Record Reviews
Precious Jules
By Aaron Curran
Does Kim Salmon’s latest incarnation live up to his celebrated past work? AARON CURRAN reports.
[Historical image is withheld pending rights review.] Kim Salmon's latest incarnation Precious Jules released a new self-titled CD late last month but it didn't stir nearly as much interest as his op-ed piece in The National Times a couple of weeks prior. As Andrew Keese reported here on M+N, Salmon was challenging our tendency to view musicians and their work as having much-less inherent value than most other professions. It was a sobering read for a few reasons: to learn that Salmon, a venerable figure of Australian independent rock, was apparently making less money on the job now than he did 35 years ago; and to read the often-venomous comments from many of the articles' readers who had no idea who Salmon was and who simply didn't give a shit. The dismissive tone of criticisms from readers such as “Colin of Sydney” was a harsh reminder that this country's artistic pioneers are too-often ignored in our own backyard.
So I approached listening to the Precious Jules CD from two perspectives: in the context of it being the latest stop in a lengthy career that has seen many highlights, diversions, and misfires; but also, I imagined myself to be one of those internet haters listening to him for the first time, with no idea of his past and reputation, judging the album purely on its own terms. So, now that the CD is spinning at an outrageous number of RPMs and the punk glam thrash of this guitar-and-drums duo is squealing out of the speakers, does it satisfy both vantage points? Well, yes and no.
Kim Salmon and his percussive partner Mike Stranges are clearly having a hell of a lot of fun on this album, simultaneously celebrating and poking fun at contrived notions of rock’n’roll bad-assery. Their enthusiasm is often infectious. The one-two stomp’n’grind of 'The Precious Jules Theme' is scuzzily-satisfying, buoyed by Salmon's intentionally-mannered, highfalutin vocal delivery. Buzzsaw riffs and gloriously-moronic thumps drive 'A Necessary Evil', a satirical paean to getting wasted. 'Shine Some Darkness On Me' sounds like a fuzzier, slide-driven take on Beans and Fatback-era Link Wray, all country and testosterone, which segues into the appropriately monikered 'Urban Swamp', one of those spoken-word put-downs that Salmon has always done so well.
[Historical embedded media is withheld pending rights review.] Precious Jules by battle
'Listening to the Sand' is a slow-jam with a guitar line that uncoils like a cobra, another keeper. Salmon continually references his own past in his work and on this album it's the turn of 'Cheap’n’ Nasty' to be revisited. Originally written and performed in 1977 with Dave Faulkner in Perth punk outfit The Cheap Nasties, the song's Runaways-meets-Glitter Band riffs and rhythms was prime for reinvention, and it’s one of the strongest titles on show here.
“This country's artistic pioneers are too-often ignored in our own backyard.”
But the flipside is there's a fair bit of filler. 'The Bald Face' starts off well enough, borrowing that infamous 'Be My Baby'/'Just Like Honey' four-beat drum intro, but Kim's strident preaching grows tiresome and the song itself is nothing to note. Similarly, 'You're a Backlash' passes by to little real effect. "I am a Beast of Bourbon, surrounded by mythology,” Salmon declaims on the hilariously narcissistic 'Pearls Before Swine', but the chorus is throwaway and the tune pales quickly. This leads to a bind: how to celebrate the joy of disposable, trashy rock’n’roll that's bashed out in a devil-may-care manner, while paradoxically conveying that what’s been written and played is the best it could possibly be?
Ultimately, this set just doesn't reach the heights of some of Salmon's past work; not just the bigger budget, major label-funded stuff like Sin Factory, or the indomitable majesty of the Warren Ellis and Jim White-assisted Hey Believer, for even the cheap as chips Human Jukebox album knocks this new CD into a cocked hat. So go track those old records down and open your wallet for them. And when you're at a Precious Jules or Kim Salmon live show, throw a few bucks down at the merch counter too. But right now it'll be to fund a musician who deserves our respect, not because what you're buying is a must-have. Is that enough? The Kim Salmon fan in me says of course, though I think “Colin of Sydney” would say not at all.
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