Skyhooks

At every point in history Australian music has been some kind of reflection, extension or reaction to the music happening in the rest of the world. On some occasions an act has emerged which is impossible to fit into a world-wide context. Skyhooks was a spectacular example of that. More than that, at their height, Skyhooks dominated Australian music like no act before or since.

Skyhooks was formed from the ashes of two Greg Macainsh groups, Reubin Tice and Frame, the first a local group that hardly ever ventured out of its alternate lifestyle Eltham area, the second a group that looked for gigs in inner suburban Melbourne. By the time Frame became Skyhooks in 1973, singer Graeme ‘Shirley’ Strachan had been in and out again, and when Skyhooks performed at the 1974 Sunbury Festival their singer was self-proclaimed Carlton anarchist Steve Hill.

It was the era of glitter rock, Gary Glitter, T.Rex and Slade, anathema to Australia’s working class rock ethos. Rather than join in, Skyhooks decided to send it up. They dressed up loud, some put on make-up, none of it with any rhyme or reason, but definitely not to be “glamorous”, none of it in any way relating to the sex drugs and rock and roll music they played.

Daddy Cool’s Ross Wilson saw them and liked what he heard. The boss of the new Mushroom label Michael Gudinsky saw them and liked what he heard too. When singer Steve Hill saw himself on TV he decided he had to quit. Wilson thought about becoming their singer. Gudinski thought it was all over. Skyhooks talked Shirl back into the fold.

Shirley Strachan’s smart-ass young-man-in-hurry presence at the microphone changed everything. Next to Greg Macainsh’s songs, he became the attraction. Macainsh’s drop-earing cowboy look and Red Symon’s Japanese make-up made sure we saw them and heard them for what they were. Skyhooks were impossible to pigeonhole. The clever, colloquial lyrics appealed to the intelligentsia surrounding Melbourne University. The group’s attitude appealed to the suburban punks.

Ross Wilson had become their song publisher and mentor, guiding them past all the pitfalls in the way of new bands making their way into the music business. They signed with Mushroom Records. Wilson became their producer. The band kept Michael Gudinski dangling and didn’t sign him us as their manager until well after the first album ‘Living In The Seventies’ was recorded and released. Famously, the Australian Broadcasting Federation banned six of the album’s tracks. (See Living In The Seventies on Countdown via YouTube)

It took a few months for the Melbourne group to win the rest of the nation. In the process the first single, which also gave the album its title was largely lost. The second single, ‘Horror Movie’ made number one nationally and the album spent an unprecedented 16 weeks at the top. The Hooks wasted no time, delivered a second album ‘Ego Is Not A Dirty Word’, and spent another 11 weeks at Number One. With two of the biggest selling Australian albums of all time to their credit, the band put everything into the most elaborated stage settings Australia had ever seen. Everything Skyhooks did put Australian music on a level never seen before.

Inevitably their attention was turned to America. Thrown out there without a lot of support American critics took one look at Red Symons’ make-up and extended tongue and dismissed the band as a copy of the just-arrived Kiss, worlds away from the truth. But they came back to Australia with a third Ross Wilson produced album, ‘Straight In A Gay Gay World’, the title, songs and cover (of a lamb being led to the slaughter) clearly some kind of commentary on their American experience. By now Skyhooks had sold two million dollars worth of albums. Shirl amused himself with a couple of r&b revival solo singles.

It couldn’t last, and didn’t. Red Symons was forced out of the band, while the hits started drying up and Skyhooks dropped its theatrics for a more straightahead play-anywhere black leather look. The “new” Skyhooks got off to a roaring start in March 1978 with the powerful ‘Women In Uniform’ top ten from the fourth album, ‘Guilty Until Proven Insane’. It wasn’t enough to arrest the decay within. In June 1978 Shirl left for a career in radio and television and was replaced for one album by Tony Williams. When 1980’s ‘Hot For The Orient’ album failed to chart the band called it a day, and died as spectacularly as they lived, taking out a full page ad in the music press which said “Why don’t you all get fu**ed”.

