tag:theconversation.com,2011:/global/topics/countdown-13798/articlesCountdown – The Conversation2023-10-02T19:11:40Ztag:theconversation.com,2011:article/2138962023-10-02T19:11:40Z2023-10-02T19:11:40ZThe rise and ‘whimper-not-a-bang’ fall of Australia’s trailblazing rock press<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/550221/original/file-20230926-17-uy2ape.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C0%2C4000%2C1994&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption"></span> </figcaption></figure><p>People under 30 don’t need to care about – or even understand – this. But there really was a time when exposure to culture was mediated by curators who had far too much power over what we all saw, heard or experienced. </p>
<p>In the era before social media and widespread internet access, artists had no direct connection to their fanbases, and required whole distinct manifestations of media to communicate news of their activities, directions and products. </p>
<p>We had a film press, a television press, a literary press – and a music press. </p>
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<p><em>Review: Full Coverage – Samuel J. Fell (Monash University Press)</em></p>
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<p>I needed to read Samuel J. Fell’s <a href="https://publishing.monash.edu/product/full-coverage/">Full Coverage</a>, the first (and surely only) ever history of Australia’s rock press, for selfish reasons: I consider my tastes and values to have been significantly shaped by the phenomenon. </p>
<p>Over 300 pages, Fell surveys the development of local rock music coverage in (mainly national) magazines, stopping to inspect some of the eccentric and/or dedicated writers, editors and publishers who made the greatest impact along the way.</p>
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<p>My first music writing was published in Vox, the short-lived tabloid “muzpaper”, in 1980 – and I flitted at the edges for more than a decade afterwards. </p>
<p>In a “journalism” career I was lucky enough to bail from a few years before the internet began to bite, I was more involved in teenage (largely, pop-oriented) colour magazines than in the out-and-out rock press in Australia. Nonetheless, I would read rock publications voraciously and I never passed up the opportunity to contribute.</p>
<p>There are a lot of people named in this book I have met, befriended or worked for, in my ten or more years working in publishing in Sydney in the 1980s. In that regard, Fell’s narrative has a strange, dreamlike quality for me. </p>
<p>Reading Full Coverage, I learned some interesting background and connections between particular writers, editors and publishers – I gained a new historical understanding of the field. There were also things that Fell failed (or perhaps chose not) to include. </p>
<h2>Molly, Lily and Go-Set</h2>
<p>After some courageous short-lived forays, the Australian music press started in earnest in 1966 with the Melbourne-based Go-Set. Set up by university students, whose only prior experience was Monash University’s paper, Go-Set quickly filled a need for information and connection among pop fans. </p>
<p>Enthusiastic writers like Lily Brett, Ian (Molly) Meldrum, Johnny Young and Douglas Panther conveyed the inside story of the lives of musicians and celebrities, while maintaining a particular accessibility for their “teens and twenties” readers. </p>
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<p>Meldrum’s famous tale of being told by <a href="https://theconversation.com/john-lennons-imagine-at-50-a-deceptively-simple-ballad-a-lasting-emblem-of-hope-167444">John Lennon</a> that the Beatles were breaking up (Meldrum didn’t quite take it in, and it wasn’t until someone at Go-Set listened to the interview tape he sent back from London that the story “broke”) isn’t in this book. </p>
<p>But Brett’s testimony of the global pop stars – <a href="https://theconversation.com/on-the-50th-anniversary-of-her-death-janis-joplin-still-ignites-147097">Janis Joplin</a>, the Mamas and the Papas, <a href="https://theconversation.com/50-years-ago-jimi-hendrixs-woodstock-anthem-expressed-the-hopes-and-fears-of-a-nation-120717">Jimi Hendrix</a> – she talked to one-to-one gives us a sense of the importance the magazine held for its readership. </p>
<p>Go-Set’s publisher, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phillip_Frazer">Philip Frazer</a>, went on, in a haphazard way, to bring a Rolling Stone franchise to Australia. </p>
<p>“Stone”, as Fell and his informants insist on calling it, has been running locally ever since. In its early days, it coexisted with some key 1970s and 1980s tabloids, namely <a href="https://collections.artscentremelbourne.com.au/#browse=enarratives.1834">Juke</a> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rock_Australia_Magazine">Rock Australia Magazine</a>, popularly known as RAM. </p>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">Go-Set Four Corners.</span></figcaption>
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<p>In the early 1990s, a substantial part of the Rolling Stone staff, including Toby Creswell and Lesa-Belle Furhagen, broke with its publisher Philip Keir and set up their own magazine, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Juice_(Australian_magazine)">Juice</a>. Accounts vary among players about what led to the split. </p>
<p>Oddly, Fell muses on Juice’s similarity to the American <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spin_(magazine)">Spin</a> for many pages, before he notes that a proportion of its editorial was directly licensed from that publication. This was the case to the degree that the Spin logo was on the cover of early issues!</p>
