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art TONY MAHONY

the AGE - story on the book and the album via Warrnambool Standard

great review of Rock n roll is where I hide from TINY MIXTAPE (US)

Page of reviews for 1001 australian nights

Henry Wagons and Dave Graney Interview each other in the Autumn issue of Australian Musician magazine.

Hey Dave,
Just finished my third listen to "Rock 'n' Roll is Where I Hide" and, man, it's more than fine. A heady and heavy blend of Johnny Thunders, Jimmy Reed and Serge layin' it down in the company of The Wrecking Crew and Jackie Mitoo with that somethin' rare stirred in. Fantastic work . . . congratulations.
Rocksteady
Pat- Basement Discs

DAVE GRANEY & THE LURID YELLOW MIST – Rock & Roll Is Where I Hide

The King Of Pop revisits his formidable back catalogue – again
Had the listening crowd dug sarcasm a bit more, cult songster, ex-Moodist/Coral Snake, King Of Pop and effortlessly gifted scribe Dave Graney would have attained a lot more recognition throughout his 30-year career. The “third debut album” from DG & The Lurid Yellow Mist, Rock & Roll Is Where I Hide is a collection of re-recordings of Graney’s chestnuts – with a spiffy brand-new track We Don’t Belong To Anybody. Recorded in Melbourne over two days and mixed in New York by renowned studio honcho and fellow ex-Moodist Victor Van Vugt, the CD carries a rare “band-playing-in-your-room” quality. Again, Graney strums unhurried jazzy chords along to his dry lyrics – delivered in that inimitable manner – as longtime associate Stu Perrera lays down one terrific guitar lick after another and Clare Moore and Stu Thomas lock in a mega-groovy rhythm section. As for the songs, they pour out of the speakers like dollops of exquisite Grange: the near-iconic title track, Night Of The Wolverine, Feelin’ Kinda Sporty, Three Dead Passengers In A Stolen Secondhand Ford, I’m Not Afraid To Be Heavy, Apollo 69 ... classic upon classic. An absolute must-have for any fan, RNRIWIH is an excellent companion piece to last year’s luxurious Supermodified (also comprising re-recorded material) and a top primer for the uninitiated.“We don’t belong to anybody / Come on! / We’re a sweet ride / We were in The Moodists, We Wuz Curious / Soft ‘n’ sexy that’s us”, Graney attests. Listen up.
****
DENIS SEMCHENKO

RAVE

Dave Graney never fails to be interesting. In itself, this is no small achievement. Sometimes the fruits of his determination to challenge the pop idiom within which he dwells have seemed a little isolating – almost as if he’s been intentionally trying to alienate those not ‘in on the joke’. I don’t mean this as a criticism – I’ve admired much of his recent (and less recent) work, but often only on an academic level.
His latest move could be seen as quite the opposite of interesting – he and regular bandmates Clare Moore (drums), Stu Thomas (bass), Stuart Perera (guitar) and Mark Fitzgibbon (keyboards) have gone and re-recorded twelve ‘old’ Graney songs (plus one new track). What’s more, they’ve released it under the guise of a ‘new album’, described by Graney himself as “our third debut record”. It’s an odd idea, conjuring horrible images of Eric Burden and the ‘New’ Animals – but it works. In fact I’m quite pleased to conclude that Rock n Roll is Where I Hide is not just interesting – it’s also fun. Lots of fun.
The crux of the matter is that these are good songs. Sure, they’re rambling, sleazy and at times structurally unsound, but they are inherently listenable. From the loungy rock of the title (and opening) track to the genuinely evocative Three Dead Passengers in a Stolen Second-hand Ford and the (almost) anthemic closer We don’t belong to Anybody (a kind of career retrospective), Graney and co keep things bobbing along in a most pleasing fashion. As with a ‘real’ debut album, the songs in this collection have benefited from a lengthy gestation period. Unlike a ‘best of’, they sound completely fresh and contemporary.
Given that it’s not a ‘greatest hits’ disc, I feel I should probably refrain from labouring over Graney’s position within the Australian pop landscape. Nonetheless it does deserve further exploration at a later date. He is certainly more fearless than his celebrated friend Nick Cave (even if Cave’s work is imbued with a little more emotional gravity), but the pair do share a similar commitment to performance. I’d argue that Graney’s delivery (as with much of his persona) is a little more challenging than Cave’s, and these are surely contributing factors to the above-mentioned sense of alienation we might feel when confronted with his catalogue.
Thankfully, with this ‘new’ record, we have a chance to get to know him a little better. He’s let us in on the joke and the punchline was worth waiting for. An excellent ‘debut’.
the EDGE magazine

