Track By Track: Nathan Roche

Sydney author, musician and raconteur NATHAN ROCHE reflects on his latest solo album, from drunken vocals and improvised lyrics to his life’s ambition to “run a game of cards in a smoky fisherman shack.”

[Historical image is withheld pending rights review.]

So the record is called Magnetic Memories and I’m supposed to do a track-by-track but I don’t have any real recollection of the songs being recorded, let alone written. The only option is to lie. But just quickly, the creative process of the two solo albums was: wake at 9 at Joseph Ireland’s house in Newtown, get a coffee across the street, commence recording and start getting ripped from lunchtime until about midnight while laying it all down. Repeat this maybe six or seven times over one month and it’s finished. I’d bring the songs to the table and then Joe would more or less do everything else while I get drunker than he does. Then he’d just drag my head to the microphone to do some vocals. Some lyrics were just improvised on the spot.

I’ll never make solo records with anyone else, I don’t think. This is a system that works efficiently: fun, easy, stress-free. More or less an enjoyable blur. Which is ironic considering it’s called Magnetic Memories. The connected memories of two people … well, not in this case.

‘Amedee’

I was in New Caledonia earlier this year on research for a new book [The Noumea Neurosis]. Le Phare Amedee is an island an hour away from Noumea and has a big lighthouse on it sent over from Paris in 1864. Me and my friend Christian were wanting to go over there desperately but the weather was pretty rubbish. I kept singing this song dancing around in the hotel room, hoping the sun would be shining the next morning so we could catch the boat. I told him the silly song I was singing would probably appear on a new record one day. A month and a bit later it did. Joseph’s countermelody backing vocals put a smile on my dial and a whimsical tear in my eye.

‘Call Back’

I don’t like how phones have become an attachment to people’s minds and bodies. It’s disgusting no one can sit still for a minute without getting anxious and needing to check their phones. You see it on buses, bars, dinner table, gigs everywhere, everywhere you look. THERE IS NO ESCAPE. No one can be comfortable being alone anymore, it seems. It’s a real shame. But it’s not my problem – I can sit and stare at a brick wall for three days and not get anxious. I’m one of the lucky ones. Anyway, the lyrics are fairly self-explanatory.

‘Magnetic Memories’

I mentioned before the memories that me and Joe had recording these records might be fairly nonexistent, but there are other things you remember in life. If it’s something two or more people remember doing, then it’s connected. Like a magnet! Millie Hall improvised the amazing saxophone riff. She’s a real virtuoso. Pick up on the playful bridge: “I’m holding on to these, I’m holding on two double Ds/I’m holding on to these, I’m holding on to double these – magnetic memories.”

‘Alcoholics Anonymous’

This one is pretty obvious. Clearly I want this song to be sung by Sarah Blasko or someone relatively famous with a sentimental voice so it can get picked up by AA for a television advertisement. I can claim all the writer royalties and subsequently spend it on good peaty scotch. I think this could have been the soundtrack to my last year working at the pub, or at least that’s where it spawned.

‘Cute Girl from Another World’

Ah, not sure about this one or if it’s worth going into. All I will say is Joe changed some of the chords from major to minor. Exciting trivial information for the reader. I think this is one of my favourite tracks on the record. It sounds pretty evil I think?

I loved when Owen Penglis was mastering it: the “You lay it down, lying to me” part has a synth undertone which he said “sounded like GoodGod (Small Club)” – which I found hilarious cause it reminded me of a Four Door or Holy Balm chord at the time. Joseph’s wife Imogen [Guest] and their housemate Hilary [Thackway] did another great vocal take, bless ’em. Sorta Hazlewood-esque, I suppose, but not quite there.

‘Hollywood’

This one is about The Hollywood Hotel in Surry Hills and the woman Doris [Goddard] who owns the pub. She’s sort of like a Sunset Boulevard forgotten actress from the golden years. She’s a real character. She’s amazing. One night my dear friend Mel and I went in and we chatted with her for a good few hours and watched her eat dinner. (She offered me the leftovers; I politely declined.) The bar staff also told us they serve her non-alcoholic wine without her knowing.

This is sorta inspired by her, I suppose. You can hear me pouring myself another glass of red in the ridiculous breakdown. Sunset Boulevard is one of my favourite films and I like to fantasise the probably inaccurate comparisons to Doris.

