How Jebediah’s gang mentality and chemistry led to sixth album Oiks
Entire musical trends and scores of subgenres have come and gone during that 13-year gap between Jebediah’s album releases. What’s kept the long-running Perth quartet together?
One afternoon in Brisbane late last year, four friends from Perth walked onto a stage at Good Things festival and did what they’ve been doing together, in some shape or form, for almost three decades: the band members plugged in, turned it up and turned it on.
For hundreds of fans and curious passers-by seeking shaded relief on a hot summer day, what Jebediah offered was a rare combination of reliable musical chemistry, familiar favourites that emerged from the nation’s burgeoning mid-1990s alternative rock scene, and a couple of new songs that slotted right in alongside tried-and-true classics such as Leaving Home, Animal and She’s Like a Comet.
Performing on the same stage later that day was Spiderbait – another alt-rock mainstay that, like Jebediah, has maintained the same band membership during its entire recording career – as well as punk-rock act Frenzal Rhomb.
On a festival line-up featuring overseas acts such as Fall Out Boy, Limp Bizkit and Devo on the main stages, it was a smart move for Good Things’ organisers to book veteran local acts such as this trio, who have each been matching it with international bands for decades and whose dedication to the craft of rock ‘n’ roll is both infectious and ongoing.
For Jebediah, that December run of shows with Good Things – which was attended by about 100,000 people across concerts in Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane – was a precursor to issuing its sixth album, which marks its first collection of new music since 2011.
Entire musical trends and scores of subgenres have come and gone during that 13-year gap between Jebediah’s album releases. That the quartet has continued to tour, and slowly piece together new songs, is a testament to the strong connection shared by its members.
“We’ve always been united in the understanding that, if anybody stopped wanting to do it, then that would just be the end of the band; we wouldn’t keep going with somebody else,” singer, songwriter and guitarist Kevin Mitchell tells Review. “To be honest with you, I’m not exactly sure why that was such an important thing for us from such an early time; it was like this unspoken pact.
“I guess we started with that sort of gang mentality; it’s underpinned everything, and it’s still underpinning things now. It’s like we made some f..king blood promise when we were kids, in a cubby house; we mixed blood with each other, and mixed it with spit and dirt, and rubbed it into our skin …”
He pauses, then says, “I mean, we didn’t do that – but we may as well have.”
Since 1995, the quartet – completed by Kevin’s brother Brett on drums, guitarist Chris Daymond and bassist Vanessa Thornton – has spent countless hours in each others’ presence, on stage and off. Was such a thing really left unspoken, and never mentioned at a band meeting, or put down in writing somewhere?
“Oh god, no,” replies Mitchell. “I think it probably was spoken about, in less formal environments …”
Like at the pub? “It was probably more likely in Vanessa’s apartment, because there’s certain things you can’t do at the pub,” he replies, cackling. (For context: the lyrics of the band’s breakthrough 1996 single, Jerks of Attention, centred on the effects of imbibing cannabis.)
Its largely upbeat, melodic rock sound and Mitchell’s hook-filled songwriting smarts attracted plenty of industry attention at the time; in short order, the band was signed to Murmur, an imprint of Sony Music, which released its first three albums.
“When we were starting out, we were so young, we didn’t really know what we were doing: all of a sudden, you’re on a major label, your album’s in the charts, and you become a little company; a little business,” says Mitchell, 46. “When that all happens, it can be confusing sometimes to be clear about what your reasons for doing something are – whereas now, my ideas of success are much clearer, and they’re now tied to things like commercial stuff. Obviously, I need to make a living from music, because I don’t have a day job,” says the singer-songwriter, who also performs as folk-pop artist Bob Evans.
“There’s all those kinds of realities, of course; we’re not immune to that. But I’ve just realised that the relationship that we have, and the fact that we’ve been in the band since we were kids – that’s just so much more special and important than anything else that has happened, or could happen. The longer we keep going, the more significant that feels.”
A scroll back through the band’s discography reveals a few unusual title choices: not just the debut Slightly Odway (1997), but also Of Someday Shambles (1999), Braxton Hicks (2004) and 2011’s Kosciuszko, named after mainland Australia’s tallest mountain.
Sixth album Oiks continues that trend; its title was taken by a reference that Tim Rogers – frontman of You Am I, another longstanding alternative rock institution – made in reference to Jebediah during a 2017 interview.
“They had something about them that was very American collegiate – they were this little gang of oiks, and I loved that mentality,” said Rogers.
Mitchell loved that descriptor of the band, too, and when it emerged as a potential album title, he made sure to run the idea by Rogers – an avowed logophile whose chief concern was whether he had used the word in the correct context. (He had.)
Asked what the word means to him, Mitchell replies: “An oik is like a little street urchin; a little troublemaker, or what my English dad used to call a ‘bovver boy’. It’s a Victorian era kind of word, isn’t it? It makes me think of Oliver Twist or something like that.”
It’s also the sort of uncommon noun that prompts a double-take, both in newsprint and on an album cover. If it returns to the national vernacular, both singer-songwriters would likely be tickled, though Mitchell cautions with a laugh: “I’m not expecting it to suddenly take off.”
The singles issued ahead of Oiks’ release largely adhere to the band’s well-honed style of melodic indie rock; special mention must go to the highly effective music video for Motivation, directed by Arlo Cook, which perfectly captures the quartet’s musical abilities and shared chemistry.
But the real curve ball in the set is Rubberman, a dreamy, compelling number that catches the ear effortlessly. It, too, is accompanied by a stunning music video that sees the band collaborate once again with animator Gina Moore, whose charcoal sketch work appeared in the video for Harpoon in 1998.
“It doesn’t sound like any song that we’ve made before, which is why it’s my favourite song on the record, I guess,” says Mitchell. “I love that song; it highlights a willingness and an openness from everybody to explore and experiment, and remove these self-imposed boundaries about what Jebediah was, or what Jebediah is.”
Plenty of people develop long-running habits that are kept only through routine and comfort. Likewise, plenty of bands stick together out of habit – and perhaps fear of change – even as diminishing returns become apparent. Happily, Jebediah is not one of those bands.
“Longevity in and of itself doesn’t make something good,” says Mitchell. “What is it about the longevity? What’s inspiring it? We took a risk on our chemistry, making this record – going into a studio with no songs – and the fact that it’s still there is a reflection of the deep roots that we have with one another.
“I’m proud of the fact that we’re still together, and we’ve been able to make a record that offers something different to what we’ve done before.”
Oiks is out now via Cooking Vinyl. Jebediah’s 22-date national tour starts in Cleveland, QLD (July 4) and ends in Melbourne (September 20). Tickets: jebediah.net
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