THIS IS REAL- SINGLES/LIVE/RARE – Sunnyboys (Feel Presents)
You could almost tag this the Great Unreleased Album for this short-lived but spectacularly great Sydney band. It hangs together that well.

The Sunnyboys (in their original form) only existed from 1980-84, but produced timeless rock and roll. They span out six-singles, an EP, a cassette EP, three studio long-players and a live platter, more than most working bands, but what a mark they made.

Forming from the ranks of some minor inner-Sydney legends (most notably, The Kamikaze Kids and the Shy Imposters), The Sunnyboys burst onto a then-crowded Australian music scene like a breath of fresh air. They had everything: Jeremy Oxley’s warm, melodious vocals were arresting. He and Richard Burgman propelled things on the back of alternately raw/melodic - and undeniably energetic - guitar interplay. In drummer Bil Bilson and bassist Peter Oxley, they had a pliable yet tough rhythm section to take on all comers. But above all, this was a band that was all about the songs, played with infectious youthful spirit.

The Sunnyboys cut across the indie/major barriers (which were a lot more defined back then) because they straddled largely unoccupied turf. They stood between the leather strut of the Detroit brigade (whose energy they had in spades) and the gritty naivety of ‘60s punk bands like the Remains (whose “Why Do I Cry?” was a star turn live). Plus, they had pop hooks to burn.

Factor in Jeremy’s bitter/vulnerable lyricism (made all the more poignant by the subsequent revelation that he was battling schizophrenia) and you had something special. You could say that there’s now a surplus of bands mining that turf (and you wouldn’t be wrong) but few manage to pull it off so well as these guys did, 20-something years ago.

The Oxley brothers were green young country kids, drawn to Sydney in pursuit of day-job careers. Bilson was their high school bandmate. The older Burgman fell in with Peter in the Shy Impostors. Radio Birdman’s Rob Younger sang briefly in a rehearsals version of the band but moved on, the rest of the members re-grouping as a four-piece that made its debut as support to the Lipstick Killers on August 15, 1980.

How the Sunnyboys rose – and fell – is all laid out in this set’s lavish 36-page booklet (and a big thumbs-up again to compiler Tim Pittman and journalist Murray Engleheart). It was high-time the band’s history was put down on paper. Suffice to say, this is also the first time bandmates/siblings of Jeremy Oxley have discussed his illness, which was always rumoured but never on-the-record.

While schizophrenia’s widely thought to be in the genes, there’s little doubt a pre-disposition would have been fuelled by over-work and drinkin’ and druggin’. The latter two are often used as a refuge from, and response to, the condition. It’s sobering (no pun intended) to reflect that the Sunnyboys were shunted into a studio to make their second long-player, just THREE MONTHS after their self-titled debut hit the shops. What the fuck was Mushroom thinking besides ROI - as in Return On Investment? Turds.

The “Individuals” album sold well but was sonically flawed and a little underdone in the songwriting department. The final studio album, “Get Some Fun”, was done in London and swapped rawness and spontaneity for compression, ‘80s drums and grim, but sometimes great, songs. Their label, Mushroom, clearly didn’t know what to do with them, running them ragged on the Australian circuit and giving them limited exposure in England where their guitar-driven, hard but melodic rock-pop was at odds with anything else around. Overwork, frustration and then Jeremy’s illness ultimately brought down the curtain. A cautionary tale if ever there was one.

There were two one-off re-appearances; a reunion tour in ’91 and a Jeremy-led version of the band, using the same name, that produced a fine pop album; but none of that reached the same heights as the early ‘80s.

On to the music, however, and the bulk of the studio disc has been previously released (the exceptions being the alternate mix of “My Only Friend” and the rare-but-redundant extended reprise of “You Need a Friend”). But just you try and track this stuff down. A third of the songs are B sides and a handful are EP versions. Slaves of the Digital Age will relish having them all on CD, and Mark Taylor and Rick O'Neill's re-mastering and vinyl transfer work (some of the masters are loing gone) is superb.

Personal highlights will vary, but the Hit Singles (“Alone With You” and “Happy Man”) will be no-brainer, lay down misere winners for most. There’s a mono radio mix of the former. The ultra rare “Tell Me What You Say” will be a revelation for many, given that it was only on a limited edition of the first LP, pressed for fans. (Guess my copy just lost a few dollars in value). Bottom line is that every single is included and most of the B sides could have been A’s. They’re that good.

Great to see the superior, single version of “She Me Some Discipline”, given centre stage. “Bottom of My Heart”, is an off-the-wall work-out that would be unheard of by all but the keenest fans. The reprise of “You Need a Friend” was always superfluous in my book, so an alternate version doesn’t do much for me. The original song here has an alternate fade-out and its flip, “No Love Around”, sounds formidable.

As for the live disc, a handful of things here have also previously surfaced (mostly on the “Happy Man” cassette or “Happy Birthday” giveaway EP). Two chunks of this have also long been available as traded tapes - but obviously never in this sonic quality. Six songs are from a set at Melbourne’s Bombay Rock, another 10 from a killer ABC Radio broadcast from the Governor’s Pleasure in Sydney’s Rocks district. “Birthday” is from the Mushroom Evolution concert in ’82 and another three (“I’m Not Satisfied”, “Trouble in My Brain” and “You Need a Friend”) come from a Triple Jay live-to-air in ’82. It’s all great, and would have stood up as an album in its own right.

The point about the farewell live album that the Sunnyboys released in 1984 (imaginatively titled “Sunnyboys Live”) is that it showed the band in final days/horn-driven mode. (I’m putting aside the ragged 1991 reformation tour live disc). “This is Real” unleashes sounds from the earlier peak of 1981-82 and has a rawer, ‘60s flavour. Many songs show a band on fire and re-working the material in front of a crowd.

This is lovingly put together, lavishly-presented and does justice to a great and lamentably under-appreciated band (at least by the rest of the world – and now’s as good a time as ever for them to catch up). This release also makes you wonder what might have become of the Sunnyboys, if someone had taken just a little bit more care. The Barman

(Go here to read our interview with guitarist Richard Burgman.)





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