‘Down at the Docks’

I think I was reading Thief’s Journal (Jean Genet), Guignol’s Band (Louis-Ferdinand Celine) and Wayfarers (Knut Hamsun) all at the same time. They all have scenes down in the docks filled with seedy characters. I guess I’ve always liked that stuff, imagery- and atmosphere-wise. Clearly. I’ve already bled it to death through music and writing junk.

I think this was intended to sound like ‘Whole Lotta BS’, an outtake off Maggot Brain by Funkadelic. I like the Tom Waits-style outro on this one and how it ends abruptly. All I every wanted was to run a game of cards in a smoky fisherman shack at the end of a jetty – it’s my life’s ambition. This might be as close as I get.

‘Walsh Bay Waltz/Gordon’s Bay Jig’

Sydney has a shitload of bays and I liked how they are all different in their own way and what demographics they attract. Walsh Bay is sorta where the theatre companies are and swanky art centres. But Gordon’s Bay is like the seaside equivalent of Newtown. It’s like a big social club where you bump into all your friends unplanned. It’s pretty trendy but who gives a shit; it looks beautiful even when you cut your feet on the oysters. Great snorkeling.

I’d also like to quickly mention: don’t be fooled by Lincoln Brown’s (Housewives, Ghastly Spats) pale skin and punk rock mentality when you see his bands play live. He texts me every day asking to go to the beach. He’s more of a Milk Beach, Eastern Harbour man though. Caroline De Dear (Day Ravies) plays some nice clarinet on this one. She got roped into the madness too.

‘One More Stinking Day’

Sometimes I’d say to Joe while I was fading in and out of the recording sessions: “What the hell are you doing? That is too silly!” He’d just tell me to shut up and have another drink and I’d end up liking it. That happened when he did a lead line that was inspired by The Bold and the Beautiful theme song in the verses.

I think this is about bands sticking it out for one more stinking day to get signed and hit the big time. The illusion of the industry and success. Not that I’m personally interested in that in the slightest, but others are and I’m more interested in people’s expectations and view of it. I don’t know; this could have been one of the on-the-spot vocal ones spewed out of my imbalanced mind. None of it is intended to be serious or from personal experience. Just off-the-cuff.

‘Stairs’

Even though this was supposed to be the ‘Kangaroo’/‘Holocaust’ (Big Star) song, it was the funniest thing to make. We were rolling on the ground laughing our arses off at the orchestral devastation. Doing commando rolls on the ground envisioning it to be synced with Platoon or some sorta heavy war film in slow motion. A real riot! James Newman played cello on it. I think we scared him with our unorthodox recording techniques and carefree, do-what-you-want, have-another-drink approach. The ending is supposed to be weird and unsettling like something off Peter Hammill’s The Silent Corner and the Empty Stage.

‘2014’

This was originally a song called ‘2013’ by my old reckless band Wentworth Avenue Breeze-Out. I suppose it’s about biblical characters been reborn as druggies in Kings Cross. Joe works down at the Wayside Chapel and I’ve been living in and out or working in the area since I got to Sydney. I put too many vocal tracks on this one or we forgot to delete a couple. It’s a welcoming change after the track before it though, that’s for sure.

Another crazy saxophone solo by Mille. Don’t let her quiet, shy nature fool you. She’s a lunatic on that thing! I saw John Zorn play at the Adelaide Festival the other month. He’d be proud.

‘Bon Voyage’

This one is about a man I met called Marcel. It sounds like an album closer, or maybe a career closer. I don’t mind this one – it’s a little bit silly but maybe the whole album is. Sorta a playful Kevin Ayers or, as James Newman said, a later Silver Jews track. I like the ultramarine bass and the instrumentation and the arpeggio effect when the verse comes back in.

I think this could very well be the last song album I ever do. The next one is going to be like an Ivor Cutler-meets-Henry Flynt thing called Port of Drawl: Meditations for a Drunken Sailor. It’s going to be spoken-word/Buddhist chants with lots of feedback. Time for a change. Ela Stiles is going to sing on it too! She just doesn’t know it yet. It will be extremely unpopular and weird, and the few people who like this one will hate it. Please stand by.

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‘Magnetic Memories’ is out now through Glenlivet-A-Gogh digitally and on CD, with vinyl due soon. Nathan Roche’s latest novel, ‘The Noumea Neurosis’, is out now through Glenlivet-A-Gogh.