Drive Through Charisma (1993)
We stumped up $15K for our first album and somehow managed to stooge Polydor into signing us who were then stuck with us for another three releases. Rarely has such a modest sum produced so much quantity. At 65 minutes with 23 track bonus disc it was like a meal at Sizzler – lots of it, but stay away from the salad bar. Reviewers were unanimous in their opinion that the album was long.
The Young Need Discipline (1994)
Take recording, mixing, re-mixing, mastering, a couple of videos and a photo shoot and this was another solid $50K of major label money flushed down the can.
Future Spa (1996)
The label actually paid us per diems while recording this one. It was like taking several thousand in freshly minted bank notes into a kindergarten and handing round the scissors. Still, we recouped more of it than we ever had before or ever would again.
Lazy Highways (1998)
There was little sign of the onset of our inexorable slide into anonymity as we clicked fingers in top restaurants and summoned sommeliers to discuss the wines of the Alsace. Up in Sydney they wired more money while we ordered cognac and cigars. We hired a helicopter for one video and a boat on the Harbour for another.
Thousand Yard Stare (2000)
With Polydor having shredded us like the incriminating files of an outgoing government, we faced our straightened circumstances with barely a trembling lip. We cinched our belts to impossibly small dimensions, made sure our intestines stayed in place and recorded for about $20K.
Footage Missing (2002)
This session was all Narcan shots, flushed faces and feverishly administered CPR. Ted died several times on the operating table and claims to have been lured towards a bright light by the crooked finger of a dark and menacing figure. On closer inspection it was not a reaper but a grim record company accountant beckoning him towards some ominous spreadsheets.
The Fauves (2004)
Where once we had hung Tibetan prayer flags and musk scented candelabra, we now dispersed several oily rags, smelt them and duly recorded the album in four days. Reduced crowd sizes were made up for by large numbers of financial controllers requesting their names on the guest list, high fiving us all the way to the stage and shouting us glasses of tap water after the show.
Nervous Flashlights (2006)
We got a grant for this one. Like lottery winners passing a bedraggled busker, the government leant in to the guitar case at my feet and generously deposited a few notes. Quailing with panic, taxpayers reached for their rear pockets only to find their wallets already gone.
When Good Times Go Good (2008)
I don’t remember recording this one. I think perhaps the tapes got mixed up at the pressing plant. Either that or the producer erased those eight part Gregorian chant harmonies one night while we were at dinner.
Japanese Engines (2011)
This is our Greek album. Hopelessly in debt and living beyond our means, we’re hoping the IMF will buy a few copies.
