'You're allowed a year of being insufferable': lunch with James Reyne

Despite it being his signature song, James Reyne didn't rate Reckless when he first wrote it. "Sometimes they just fall out. I had this little guitar thing, I was in Sydney sitting on the harbour and the Manly ferry actually went by," he says. "It's as simple as that, that's my vague memory of it. I always thought it was no good because it didn't hang together – I had the verse and then this bridge over it, 'She don't like / that kinda behaviour'. I thought I'll fix it up one day, but I never did."

Musician James Reyne at Lord Cardigan restaurant.Credit: Penny Stephens

When he played it to his fellow Australian Crawl band members, they loved it, as did Bob Starkie of Skyhooks, who was adamant they record it.

The band had a few iterations before settling on the name inspired by Australia's most popular swimming style and comprised Reyne, Brad Robinson, Paul Williams, Bill and Guy McDonough, David Reyne, John Watson and Simon Binks. For many their sound defined the early 1980s, telling Australian stories, often about the suburbs, with poppy, catchy lyrics, heavy on the guitar with a surfie vibe. The Boys Light Up, their first album came out in 1980 and remained in the charts for an unbroken 101 weeks, while their second, Sirocco (named after Errol Flynn's yacht) stayed in the top 20 for 32 weeks.

The former frontman has released a lot of music in between times but Reckless still tops the list whenever he performs – not that he minds. "A long time ago I realised – and it's the old showbiz adage – you've got to give them what they want."

We're dining at the Lord Cardigan, a stylish modern Australian restaurant; it feels decadent and exciting to be out after months of isolation. It's in Reyne's old stamping ground, Albert Park, where he lived for many years. "Back when it was cheap," he says with a laugh.

For him, the traditional cassoulet with pork belly, pork sausage and white beans beckons, while I opt for the herb crumbed veal with tomato and capsicum provencale; we share a mushroom and ricotta rotolo as entree.

Reyne out front performing with Australian Crawl in 1985. Credit: Bliss Swift

Shutdown came mid-tour for Reyne, who was travelling as part of the Red Hot Summer show. Featuring Hunters and Collectors, the Living End, the Angels, Baby Animals and Boom Crash Opera, it had two more months to run when news of COVID-19 put paid to that.

Since then he's been bunkered down at home in the hinterland of the Mornington Peninsula, where he lives with Leanne Woolrich, who he married in 2017. The 63-year-old has two adult children, a son and a daughter. He has done a few online performances, including the ANZAC Day fundraiser Music from the Homefront with good friend Hunters and Collectors frontman Mark Seymour.

Reyne has had 19 top 40 hits, seven with Australian Crawl, nine solo and three as part of Company of Strangers, a short-lived band with Daryl Braithwaite, Simon Hussey and Jef Scott. He was inducted into the ARIA Hall of Fame in 1996 and was awarded an OAM for services to the performing arts in 2014.

The French-style cassoulet with green leaves at Lord Cardigan. Credit: Penny Stephens

In another reality, he would have been on the road with Seymour right now. While disappointed it couldn't happen, he's mindful he's not alone – the live music industry has been decimated. "A few guys from my band are working as builders, they're back on the tools. A lot of people are just falling through the cracks," he says.

Conversations in recent weeks have revolved around what touring might look like once the world starts turning again. Venues operating at lower capacities and a return to pared down acoustic performances have been mooted. Meanwhile, he's coming up with ideas, noodling around on the piano and guitar.

"I'm always writing songs, always messing around with something," he says. "I've made a lot of records in the last 20 years or so but ... radio doesn't leap all over you to play your stuff. Commercial pop radio is never going to play someone like me. I got used to it a long time ago."

Dates for the Red Hot Summer shows and the Seymour shows (the wryly named Never Again Tour) have been reconfigured for October and June next year. Touring these days is not quite as rock'n'roll as it once was. After a bit of milling about post gig, it's generally straight back to the hotel, where he has a couple of rules. No drinking is one, the second? "Never put Rage on. I could be asleep in half an hour but before you know it, it's 3 in the morning."

The mushroom and ricotta ritolo with seared spinach, beurre blanc and fried sage.Credit: Penny Stephens

The ABC's late night music show might feature an Aussie Crawl hit, maybe Lakeside, Errol or The Boys Light Up, many of which stand the test of time. Many don't though, he quips, saying it took a few albums "before being a bit more self-critical".

Having grown up in Mount Eliza, Reyne moved back to the coast just over 20 years ago, when his daughter was born. His former partner suggested the sea change and to this day he is grateful she did.

Does the beach nearby beckon much? It needs to be "very fair weather". "When I was much younger, every single person I knew was a surfer, but I'd go down and moan about the cold. I'd always rather go back and listen to the music, man," he says with a grin. "I did a bit, paddled around a bit but I wasn't serious about it."

In 1977, before his music career took off, Reyne studied arts/law at Monash University, then drama at the Victorian College of the Arts. The Stanislavski method was in vogue and one exercise involved students going out to "find our character", he says.

That meant meeting "the winos" of Melbourne. "We met at the Waterside [in Flinders Street] which used to be an early opener and started drinking at 6am, then went up to somewhere in Collingwood or Brunswick Street. By 12.30pm, I was so pissed I had to go home. Then we had to go back to school the next day and sit in a circle and talk about our experiences."

He laughs recalling it. "I used to make jokes about it, all we used to do was hug and hum."

Most of his songs, including those on new album Toon Town Lullaby "are kind of autobiographical". "You're either in it or it's about something you've done or been through."

Released 40 years on from The Boys Light Up, it features a heartfelt tribute to his best mate Brad Robinson who died from lymphoma in 1996, at age 37. Called The Tallest Man I Ever Knew, the song includes the lines: "I'm still tilting at those windmills and shouting at the rain."

Low Hanging Fruit is about the music industry and was written in about 10 minutes after watching the ARIA Awards last year – he's no longer allowed to watch it, as he gets too fired up about its ridiculousness. Even so, he says there are loads of lovely, interesting and intelligent people working in music. "I'm lucky to be in it. It's much more interesting as you get older. You can see bullshit coming a thousand miles away."

"I am so much more in control of it and I'm so much better at it. And you understand the landscape so much better and your place in it. No delusions about yourself, [you] had your years of being insufferable. I always think when you become a pop star you're allowed a year of being insufferable and then it's 'Right, get it together, get realistic'."

Toon Town Lullaby is out on July 10 via Bloodlines, part of the Mushroom Group.

The bill, please
Lord Cardigan
59 Cardigan Place, Albert Park; [phone].