Tasmanian Devils

TIM SCOTT talks to Linda J and Beans from the Dacios about growing up in Tasmania, the light and shade on their new album 'Monkeys Blood' and what it’s like to be supported by The White Stripes.

Australia’s worst music teacher probably still lives somewhere in Tasmania. Years ago during a rehearsal for a high school performance, he stopped the production to lambast a student for her singing, claiming she was the worst singer in the world. That student was The Dacios Linda J.

“He halted the rehearsal and in a room full of people he basically told me I sucked,” she recalls. “For a teenage kid that was pretty traumatising.”

In the intervening years, Linda J has gone on to prove that teacher wrong, first with Little Ugly Girls and now with the country-ish Bulls and the rocking Dacios. Anyone who has seen her front the Dacios will attest to her vocal intensity and power.

“I know I don’t have the greatest voice as it’s in a constant state of disrepair,” Linda explains. “I smoke, I drink, I sing in two bands on a fairly constant basis and my voice is kind of shattered, but it’s funny when it comes to a gig I still get it done.”

The seven songs that comprise the Dacios’ debut record Monkeys Blood aren’t ones to be taken lightly. Alongside Kirsty Stegwazi (bass) and her brothers Danny “Beans” (guitar) and Robert “Pops” (drums), Linda J plays guitar and belts out songs both ferocious and tender. From the intense assault of opener ‘Liberty Lovers’ to the country-tinged ‘Shoe Size’, the songs are all driven by that voice; a voice that can break your heart and your spine simultaneously.

Before the Dacios there was Little Ugly Girls, Linda and Beans’ long running and revered punk outfit that they formed in Hobart. An intense and visceral live act they were perhaps best known for two things: not having released anything in their 10-year existence and having the White Stripes open for them at the Empress on their first Australian tour.

“When we initially heard about them [White Stripes] we thought they were from New Zealand,” says Bean. “And we were thinking that if they had come all the way from New Zealand we should let them headline. Of course at the time we didn’t know that in a little over a year they would be one of the biggest bands around.”

With a sell-out crowd at the small venue, The Little Ugly Girls blew Jack and Meg off stage. “We were a fairly intense punk band and the White Stripes, well, they were the White Stripes, playing a lot more melodic than we did. I think they were horrified actually,” says Linda. “We invited them to stay and have some drinks after but Jack White was all like, ‘Get in the car Meg,’” she jokes.

With the break-up of Little Ugly Girls, Bean and Linda found themselves jamming as a two-piece: Bean on drums and Linda on guitar. It was a change for both. “Neither of us were accomplished on those instruments,” explains Bean. “I was writing most of the guitar at the time. They had to be basic chord structures, so we kept it really simple.”

“It was because I was retarded,” jokes Linda. “But the limitations of our playing at that time meant that we had to focus more on the idea of the song, the structure of the song. If you look at Little Ugly Girls it was really complex and I wasn’t playing an instrument it was a completely different focus.”

There was also a change in the songs’ subject matter and lyrics, explains Linda who was brought up on Kris Kristofferson and Bob Dylan. “I think the Little Ugly Girls had very little to do with me musically. I was singing over what had been written, so for me it was a lot more about language and lyrics and delivery. But now with both the Dacios and the Bulls, I’m finally playing music that I really love. Little Ugly Girls at times was hard work: it was punkier, I was younger and I was pissed off.

“I think my lyrics are much more direct now. Little Ugly Girls was a lot more wordy and played around with language. I’d been to art school and was influenced by all sorts of ideas. But the Dacios is a lot less flowery.”

The imagery in a song like ‘Monkeys Blood’ with references to crossing the Styx River and lines such as, “I don’t want my drink all watered down with tears”, is emotionally turbulent. Like the songs of Patti Smith or Lucinda Williams, it’s harrowing but beautiful.

“Without being specific about particular lines, it’s a love song,” explains Linda. “There may be something poignant in your life that has some significance to you and so you write about it. I don’t mind if people don’t understand. It’s more the overall impact of the song. If people draw different images from the lines then that’s cool too.”

