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Dick Diver: 'We want to write a sick song like Flame Trees' Dick Diver: 'We want to write a sick song like Flame Trees'
(7 months later)
For 12,000 glitter-covered punters, the Meredith music festival – which takes place each December in Victoria – is the annual palette cleanser after a year of hard slog. It’s a time to get loose. To wear ridiculous animal-themed outfits. To drink BYO cans of beer in the sun. To switch off (literally – the phone reception is terrible) and forget about real-world concerns. But Dick Diver’s Al Montfort didn’t want anyone to get too complacent – so along with his bandmates and a few willing friends he staged the most politicised rock eisteddfod moment the festival had ever seen.
For 12,000 glitter-covered punters, the Meredith music festival – which takes place each December in Victoria – is the annual palette cleanser after a year of hard slog. It’s a time Following a mid-afternoon set of the band’s more languid material from their two albums – 2011’s New Start Again and last year’s Calendar Days – Montfort ditched his bass, grabbed a mic and posed a question to the crowd.
to get loose. To wear ridiculous animal-themed outfits. To drink BYO cans of beer “Do you wanna hear some poetry?” he asked, rhetorically, to an unanimous roar. “I get so tired of the fashion, the fascism. It makes me wanna go out there and try a little smash-ism!” With that, Dick Diver launched into Head Back, the cult closing track from New Start Again. It’s become an almost unofficial anthem for this festival, and they delivered it with all the sloppy charm you’d expect from a band that unwillingly pioneered a made-up genre called “dolewave”.
in the sun. To switch off (literally – the phone reception is terrible) and forget This time, however, they served it up with a twist: Four friends doing an interpretative dance about climate change, wearing cardboard box masks of Donald Trump, Clive Palmer, Gina Rinehart and Rupert Murdoch. Not to be outdone, Montfort led the crowd in a “fuck Kochie!” chant aimed at Sunrise host David Koch, before honking a sax while flanked by the dancers who by then were costumed as colourful birds. It all ended with a boot to Gina Rinehart’s cardboard face and a parting message: “Ditch Clive. Ditch Napthine. Ditch Abbott. Ditch the Queen.” Phew!
about real-world concerns. But Dick Diver’s Al Montfort didn’t want anyone to “I didn’t want people to feel too comfy,” reflects Montfort later, describing his saxophone antics as a “wimpy Fela Kuti moment”. As for why Koch was the target of his rage, his answer is simple: “He’s a conservative dog.”
get too complacent – so along with his bandmates and a few willing friends he This is Dick Diver; a Melbourne bands that brings together humour, self-deprecation, Australian kitsch and addictive melodies like few before it. While their records are not as overtly political as their onstage antics at Meredith, there’s a sense of cultural agitation – an inherent uncomfortableness with what it means to be Australian – that runs through their music. There’s the poor punter gambling his life away on Keno. There’s the Centrelink scammer that fakes an injury to stay on benefits on New Start Again. On the new record Calendar Days, there are references to IGA supermarkets and Safeway delis, Fitness Firsts and stacks of TV Weeks.
staged the most politicised rock eisteddfod moment the festival “It’s natural,” says Montfort of the Australian references. “We don’t make an effort to write a song about going down to Melbourne Central, or something – it’s what we know … It would be weird to write about Tompkins Square Park in New York or somewhere in Tokyo, because we’ve never been there.”
had ever seen. The album’s first single Alice isn’t about a girl called Alice, but Alice Springs, and the coming together of “Arrernte and white”. It doesn’t make sweeping, simplistic statements about Indigenous issues; it presents characters and imagery and invites you to draw your own conclusions.
Following a mid-afternoon set of the band’s The song was written by Alistair McKay, who does the bulk of songwriting with childhood friend Rupert Edwards. But Dick Diver, who play this month’s St Jerome’s Laneway Festival, has become a more collaborative affair over the years. Drummer Steph Hughes (who also plays in Boomgates) and Montfort himself (who splits his time between “six to seven bands” – from the scratchy folk of Lower Plenty to the electro-punk of Total Control) contribute songs as well. On stage, it’s an endearingly awkward blend of instrument-swapping and in-jokes, but somehow they pull it off. And they’re getting better with each record, Montfort reckons.
more languid material from their two albums – 2011’s New Start Again and last year’s Calendar “The early Dick Diver stuff was really chilled out – I don’t know what we were going for back then. But now we want to write a sick song like [Cold Chisel’s] Flame Trees.”
Days – Montfort ditched his bass, grabbed a mic and posed a question to the While Dick Diver haven’t had the same success as Chapter Music labelmates Twerps in the States, Calendar Days has solidified their cult status locally. The album was recorded by Montfort’s Total Control bandmate Mikey Young in a holiday house in Philip Island, Victoria. “It maybe sounds arrogant, but we were really chuffed on it,” says Montfort of the Calendar Days sessions. “Because New Start Again was real popular, we hoped Chapter Music wouldn’t lose a whole lot of money if they did a big pressing. We gave ourselves a real pat on the back afterwards.”
crowd. Calendar Days topped the Guardian’s list of the best Australian albums of 2013, and has been met with near unanimous praise from critics. But Montfort says they’re trying not to let the plaudits go to their heads.
