‘Don’t be fooled by our positive sound’: Why Mental as Anything are afraid of everything

Reg Mombassa looks out of place in the middle of Sydney’s CBD. As the longtime creative force behind the clothing brand Mambo and frontman of the band Mental As Anything, the musician and artist is synonymous with suburbia: fibro houses, beach shacks, and backyard barbecues, that kind of thing. “I don’t like the city that much,” he admits, glancing up at the looming skyscrapers behind him. “But I love this restaurant.”

Sitting next to Reg is his younger brother, Peter O’Doherty, also a former member of Mental As Anything, and a successful artist in his own right. Whether out of sibling obligation or genuine agreement, he echoes his brother’s sentiments. “I try to avoid coming into the city if I can, but this place is special.”

The place in question is The Malaya, a one-time Sydney institution, founded in 1963 by Wong Tai See, a merchant seaman who migrated to Australia from Hong Kong in the 1940s.

Formed on a whim by a group of bored art students in search of free drinks, Australia’s prankish Mental as Anything went on to forge a career spanning several decades.Credit:

The original Malaya was located at 787 George Street, close to Central Station and Chinatown (the new version opened in April, just down the road at 225 George Street), before relocating to King Street Wharf in 2001, where it became a staple for long-lunching businessmen looking to make a dent with the corporate credit card.

However, in the 1970s, The Malaya was overrun by a different crowd: students, artists, and musicians, curious folk who had heard whispers of the signature Sichuan eggplant that would sober you up in a mouthful. Among the devotees? A group of kids soon to be known as Mental As Anything.

“We would come here all the time because it was open late and always reliable,” says Mombassa. “And the best thing is, it all feels the same, the menu, the food, the atmosphere.”

To prove his point, Mombassa reels off his favourites for the three of us to share – salt and pepper prawns, the coconut beef rendang and a Singapore curry fish. O’Doherty nods in agreement, before catching himself. “Well, actually, it looks a bit different to how it did in the 1970s, but then again, so do we.”

Alongside bands like INXS, Cold Chisel and ACDC, the Mentals, as they’re affectionately known, helped provide the soundtrack to Australia in the 1970s and 1980s. The group formed in Sydney in 1976 when Martin Murphy (also known as Martin Plaza) met fellow student Chris O’Doherty (Reg Mombassa) at the National Art School.

Coconut beef rendang: aromatic coconut, lemongrass, galangal and kaffir lime base.Credit: Janie Barrett

The duo was soon jamming in guitarist and vocalist Mombassa’s Darlinghurst flat. Murphy, on guitar and vocals, brought in his college friend Steve Coburn on bass guitar, while another student, David Twohill (also known as Wayne de Lisle), was recruited on drums.

According to Mombassa, their first gig was spectacularly unspectacular. “It was a party in Balmain at Martin’s girlfriend’s place,” he recalls. “We didn’t have a huge repertoire, so we played Can’t Be Satisfied by Muddy Waters three times.”

In 1977, Peter O’Doherty replaced Coburn, and the group added Andrew Smith (known as Greedy Smith). With this, the classic Mental as Anything lineup was complete.

The group would remain unchanged until 2000, when O’Doherty and Mombassa departed the band to focus on their two-piece act, Dog Trumpet. There was no controversial split; it was simply the closing of a chapter.

“We certainly had a good run for people who didn’t plan on being in a popular band,” says O’Doherty, between mouthfuls of prawn. “We travelled the world and wrote some great songs.” “Yes, I suppose so,” adds Mombassa.

I worry Mombassa’s reflection on his musical legacy is as modest as his appetite (my plate is piled with rendang while his sits largely untouched). Following their debut single, The Nips Are Getting Bigger, the band had Australian top 10 hits in 1981 with If You Leave Me, Can I Come Too? and Too Many Times, and in 1985 with Live It Up, which also featured in the 1986 film Crocodile Dundee.

At their peak, the Mentals sold millions of albums, toured the US and Europe, and topped the charts at home and abroad. Surely, that counts as a great run? “It’s just a strange thing always to look back, I’m not sure if it is helpful,” says Mombassa.

As the Singapore curry arrives, a glorious coral trout, surrounded by tomato and eggplant, talk turns to an upcoming-but-untitled Mental As Anything documentary, directed by Matthew Walker (I’m Wanita), which charts the band’s unlikely rise. “We’ve spent a lot of time over the last 18 months sitting like this, side by side, sifting through the memories,” says O’Doherty. “Sometimes it’s good, and sometimes it’s bad, you’re reminded of the disappointing and frustrating moments, as well as the enjoyable parts.”

