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www.fasterlouder.com.au

Cold Chisel tour

Cold Chisel have announced a massive 26 date trek that will kick off in October and finish on the first weekend of December and take the band from Darwin to Hobart and from Coffs Harbour to Margaret River. Support on the tour comes from You Am I, Even, Stonefield, Grinspoon and Dan Sultan.

The ‘Light The Nitro’ tour is the biggest tour for Chisel in nearly 30 years and coinciding with the announcement of the tour all of the band’s recordings, including 56 rare and previously unreleased tracks, have been made available digitally for the first time. The Cold Chisel back catalogue has also been newly remastered and repackaged with bonus DVDs containing rare and previously unreleased footage.

Jimmy Barnes says that the plans for the tour and reissues began nearly two years ago when the band played a one-off show to over 50,000 people at Sydney’s Olympic Stadium. “We got such a buzz from that gig that it made all of us really want to get our act together. We wanted to do things properly though because we know this band means a lot to a lot of people – especially us! So we had to do it right. That meant taking time to find lots of cool unreleased stuff and getting the albums looking and sounding great. It also meant making all the music available everywhere that people might want to get it these days. We agreed that once that was sorted we’d go out and play all those songs right around Australia and New Zealand in a way that we haven’t really done since the early 80s.”

The death of the group’s drummer, Steve Prestwich, in January briefly halted the plans, but keyboardist Don Walker says that when the band finally sat down to talk about it they realised they all felt the same way – “Steve was really keen on seeing all these things happen. We all felt it would have been wrong to just walk away from the plans we’d started together.” Charley Drayton (Keith Richards, B52’s, Divinyls) will be behind the kit for the Light The Nitro tour and one fifth of tour profits will go to Steve Prestwich’s children.

Cold Chisel ‘Light The Nitro’ tour:

Thursday 13 October – Newcastle Panthers (with Even)
Wednesday 19 October – Townsville Entertainment Centre (with You Am I)
Friday 21 October – Cairns Showgrounds (with You Am I)
Sunday 23 October – Botanic Gardens Amphitheatre, Darwin (with You Am I)
Wednesday 26 October – Mackay Showgrounds (with You Am I)
Thursday 27 October – Rockhampton Showgrounds (with You Am I)
Saturday 29 October – Stockland Park, Sunshine Coast (with Grinspoon)
Sunday 30 October – Gold Coast Convention Centre (with You Am I)
Tuesday 1 November – Brisbane Entertainment Centre (with You Am I)
Friday 4 November – Stadium Drive Hockey Fields, Coffs Harbour (with You Am I)
Saturday 5 November – Robert Oatley Vineyards, Mudgee (with You Am I, Stonefield)
Monday 7 November – Tamworth Regional Entertainment Centre (with You Am I)
Thursday 10 November – Acer Arena, Sydney (with You Am I)
Saturday 12 November – Bimbadgen Winery, Hunter Valley (with Dan Sultan, Stonefield)
Sunday 13 November – WIN Entertainment Centre, Wollongong (with You Am I)
Tuesday 15 November – Sydney Entertainment Centre (with You Am I)
Thursday 17 November – AIS Arena, Canberra (with You Am I)
Friday 18 November – Gateway Lakes, Wodonga (with You Am I)
Saturday 19 November – Rochford Wines, Yarra Valley (with You Am I, Stonefield)
Tuesday 22 November – Derwent Entertainment Centre, Hobart (with You Am I)
Thursday 24 November – Rod Laver Arena, Melbourne (with You Am I)
Saturday 26 November – Sandalford Estate, Margaret River (guest TBA)
Sunday 27 November – Belvoir Amphitheatre, Perth (guest TBA)
Tuesday 29 November – Adelaide Entertainment Centre (with You Am I)
Friday 2 December – TSB Arena, Wellington (guest TBA)
Saturday 3 December – Vector Arena, Auckland (guest TBA)

Tickets onsale from 9.00am on Thursday 4th August

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berlinchair101

berlinchair101 said on the 10th Nov, 2011

For those interested in a laugh - A review of You Am I's opening set that appeared in Townsville's local paper and the Timmy Rogers' letter to the editor in response.

Not cold so much as chiselled
Amanda Gray - October 21, 2011

THIS week Townsville was lucky enough to be graced with one of Aussie rock's legendary bands, Cold Chisel.

How excited was I to go along with two good mates for the first show on Tuesday night to see Barnsey in the flesh and Ian Moss rule a guitar in a way that is only second to AC/DC's Angus in my books?

I'll tell you how excited ... almost wet my pants excited! (For the record I didn't though. I did contain myself, promise).

What a great band, with classic tunes the crowd sang along to wholeheartedly, with the various generations in attendance having grown up with them, on them and perhaps now into them.

The only disappointing thing about the evening for me was the support band, You Am I.