“Do you wanna hear some poetry?” he asked, rhetorically, “We all have full-time jobs besides Dick Diver, so if we were making music for anyone else, we’d be failing miserably,” he jokes. That’s right – the band held up as poster children of dolewave have actual real-life jobs.
to an unanimous roar. “I get so tired of the fashion, the fascism. It makes me “I think it’s hilarious,” Montfort says of the genre, which has come to define the kind of jangly-pop bands you’d meet in a line at the Centrelink office in Darebin. “I always rile Rupert up about it, because I think he gets a bit more offended, but I find it funny. It’s such a funny name for a genre … I hope it takes off.”
wanna go out there and try a little smash-ism!” With that, Dick Diver launched
into Head Back, the cult closing track from New Start Again. It’s become an almost unofficial anthem for this
festival, and they delivered it with all the sloppy charm you’d expect from a
band that unwillingly pioneered a made-up genre called “dolewave”.
This time,
however, they served it up with a twist: Four friends doing an interpretative
dance about climate change, wearing cardboard box masks of Donald Trump, Clive Palmer,
Gina Rinehart and Rupert Murdoch. Not to be outdone, Montfort led the crowd in
a “fuck Kochie!” chant aimed at Sunrise host David Koch, before honking a sax while flanked by the dancers who by
then were costumed as colourful birds. It all ended with a boot to Gina
Rinehart’s cardboard face and a parting message: “Ditch Clive. Ditch Napthine.
Ditch Abbott. Ditch the Queen.” Phew!
“I didn’t want people to feel too comfy,”
reflects Montfort later, describing his saxophone antics as
a “wimpy Fela Kuti moment”. As for why Koch was the target of his rage, his answer is simple: “He’s a
conservative dog.”
This is Dick Diver; a Melbourne bands that
brings together humour, self-deprecation, Australian kitsch and addictive melodies like few before it. While their records are not as overtly political
as their onstage antics at Meredith, there’s a sense of cultural agitation –
an inherent uncomfortableness with what it means to be Australian – that runs
through their music. There’s the poor punter gambling his life away on Keno. There’s the Centrelink scammer
that fakes an injury to stay on benefits on New
Start Again. On the new record Calendar
Days, there are references to IGA supermarkets and Safeway delis, Fitness
Firsts and stacks of TV Weeks.
“It’s natural,” says Montfort of the
Australian references. “We don’t make an effort to write a song about going
down to Melbourne Central, or something – it’s what we know … It would be weird
to write about Tompkins Square Park in New York or somewhere in Tokyo, because
we’ve never been there.”
The album’s first single Alice isn’t about a girl called Alice,
but Alice Springs, and the coming together of “Arrernte and white”. It doesn’t make sweeping, simplistic statements
about Indigenous issues; it presents characters and imagery and invites you to
draw your own conclusions.
The song was
written by Alistair McKay, who does the bulk of songwriting with
childhood
friend Rupert Edwards. But Dick Diver, who play this month’s St Jerome’s
Laneway Festival, has become a
more collaborative affair
over the years. Drummer Steph Hughes (who also plays in Boomgates) and
Montfort
himself (who splits his time between “six to seven bands” – from the
scratchy
folk of Lower Plenty to the electro-punk of Total Control) contribute
songs as
well. On stage, it’s an endearingly awkward blend of instrument-swapping
and
in-jokes, but somehow they pull it off. And they’re getting
better with each record, Montfort reckons.
“The early Dick
Diver stuff was really chilled out – I don’t know what we were going for back
then. But now we want to write a sick song like [Cold Chisel’s] Flame Trees.”
While Dick Diver
haven’t had the same success as Chapter Music labelmates Twerps in the
States, Calendar Days has solidified their cult
status locally. The album was recorded by Montfort’s Total Control
bandmate
Mikey Young in a holiday house in Philip Island, Victoria. “It maybe
sounds
arrogant, but we were really chuffed on it,” says Montfort of the
Calendar Days sessions. “Because New Start Again was real popular, we
hoped Chapter Music wouldn’t lose a whole lot of money if they did a big
pressing. We gave ourselves a real pat on the back afterwards.”
Calendar Days topped the Guardian’s list of
the best Australian albums of 2013, and has been met with near unanimous praise
from critics. But Montfort says they’re trying not to let the plaudits go to
their heads.
“We all have
full-time jobs besides Dick Diver, so if we were making music for anyone else,
we’d be failing miserably,” he jokes. That’s right –
the band held up as poster children of dolewave have actual real-life jobs.
“I think it’s
hilarious,” Montfort says of the genre, which has come to define the kind of jangly-pop
bands you’d meet in a line at the Centrelink office in Darebin. “I always rile
Rupert up about it, because I think he gets a bit more offended, but I find it
funny. It’s such a funny name for a genre … I hope it takes off.”