The documentary features hours of archival footage, which means the pair have been poring over early vision of Smith, who passed away in December 2019, following a heart attack. Smith’s death at 63 came as a shock, though Mombassa reliably informs me that the average life span of a rock and roller is “about 60”.

“A lot of our contemporaries and friends are getting sick or dying,” he says. “It can be dangerous to find fame when you’re young, and then it fades away, and you’re not sure what to do with yourself. Some of them just burn out.”

At 66 and 73, respectively, O’Doherty and Mombassa are doing quite well, but both admit mortality is never far from their minds. “I think as you get older, you become very aware of how much time is behind you and how little is in front of you,” says O’Doherty.

“Which explains why there is a lot of existential angst in all the songs that we write these days.”

He’s not wrong. The pair’s latest album, their ninth as the double act Dog Trumpet, has a deceptively optimistic title, Live Forever, which is also the name of the lead single. Upbeat as it may sound, the lyrics are quite the opposite. “Sometimes I am afraid of everything in the world,” sings Mombassa on the album opener. “And sometimes I am ashamed to be a human, it’s a shame.”

Salt and pepper prawns: wok-tossed with cracked black pepper.Credit: Janie Barrett

Midway through a parcel of san choy bow seems like an inopportune moment to ask Mombassa if he’s really, truly, afraid of everything, but he’s more than happy to answer.

“Well, I think if we can’t transform our consciousness, we’re headed for extinction,” he says matter-of-factly, returning his food to the table. “We need to get away from this obsession with alpha males and aggression, fuelled by guys like Trump and Putin, fascists masquerading as politicians.”

O’Doherty feels much the same way, admitting that while the world has always been “cruel and unjust”, a uniquely modern issue has supercharged the collective anxiety: “The big problem is that we don’t seem to be able to agree on facts.”

One thing we can actually agree on is that no one needs dessert. Mombassa nurses sparkling mineral water, while O’Doherty and I opt for a glass of 2019 Morningside Pinot Noir. It’s hard to solve the world’s issues when you’re stone-cold sober.

“Twenty-odd years ago, we demonstrated the US invasion of Iraq with 100,000 other people in Sydney,” says O’Doherty. “Before that, in the 1970s, we protested Vietnam too,” adds Mombassa.

“Exactly,” O’Doherty continues. “And that’s my point. In my opinion, the right wing has always been dangerous, but considering where we find ourselves [now], people like Bush and Reagan seem almost reasonable in retrospect.”

Talking politics over a nice meal might be frowned upon, but with Mombassa on hand to rib his brother – “You pining for the Bush administration?” – the mood remains upbeat.

Chris O’Doherty aka Reg Mombassa’s artworks came to the attention of Mambo’s founder Dare Jennings in the mid-1980s. They went on to become synonymous with the renowned Australian surf and leisurewear label.Credit: Mambo Australia

This ability to mix light and shade has long been a hallmark of Mombassa’s creative output, whether writing songs or creating T-shirts for Mambo. “The designs were political but ambiguous, so I often see people wearing my shirts and wonder if they know,” laughs Mombassa.

“People have made similar comments about our songs, both with Mentals and Dog Trumpet; there is a cheerful melody hiding something deeper,” he says. “But don’t be fooled by the positive sound, I still want you to think, ‘what the f--k are we all doing?’”

That’s not an easy question to answer, even over a few glasses of red, but according to Mombassa, the problem and solution are one and the same. “I’ve always been aware that the most dangerous thing in the world is other humans,” he says. “But at the end of the day, all we’ve got is each other.”

The bill, please.Credit:

As I signal for the bill, the brothers, who live in suburbs on opposite sides of the compass, exchange plans for the remainder of the afternoon. There are vague promises of painting and rehearsing, accompanied by an acceptance that neither of those things is likely. Before exiting, we are intercepted by The Malaya’s maître d’, Isabella Wong, granddaughter of the original owner, Wong Tai See.

Recognising the pair as longtime regulars she thanks them for coming by, anxious to hear what they made of The Malaya’s relocation. Mombassa and O’Doherty agree it might look a little different, but from what they can remember, it’s much the same. And when you’re afraid of everything, slight change is nothing to be scared of at all.

Live Forever is out July 11.

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