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<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/molly-is-lacking-as-a-tv-show-but-millions-including-me-are-hooked-54471">Molly is lacking as a TV show but millions, including me, are hooked</a>
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<h2>Street papers: ‘uniquely Australian’</h2>
<p>The next format to crash down all assumptions about best music journalism models were the “street papers”, which Fell suggests were a uniquely Australian creation. Their extensive advertising revenue from venues, record companies and related industries allowed these publications to be provided at no cost. </p>
<p>The street paper killed RAM and Juke, not by being anywhere near as good, but far, far cheaper. The finale of Full Coverage is the whimper-not-a-bang decline of music-based print media in the face of social media, mercifully hastened by the pillow-on-the-face of Covid. </p>
<p>Fell loves the “street papers”, and one gets the sense he would happily have written about them alone. He does concede a lot less time went into them editorially, compared to those that cost money – like Juke or RAM (or Vox!). </p>
<p>But he doesn’t spend a lot of time on the obvious additional truth that the street papers’ editorial positions tended to be driven by the advertising dollar, which meant negativity was almost always absent from reviews. Indeed, advertising was really the only way to guarantee a feature or review. </p>
<p>I am reminded of a time when the editor of a street paper I occasionally wrote for declared a special issue, in which all writers would be permitted to opine freely on anything they wanted. The plan was later abandoned.</p>
<p>Fell explains a lot in this broad history, though he too often takes his informants at their word, and uses their words as his basis, I suspect, to construct his narrative. </p>
<p>He probably had no choice, given the unavailability of archives. Most of the publishers I worked for had no respect at all for legislation requiring copies of all published material to be presented to the relevant state library and the NLA. </p>
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<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/how-a-pot-smoking-acid-gobbling-smart-arse-became-the-producer-behind-some-of-australias-greatest-music-205744">How a 'pot-smoking, acid-gobbling smart-arse' became the producer behind some of Australia's greatest music</a>
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<h2>Undeniable soap operas</h2>
<p>He was surely dissuaded, probably by word-count considerations – but perhaps also by lawyers – from getting his hands dirty in the ins-and-outs of the personalities and behaviours of the individuals he’s writing about. What’s the word for respecting an author’s restraint, while wishing there was just a bit more goss within their pages? </p>
<p>Of course, there were many links between the producers of music magazines and the people they wrote about. By links, I don’t just mean romantic or domestic entanglements, though I do mean that, of course. There are also great, undeniable soap operas. </p>
<p>A public spat between <a href="https://theconversation.com/speaking-with-steve-kilbey-lead-singer-of-the-church-34751">Steve Kilbey</a> of The Church and music journalist <a href="https://theconversation.com/gudinski-by-stuart-coupe-is-a-fast-and-wild-tale-of-australias-music-industry-43838">Stuart Coupe</a> in the early 1980s springs to mind. </p>
<p>It would appear that Kilbey and Coupe spent a long time talking for a feature, during which Kilbey made some broad claims about his own genius. Coupe recorded the conversation and published some choice elements in RAM – to some derision from readers. (Though let’s be clear: Kilbey at his best is pretty good!) But no doubt there were hundreds more conflicts – some manufactured, others heartfelt – between artist and reporter/critic. </p>
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<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/friday-essay-under-the-milky-way-how-a-beautiful-accident-of-a-song-was-born-and-became-an-anthem-193095">Friday essay: Under the Milky Way – how a 'beautiful accident' of a song was born and became an anthem</a>
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<p>Similarly, Fell either doesn’t know or doesn’t care about the connection between the music press and TV, which was strong. Channel 0/10 shows, such as <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uptight_(TV_series)">Uptight</a> in the late 1960s, featured content and tie-ins with the “teens and twenties” magazine Go-Set. </p>
<p>Michael Gudinski’s failed foray with the early 1970s paper <a href="http://www.milesago.com/press/daily-planet.htm">(Daily) Planet</a> was repeated with a TV show, WROK, a decade later – in both cases, Gudinski failed to understand the difference between advertising and journalism. Nor does Fell mention <a href="https://youtu.be/cFS06jMlIio?si=v83a33rsgDKh_p56">the tragically hilarious “burial” of Go-Set</a> following its demise, broadcast on the ABC kids’ show Flashez in the mid-1970s.</p>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">The ‘burial’ of Go Set, staged by Stephen McLean, Daryl Nugent and photographer Philip Morris in 1974.</span></figcaption>
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<p>Then there are careers like that of radio announcer, pop singer and jockey <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Donnie_Sutherland">Donnie Sutherland</a>. Fell remarks on Sutherland’s induction into the world of Go-Set, but doesn’t mention his subsequent 12-year career as host of Sounds on Channel 7 – which is how most readers would remember him. </p>
<p>Fell also touches on Countdown magazine briefly, as a tie-in between Australia’s best known and (still) best loved TV pop show. But he hardly mentions the magazine’s content: Countdown used its biggest advantage – that the show was incredibly popular and any magazine called Countdown was going to sell – to go outside musical coverage and engage with its readers’ lives, opinions and politics. </p>
