It’s a miserable day – what with clouds and gusts of wind and I’m in inner city Sydney fighting against the rain in my attempt to get to the Rustic Café in Surry Hills. It’s a quaint little friendly place, but that’s not my main concern…where the hell is the band? Where the hell is Daughterboy Jao?
I double-check the time; I double-check that I have the right place, but still no sign of them. As minutes etch by, I get increasingly worried. I order a latte [yes, I’m from the eastern suburbs] and then see the band’s lead vocalist and guitarist Oliver Jao Smith going through a door and walking up a staircase that has been hidden to me until now. Upstairs? There’s an upstairs? This is further proof of my idiocy, which so many have already pointed out throughout the years.
My unnecessary worrying has lost me my designated half-an-hour spot, but the accommodating publicists offer me the chance to wait around after the band have finished the other interviews. They also ask if I’d like anything from the café. A sandwich and a coffee would be nice, says I. Meanwhile the band’s bassist, Emma Forrest introduces herself and mentions that they’ll be glad to chat in a short while. Ah, the day’s suddenly looking all the better.
And it was certainly worth the wait. I appreciate their debut album Simple Matters (released in late March) even more now that I know that the people behind it are incredibly funny and maybe somewhat deranged. They even have a to-get list that would rival anything drawn up by American Foreign Affairs. Who’s on it, you’re wondering? Well, take it away Oliver…
“Dallas Crane, Davey Lane, Paul Mac, Keith Urban, Dermot Brereton, that Sydney red-haired prick Fatty [host of the Footy show, Paul Vautin], the X-Factor… I’ve given a one free punch offer to anyone who doesn’t like us. If anyone has a problem with us, they can sort it out with me.”
Emma jumps in at this point and tells Oliver to add in Natalie Imbruglia. Dave the drummer, who’s looking a bit worn, suddenly pipes up and suggests the Federal Police and Customs.
“On the way over here today they stopped me, saying I had explosive residue and I told them to fuck off. Then they called the police on me.” Very rock and roll.
As I’m chatting to Dave about airport security, Emma begins climbing through the second-storey window before a staff member spots her and tells her not to do it.
“You can add that dude [pointing to aforementioned staff member] to your list as well,” Emma says grumpily.
Meanwhile Oliver’s disappeared somewhere, so I ask Emma about the many styles that’s to be found on the album.
“What can you hear?” she asks back.
I say a bit of garage, early punk, country and…
“Beatles and Lennon-like stuff?” she offers, “There is a lot of regurgitation. You know we’re not locked in a sound proof room.”
The album does seem to jump around from style and influence, but it’s done with such a playful honesty that it seems to end up as a very coherent piece and as one damn fine listen.
How about the next album though? Will it be settling largely on one style?
“Well, some people have said it sounds like a cross between The Eels and Elvis Costello.”
At this point, Oliver comes back from wherever he went and suggests the same but adds, “If they were in a mental institution.”
Emma and Dave start laughing. Then Emma notices that Oliver has drawn a teardrop in biro just under his right eye.
I lean forward to take a look. Sure enough he has, and it’s a pretty good job. Symmetrical and well coloured in. He must have been in the toilet looking in a mirror to do a job that good.
“I know it’s a weird thing to say, but Ollie’s voice is sounding more like him on the demos we’ve been doing for the new album. He’s gonna do some soul songs as well,” Emma continues.
White-boy soul, hey?
“Yup,” Oliver says looking quite pleased with himself and no doubt his handiwork on his facial artwork. He draws a seat and sits back down.
I wonder how the band’s gigs are, given that in person they seem to be slightly unhinged.
“We’ll be touring next month [April and May with End of Fashion and Faker]. It should be very energetic and dirty. We’ll throw in a misplaced and dirty ‘g’ every now and again. The slower songs become dirty and messed up. Something’s always bound to happen.”
Oh, really?
“Yeh, at Bar 161 in Prahran [Melbourne], Ollie broke two strings and didn’t have a replacement guitar. The drummer [who has since been replaced by the laidback Dave Nicholls] decided to do a double-kick drum solo and just kept going. We just walked off the stage. That’s when we knew he was out of the band,” Emma explains enthusiastically.
Unpredictability seems to be the name of the game for Daughterboy Jao.
Any last words before we part?
“50s Tupperware will be back in and 70s style frilly aprons as well,” Oliver suggests knowingly.
to listen to their music now on 