Cold Chisel – ‘Cold Chisel’ (1978): Antipodean April

You simply can’t discuss Aussie pub rock without mentioning Cold Chisel. They set the bar, a bar that perhaps only one band has ever cleared: The Angels — but that’s another review for another time. Driven largely by the songwriting of keyboardist Don Walker and their late drummer Steven Prestwich, the fretwork of Ian Moss, and the vocals of the Scottish export and Aussie icon Jimmy Barnes, Cold Chisel became an Australian institution.

Before the group recorded and released their self-titled 1978 debut, they’d been paying their dues and grinding it out in the pubs of Australia for several years.

Cold Chisel bursts out of the gate with the gritty rocker, “Juliet.” One can almost see, smell and feel the band in a dimly lit pub. There’s the scent of stale beer and sweat, the sensation of their feet sticking to the floor thanks to God only knows what – and the taste of Cooper’s ale from a frosty bar mug.



Following “Juliet” is Cold Chisel’s anachronistic Vietnam veteran anthem “Khe Sanh.” It’s anachronistic because Australians fought in the war alongside U.S. troops, but they weren’t involved with the battle against the North Vietnamese at Khe Sanh. All is forgiven, however, as the song taps into the broader experience of war.

Don Walker wrote the lyrics after discussing those days with a friend of his who had served. Today, “Khe Sanh” is the most streamed Cold Chisel song on Spotify … and it’s not even close: The song’s 90 million listens are about 27 million more than Cold Chisel’s No. 2 most streamed song, “Flame Trees.”

Despite its subject matter, “Khe Sanh” is infectiously catchy. Jimmy Barnes wrings every ounce of emotion out of each lyric with a fiery vocal delivery that elevates this into an anthem. (For a glimpse of the Australian experience in Vietnam, I highly recommend the 2017 film Danger Close, based on the true story of the Battle of Long Tan.)

“Home and Broken-Hearted” gives off a bit of a roadhouse boogie vibe. Walker’s piano chops would not have sounded out of place in a seedy nightclub. Steven Prestwich’s drumming gives the song a nice punch and Ian Moss provides a decent guitar solo. Cold Chisel was firing on all cylinders on this track. The vocal harmonies on the choruses are tight.

Guitarist Ian Moss makes his lead vocal debut on the bluesy “One Long Day,” which slows things down a bit from the more frenetic and uptempo opening tracks. Don Walker’s piano work punctuates the song and acts as a nice counterpoint to Moss’s guitar playing. About halfway through the song, Barnes takes over with considerably more understated lead vocals than he exhibited on the prior tracks.

“Northbound” picks up the pace a bit. Opening with a harmonica with some tight bluesy piano work by Walker before Barnes vocals come in. Steven Prestwich’s groove is reminiscent of the titular “Northbound” train that Barnes sings of.

Prestwich lays down a beautifully subtle groove on “Rosaline” to punctuate Ian Moss’s smooth vocals. The song evokes a walk down the street on a hot summer day (well — hot winter day in Australia, I s’pose). You can almost feel the heat rising off the street and see it shimmering on the horizon.

“Daskarzine” returns the listener to the grit and stench of the bar with the sticky floors that Cold Chisel opened with on “Juliet.” Walker’s typically tight piano chops are replaced with solid rock organ work that sounds right at home on this late ’70s debut.

Barnes sings out the album with the slow bluesy crawl of “Just How Many Times,” which sounds like last call at a seedy joint on a particularly humid night.

In the end, Cold Chisel proved to be a true group effort, demonstrating that the whole was greater than the sum of its parts. They would go in a bit more accessible and pop-friendly direction on subsequent releases, but Cold Chisel’s self-titled debut best speaks to their rowdy pub rock roots. This was where their legend was made.

Perplexio

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