<p>More generally, it needs to be noted that, of course, context can get out of control. Personally, though, I could have handled the sacrifice of some of the half-remembered accounts of ins and outs of owners and editors, in return for more discussion of the publications’ content and impact. </p>
<p>No doubt Fell has a life, and lives can easily be frittered away reading old music magazines. But discussion, for instance, of <a href="https://jennyvalentish.com/2014/08/jenny-interviews-jen-jewel-brown/">Jen Jewel Brown</a>’s piece for the early 1970s Daily Planet on the tribulations of being a woman writing about music would have revealed plenty. </p>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">AC/DC interviewed by Molly Meldrum on Countdown.</span></figcaption>
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<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/friday-essay-punks-legacy-40-years-on-60633">Friday essay: punk's legacy, 40 years on</a>
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<h2>Smash Hits and Rolling Stone</h2>
<p>Back to the topic of Countdown: Fell pays its competitor, Australian <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Smash_Hits">Smash Hits</a>, minimal notice. I worked for this magazine (primarily as features editor) between 1984 and 1991. While most definitely a music magazine, it really isn’t in Fell’s terrain. Its readers ranged from the very young to the mid-teens – they were more into “pop” than “rock”. </p>
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<p>But I do believe to suggest Smash Hits was “struggling” in the mid-to-late 1980s, as Fell does, is a misrepresentation: it had its ups and downs, but it was the national market leader in music magazines for at least ten years after its launch in 1984, outselling all others. In short, it was the leading music magazine of its era, and someone is feeding Fell misinformation. </p>
<p>That it sold the most is not an argument for the magazine’s quality, of course, though it had its moments. I mention this because it speaks once again to the problem with dependence on oral history: given the long-ago demise or sell-off of various publishers, historical sales figures are largely unattainable and subject to the vagaries of memory. Fell didn’t talk to anyone from (or even really about) Australian Smash Hits. </p>
<p>Which only leaves the elephant in the room. </p>
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<p>Rolling Stone has, of course, a 50-year history in Australia. Whereas Australian Smash Hits was often criticised for including content from its British parent, the first decade of Rolling Stone in this country was typically little more than a distillation of old cut-and-pastes from the American magazine. (Fell alludes to this, but doesn’t mind.) </p>
<p>Rolling Stone was often a shambles, and Fell appropriately gives the most space to its best era, under Kathy Bail’s editorship, when a few great moments – the Paul Keating cover most of all – brought it dangerously close to relevance. </p>
<p>Fell discusses the defection of key players, which led to Bail’s recruitment by publisher Philip Keir. And he gives credit to Keir and Bail for recognising the importance the internet was going to play in media, moving towards the 21st century. </p>
<h2>‘I thought it was sci-fi nonsense’</h2>
<p>No one could have imagined the changes afoot, of course, but I take my hat off to Keir for seeing it more clearly than most of us. I spent time with him for a few weeks in the mid-1990s while he employed me to work up another publication for his stable – and he availed me of his knowledge of, and passion for, the possibilities of online publishing. </p>
<p>I was impressed that he believed it, but I thought it was sci-fi nonsense. In less than ten years, as you know, the whole landscape of print media was lacerated. </p>
<p>Of course, there is still a music press: look at the preposterously overblown global influence of <a href="https://pitchfork.com/">Pitchfork</a>, for instance. In Australia, the music press only takes print form in the most boutique of varieties, <a href="https://efficientspace.bandcamp.com/merch/enthusiasms-issue-02-issue-03-bundle">like Melbourne magazine Efficient Space</a>. A whole social realm, a way of understanding a culture, is gone. Is that bad? </p>
<p>Ironically, online resources can help us understand whether it is or not – for instance, the University of Wollongong’s repository of the best 1970s-80s rock magazine of them all, Adelaide’s <a href="https://archivesonline.uow.edu.au/nodes/view/3493/">Roadrunner</a>. </p>
<p>If Fell’s book doesn’t entirely convey why Australian rock journalism was worth the candle, the six years of Donald Robertson’s witty, passionate, innovative paper just might.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/213896/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>David Nichols does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>David Nichols was a music journalist for more than a decade, starting in 1980. Samuel J. Fell’s new history of Australian rock writing takes him down memory lane.David Nichols, Professor of Urban Planning, The University of MelbourneLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1433502020-08-06T05:29:20Z2020-08-06T05:29:20ZPaul Kelly biography traces his journey but not his work with young artists today<p><em>Review: Paul Kelly: The Man, the Music and Life in Between (Hatchette)</em></p>
<p>Stuart Coupe’s new biography of Paul Kelly takes many known elements of Kelly’s story and rouses them again. <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/54493580-paul-kelly?from_search=true&from_srp=true&qid=nmIn1Qx8Tz&rank=1">Paul Kelly: The Man, the Music and Life in Between</a> reads the way a Kelly cover version sounds: familiar, but also a bit disorienting. </p>
