Knight’s Aussie brogue and bulky bass-playing have been at the forefront of every Cosmic Psychos release since the band formed in 1982. The trio’s ninth album, Cum the Raw Prawn, lands on Friday June 5, which makes it four years since their last effort, Glorious Barsteds. It’s a somewhat lengthy delay, but Knight’s bulldozing obligations aren’t to blame. In fact, his day job has always been a creative aid.
“I’ll think of something sitting on the bulldozer and go, ‘That sounds like a bit of a song’,” he says. “It’s the monotonous drone of the engine and then to keep yourself awake, you start thinking of tunes. If I’m lucky enough to remember it, I’ll get home and plug the bass in and play it. Then that just gets shelved for whenever we record. But for every one I remember, I reckon I’ve forgotten about a million. Some of them I reckon were great. I could’ve been a squillionaire and been living next to Paul McCartney.”
Who knows, perhaps Cum the Raw Prawn is the one that’ll skyrocket Cosmic Psychos into the pop stratosphere. While not exactly McCartney-esque, the record contains a stack of memorable tunes. Take for instance Toothbrush, with its charming chorus hook, “You was kissing him/ He was kissing me arse/ And I’m washing me arse with ya tooth brush.” Then there’s the record’s lead single, Better, Not Bitter, which revolves around the repeated catchcry, “Fucken bullshit maaaaaaate.”
Truth told, Cum the Raw Prawn is by no means a departure for the Cosmic Psychos. The band’s been pumping out a similar concoction of lyrical vulgarity and instrumental ferocity since day one. However, interest in the Psychos resurged in recent years, thanks to the 2013 documentary film Blokes You Can Trust. But it’s not as though they intentionally crafted Cum the Raw Prawn as a showcase of their stylistic hallmarks.
“It’s funny how it just happens that way, but I guess that’s the way I think and it’s the way I get a bit of shit of me liver,” Knight says. “There’s no real pre-planning involved. Especially this album, it just happened. I had a few ideas that’d been rolling around in my head for a couple of years, but most of it was written on the spot.”
The album recording sessions went down in Knight’s farmhouse earlier this year. The finished product flaunts a tough, ballsy sound, which belies the nature of the recording arrangement. “The drums were set up in the lounge room and me and Macka [John McKeering, guitar] stood there off from the drums a little bit. We had the two amps in my sons’ rooms and the control room was in my bedroom and we did the vocals in the laundry.”
When it comes the nuts and bolts of this makeshift studio, Knight remains almost entirely ignorant. “I think it was into a computer,” he says. “All I know is that I sing into a microphone which has a lead on it that goes into a whiz-bang box with a few dials on it. Matt Weston, our manager, who did the doco, made a little film clip of the making of the album. That’ll give you a fair idea.”
As mentioned, Weston’s documentary sparked a revival in the Cosmic Psychos’ popularity. However, as depicted in the film, the band’s irreverent and uniquely Australian punk rock has been an influential force for decades. In addition to making fans and friends out of grunge linchpins like Eddie Vedder and Mark Arm, Cosmic Psychos continue to embark on regular European tours. Though, such far-reaching respect won’t silence the band’s naysayers.
“As long as we’re playing, there’s going to be people who just think we’re a bunch of potty-mouthed pricks,” Knight says. “And you know what? That’s fine. There’s certainly a spot in there for a band every now and again to pull rock’n’roll out of its own arsehole. People just get carried away and take it all a bit too seriously.”
You could argue that pissing people off is better than making no impact at all. Also, it’s quite healthy to let yourself simply enjoy something and not worry about whether it’s an optimally meaningful use of time. Either way, Cosmic Psychos’ vocal opponents haven’t impinged upon the band’s fearless attitude.
“We played in front of 45,000 people when Pearl Jam first came to Australia,” Knight says, “and there was 45,000 people booing us. We had a ball. They were cranky, it was great. We’re almost an anti-band. We just do it because it’s a bit of fun, and if it pisses people off, well that’s fine. And if people like us, well that’s good too, come and have a beer with us.”
To coincide with the release of Cum the Raw Prawn, Cosmic Psychos are heading out on a massive co-headline tour with Brisbane pop punk trio Dune Rats. Over the last couple of years, Dunies have been a non-stop touring machine, subsequently amassing a considerable global fanbase. In spite of the major age discrepancy, Knight feels a certain affinity with the Brissy lads.
“Their attitude just seems like ‘What the hell, we’re here to have a good time and we’ll drag a few people along with us’,” he says. “It’ll be quite funny. It’s going to be a collective age group of about 750 years with the Psychos and 75 years for the Dune Rats. But hopefully we all get along fine.”
Thanks to a filth-ridden public image and lyrics that frequently glorify marijuana, Dune Rats have copped a hammering for being dumb, foul-mouthed and un-intellectual. Essentially, it’s the same sort of abuse that’s been thrown at Knight and co. since the early ‘80s.
“We got shit-canned very early on,” he says. “Even pre-Psychos, when we morphed out of Spring Plains, people hated us. I thought, ‘Well, you can if you like, but this is all we know how to do.’ Since that point in time, as a musician I haven’t fucking changed either. I couldn’t do anything else except play one chord and one string. And I still can’t.
“Most of the people that shit-can bands anyway are just people that don’t play themselves,” he adds. “Put it this way, there was people shit-canning the band 30 years ago. Well, they’re probably not music critics anymore. But guess what? I still get to stay up after midnight and drink free beer.”
There’s something strangely admirable about Knight’s unwavering approach to songwriting and performance. In a similar respect, his relish of a cold one has never come under serious doubt.
“I’m a bit of a wuss now. I drink the low carb stuff, because I can drink more of it,” he says. “But look, I still love me European beers. The main reason we still head over to Europe at the drop of a hat is to get over there for the beer. Any beer’s a good beer really, as long as it’s cold.”
The widely held image of Cosmic Psychos as a pack of rhapsodical boozehounds brings with it an expectation that they’ll create havoc wherever they roam. This could easily become a thorn in the band’s backside. That is, if it weren’t so apt.
“Look, OK, we might’ve kept a few venue owners up and done a few all-nighters over the years, but it’s not because we try,” Knight says. “It’s just, if you’ve got a party that’s going fucking great, well you don’t want to go home, so you stay up.
“We tend to start early in the day now,” he continues. “Getting up in the morning, going and having a couple of cold crisp beautiful German lagers with breakfast, a few beers during the day, a few beers when you get to the venue, and then another few beers when you’re playing, and a few beers when you’ve finished and few beers when you get back to the hotel, that’s basically what we do day-in day-out. We’re not running around with our pants around our ankles. Well… not anymore.”
BY AUGUSTUS WELBY
