However, there were some constraints. James’ lyrical themes had run their course, and by the time he arrived in the Scientists he’d moved from expressing social commentary to just expressing what he liked. Kim thought, ‘Great! We’re going to inherit this great font of lyrics, and this great cool guy with his stripy shirt and his Brian Jones haircut, he knows what he wants to do … brilliant, particularly the stuff in the Victims was great; comical kind of outrageous lyrics really. What I found was by the time he was in the Scientists it was a finite thing, it was sort of just the “girl” lyrics left, whereas before there was television and girls.’ This was not lost on a gig reviewer who witnessed the band in Adelaide 1979: ‘The lyrical content of some of the originals became somewhat monotonous after a while. The boy/girl line is fine, but the Scientists give it a hell of a beating.’4
However, Kim was impressed with his new band mate:
‘I think about James Baker, as far as I can tell everything he did was a post-modern pastiche of the past done with strong minimalist and pop sensibility. But that’s what I like and I’m projecting on to him. To him it’s just good rock and roll and he’d hate that description. He’s done it in a completely uncontrived way.’ James’ presence in the band was critical. He brought an unpretentious, simple style to the band that allowed Kim’s vision to take seed.
And he was the first in a line of drummers with whom Kim would collaborate to capture his sound.
Boris and Roddy were like big, Croatian punk rock kids in a candy store. From a standing start they were in the centre of the scene and revelled in every moment. ‘By this stage James was kind of a guru guy. He was a punk by 1972 and into the New York Dolls, driving around Perth all dressed up. Kim used to hang out, and he had his own thing going too … For Roddy and I it was great, all of a sudden we were with the rock stars. It was all excitement!’ (Boris Sujdovic). The Scientists rehearsed in earnest and soon hit the Perth scene with a splash, horrifying and impressing audiences in equal measure.
While Neil and Robbie’s new band the Manikins enjoyed a short while as the darlings of the scene, the Scientists were still out. Too loud, too arrogant, too British punk, too dandy. They just couldn’t engender the easy embrace of the scant Perth music establishments, so the Scientists took a leaf out of the Victims book (and the Saints and Birdman) by building up their own scene at the Governor Broome Hotel. With James providing the entrepreneurial spirit, they talked the Gov Broome’s owner into letting them play there for a small door charge. On the back of the Scientists blistering live shows, word got out and soon ‘we were reining supreme in that particular scene’. As the most authentic punk band around, their popularity grew, catering for the true believers. ‘If we played at a place that held 150 people, then 150 would be there … not super popular, but as popular as you could get in Perth’ (Boris Sujdovic). Tony Thewlis recalls watching Kim at these shows, thrashing out Teenage Dreamer at some Perth pub and ‘putting his entire body into the vibrato. It looked like a technique Bruce Lee might have used to kill people!’ (Tony Thewlis)
Social etiquette at a Scientist gig was limited. Nobody clapped. Nobody showed enjoyment. If you danced, your head was down, staring at the floor. Pogoing was acceptable, but you would never use your arms. ‘The scene wasn’t super intense,’ remembers Boris, ‘even though the music was. It was less political. I guess no one had anything to be pissed off about.’
This circumstance triggered an artistic response in Kim, and before long, the contrary Salmon performance template took effect.
I remember right from the start Kim not wanting to do the popular songs. In the middle of 1977, right in the middle of the punk thing, you’re in a punk band in a punk venue and Kim wants to do a John Cougar Mellencamp song, I Need a Lover. He goes ‘yeah yeah, fuck ‘em’. And a couple of punks stormed out! And maybe that planted the seed in Kim’s head, ‘This is great! I know how to piss people off!’ And this was the formula for the Scientists. The attitude was ‘let’s not do what everyone else is doing’ (Boris Sujdovic).
As the band got more popular the shows got more crowded, and the audience more animated. The Scientists themselves channelled the UK oriented punk pop mood and thrashed about happily. Surely, thought Kim, they were building towards greatness.
•••
There was no shortage of evidence that a movement on the East Coast was building. In May 1978, up and coming music mogul Michael Gudinski released a compilation record of local bands called ‘Lethal Weapons’.5 While it missed the mark on presenting the true deplorables of Melbourne punk, it did feature the Boys Next Door and was early attempt by the music business to unearth the underground. Bruce Milne could be heard talking the new aesthetic during 1978 on his 3RRR Saturday morning radio show. Elsewhere, Dave Graney moved from Mount Gambia to Adelaide and teamed up with drummer Clare Moore to form first the Sputniks, and then a lifelong personal and creative partnership. Dave and Clare would soon come across the Scientists in full flight and recognised a similar impulse to their own creative output. Meanwhile in Brisbane, a young Gregory ‘Tex’ Perkins was looking forward to getting his first guitar for Christmas.
•••
The Scientists momentum was thwarted by some rapid and frequent personnel changes. The first of these was in August 1978 when Boris left the band. Fanzine DNA reported at the time that ‘although Boris was a very competent bassist, the other group members felt that he wasn’t sufficiently dedicated so he got the boot. Amongst other things, Kim was of the opinion that Boris was capable of performing back-up vocals, but Boris himself couldn’t be bothered trying.’6
I’m in the Grace Darling Hotel, Collingwood with Boris and his partner Kat Amiss. Boris is thoughtful and gracious, super laid back but whip smart. As we talk, Kat seems as intrigued with his stories as I am, and prompts Boris’ recollections with incisive questions. As we start on another round of cider and Coopers, Boris reflects on his exit from the Mark 1 Scientists.
We were together for probably about a year, then I left. They kicked me out. I was getting bored. It was kind of like a surge from the middle of ’76, but by the end of ‘79 it had started to peter out. Other things came in, but the actual punk thing seemed to get a bit tiresome. Maybe we all were getting a bit bored. But things happened at a super-fast pace back then, obviously now it would take years to get bored. Back then it only took six months, and everyone was like, what are we doing now! It was frenetic. We got along great you know, until they kicked me out! And then we still got along great! (Boris Sujdovic).
Boris went from the Scientists to form the Rockets in April 1979, with Roddy Radalj who would also exit the Scientists original line up, uncomfortable remaining after Boris’ demise.
With Boris gone, the Scientists laid low, scouring Perth for a new bass player until January 1979, when Dennis Byrne joined the band. ‘When they returned to the gigging circuit they were by far the most powerful band around, not only good musically, but also confident enough in themselves not to kow tow to the promoters.’7 It was this line up of Kim, Roddy, James and Dennis that entered the recording studio to record the band’s first single. The result was the double A side Frantic Romantic/Shake Together Tonight released on DNA Records in June 1979. ‘Legend has it that during the recording of this the band blew out the recording meters at the studio with the volume of their playing.’8 Combining Kim’s super catchy arpeggio guitar lines with James’ unmistakable lyrics, Frantic Romantic is the quintessential example of the Baker/Salmon song writing approach. Kim sings this song forty years later and it doesn’t sound dated or hackneyed, even with James’ misty-eyed lyrics, just pure and poppy and great.
I love