<p>Old school music fans might go to the liner notes first – in this case the back cover and acknowledgements. Both detail the insights Coupe has drawn from others: hundreds of interviews, including Kelly himself and over 80 people thanked in the acknowledgements. </p>
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<p>It’s a who’s who of Australian music from the last few decades – Archie Roach, Kasey Chambers, Kev Carmody, Vika and Linda Bull and Neil Finn – but not too many younger voices. Coupe’s emphasis is on how Kelly became, rather than who he is today.</p>
<p>The impressive interview list provides the choir that sings this cover version. Each person adds an extra layer: a solo to recall a key memory of Kelly as a band member, collaborator, business partner.</p>
<p>As Kelly’s former manager, Coupe also chimes in with his own testimony.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/listening-to-songs-of-leonard-cohen-singing-sadness-to-sadness-in-these-anxious-times-142661">Listening to Songs of Leonard Cohen: singing sadness to sadness in these anxious times</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>If I could start today again</h2>
<p>Large parts of Kelly’s early career have been lost to time, with records not added to the master log. </p>
<p>Particular casualties are his first two albums with The Dots, Talk (1981) and Manila (1982). Coupe’s interviews do however explore singles like Billy Baxter and Alive and Well, which have been left out of subsequent Kelly histories, including <a href="https://open.spotify.com/album/2kmbLohyHyFyeIb684f6rA">best of compilations</a> and Kelly’s 2018 <a href="https://www.penguin.com.au/books/how-to-make-gravy-9780143795995#:%7E:text=A%20memoir%20in%20a%20hundred,rights%20to%20cricket%20and%20cooking.">autobiography</a>.</p>
<p>As Kelly explains it: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>When I gained control of my work in the late nineties I simply chose not to make them available anymore. It wasn’t the fault of the bands on those records. It was me.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Studio recordings of this time are now hard to come by (as Coupe and his colleagues lament), though a few iconic <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0250846/">Countdown</a> snippets linger on.</p>
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<p>The 1982 Countdown performance of Alive and Well captures the perspectives of some of Coupe’s interviewees. Kelly is working in collaboration, but also keen to draw the spotlight for himself. He is rake thin. Is this youth’s blessed metabolism, or the drug use many remember throughout the book?</p>
<p>The Paul Kelly he became in terms of sound and songwriting is here, but some of the interviews in Coupe’s book make the wobble of his head and unsteadiness of his gait hard to ignore. </p>
<h2>Look so fine, feel so low</h2>
<p>References to Kelly’s use of heroin in the past appear repeatedly in the biography. Fans will be curious to know how drugs influenced Kelly’s actual music, however Coupe doesn’t focus on Kelly’s writing process in this way. Some details are there, but nothing as forensic as Kelly has already offered himself in terms of craft and context. Instead, Coupe focuses on the machinations of the music industry.</p>
<p>As a songwriter, Kelly’s value was seen early. Accounts by Mushroom Records alumni and other associates from the early 1980s, show how his writing talent was privileged despite his unsteady performance style. </p>
<p>Still, Kelly’s songs were so popular so quickly that there was money to be made. Although many of the musicians in the book were left by the wayside as Kelly moved from project to project, his publisher continued to benefit. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/death-beauty-and-poetry-come-together-in-ancient-rain-66986">Death, beauty and poetry come together in Ancient Rain</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Deeper water</h2>
<p>The biography brings readers to the present day, including the 2019 <a href="https://musicfeeds.com.au/gig/paul-kellys-making-gravy-the-domain-sydney-14-12-19/">How To Make Gravy concert in the Domain</a> in Sydney and his 2020 album releases (<a href="https://www.nme.com/en_au/news/music/paul-kelly-releases-surprise-new-album-forty-days-2685021#:%7E:text=Paul%20Kelly%20has%20released%20a,he's%20performed%20while%20in%20quarantine.">one in lockdown, and with Paul Grabowsky</a>). </p>
<p>However, it would have been nice to see Coupe explore Kelly’s continued association with youth broadcaster Triple J and the newer artists and audiences who find him via contemporary collaborations. </p>
<p>Kelly’s 2016 collaboration with AB Original and Dan Sultan for Triple J’s Like A Version remains as much a step up for Kelly as it does for the younger musicians. </p>
<p>A reworking of Dumb Things, Kelly’s anthem (and his art) is sampled into a new context. Its energy is breathtaking. </p>
<p>How many teenagers discovered Kelly for the first time after this? </p>
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<p>As well, the 2019 collaboration with Dan Sultan on Every Day My Mother’s Voice shows the fundamental connection Kelly continues to make with new audiences and artists – only vaguely referenced as “the Adam Goodes song” by Paul Luscombe in Coupe’s book. </p>