“I know I don’t have the greatest voice as it’s in a constant state of disrepair. I smoke, I drink, I sing in two bands on a fairly constant basis and my voice is kind of shattered.”

Linda J doesn’t deny her influences. She says there are hundreds of performers – from country to rock – who she admires, but she admits that replicating someone’s sound can be dangerous. “There are people that I love, someone like Bill Callahan. I listen to his music and his voice and his lyrics, it’s incredible, but I deliberately try not be influenced by him. Sometimes it happens and I resent myself for it, but I think if you are taken by someone you get influenced by them in a way that I think actually blocks you. It stops you from doing what you need to do as a singer or songwriter. If I get wrapped up in an album too much, it prevents me from writing my own way. I think it’s happened to a thousand people listening to Cat Power because her voice is so beautiful but it really is a trap.”

Then, of course, there are the riffs. The beginning of ‘Monica’ will tear you a new something that you already have. “I listen to that and I’m still not convinced we got it right,” explains Bean. “We maybe had to compromise the vocals in some way but we wanted it to be driven.” Driven it is. With the addition of Gus Boyle on drums and newest member Kim Volkman (X, The Love Addicts) replacing Stegwazi on bass, the Dacios have become a live unit to behold.

“I try to keep the songs simple, says Bean. “I’m not a whizz-bang guitarist but I like to find the sound and stick with it. It also gives Linda a chance to find her way with the song and find a melody line. Subtle changes in the song work better I think.”

For Boyle, his favorite track from the album is ‘Grey Machine’ a song that he says contains both ugliness and beauty. “As an outsider who was not involved in the writing or the recording it’s by far my favourite. It’s just an unusual riff that makes me feel ill, but then it’s so melodic at the same time. I don’t know how they managed to do that. I don’t know how you can have this strange discordant riff going through the whole song and yet find this beautiful melody to go with it.”

Linda has a ready-made explanation. “I was thinking of Motorhead when I wrote that,” she jokes. “I think I hated it maybe to do with the lyrical content. It’s kind of painful for me as I’m reminded of that particular time every time I sing it. Beans and Pops were jamming a lot at that time and I wasn’t in a good way emotionally.”

Speaking to Bean and Linda gives you an understanding as to how important music is in their lives. Like many Hobart bands of that time, they relocated to Melbourne in search of greater opportunities. Upon arriving, they thrived in a bigger music scene.

“There have been times when I’m on my way to a gig – I’m maybe sitting in the car next to Bean – when it occurs to me how important playing live music in Melbourne is. It’s such an amazing thing. It’s like theatre as far as I’m concerned.

“I remember when I first moved to Melbourne and people were complaining about it, and I was like, ‘What’s your fucking problem?’. I don’t expect people jumping up and down and patting me on the back. If I can get a few people standing at the front who are listening and engaged, that’s awesome.”

The siblings don’t, however, discount the early-mid ’90s Tasmanian scene as having an impact on their musical growth. Even the band’s name is taken from a Ukrainian family who lived in the small north-west coast town of Smithton.

“The Dacios were Ukrainian immigrants who were my grandparents’ good friends,” Bean explains. “They lived in this little old house. And when Linda and I would stay at my grandparents, they would drive past and we’d hope that we’d see them. They were kind of scary to us. They were very short and … they wore these old clothes that looked like they came out of Russia at the turn of the century.”

Linda continues: “They were from the Ukraine and, for a small kid in Tasmania, they were from a different world. I still have dreams about their house as I never went any further than their kitchen. I still imagine what the rooms beyond the kitchen were like. And I love that. I love how that has left an impact on me.”

Just like their Ukranian namesakes, the Dacios have always felt like outsiders, as Linda explains. “A lot of bands who played in Hobart were form the north-west coast, all from small country bands. All the punk bands were country kids and all the pop shoegazy bands were all Hobart kids. [It was] a kind of divide. They were all privately educated, polite. We were just bogans,” she jokes. “I guess we still are.”

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The Dacios will launch Monkeys Blood on Saturday, August 1, at The Tote, Melbourne. Supports by Dean Mercer Corruption Society and Deaf Wish. Doors 9pm, cost $12.