Not just a greatest hits album, Dave Graney’s “rock’n’roll is where I hide” is re recorded versions of his bands popular and obscure tracks. In the latest out ine (which he’s dubbed “our third debut album”) Graney and his band, Clare Moore,Stuart Perera, Mark Fitzgibbon and Stu Thomas,, get another ctack at some of his best oved tunes.
” night of the wolverine 4” allows room for Mark Fitzgibbons 70s era jazz keyboards and teh once folksy “three dead passengers in a stolem second hand Ford” gets a bossa nove treatment, but special mention goes to “Feelin’ Kida Sporty”. Graney is the biggest man in the room: a Sharpie styled Elvis witha sneer as he belts out the lyric to Moores disco Gary Glitter beat. Its the stand out track, and worth the re-record.
Catherine Gale
Launceston Advocate.

Dave Graney's schtick weighs a ton. Or so he'd have us believe, and there's nothing here to make us doubt it. Graney (along with his schtick, and longtime partner and collaborator Clare Moore) occupies an interesting place in territory that he shares with the circle of Australians and other misfits that coalesced around an expatriate Nick Cave, taking in musicians from Rowland S. Howard and Einstürzende Neubauten to The Go-Betweens, The Scientists, Laughing Clowns, and Crime and the City Solution. After a sizable stint as the post-punk Moodists, Graney and Moore, having returned to Australia, went through numerous eponymous incarnations, the best known being Dave Graney 'n' the Coral Snakes. A (reinterpreted) retrospective is therefore not before time. Graney describes Rock 'n' Roll Is Where I Hide, a collection of classic tracks re-recorded in a rawer, rockier vein, as his third debut, and the tension inherent in that phrase — between a sound on the one hand historically and spatially grounded in dust, empty beer cans, and the faded, tacky glitz of a rural pub stage; and on the other refracted through a wryly pomo sensibility alive to contradiction — is evident and delightful throughout.
Perhaps the distinguishing feature of Graney's music in comparison to the aforementioned groups is a distinct, if relative, lack of darkness and alienated angst. Graney, rather (particularly in the post-Moodist period), has created a niche that is absolutely unique. Free from any trace of the confessional, he creates vignettes that range from absurdist to deeply moving — often both — mingling wry social observation with a humor that perfectly threatens to stray, but never finally crosses the line, into novelty. One aspect of Graney's distinctness — and distinction — is the very persona-ness of his persona (beginning with costume; from safari suits to Tom of Finland leathers, deadly serious camp is a trademark). Unlike so many other front men, Graney isn't performing faux-transgressively as the typical dysfunctional rock star, drug-addled, sexually voracious, yet constantly heartbroken — but rather transgresses that same transgression through the obviously conscious adoption of a kitsch that is tongue-in-cheek, but wherein the illusion nonetheless remains firmly unbroken. It's an act that is postmodern but never pretentious, both distancing and deeply endearing, especially when combined with his obvious lyrical smarts.
But in foregrounding Graney's deconstruction of the rock star role — a move that functions all the better given his status as a semi-canonical figure, a working rocker, acclaimed in Australia, but without the celebrity factor of a Nick Cave or The Go-Betweens — I don't want to imply that he has no truck with its discourse. Indeed, the epic title track (and opener) here, one of his career highlights, tells the tale of a human Purloined Letter who realizes that hiding in full view, pretending to think that he's invisible, is the perfect disguise. Neither does rock priapism escape Graney's voyeuristic gaze, which ranges scurrilously across subjects from the overtly Freudian phallicisms of "Apollo 69" to the shambolic, nebbishy Sheriff of Hell, "Sitting on the boardwalk, hat over his eyes/ Boots up on the rail, hand down his pants." (On this note, I was personally saddened by the absence of another favorite, "The Confessions of Serge Gainsbourg"; the title says it all.)
Speaking of favorites, how do the re-recorded versions measure up to the beloved originals? There is a rawness here that is invigorating, but that sometimes leaves one missing the gentler touches of tracks like the tender original "Night of the Wolverine (I)." However, this is compensated by the coherence of the album as a piece, the sense of playful care and sheer guts that's usually only captured live. (The album was apparently recorded over a few days, with one or two takes for each track, and it shows, in the best possible way.) In terms of selection, every fan will have their gripes — personally, I would've happily taken "You Wanna Be Loved" or "Showbusiness" over "Feelin' Kinda Sporty" — but this is the nature of the beast, an appropriate cliché here. The album thus supersedes 1999's out-of-print compilation The Baddest to provide an excellent introduction for the uninitiated (and is accompanied by a simultaneously-released biography, 1001 Australian Nights).
The finale, and only new track, "We Don't Belong To Anybody," is a groovy kicker, taking the listener on a personal tour through Graney's extensive back-catalog of bands and releases while simultaneously emphasizing the autonomy proclaimed in its moniker — there's that referentiality (/reverentiality) thing again! The creation of such a shimmering self-tribute — one that maintains the tension between the finality of the canon and an open-ended roughness about the edges — provides an impeccable summary of the Graney experience. As the man himself puts it, "We're a sweet ride."
Rowan Savage- TINY MIXTAPES (Online US mag)