<p>While of, course, there had to be an end to Coupe’s address book, a bit more on these more recent and younger collaborators would strengthen this story and tell us more about where Kelly is going, not just where he has been.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/why-scott-morrisons-white-male-music-playlists-matter-106522">Why Scott Morrison's white, male music playlists matter</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/143350/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Liz Giuffre does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Paul Kelly’s former manager draws on hundreds of interviews for his biography of the singer.Liz Giuffre, Senior Lecturer in Communication, University of Technology SydneyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/839632017-09-14T23:58:05Z2017-09-14T23:58:05ZCountdown - just nostalgia, or still breaking new ground?<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/185951/original/file-20170914-6564-1y6q0on.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Shirley from Skyhooks in Countdown</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">ABC</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Audiences of a certain age still gush about Countdown, the ABC’s music show that ran between 1974 and 1987. The ritual of sitting down to watch the ABC at 6pm on a Sunday (and maybe again for the Saturday repeat) is one that many remember fondly. The lucky might catch old Countdown episodes during music video program Rage’s popular summer series, also an event worth setting the recorder for. Either way, the idea of setting aside time to commune with a TV show based on a particular time slot is an experience that the YouTube generation can scarcely get their heads around.</p>
<p>The ABC will be recreating this experience in 13 “<a href="http://www.abc.net.au/tv/programs/classic-countdown/">Classic Countdown</a>” episodes - one per year - from September 17 at 6pm (with repeats the following Saturday). </p>
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<p>When Countdown debuted on the ABC November 8 1974, television had only been in Australia for about 20 years. The medium was still relatively new and audiences across the nation were still divided by distance as well as access. The ABC lead the way in creating strong networks across regions in a way that commercial outlets couldn’t (or weren’t interested) in duplicating.</p>
<p>Countdown’s emergence in the 1970s was part of a perfect storm. Young people were being included in the national conversation in a way they hadn’t quite been before (including the lowering of the voting age from 21 to 18), while a renewed interest in local production and creative output was emerging. Other music television programs like Kommotion, Young Talent Time, Six O’Clock Rock and the long-enduring Bandstand did feature Australians, but often in supporting roles. Instead, Countdown, lead by talent co-ordinator Ian “Molly” Meldrum, was intent on fostering the local industry beyond cover versions and imitation acts.</p>
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<p>Ian Meldrum began in the Australian music industry as a print journalist for the Melbourne based (then nationally circulated) pop culture magazine Go-Set. Launched in 1966 by university students, the magazine soon gained significant attention, not just for its pioneering approach but because of its clever cross-industry promotion.</p>
<p>Wrapped up in this was Meldrum – first as a young journalist and commentator, and then for a while as a performer on music television shows like Kommotion and Uptight. Convinced to be part of the medium because “it would be good for Go-Set”, it was during this time a mini-Molly cult first began to develop. There was no hiding his sheer love of pop music and shameless fandom for all that was good in the genre.</p>
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<p>Meldrum’s influence developed sharply once Countdown found its audience. Still working as a DJ as well as writer, his ear for the next big thing was what the show and its viewers relied on. It was also what a nervous local industry waited on, with his endorsement (“Do yourself a favour”) seemingly making or breaking a release. Shamelessly trying to avoid any form of musical snobbery, he did his best to champion what he genuinely considered to be the best of the form.</p>
<p>Molly’s charm on Countdown, as it had been earlier, was his enthusiasm. It’s an approach that made him something of a laughing stock with television professionals – but made those at home love him more. He wasn’t slick like his US and UK counterparts, and instead often became visibly nervous and excited. Even watching again now you can’t help but empathise with him. It was (and still is) bloody charming.</p>
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<p>Is there anything new left to say about Countdown?</p>
<p>It’s easy to assume that Countdown is just a nostalgia piece. But there’s still a lot to be learned from the show and its success. Australian music has been given little moments in the (television) sun since the 1970s and 80s, but nothing quite with the same impact. These days artists and audiences are much less naïve to the machinations of the industry - something that can leave us all a little stale in terms of innovation and experimentation.</p>
<p>Countdown’s legacy, and continued lesson, lies not just in the high profile success pieces like AC/DC, Skyhooks, Olivia Newton-John and Marcia Hines. Watching back again, the real lessons lie in the diversity of people and sounds that were featured. The lesson is the kids dancing down the front busy just losing themselves in the pleasure of music. These same kids then went to school or uni or work (or better, the record store) the next day to continue to support the local industry. At least a few who are in the industry now got their first inspiration by watching people, just like them, having a go.</p>