Now before diehard fans of theirs set to bombard my email with "don't you know who they think they are?", can I just say if a band is truly driven on talent alone none of the following is required:

1. Spruiking one's delusional belief of a high level of attractiveness to the opposite sex

2. Heckling the same crowd with jeers of "I'll be the one your girlfriend is thinking about later on tonight, buddy".

3. And worse, feeling the need to "F-bomb" your way through your set to distract us from the fact you really do sound so bad live.

I don't want to be 100 per cent anti-"You Am I" - Tim Rogers can play a mean guitar and I used to love their song Berlin Chair ... used to being the operative wording here.

But when Jimmy himself brought old mate out and said how great he was and how ecstatic he was to have him on the road with him, I seriously had to wonder if JB was back on the vodka again.

I spotted Tim on Thursday morning in the mall, while discussing with colleagues how badly each of us wanted to tell him we wanted half our ticket money back ... I almost felt sorry for the poor bugger.

He swaggered in to Flinders Square probably expecting that guy's girlfriend to come out of nowhere and say "yes, yes I was thinking of you that night with my man".

Alas, it was not to be.

Sorry, Tim.



And Tim's response

MS Gray,
I was enjoying a good strong coffee whilst reading your editorial Friday (TB, Oct 21) lambasting my performance with our band You Am I, supporting Cold Chisel in Townsville.

The timing was unfortunate for me because I found great coffee on tour (never particularly easy) and the folks giggling opposite the table from me had obviously read it too.

Times like this I wish I had a thicker skin . . . however, I need to make clear to you my writing to you has nothing at all to do with whether you think our band is rubbish or that I am a complete tool.

Our band has, as our heroes, acts that were never universally loved, and at times, or for their entire ``careers'', exist somewhere on the fringes of popular taste, and we accept gladly that occasionally sloppy rock'n'roll with a questionable singer won't be to most people's tastes.
However, we do adore making this racket and have toured the world for 22 years with this humble self-satisfaction intact.

My concern is that your editorial could be read that I don't appreciate our very fortunate position, and that I'm abusive to crowds.
The gentleman who was shouting out to me and I responded with the line about ``paying attention or else his partner . . . etc'' is pure hokum from Entertainment 101, and if I thought the people involved would take ``real'' offence I'd watch my words more carefully. Possibly.

To my mind, going on stage and resuscitating standard stage banter like ``you guys are great'' is dull and condescending. Because I look like I fell out of a garbage truck, backwards, to talk with sexual bravado is a surreal little windup I presumed that most folks would understand.
If I had the chiselled looks and complexion of many of my contemporaries, the chutzpah wouldn't at all be an in-joke between myself and the crowd, just dull.

I furthermore have no interest in pursuing someone's partner.
If that is not obvious to an audience maybe I'm better looking than I think, and will just have to reappraise my position.
My favourite memory of Townsville is flying in on a small plane (the roads were flooded) to play a show post-floods, late '90s. The crowd was so appreciative and, after an obviously heartbreaking week for the town, ready to let off some steam and enjoy this racket that we make.
We've always looked forward to the possibility of coming back.

Maybe that's why your editorial affected me. As I've said, we understand we're never going to ``win over'' many people because the men and women we look up to could barely fill a bathroom with their fans. But they play beyond their limitations and extol the virtues of sin and salvation.

The bad language I let fly is a result of complete rejoice. It is so bewilderingly exciting at times to play this music.
I agree with you, f*** so often is not intelligent, and tiring, and I've really gotta make up some new words to promote how f***in great it feels most nights to play.

Lastly, any inference that my great friend and mentor Jimmy Barnes is slamming down alcohol right now is quite irresponsible.
No man I know has worked harder to get himself to a point like this where he's healthy, happy, and giving more than 110 per cent every night. It fascinates me and he's rightly proud.

He is a whip-smart man who has made judgments and decisions about who he spends his time with sagely. Once again it was an enormous pleasure to play Townsville. In between the good coffee, great lil' bookstore (Mary Who's?) and everyone we ran into in pubs or on the street just solidifies my opinions on why our band feel privileged to play there.

Despite wanting half your money back I think it was entirely worth the money just for Cold Chisel.
And I have to say, lastly, that I'm very glad music is being discussed in editorials in newspapers! But please there is no reason to ``feel sorry'' for me, because I'm doing, and have done for 22 years, music.
For which I consider myself the luckiest tool around.

My best to you.
TIM ROGERS

Brian B

Brian B said on the 15th Nov, 2011

Here's a nice piece written recently by John Birmingham on smh.com.au

Working class men who changed Oz rock
October 12, 2011

Opinion

http://images.smh.com.au/2011/10/12/2685877/729coldchisel-420x0.jpg
Cold Chisel in Sydney, 1978, from left: Ian Moss, Don Walker, Jimmy Barnes, Steve Prestwich and Phil Small.

Cold Chisel in Sydney, 1978, from left: Ian Moss, Don Walker, Jimmy Barnes, Steve Prestwich and Phil Small.

