In 1994 Nirvana wannabees, Silverchair entered a competition on Australians no. 1 radio station Triple J, the prize was a free recording at Triple J and a video that was all to be aired on SBS’s Nomad program. Of course, as history tells us, these spotty little droogs of 15 to 16 years won with their song, ‘Tomorrow’. After the clip and interview had been aired, record companies from all over Australia were ringing in wanting to know how they could get them signed.
In many ways, this is not a start that arguers well for a band keen to assert down at heel credibility and a measure of desperate longing. No furtive myths of a live act and attitude shaped in Hamburg to fall back on, no tragic, existential childhood in Seattle to inflame the post-romantic nerve-endings. It was perhaps too smooth a transition from obscurity to popularity for any grunge-act to credibly build on. Where was the slow-burn? The slow-ride?
With hindsight it is then possible to ring a certain amount of extra significance from their recent parting with Sony and the creation of the band’s own label, ‘Eleven’, operated by their manager John Watson and general manager Melissa Cheney: the casting aside of the machinery for a first time taste of freedom? A symbolic de-robing of popular identity? Well yes, if you’re going to be cynical – but their new album ‘Diorama’ – to be released here in the UK on July 29th – suggests Silverchair may yet spawn that fragile gem of credibility.
Produced by Dave Bottrill (Tool, Peter Gabriel) ‘Diorama’ is a suitably wide screen and epic affair for a band that already confess to wishing to sweep the listener out of their everyday lives into the brave new (digital) world of the magical. It’s big on brass, it’s big on strings and it’s big on sound.
This might not have been the heroic rites of passge that a 15 year Daniel Johns may wished to have pursued or even the one that may serve him the most good in the long run – but it’s a path he finds himself on nonetheless.
First track ‘Across The Night’might not be the greatest opening move ever, ever so guilty as it is of production over substance: corny, feebly romantic and incurably bland. Like a number of tracks on the album is struggles toward the epic maturity of Sgt Pepper and Pet Sounds but stumbles like a toddler at the first hurdle.
‘The Greatest View’ is the track that really kicks things off – stirring hormones, crashing guitars, bursting brass flourishes – killer chorus, whilst the following track, ‘Without You’ does indeed begin to turn an inspired page in the chapter of Johns’ songwriting. The lyric ‘brightens my life like a polysterene hat’ may sit uncomfortably with his more natural cats eye view of the world and titles like ‘Tuna In The Brine’might barely conceal his desire to throw out the rule book, but there’s evidence to suggest that young Daniel and his chums are onto something good.
Still difficult to place – but maybe not now quite as difficult to take seriously.
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