<p>There are also lessons to be gained from the apparent “bumbling” of Molly. He may have “ummed” and “ahhed” during interviews, but you could never deny his belief in the artists he was speaking to. He championed the “big hits” but also the underdogs and “not quite there yet” artists. Especially local artists who didn’t quite look or sound like they belonged anywhere else - and that difference was what made them so fantastic.</p>
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<p>So - when you’re digging into the archive and enjoying the Countdown of old, also do a little searching and take a chance on the next local mould breaker. Go on, do yourself a favour.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/83963/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
Audiences of a certain age still gush about Countdown, the ABC’s music show that ran between 1974 and 1987. The ritual of sitting down to watch the ABC at 6pm on a Sunday (and maybe again for the Saturday…Liz Giuffre, Senior Lecturer in Communication, University of Technology SydneyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/541172016-02-04T22:41:02Z2016-02-04T22:41:02ZHow will ‘Molly’ help us remember Australian culture?<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/110377/original/image-20160204-3006-11fskno.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Samuel Johnson will play Molly Meldrum in Channel 7 miniseries Molly. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Image courtesy of Channel 7. </span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Ian “Molly” Meldrum is undeniably one of the great icons of Australian popular culture, one of the most recognisable figures in our television and music cultures. </p>
<p>The unique place he holds in the hearts of Australians was demonstrated clearly in the outpouring of affection and concern following his <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2011-12-15/man-rushed-to-hospital-after-ladder-fall/3733838">life-threatening fall in 2011</a> (and his <a href="http://www.news.com.au/entertainment/music/molly-meldrum-returns-to-hospital-with-growing-concerns-his-condition-is-more-serious-than-first-thought/news-story/d0d2405203fccd3dc9bbc83f4806c9a8">more recent fall in Thailand</a>).</p>
<p>So it is not surprising that following on the heels of their successful <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt3150144/">INXS mini-series</a> last year, Channel 7 has chosen Molly as the subject of another music-based series, <a href="https://au.tv.yahoo.com/plus7/molly/">starting this Sunday</a>. </p>
<p>Before it airs, it is worth pausing to consider how series such as this construct a version of the past, how this influences collective memory, and how they offer opportunities to challenge or reinforce social orthodoxies. </p>
<p>Entertainment based on events from the past is, clearly, not the same as history. Real life rarely translates exactly into a mini-series or movie, and needs lots of editing to fit into the beginning-middle-end, journey-undertaken narrative form that audiences are used to. </p>
<p>And while audiences are well aware that what they are watching is not “real”, for those with little knowledge of the events being portrayed they can be <a href="http://www.livescience.com/27364-oscars-innacurate-historical-films.html">taken as truth</a>. Inevitably some events are emphasised and others left out, reinforcing for those watching what – and whose – stories are important to tell. </p>
<p>So whose, and what, stories will we be seeing in <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt4158318/">Molly</a>?</p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/110376/original/image-20160204-3020-1l2as4n.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/110376/original/image-20160204-3020-1l2as4n.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/110376/original/image-20160204-3020-1l2as4n.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=515&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/110376/original/image-20160204-3020-1l2as4n.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=515&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/110376/original/image-20160204-3020-1l2as4n.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=515&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/110376/original/image-20160204-3020-1l2as4n.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=647&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/110376/original/image-20160204-3020-1l2as4n.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=647&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/110376/original/image-20160204-3020-1l2as4n.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=647&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Samuel Johnson has said it was touch to find ‘the truth’ of Molly Meldrum.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Image courtesy of Channel 7.</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>One possible answer might be found by looking at the <a href="http://liberation.com.au/molly-the-soundtrack-to-the-tv-mini-series-out-now/">soundtrack to the series</a>. These types of fictionalised histories can have specific effects on how we remember and think about music – a factor that is especially relevant in this case. Particular types of music can come to be seen as emblematic of particular time periods because of the way they are used in movies and television. </p>
<p>One example is the way the Vietnam war and rock and protest artists such as Hendrix and the Doors have become so closely associated, partly through the use of this music in films such as <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0078788/">Apocalypse Now</a> (1979) and <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0093105/">Good Morning Vietnam</a> (1987), and series such as <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0092468/">Tour of Duty</a> (1987-1990). That’s despite the actual music soldiers listened to being <a href="http://www.pastemagazine.com/articles/2015/11/we-gotta-get-out-of-this-place-the-soundtrack-of-t.html">far more diverse</a>. </p>
