Confessional interview: Hoodoo Gurus frontman Dave Faulkner
The Hoodoo Gurus frontman confesses about fame, fitness, 40 years of Stoneage Romeos, and being insulted by Lou Reed.
Hoodoo Gurus frontman Dave Faulkner, 66, on fame, fitness, 40 years of Stoneage Romeos, and being insulted by Lou Reed.
Your band’s late manager, Michael McMartin, has been in the news recently, with artist managers pushing for “Michael’s Rule” to get Australian support acts back on all concert tours. What would he make of it all?
He would love it. He liked having his name around (laughs). But more importantly, that’s very much an issue that was close to his heart. He’d been promoting it for years, and was trying to make it happen while he was alive, too. But the music industry is now almost being run from offshore, in terms of the streaming platforms that are determining our playlists, and the giant booking agencies who own all these venues, and have bought out many Australian promoters. It’s time for that pendulum to swing back again the other way.
Hoodoo Gurus played some memorable support slots over the years … one of the earliest ones was in 1984, when we toured Australia supporting (US singer-songwriter) Lou Reed. He’s famously a bit of a curmudgeon, and lived up to that reputation; he didn’t give a rat’s arse about who the support band was. At the very last show in Newcastle, we played our set then got a message from his tour manager: “Lou will see you in his dressing room in five minutes.” I was half inclined to say, “Well, f..k him” – but at the same time, I thought, “This is idiotic of me; who am I to say Lou Reed should be at my beck and call when I say so?” We filed in, and it was incredibly underwhelming. Lou was not particularly forthcoming, as usual, and he also was kind of dismissive. He said, “Hey guys, thanks. You really warmed them up for me.” Which is not exactly damned with faint praise. I don’t know what that is, but it was quite insulting, actually (laughs).
My response to meeting unpleasant people is… That that person’s a f..kwit, you know? You meet f..kwits everywhere, not just in music. Egos can be out of control in this business, because of the way people celebrate you for doing what you do. It’s not something that happens to a lollipop (traffic control) person; they don’t get any Hosannas and encores. But I’ve had my moments, too, when my head got maybe a little bit swollen, and I wasn’t very friendly to people who came up to me in the street. I sympathise with Lou (who died in 2013, aged 71) — but at the same time, I don’t, because I think he was obnoxious. There’s no need to be so unpleasant about it; you can really just say, ‘Hello, how are you? Thanks a lot.’ You can go about your day without being too deranged about it.
You’ll soon be performing the band’s debut album Stoneage Romeos in full for its 40th anniversary. The act of repetition in live music … doesn’t really come into it for me. It’s more: what do the songs mean to me? That changes; the songs don’t wear out, they actually wear in. Some songs reflect things back to me that I didn’t realise were there; I thought I was writing about someone else, or some other situation, and then I see it’s much more relevant to something else that’s going on in my life, or about myself. That’s the joy of art. It’s just like the people that listen to our songs: they get their own particular meaning that is not exactly the one I had when I’m writing it. It’s something very personal to them that I couldn’t possibly fathom when I was sitting in my room, writing a song.
Living in the same street in Sydney’s eastern suburbs since 1984 makes me … practically speaking, very much a homebody (laughs). Bondi is quite well-to-do now. I call it ”Mosman by the sea”, but it’s actually outstripped that now; it’s more like “Bel Air by the sea”. I love it. I don’t participate in the fancy schmancy part of the area though. There’s many places I’ve never been into, and never will go into.
My concert warm-up routine is … I do the same thing every time, which is to sing along to Curtis Mayfield and the Impressions’ early hits, from the late 1950s and early 60s: Gypsy Woman, You Must Believe Me and all those amazing songs. I’ve been doing it now for decades, and I still can’t nail Curtis’s timing.
Life at age 26 was … complete confusion and stress. It was very exciting; that was when the band was in the ascent, so it was a thrill ride as well. Being a touring band that had not much time anywhere in particular wasn’t really great for my personality. I wasn’t emotionally very balanced.
Turning 40 was … the happiest birthday of my life. I had a big party, but on the day, I just knew, ‘That’s over now. All that shit you were going through? That’s done.’ You accept who you are and what you have done and what you’re going to be doing, and you just move forward. Your 40s are the best decade of your life, in my opinion, because you still physically feel great, and emotionally, you feel happier with yourself.
Life at 66 is … the same. You feel better and better all the time as a person, because you are more content with yourself. You marvel at life, and what you’ve done and what the people around you are doing, and how fabulous things are. The downside is being physically not as capable. The band is very healthy, as far as the exercise onstage and then the discipline I show to do that. I just went back recently this year to the gym and I’ve been loving it. So 66 feels pretty damn good, actually.
Hoodoo Gurus’ Back to the Stoneage 18-date national tour starts in Thirroul, NSW (November 13-14), and ends in Perth (December 12-14).
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