I had a story recently in Good Weekend about Cold Chisel, based very loosely on some liner notes I wrote for the digital re-release of Swingshift. But the piece wasn't available online unless you were accessing the mag through either The Age or the Herald's iPad app. I'm running it below for everyone on Twitter and Facebook who asked to see it because they couldn't get access on Saturday. Also included are three contributions I collected which didn't run with the story. Recollections of the band by possibly their greatest, and certainly most far flung fan, Mikko Turunen, by the foundation editor of Rolling Stone Australia, Toby Cresswell, and by long time guitar wrangler Richard Netes. My thanks to all of them for helping out. There's a strong language warning for Richard's piece.

...........

It wasn’t punk. It was better than that. Chisel might have smashed their instruments and ruined Molly Meldrum’s tea party, but at least they knew how to play those instruments. And they took control of a stage like an occupying force, not a jabbering, wilfully stupid rabble.
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My first real memory of Cold Chisel, one fixed in time and place – Sunday evening, sitting on the floor dipping toast soldiers into a soft boiled egg – remains the Count Down awards show, where they took an axe to settled conventions of Australian popular music after one verse of My Turn to Cry. I treasure the memory of my mother frowning in disapproval, “Oh I don’t think they should have done that.”

I was 15, and I loved it.

Everyone loved it in Ipswich. The band never set foot there. Never wrote about it in any of their songs, which was thought to be a significant absence, at least to those of us trapped in Ippy, because they seemed to have a tune for just about every other white, working class hellhole in the country. But it didn’t matter. Cold Chisel seemed to enjoy a deep understanding of life as it was lived wherever their music was popular. The line up wrenched itself, often violently, in and out various configurations before settling on the final five core members hailed from all over the continent, and all the way back to the UK in the case of working class migrant kids Barnes and Prestwich, a Scot and Scouser who came to blows more than once.

The tungsten hard alloy of Chisel was forged from those base metals, but tempered by the artisan skills they all brought to stage and studio. It serves us well to remember how different was the world into which they smashed their way in the late 1970s. The Sex Pistols, a second rate circus freak show by the standards of today, had taken to the MoR sensibilities of the music industry like a berserker with a warhammer to a discoball. They were thought to be a genuine threat to the order and good governance of the first world.

They weren’t. They couldn’t even tune the instruments with which they played at revolution. But while Chisel’s sweaty, two-fisted and aggressively uncompromising energy might have owed something to the tear down efforts of the punk backlash, it had something extra: credibility rooted firmly in artistic merit, rather than calculation and marketing. It also had an authentic basis in a culture not often thought of in cultural terms – the tough minded working class world of Australia’s outer suburbs.

Chisel’s albums were the tapes – yes, tapes – we slid into the maw of the car’s stereo system, assuming it was stereo, which mostly it wasn’t in those days. East, Swingshift, Breakfast at Sweethearts. Music than came compressed between dense of layers of aesthetic aggression, salted with ballads and odes to the existential gulf which yawned inside millions of blokes who didn’t even know they had an existential gulf. Even the punks at my high school took them more seriously than the Pistols because they could play and their songs seemed to mean something. Any one of us could have ended up doing the same sort of time as the narrator of Four Walls. Some of us did.

Music wasn’t something you routinely carried with you in those days, synched across have a dozen devices. The first bulky, hugely expensive Sony Walkman was released the same year as East, but it was just a tape player. We had to wait until 1984 for the CD version, that allowed you to skip from, say, Barnesy’s angry shrieking “You got nothin’ I want” to Ian Moss’s more thoughtful, but similarly uncompromising road trip epic, Bow River on Barking Spiders.

When we talked and argued and sometimes even fought – this being Ipswich – about the relative merits of Standing on the Outside, original studio version vs live performance on Spiders, we did so without having recourse to sharing the little white earbuds of iPods, or phones, or whatever myriad devices those songs can now be stored on. We huddled conspiratorially behind toilet blocks and bus stops, outside school dances, sometimes smoking, always swearing, in hot dispute about whether Mossy was a better songwriter than Don Walker, whether Steve Prestwich should have let John Farnham record When the War is Over – not just no, but hell no – and whether Jimmy really did smash down a bottle of vodka every night and have sex with a thousand women. Probably, was the consensus. Jimmy was a legend and a black belt, even if it was only a Zen Do Kai black belt.

Fighting, drinking and ripping it up, the Cold Chisel canon was a reliable reference work for young blokes beset by the iniquities of disco and new romantic hair cut bands. It was a band for the drinkers of beer and the smokers of Winfield Blue. A band for EH Holdens and Chiko rolls. A band that came from a time before MTV or mp3s or the atomisation of muscial taste that would make it all but impossible for one act to speak for all, even if only for a short time.

For me Chisel recalls parties that started out great, and went bad sometime after the last flagon of cheap wine was emptied.

Read more: http://www.smh.com.au/opinion/blogs/blunt-instrument/working-class-men-who-changed-oz-rock-20111012-1lkj7.html#ixzz1djpxqDJk

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