Track by Track: Buddy Glass

BRUNO BRAYOVIC of veteran indie rockers Peabody steps out solo with a debut album as Buddy Glass. It was inspired by Kurt Vonnegut, Stereolab, The Smiths, a Greek goddess and a year spent in France.

[Historical image is withheld pending rights review.]

All but two of these songs were written in France, where I spent all of 2012 going to uni. I researched why so many people in France feel compelled to vote for the far-right party, Le Front National. It turns out there is no scientifically quantifiable reason for it – they’re just arseholes. Apart from that, I had a lot of time on my hands and most of these songs came from being by myself, in my own head … a lot

‘The Spinning Titanic’

Lyrically, I wanted to write about love in an unromantic, unorthodox setting or context. Some sort of Liberal Party convention came to mind but it just wasn’t sexy enough. So I went for a doomsday scenario, brought about by environmental disaster. Musically, the repetitive nature of the song and the melody were inspired by one of the ‘movements’ of Stereolab’s 18-minute epic, ‘Jenny Ondioline’. Lauren Crew from Sister Jane/Belles Will Ring did a top-notch job of the lead vocals during the lady-bits.

‘The Plan’

This song is sort of a sister song to ‘…Titanic’ in the sense that it is also set in an apocalyptic future. I think it was just the music that went along with these two songs that made me think of these depressing scenarios. In this song, our working class is made of cyborg drones and most people live in dreary, grey, high-density, high-rise boxes and mostly eat dust and bones. The hero of this song is an average joe; a suburban husband who’s been kicked around all his life; a pen-pusher; bit of a loser, until his time to shine arrives and greatness is thrust upon him. Think Chevy Chase in National Lampoon’s Vacation, but instead of trying to get his family to Wally World, he has to get them off the set of Eraserhead.

‘Time is a Serpent’

This is one of the two songs written in Sydney. My idea was to write about a fairly depressing concept (no God, no afterlife) in as happy a way as possible. It was inspired by two quotes. The first was by Kurt Vonnegut who said in Breakfast of Champions that “time is a serpent that eats its own tail” (he even drew a little picture). I really like that idea. To me, it ties in nicely with my astronomical obsession with time, space, relativity, the big bang, the fact that one day all the nitrogen in the universe will be used up and there will be no more stars and almost zero energy and then maybe it all starts again … plus all other kinds of dinner-table conversation.

The second quote came from Australian journalist Clive James, who didn’t want people fussing over his leukaemia diagnosis, stating, “Stop the worrying cos nobody gets out of this world alive” – a line I changed ever so slightly to fit into the song. So the rub is “Don’t worry too much cos there’s nothing we can do to stop the trajectory of space and time – just don’t be an arsehole while you’re here, for fuck’s sake!”

‘Tar Me Up’

Two lovers who try to get it together, but just can’t. One’s on the way up while the other is going down, one wants this, the other wants that, one lives on Venus, the other on Mars.

‘Ain’t You Glad It’s Not You?’

The title came from a story told by Tom Petty, who says that when Roy Orbison died George Harrison called him up and said was, “Ain’t you glad it’s not you?” According to Petty, what he meant was, “It could have been any of us, so we’re pretty lucky.” And that’s the crux of the song.

Have you ever thought about all the bad shit that happens to people? Do you ever count your lucky, gassy stars that your life is mostly cupcakes and cups of tea, while others endure the kind of hellish nightmare that makes your heart implode?

I do. Disease, illness, abuse, hunger, war, addiction, homelessness, poverty, hate – all part of many people’s everyday life, but not mine and sometimes I feel guilty about that and wonder why or how the holy atheist fuck I could be so lucky.

‘Khloris & I’

The oldest song on the album. An ode to the Greek goddess of spring and nature and how mean I’d be to her if she fancied me.

‘Goodbye, Goodbye’

This is me saying goodbye to Lyon, where I spent most of my time in France. Some days were difficult, some were lonely, but mostly they were pretty amazing and I really grew to feel like it was my city after a year. This song is me saying, “Ah Lyon, ya beautiful piece o’ shit – come ’ere” and then lovingly giving its fuzzy head a noogie while holding it in a gentle headlock.

‘This Strange Life’

I wrote all the lyrics and melody to this song without a single musical instrument in my hands. I was in Brussels and didn’t have my guitar with me. I was staying in the world’s hottest room at a backpackers’ in the middle of the booziest part of town. It was either be steamed to death with the window closed or death by Irish tourist with the window open.

So I put on The Smiths’ Strangeways, Here We Come to drown out the noise and I was melodically inspired by ‘A Rush and a Push and the Land is Ours’. The song stayed in my head for days and I’d walk around the city morphing the melody into my own, with a new word, line or verse every couple of blocks. I didn’t want to stand still anywhere because I was convinced the movement was helping the lyrics, as they came relatively quickly (for me!).

‘Just Me & the Dark’

The last line in Leoncavallo’s opera Pagliacci is “la commedia è finita,” which means “the comedy is finished.” I used this line in this song because the subject matter is the same as that of Pagliacci – the lot of the sad clown. Successfully masking fear, anxiety, insecurity and sadness with humour and bravado is a real skill.

‘Stranger Waiting at My Front Door’

I met a young girl in the kitchen of the university housing where I was staying in Lyon. Idle chitchat turned to what we each did. She was an artist so I said I’d like to see her work and that maybe we could swap a painting for a song. I went out that night to see some bands and came back in icy-cold conditions, walking through snow, relatively pissed. When I got back to ma petite chambre, I found a painting stuck to my front door. I instantly fell in love with it and by proxy, fell in ethereal love with its artist (kitchen-girl). It was all very European. I felt like I was in a Krzysztof Kieslowski film – or just something on SBS – y’know, the kind of movie that ends without any closure or explanation after three hours of minimal and seemingly meaningless dialogue. You know stuff is happening but you don’t know what it is.

So I entered my room and started writing this song, trying to match the mournful beauty of painting and artist with melody and lyrics. The painting ended up on the cover of the album. The next time I saw her, she was crying at the bus stop because her wallet had been stolen from her bag and in the following days she moved out, so I never really thanked her for the paining or told her about the song. See? No closure. SBS. Perfect.

I thanked and credited her in the album liner notes so I hope she doesn’t sue me. If she does I’ll write a musical about the court case called The Prettiest Plaintiff.

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Buddy Glass’s self-titled album is out now on CD, vinyl and digital through China Pig. The album launches Saturday, December 13 at Lazybones Lounge in Marrickville with support from Wifey and Tom Morgan (Smudge). Read Peabody’s 10 Things We’ve Learnt About Being in a Band for 20 Years.