<p>So the soundtracks to series and films can become the <em>de facto</em> soundtrack to the past in collective memories, and can influence canon formation.</p>
<p>Given that we know that one of the things that the popular music– and particularly rock – canon tends to do is exclude <a href="http://search.informit.com.au/documentSummary;dn=076712924284030;res=IELAPA">women and people of colour</a>, the music used in a series such as Molly provides an opportunity to either reinforce or counteract that trend. </p>
<p>The soundtrack to the Molly series is <a href="http://themusic.com.au/news/all/2015/11/25/molly-soundtrack-is-the-best-thing-since-ripper-76/">expansive</a> – 60 tracks over three CDs, the last of which is touted as curated by Meldrum himself. But a run-down of the 60 tracks listed on the soundtrack albums reveals a list overwhelmingly dominated by white males. </p>
<p>Blondie, the Divinyls, Lynne Redrum and Suzi Quatro are the only women who feature on the first two discs (although Madonna is also featured in the trailer to the show), and KC and the Sunshine Band the only band with people of colour. </p>
<p>Important Australian acts such as Marcia Hines and Renee Geyer are obvious in their absence – there are three female Australian artists across the three discs. If these disks accurately represent the music that is played in Molly, then there is a question to be raised about the extent to which only white men will be presented as important to popular music in Australia.</p>
<p>The disk curated by Meldrum, however, is somewhat different. It alone has seven songs by female artists or by bands with women members, as well as another Sunshine Band track (people of colour undeniably do not do well on this compilation). In addition to this, Meldrum’s disc is, well, pretty queer. </p>
<p>It includes openly gay acts such as the Pet Shop Boys and Elton John, as well as queer artists such as Culture Club. The contrast in this respect between the first two discs and the third is marked, raising questions about what type of story Meldrum himself might be wanting to tell, as opposed to those making music decisions for Molly. </p>
<p><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0250846/">Countdown</a> (1974-1987) was groundbreaking in the way it presented different versions of masculinity and femininity to a mainstream audience, so these types of artists definitely deserve a place here. </p>
<p>And this leads to an aspect of the mini-series that will be particularly fascinating to see play out. How will aspects of Meldrum’s life such as his <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2807628/I-m-gay-m-happy-love-Music-legend-Molly-Meldrum-says-dreamed-marriage-family-openly-discusses-bisexuality-recovering-fall-home.html">open bisexuality</a>, and the <a href="http://www.theage.com.au/news/entertainment/the-countdown-begins-to-nostalgic-70s-spectacular/2006/09/06/1157222201340.html">rumoured hedonism</a> of the Countdown experience, be presented? </p>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">The 100th episode of Countdown, aired on April 2, 1977, became infamous.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>At the height of Countdown’s popularity it was still highly unusual to see depictions of anything other than heterosexuality on television – especially in the early evening time slot Countdown occupied. Meldrum’s bisexuality was, for a long time, known but not known, becoming gradually more talked about as attitudes have changed. </p>
<p>If the series can foreground Meldrum’s queerness in the nation’s collective memory as an important part of the identity of this icon, even as it highlights the “Aussie larrikin” nature of his persona (which the trailers seem to do) then it has the potential to disrupt certain conventional ideas about what constitutes masculinity in this country. </p>
<p>I know I won’t be the only person watching with great interest on Sunday to see what version of Molly will be on show.</p>
<p><br></p>
<p><em>The first episode of Molly will air on Channel 7 on Sunday.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/54117/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Catherine Strong does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Molly Meldrum’s life is coming to the small screen with a two-part miniseries. How faithfully can we expect the show to reproduce history? Taking a look at the soundtrack might provide a clue.Catherine Strong, Lecturer, Music Industry, RMIT UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/347462014-12-03T04:26:38Z2014-12-03T04:26:38ZRebooting Countdown would help the Australian music industry<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/66013/original/image-20141202-20585-19o26hp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Do Yourself a Favour recently celebrated the 40th anniversary of the music show Countdown.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">ABC</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Are there lessons to be learnt from the success of the seminal Australian music program Countdown, and the ways in which it bolstered the Australian music industry during the 70s and 80s? </p>
<p><a href="http://www.abc.net.au/tv/programs/countdown-do-yourself-a-favour/">Do Yourself a Favour</a>, which aired recently on ABC, celebrated the 40th anniversary of Countdown while reflecting on its achievements. Along with a sense of nostalgia it reinforced the massive impact that the program had on the Australian music industry during the 70s and 80s. </p>
