
“And aging treachery can always beat youth and enthusiasm.”
One thing that hasn’t changed is Don Walker – the band’s chief songwriter and genius supervisor. Where would Chisel be without Walker? Even with the unshakeable rhythm of Prestwich (now Charley Drayton) and Small, the wow factor of Moss and the asylum-like behaviour of Barnes, they would not be nearly as potent.
Walker’s talents remains unblemished by the passing of time. You could take any of his tunes and place it against his efforts 40 years ago and they would sound in tune.
If anything, his focus these days is slightly more cynical. It kicked off with ‘Mr Crown Prosecutor’ during Chisel’s return with The Last Wave Of Summer in the late ‘90s and continues with ‘Everybody’ and the title track off new(ish) LP No Plans.
Walker could be considered our songwriting version of Bruce Springsteen – a man Barnes performed alongside last year and will step on stage with again during the Boss’ Kiwi tour.
Barnes agrees to a certain point, but stops short of comparing the two writers. “They both come from a storytelling background.”
“And aging treachery can always beat youth and enthusiasm.”“I think there’s definitely similarities. They both tell a great story and they’ve got a way of connecting with people that a lot of songwriters miss. A lot people try and write like Springsteen and end up sounding like ‘What About Me?’ And that’s no offence meant at all. There’s just a lot more depth. There’s something tangible with Springsteen that just connects with people on an emotional level. I think Don tends to do that as well but I wouldn’t compare them as writers.”
A bit like the E Street Band, Cold Chisel have retained their muscular swagger despite the objection of age. Furthermore, their concerts maintain an almost religious appeal rather than the straightforward set-interval-set-encore setup.
There’s also plans for new material, with Barnes even tossing up a few ideas about a release date.
“We’ve started writing stuff for a new album. We’ve already been in the studio at my house and started recording a few things. Mid-year we’re gonna be getting together to do some shows up north. We’re gonna do some shows near the Bow River area in the bush.”
“We’ll also be getting together mid year and recording, so we should have a studio album by late next year or early the year after.”
It marks a significant change for a band that drip-fed its fans throughout the ‘90s and ‘00s with the occasional live album, best-of compilation or, when they were feeling generous, a new album of original material.
Still, no one’s complaining. Not the casual fans who still identify Chisel through their trove of hits. And especially not the diehards who are still fingering through bootlegs and unreleased rarities.
It is, after all, fitting that the legacy of Australia’s finest continues to endure and spread.
The Live Tapes Vol. 1: Live At The Hordern Pavilion, April 18, 2012 by Cold Chisel is out now