Graney,Pez,Mooresy,Thommo- 2011
Image Tony Mahony

I should tell you about my power.” So starts Dave Graney’s revisiting and re-imagining of some of his ’90s gems, including I’m Gonna Release Your Soul and Feelin’ Kinda Sporty. The one new tune, We Don’t Belong To Anybody, tells the tale of his remarkable rock’n’roll life. He’s not afraid to be heavy, but the emphasis is on his soft ‘n’ sexy sound, with the glorious seven-minute title-track setting the scene. It’s a sweet ride. Electric, eclectic, enigmatic … no Australian pop star has as much personality as Graney. An Aussie classic.
By Jeff Jenkins.

Pic Tony Mahony

pic Kristyn Jones

Rock'n'Roll Is Where I Hide
Liberation
Wilfully obscure might be overstating it, but hiding really is part of Dave Graney's gig. Rock'n'roll is the space he chooses to live the myth of his life.
The lounge-rock outsider outlines the whole weird hall of mirrors in the title song of this tight, exciting, live-in-a- basement rehash of his 90s radio heyday.
The self-styled "legendary invisible rock singer cowboy" walks though walls of perception and personae, a gone hipster in Feelin' Kinda Sporty, I'm Not Afraid To Be Heavy and I'm Gonna Release Your Soul.
The blur between man and wolverine shimmers eternal - like his strange fetish for major seventh chords. Luckily his band gets him big time, down to an autobiographical finale with the second most telling title on the disc: We Don't Belong to Anybody.

Michael Dwyer- West Australian

'Rock N' Roll Is Where I Hide' is in fact a re-recording of a select set of songs from throughout Graney's career. It serves two purposes; digitally enhancing and capturing the material which brought Graney to prominence during the 90s for both existing fans and any newly curious parties, and it also preserves, to a certain extent, the legacy which Graney has left upon Australian alternative music. A performer of invention, lyrically idiosyncratic and able to balance his slightly abrasive attack upon the listener against his otherworldly charm, this album is a wonderfully enjoyable and rewarding hour.

Beginning with the title-track, a seven-minute-plus guttural lament immediately followed by another seven-minute-plus track, Night Of The Wolverine 4, the listener is forced to find their comfort zone within the Graney aesthetic from the get-go. ARIA award winning track Feelin' Kinda Sporty momentarily offers faux-pop respite, before the almost pornographic moans and yelps of I'm Not Afraid To Be Heavy conjure a cheeky smile and an uncomfortable cringe on your face simultaneously.

The Sheriff Of Hell is Graney creating a landscape perfectly, the chimes of the pearly keys propelling the song along with a cheery undertone. Beneath Graney's half-spoken vocals, the familiar warble of the telecaster, crisp chord progressions and memorable riffs all provide a platform reminiscent of The Bad Seeds or The Triffids. The joyous The Stars,Baby, with it's high-pitched riffs as if heralding a comic superhero while Graney bemoans their ill-intent, is a contradiction completely of Australian alternative music's invention.

All in all, this album is a reminder of the balls our alternative music scene once had.

Ryan Winter DB magazine-Adelaide.