The Age, 19 May 2006, with Chris Cheney, Scott Owen, Andy Strachan & Rae Harvey

Article by: Andrew Murfett


Second chance

For the Living End, US success is just beginning, writes Andrew Murfett.

THE Living End's veranda gig in Austin, Texas, for about 100 fans on a cold, wet Wednesday night in March was a long way from the crowds they are used to drawing at home.

The Melbourne trio gave up chasing US sales two years ago after a soul-sapping extended tour, but, armed with an excellent fourth album, State of Emergency, they are now giving it a second go.

The album combines the band's trademark fast-paced rockabilly with some of their most melodic tracks yet. As well as at least five radio-friendly singles, the album has several rock tracks and one of the band's most surprising and best moments, the bittersweet tale of deception, Nothing Lasts Forever.

In recording State of Emergency, frontman Chris Cheney, 31, rarely slept and became so stressed and run down he developed shingles.

"I don't really know any other way," he shrugs.

Starting their US campaign at Austin's South By Southwest musical meat market in March, the ultra-competitive Cheney also took in a show by hyperbole-drenched compatriots Wolfmother.

He confessed to envying the big-haired retro-rockers' anointment as the Next Big Thing. At the same time, his own band's hard-core fans had travelled up to 12 hours to see the Living End play live; Hollywood hobbits Elijah Wood and Sean Astin were at one of the gigs.

It was a long way from Wheelers Hill Secondary College where Cheney and double-bassist Scott Owen met in the early 1990s and realised they not only lived in the same street, but had similar taste in music.

A love of old-school rock'n'rollers Buddy Holly and Bill Haley and punk and ska acts such as the Stray Cats and the Clash inspired them to form a band, the name taken from Rock Around the Clock (the movie's credits begin with "The Living End" instead of "The End").

After playing at the Wheelers Hill Hotel and various "battle of the bands" competitions, two early EPs were played on alternative radio and word of their hyperactive live show spread quickly.

"It was the Nirvana and Pearl Jam days, and we were polar opposites," Owen says. "We'd play Buddy Holly covers, dress up like Bill Haley, and I'd climb up on my bass. Kids would say, 'This is wrong, but I like it!'"

The band's breakthrough was the 1997 monster punk hit Prisoner of Society. Until they were usurped by Jet in 2004, their self-titled first album was the biggest-selling Australian debut album, leading to big-label deals worldwide.

But the solid follow-up Roll On struggled to connect with local fans as the band toured relentlessly overseas.

Returning from almost a year abroad, Cheney was involved in a near-fatal head-on accident while driving along the Great Ocean Road. He was confined first to a hospital bed and then his living room for 12 months, learning to walk again with the aid of a stick.

But, Cheney says, the debilitating injuries only made him more determined to succeed: "I knew that every day I was bedridden, we were losing ground and momentum."

Drummer Travis Demsey quit the band in February 2002, citing a lack of interest in touring overseas. Enter former Pollyanna sticksman Andy Strachan; the three hit the rehearsal room and immediately jelled.

"There was a lot of pressure on me," Strachan recalls. "The Big Day Out 2003 was my initiation: the biggest crowds I'd ever played to, still learning the songs. It was nerve-racking and intense. But, I guess, a good way to start."

The band headed to Los Angeles and recorded the elaborate and unduly maligned third album Modern Artillery. A spirit-sapping six-month US tour proved futile and the band eventually parted from their US label, Warner.

"Modern Artillery was a horrifying experience for the band," manager Rae Harvey says.

Cheney adds: "We should have done better, but I felt like we learnt from that."

Last year's recording sessions for State of Emergency in a Byron Bay studio were also fraught with angst. Budgets were blown and deadlines came and went. The stormy recording period epitomises Cheney's obsessive nature. However, unlike most workaholics, he's somewhat repentant:

"It's all-encompassing for me. I have to give it my all or otherwise I feel like I'm being lazy or neglecting it. I put pressure on myself that it was going to be the greatest thing we'd ever done. Good enough wasn't good enough this time. It had to be perfect and perfect is a very dangerous word to use in a recording studio and it proved to be a nightmare towards the end."

Cheney married partner Emma halfway through the recording session. The low-key ceremony marked a subtle shift in lifestyle for the rocker. Cheney now has a daughter, Charlie.

"Becoming a dad does change you a bit," he says. "You start thinking about how there's another new life-form to set an example for. I'm determined to do a great job and for her first memories to be happy ones and you have to work at that. But it can get really strained at times, being in a band, the touring and late nights."

Several weeks ago, Cheney's Melbourne home was burgled and vandalised, which must contribute to the mixed feelings about leaving his young family again next month to head overseas for much of the year.

"There's both excitement and dread," he says. "In some ways, I wouldn't swap it for the world, but it's one hell of a downside.

"It's an incredibly selfish profession, but I just don't know any other way. I have to work that hard for me to get the results in the song that I'm hearing in my head. This means sometimes my relationships will be a little stressed."

Cheney is also eager to eventually experiment beyond his band.

"There's so much I want to do personally and musically, but the Living End just takes up so much time at the moment. But that's OK."

After such a turbulent gestation, it was a relief that State of Emergency had its debut at number one on the ARIA charts in February. Manager Harvey notes with pride that the album also received the band's most consistent reviews.

"Because of the style of music they play, even on the first album, they were never a hip Wolfmother-type band," Harvey says.

"Being accepted and finally receiving some critical kudos has given them enormous confidence. This number one meant more than the first. We're all smarter this time and actually appreciating it more."

The Australian tour, which includes several nights at the 6000-capacity Hordern Pavilion in Sydney and Melbourne's Festival Hall, are in stark contrast to the Austin veranda gig.

Cheney can vividly recall struggling to book a gig at Fitzroy pub the Evelyn more than a decade ago. The trio would post flyers and hassle schoolmates in futile attempts to fill the room.

"I remember playing private weddings and 21sts. We had a little PA in the back of my Kingswood with some homemade lights from Bunnings, so yeah, this tour will feel a little bit triumphant."

Last month the postscript to the band's Texas jaunt was written when they signed a US deal with Green Day frontman Billie Joe Armstrong's label Adeline Records.

"We've done it all now: weddings, clubs, festivals and stadiums," Cheney said back in Texas between signing autographs and posing for fan pictures with Owen and Strachan. "Now we've finally played a veranda."

The Living End play Festival Hall tonight and tomorrow night. State of Emergency is out through EMI.