The classic line-up reunited on a couple of occasions for tours, and there was an attempt to record another album with John Farnham producer Ross Fraser. The album was scrapped, apart from a couple of singles, including ‘Jukebox In Siberia’ which took the band back to Number One in 1990 for the second time in 15 years. When the follow-up failed to chart, Skyhooks went their separate ways again. When Mushroom Records celebrated its 25th anniversary with a concert at the Melbourne Cricket Ground the company’s most famous act couldn’t be bothered reforming. Shirley Strachan had settle into life as a low-key radio and TV personality, a ways to a means to pursue his personal passions.

On August 29th, 2001 the helicopter Shirl was learning to fly crashed into Mount Alexander near Kilroy, northwest of Brisbane. Graeme 'Shirley' Strachan died instantly. During September the rest of Skyhooks (with Bob Spencer) returned to the scene of the Palais Theatre in St.Kilda, scene of some memorable Skyhooks concerts, to take part in a tribute to Shirl. Daryl Braithwaite joined them on vocals for an acoustic rendition of 'All My Friends Are Getting Married'. Later in the evening Ross Wilson helped out on a song Skyhooks never got around to recording. As Skyhooks left the stage, presumably for the very last time, Greg Macainsh raised his guitar to the image of Shirley Strachan beaming projected onto the stage.

The surviving Skyhooks marked the 30th anniversary re-release of 'Living In The Seventies' with a low-key invitation-only reunion performance featuring Ross Wilson and Tony Williams on vocals.

"He was an early riser Shirl. Never seemed to have much interest in sleeping in like other musos. We'd surface after a night of partying and whatever mischief there was to he had in a country town deep in NSW and there he'd be. Itching to get a move on. 'Come on you bludgers - we've got radio interviews in Coffs at 4 o'clock.' I wouldn't call him restless though. He knew when to concentrate and focus. It could be overtaking a semi on a stretch of the New England highway or singing a harmony with himself at TCS studios. Liked to get the job done and neatly at that.

"Those early days. We're in the audience at a Daddy Cool gig at Swinbourne Union night. He's singing along to 'Come Back Again' and playing the guitar solo on his instrument of choice - the kazoo. Pre Hooks he was king of shy singing though. That changed when he figured out that the stage was really just like the kitchen at your mate's house. He had a panel van, then a Kombi. Liked space, room to travel with his friends. The first lyrics were part of psychedelic trippy six minute opuses with long solos but he stamped his mark on them. Kind of like a choir boy meets Robert Plant.

"Festival Hall in the mid 70's and he hadn't given up the tools. Cut himself out of a wooden box with a chainsaw 25 years before Eminem. Knew how to talk to that crowd while they screamed back at him. 'Shirley u spunk'. The band couldn't hear themselves most of the time. The live tapes didn't lie. He was in time, in tune and in touch. Loved the promotion, shaking up the DJ's on 2SM and arguing with Paul Hogan's floor manager. Got the better of Mike Willesee on national TV. Still lived with his folks when we weren't touring. Had them involved in it all. We'd be down at Ron's factory making speaker boxes under his tutelage. No wonder he was good with a glue gun in front of the camera.

"In early '78 he wanted to take a break for a while. Gave six months notice though. We played hard and fast six nights a week until the Manhattan Hotel on July 29.He headed north, rented a house on the coast and started on the radio. Moved on a little quicker than the rest of us. Then came the television shows. He liked a challenge he always said. It was hard to see him go but once he made up his mind you knew that was it. Not to say he wasn't flexible in other ways. A great planner. He'd sit there with the A4 notebook and write lists of what was needed, the possibilities and the alternatives.

"The band reformed on occasion. The voice was richer, a little more character. He understood the craft. Loved a good sight gag and an exploding prop or two. But he was into other things. Off to Bali or Canada. Sailing, surfing, flying, scuba diving ... always movement at the station and some new business to attend to. Then the news.

"I felt a stillness before the sadness. Like an aspect of myself had departed. A journey ended too soon. All those time worn phrases. Then thoughts came like 'you silly prick, what's the thing with flying.' Well I should have known better than to question that. The truth is you loved it. How many times had I seen you up the front of a cockpit? A front man and plenty of it. Now I can see you turning to me and saying, 'Shut up Macca and play the bass.' Well there's one more thing. Thanks for being the voice up front of the vision. It feels like you've just paused for a while.

"Sleep well friend".

Greg Macainsh (reproduced with permission)