Sydney’s SONGS have one of the most interesting pedigrees of nearly any (ostensibly) Australian band, and their debut self-titled album may well be one of best releases of the year. TOPHER HEALY finds out more from frontman and wry elder statesman MAX DOYLE.

Songs, the album and the band, are an intriguing proposition in many ways. Visually they’re enigmatic, comprised of a silver-haired frontman of middle years (Max Doyle), a slightly androgynous guitarist (Jeff Burch), the genial ‘normal guy’ on drums (Steve Uren), and the hot girl at school whose silent glare could melt icy poles (bassist Ela Stiles). Musically they’re even more compelling, determinedly at odds with anything deemed trendy in current Australian indie rock, and displaying influences that gratifyingly go beyond popular bands from the early years of this decade. Beneath these surface appraisals further layers of interest become apparent, with British-born Kiwi Doyle revealed as a successful photographer and creator of the quarterly fashion and arts magazine Doingbird, American-born Burch behind publishing house The Spring Press, and Uren a New Zealand musician who often skips home to play in other bands. They were shortlisted by the Qantas Spirit Of Youth Awards (to Doyle’s amusement), and Everett True has already feted the record as “the Greatest Album I Have Heard This Year ... and quite possibly this decade.” Even if you disagree with the assessment, you can’t help but be curious about Songs.

One danger would be to look archly at Songs as some sort of calculated art project with Doyle as the svengali; an aesthetic self-indulgence that draws heavily on the Dunedin/Flying Nun Records sound popular when Doyle was in New Zealand. Fortunately it becomes apparent when talking to Doyle that nothing could be further from the truth. Songs are a band, in the truest sense, albeit one with different worries than those experienced by boys in tight jeans carrying worn out copies of Is This It.

“It can be really taxing actually,” says an earnest Doyle during a shoot break in Sydney. “I’ve got three kids as well, and one them’s seven months old. When you throw that into the mix it’s just so hard. It’s unbelievable.” He’s describing how he time manages between Songs, his photography, Doingbird, and a personal life – a complex juggling act that saw the band pull out of a national tour with I Heart Hiroshima. “My partner said ‘fuck this, I’m struggling’, so I couldn’t abandon her any more,” he says, simply. “Once you have an album out, theoretically you can be playing and touring the whole time. That would probably be the natural course of things. There’s just no way we can do that.

“I’ve got all my stuff, but everyone else is the same. Jeff and Steve are always busy working … It’s amazing we get anything done actually,” he laughs.

“But one thing about Songs is that when we do rehearse, we work quite hard. I’d been in other bands years ago where you’d turn up and waste a lot of time. We’re quite … regimented. Not because of me I’ve gotta say! It’s the other guys. We make the most of the time that we do have.”

Songs’ relatively rapid rise in profile and the successful creation of an album the band is proud of, has for Doyle lead to some soul-searching in regards to the concept of time.

“I’m gonna be 45 this year. And it shouldn’t be a consideration, but … the fact is, if the band had a long life, like if it was around five or six years, I’ll be 50. And it’s hard to get my head around that,” he says candidly.

“We just have to think laterally and not imagine the usual arc, and try and react to the opportunities that come along in any way that we can. It might mean just doing a few intense shows and then recording and disappearing. I mean … it’s hard to believe that we even exist as far as I’m concerned. So thinking about how we’re going to exist in the future is almost too much of a stretch. Anything can happen.”
This tendency not to ruminate or overthink Songs appears central to Doyle’s approach. He constructs “simple chord patterns and a vocal melody” at home, then takes them to the band, where the musical experience of Uren and Burch comes into play and the final songs are constructed. Not that it’s as simple a process as he might like. “I find it really frustrating at the time,” he says, mock-ruefully. “It’s like, ‘what the fuck is wrong with the way I just showed you?’ Y’know? I always feel, ‘whoah, god, this is SO painful…’ But the end result is far away what from what it could’ve been. It’s been added to, not ruined. It always pays off.”

Stiles inclusion in Songs is perhaps the icing on the cake, her vocals providing a dreamy counterpoint to Doyle’s Mark E. Smith-influenced staccato poetry. Her only experience before Songs was in an acoustic duo with her sister, and when discovered by Doyle at a photo shoot, he recruited her based on enthusiasm rather than any consideration of skill. In an interview with music journal Mountain Fold, he frankly admitted she was “terrible on guitar … so we put her on bass.” Is this the svengali emerging?

“She wasn’t happy about that. I thought she’d laugh,” he says, clearly amused. “‘Why did you say I was shit at guitar?’ She didn’t think that was very funny. But I mean I can’t talk, because I’m pretty shit at guitar too. I’m a much better bass player than I am a guitarist. But if you’ve written a song, a guitar can be a focus when you’re arranging things…

“But yeah, Ela … she picked up bass and keyboards really easily. She’s probably the most naturally talented musician,” – his voice drops conspiratorially – “but also by far the laziest.”

He’s joshing of course, chuckling away with tongue firmly in cheek. Again it seems that Songs is governed by gut feelings; instinctive awareness that something is going to work (and it does, as the album proves). Even the surging krautrock sounds in tracks Retreat and My Number he puts down to Uren rather than any group decision (“It all comes straight from the drums. As soon as you’ve got that motorik beat, and you’re prepared to play for a long time, it’s krautrock.”). ‘If it feels good, do it, and don’t sweat the small stuff,’ seems to be the order of the day.

“We have that thing where people go, ‘why’d you call yourself Songs? – you can’t Google it’ – and it’s like,  ‘well who thinks about that shit when you’re coming up with a name for something?’”

It’s clear now we’re about as far from cynical calculation as possible – this isn’t Warhol inserting himself in the Velvet Underground, so to speak. For Doyle Songs is simply something that exists, something he enjoys, and something he’s willing to work hard at. Not for the popularity or success courted by cookie-cutter indie bands however, not for a second.

“In Sydney, people actually have business plans when they put bands together,” he says with a laugh. “It’s like they have a 10-step plan for getting on Triple J, the right kind of song structure for appealing to Richard Kingsmill … I’ve heard conversations like that. I mean, fucking hell…”

SONGS launch their self-titled debut album at The Club House on Saturday Nov 28, supported by The Jezabels. SONGS is out now through Popfrenzy.

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