<p>Countdown aired between 1974 and 1987, with an estimated weekly audience of between <a href="http://trove.nla.gov.au/work/31965678?q=+&versionId=38805246">2.5 and 3 million viewers</a>. The show played a pivotal role in connecting the Australian music industry at the time, providing national exposure to a range of artists.</p>
<p>During the retrospective <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/tv/programs/countdown-do-yourself-a-favour/">Do Yourself a Favour</a> reference is made to major impact that the show had on record sales. Mark Holden reported that his “Countdown Albums” sold three times more than his previous releases. He directly attributed this jump in sales to the exposure generated by performances on the show. Molly Meldrum also reflected on the impact of Countdown in the book <a href="http://trove.nla.gov.au/work/31965678?q=+&versionId=38805246">High Voltage Rock ‘n’ Roll</a>. </p>
<blockquote>
<p>Before the program bands such as Skyhooks and Sherbet were selling 30-40,000 albums, but after the launch of Countdown these spiked to between 100-200,000 albums. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>Gavin Wood, voice-over announcer for Countdown, recalled that record companies reported that the week after a performance on the show singles were selling 4-5,000 a week.</p>
<p>The widespread exposure facilitated by Countdown enabled Australian artists to build a broad fan base. Sherbet, INXS, ACDC and Skyhooks all built their profile through the extensive reach of the show. Reminiscing about the impact of Countdown, Red Symonds of Skyhooks stated during <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/tv/programs/countdown-do-yourself-a-favour/">Do Yourself a Favour</a> that:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>It was an enormous money spinner for the simple reason that you could then go to anywhere in Australia and people knew who you were and knew your material.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>This exposure translated into the development of sustainable careers for a number of musicians, who capitalised on the opportunity to reach a wider audience. </p>
<p>Although the ABC’s Triple J provides a national platform for Australian artists through its radio network, opportunities for original live music performance on Australian television are currently limited. </p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Y8xSW7GCdV8?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">INXS- Just Keep Walking.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Reality television programs such as The Voice, Australian Idol and The X Factor focus on performers presenting cover versions of songs during an adjudicated performance. </p>
<p><a href="http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/tv-and-radio/has-the-voice-entered-twilight-of-its-genre-20140513-zraub.html">Recent ratings slumps for The Voice</a> suggest that audiences could be tiring of this format. The constraints of performing cover versions, issues with credibility, and network controlled contracts are not an appealing career path for many musicians.</p>
<p>Countdown often focused on “live” performances in the studio, allowing audiences to connect with the artists as performers. INXS and AC/DC went on to take their music to global audiences, and Countdown gave these bands a forum where they could develop these skills. </p>
<p>Kirk Pengilly of INXS had this to say on <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/tv/programs/countdown-do-yourself-a-favour/">Do Yourself a Favour</a> about the early days of Countdown, and it’s impact on the band at the time:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I learnt a lot about stagecraft and how to perform in front of a camera … Countdown played a big part in our formative years … it helped us rehearse for the international stage.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Digital distribution has had an impact, not least in the challenge it presents for finding an alternative, profitable model for music sales, as evidenced by the fact <a href="http://www.forbes.com/sites/bobbyowsinski/2014/01/07/the-numbers-are-in-should-the-music-industry-be-worried/">sales are declining</a>. Increasingly consumers are streaming music, which generates <a href="https://theconversation.com/music-streaming-revenue-structures-stacked-against-artists-18416">less revenue for artists</a> and this accounts for <a href="https://theconversation.com/music-sales-slump-is-streaming-or-the-music-industry-to-blame-23901">half of digital music sales in Australia</a>. </p>
<p>A sustainable music career relies on income <a href="eprints.qut.edu.au/14854/1/14854.pdf">generated through live performances</a>, rather than the sales of recorded product. Australian musicians rely on this income to fund their continued existence in the industry. </p>
<p>Often the method of attracting audiences is via social media, or through exposure via radio networks such as Triple J. </p>
<p>A national television program focused on Australian original music, similar to the format used by Countdown, would benefit the Australian music industry. </p>
<p>Through the exposure to a wider television audience original Australian artists could build a broader fan base. Artists would be provided an opportunity to hone their skills as live performers, preparing them for the extensive touring needed for the development of a sustainable career. </p>
<p>And audiences? Surely they’d like it too …</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/34746/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Brett Voss does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Are there lessons to be learnt from the success of the seminal Australian music program Countdown, and the ways in which it bolstered the Australian music industry during the 70s and 80s? Do Yourself a…Brett Voss, Studio Manager/Sessional Lecturer, Griffith UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.