PORCELAIN BUS

fragile

(Citadel / Normal, 1990)

Apart from the stupid name of the band – a metaphorical description of puking that comes from the once popular phrase of “driving the porcelain bus” – “fragile” is a record so close to my heart, I never ever want to lose it. Once I saw it on a flea market and thought of buying it a second time and then storing that copy at my parents house just to be on the safe side. The love to this record is added by the fact that the band itself is a complete mystery to me. See, there was a time in Austria when “Australian Rock” was all the rage in the so-called alternative and underground circles. A form of independent and very earthy and basic, drunken bluesrock-thing that included Beasts Of Bourbon, Louis Tillett, Charlie Owen, The Wreckery and Hugo Race, Dubrovniks, Kim Salmon, Tex Perkins (both also in the Beasts), the Saints, Tall Dwarves (who are actually from New Zealand, but on the other side of the globe nobody seemed to care), Cold Chisel, Blue Ruin and a whole slew of others. There were a handful of record labels, who licensed all this great stuff for Europe and then produced and tried to sell it. Information on the bands themselves was scarce and rarely ever, with the exception of the Beasts of Bourbon, none of them made it to Europe a lot. Maybe it was all a side-lash of the big time for Australian ex-patriats residing and living in Berlin / Germany like Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Crime & The City Solution, These Immortal Souls or Hugo Race & The True Spirit. Anyway, Porcelain Bus are definitely among the lesser known bands from that time and I wonder if more than half a dozen people in Austria can remember that name nowadays. All I know about Porcelain Bus is that they made three records, two in 1988 – “talking to god” and “sacred relics”, then changed the drummer to record “fragile” in 1990, and I could be wrong about all that. I never heard from them again.

“fragile”, their third record, is by far their best. There are only eight songs on it, but each one is a winner. Musically, every song glisters and blinks with a live and energy of its own. They managed to produce a swinging form of indignant Indie-rock that vibrates somewhere between the guitar and bass-work of the Smiths and the grooving of good country-rock bands. Though their music is not at all rocking, not like AC/DC or something. You could easily play this record at any congregation of people imaginable. But I can also imagine these four guys heating up a pub in the middle of nowhere in Australia to boiling point by sheer energy and force, then getting of the stage to drive off into the night to another gig.[1] The melody all hangs on the vocals and the exceptional unique voice and singing style of Ian James, he wails, sings full voice, talks and then crosses into chorus that has one line sounding like Midnight Choir or INXS (more Aussies) and the next like Louis Tillet or any other forgotten blues-singer. Just check out “The Last Train” and the mumbling, singing, wailing at the beginning that makes this song so great, like a man who has just signed a contract to sell off his soul and now doesn’t want to talk about it, but has to. Well, it is “the last train to hell”, obviously[2].

The main power of Porcelain Bus only comes to life with the great, poetic lyrics that glow with urban knowledge as well as the wisdom of the wild plains, the days of blazing sun and hard work as well as the drunken nights of ecstasy and love. There is a lot about love and love lost, about lives worn out and wasted but also always the shining rays of hope and another day to come. There is a good description of the poetic stature of Ian James and Robert McKiernan in “Driftwood”: “The comic genius with his port red, slit mouth grin, stands at our door & drops his pants reciting lovelorn poetry, the sailors hand their officers their mops, stand to attention & salute each verse, thinking it’s the national anthem.” There is also some criticism on social or even political issues, such as the domination and falsehood of the USA in “Miss America” – more pressing nowadays than back then – or the domination and falsehood of Yuppie-progress-types in “Blackburn Tower”, but never with the preaching of e.g. Midnight Oil and always hidden in lyrics that read like a condensed novel by Chuck Paloohnik, filled with great and sometimes puzzling sidelines and metaphors, creativity and lines never to forget.

Maybe it is a good thing that Porcelain Bus vanished somehow, because it is hard to imagine, that they would have made another record as good as this one. There are some great, mysterious songs on “sacred relics” as well, so if you only come across that one, do not hesitate to grab it. But if it is “fragile” rob, steal or burn to be able to at least listen to it. My guess is, that from the first bass/drum-line and the words “blue on blue / blue opaline / in these depths there are mysteries to define” you’ll be caught. And soon enough you’ll end up like me, and you’ll start to sing along the lines and won’t stop until all eight songs are gone through. Because “fragile” is one of the few records that have never bored me, that has always enlightened me somehow and made me feel better after listening to it. And, to be honest, if it has that effect, it can’t get better, can it?

EPILOGUE: Not even two weeks after I put this on the web, I get an e-mail informing me, that Porcelain Bus have broken up after releasing and touring this record. Rob and Ian are still making music together with a band called Gentle Assassins (check out their website) and their debut-album will be released soon. James, the writer of the email, is the bassist of that band. He also told me that Rob and Ian don't really like "fragile". Well, I hope that is only because the band broke up soon after the recording (for the reason that they couldn't see each others faces anymore, as is said on their website) and, thinking about it, there is a certain subtle aggressiveness and sense of being pissed off in these songs as well...  erm. Ain't the internet one of the greatest things of all?

[1] The only other description I am able to come up with for some reason is: take everything that was boring and pathetic about The Mission and replace it with energy, life and positive emotions as in a good rock-concert, but I didn’t want to write that in the proper essay.

[2] By the way, I’d like to write someday a piece on the metaphor of the train in modern music, from “Wreck of the Old ‘97” to “Last train to mercy” and of course two big chapters on Hank Williams and Johnny Cash.

Coming up in this series: Bulbul  – s/t (the metal one), Roxy Music – „Avalon“, Blue Ruin  – “such sweet thunder”, Willie Nelson – “red headed stranger”, Drive Like Jehu – “yank crime”, Oblivians – “Soulfood”, Nick Cave – “Let Love In”, Louis Tillet – “Midnight Rain”, Barkmarket – “Easy Listening”, Helios Creed – “Boxing the clown”, Cows - "Taint pluribus Taint unum", Brick Layer Cake - "eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth" amm.