Between life & death

Oceans Apart,
The Go-Betweens
Lo-Max, 2005

What would you do if you turned/And saw me beside you/Not in a dream, but in a song — Finding You, The Go-Betweens

This piece begins with death.

Just last May 6, singer, guitarist and songwriter Grant McLennan suffered a heart attack and died in his sleep at his Brisbane, Australia home – leaving behind The Go-Betweens, one of the greatest acts ever to come from the Land Down Under. His passing slipped beneath the radar here in the Philippines, yet the sudden availability of Go-Betweens albums via Lo-Max has eerily made ghouls of us wanting to collect the band’s efforts, now available in CD.

The act first made its indelible mark in the ‘80s, doing Australians proud as did Midnight Oil, INXS and the lot of the Aussie acts that bridged the cultural divide with music.

Through the band, and its new wave contemporaries, a generation of Filipino youth honed its musical tastes and celebrated its adolescence – easily relating to the angst-ridden narratives of self-discovery purveyed by McLennan, Robert Forster and company.

Forster met McLennan at university in Brisbane, and the two soon formed The Go-Betweens. The band recorded its debut album, Send Me A Lullaby, in 1981, and then proceeded to make beautiful music all its own. Commercial success eluded the group, though, and after 1988’s 16 Lovers Lane album (which yielded Streets Of Your Town), the band broke up.

But McLennan will be best known for his autobiographical song Cattle and Cane (off the album Before Hollywood), recognized as one of the best Australian songs of all time.

In 1989, as the band commenced with its 10-year hiatus, the prolific McLennan went solo – releasing four albums during the interim.

The seminal band, responsible for influencing Glasgow’s brilliant Belle and Sebastian, now presumably goes out with a bang in last year’s Oceans Apart, a critically-acclaimed release.

The compilation begins with a ditty that is trademark Go-Betweens style. Here Comes a City pulses with an insistent beat. "Why do people who read Dostoevsky always look like Dostoevsky?" They ask.

Finding You shimmers with acoustic guitar and mid-tempo beats, along the vocal harmonies that have doubtless endeared the band to its base of loyal followers.

The musical stylings of Born to a Family harken memories of another new wave act, The Waterboys (or, more correctly, Mike Scott). There is still quite a bit of youthful rebellion going on here – as the song talks of a "square into the hole" – the family member who didn’t quite fit the mold. "What could I do but follow the calling?" Robert Forster sings.

No Reason To Cry meanders sadly between jangly guitar and lush keyboards, and is appropriately, and painfully, titled in light of the untimely demise of McLennan.

Tunesmiths that they are, McLennan and Forster weave melancholia, longing and literature into their signature sound. Throughout this effort, The Go-Betweens profess and aspire to be nothing but, well, The Go-Betweens – which is both good and hurtful to the fans of this brilliant band that has now lost half of its creative force. McLennan was said to be a staunch supporter of the arts. He was well-read, and friends remember him as "an exceptionally charming and polite man who endeared himself to everyone who met him."

The greatness of Oceans Apart notwithstanding, the Aussie group would be surely remembered most for its ‘80s hits. Aptly, Oceans Apart closes with a live rendition (one of the three, actually) of the classic Streets Of Your Town.

"But don’t the sun look good today/the rain’s on its way."

You better believe it. See you, McLennan.