The B-side is every music geek/fan’s favourite thing to debate over. It’s the one place where an artist is allowed to record whatever they see fit, and the one place where a fan can expect the unexpected and be surprised, or wonder how long it took to throw that piece of junk down and never play it again. Many a great B-side should’ve been an A-side, and vice versa, but what makes a great B-side and what are the best B-sides ever?

An obvious disclaimer here is that these are my (check the name at the bottom of this post) favourite B-sides. This is not a list of the 10 greatest B-sides ever (despite what the paragraph above may suggest), nor have they been voted on by the Webcuts community. Far from it. The definitive over-argued lists are out there if you really want to find out and you’re more than welcome to list your own favourite B-sides in the comments box below. Be my guest. No, really.

There are certain rules about what counts as a B-side. In my world (and it ain’t everybody’s world), a B-side is the opposite of the A-side, also known as “the flipside”. This entails turning/flipping the record over. So goodbye CD singles, you sucked the fun out of the B-side forever and don’t even get me started on download only tracks. There’s no 12” singles or EP tracks included either. This list is based purely on the 7” single and the 7” single only, which coincidentally just celebrated its 60th birthday this year. Happy birthday, the all-magnificent 7″ single. Also, no remixes or live tracks. It has to be something that the band recorded in the studio. Okay?

Just to stress what I said above, this is not a list of the greatest B-sides ever. They’ve already been discussed and there’s no mystery to be found in evaluating old Beatles or Smiths B-sides. I never bought those records at the time, so they never had any impact, and to me “How Soon Is Now“ was just track 5, side 1 of Hatful of Hollow. No moment of “oh wow, they put this on the B-side?” to be found there. This is purely a quick round-up of singles that I once bought and had that exact described “oh wow” moment, which is really what all great B-sides should be judged upon.

With that said (and of which I‘ve meandered far too long already), here, in no particular order, is my rather 80s-centric selection…

1. Duran Duran – “Khanada” (B-side to “Careless Memories”)

I have been quietly kicking myself for not going to Melbourne’s All Tomorrow’s Parties (hereby referred to as ATP) at Mount Bulla Ski Resort for a little while now. The Brisbane leg, located at The Riverstage near the Botanic gardens, may have been presented by ATP but it wasn’t the real deal. I have been obsessed the UK version of the festival to the point where I have been to five of them within a two year period. It is truly is the king of festivals, one which I can happily confirm all the stories you hear are true. It’s a festival full of music fans; great sound quality; organizers that actually care, about the quality of the event; comfortable accommodation and most importantly not one shirtless sweaty nineteen year old on speed and no girls wearing fairy wings or food colouring dyed hair in sight.

From all accounts the Melbourne event, the only city in Australia to get the full treatment, was one of the best festivals ever staged despite low ticket sales. I’ve been told that the atmosphere was fantastic and people’s recollections of it echoed the memories of some of the best weekends I have ever had at the English ATP events. The reality is that we live in Brisbane, a city famous for not being included on tour schedules at all, and as such we should consider ourselves lucky that we were given an amazing week of bands of such calibre and obscurity.

Being a school night and due to other logistical issues I arrived just as the Necks were playing their final notes which was disappointing but unavoidable. While walking into the Botanical gardens the first thing I noticed was the average age of the punters. This is officially the most grey hair I have ever seen at an outdoor concert. Still the crowd that had assembled looked clearly grateful for the chance to see some of their favourite bands, from back in the day, play in a one package deal.

Robert Forster and band came out next and played a satisfying mid-afternoon set, although, and this can be said of almost any band put into this situation, playing in a mostly empty if slowly filling field, while the majority of the crowd are disinterested and awaiting the headliners, isn’t the ideal time slot. Not surprisingly a large chunk of the selections drew from his recent solo outing, The Evangelist. More surprising was that instead of taking the easy option of playing ’80s Go-Betweens favourites to pad out the set, he opted for numbers he penned during their three album reformation such as “Surfing Magazines”, “German Farmhouse” and “Darlinghurst Nights”. I will try to amend past instances of laziness and make sure to catch him next time he plays at the Zoo or the Powerhouse.

Spiritualized are many things — mesmerising, soulful, transcendent — but one thing they’re not is a band suited to an afternoon festival slot. They demand hushed reverence and a suitably moody light-show to showcase their blues’n'gospel space rock. Apart from the lack of atmosphere, which was obviously out of their control, there are two glaring problems with Spirtualized’s performance. Firstly most songs are between six to eight minute in length which severely tests the patience of all but the most smitten Spritualized fan. Case in point the second song aired, the narcoleptic “Shine a Light”, from first album Lazer Guided Melodies. Sure the slide guitar is gorgeous for the first couple of minutes, but by the eight minute mark most people are in snooze-ville. The main problem though is their stage presence, or lack thereof. Never the most magnetic of front-men Jason Pierce reaches new lows in the “Audience? What audience?” stakes with absolutely no acknowledgment of those in attendance either verbally or otherwise, including,  most heinously, standing side on for the entire duration of the performance. Technically the band can’t be faulted, but despite the admirable effort of the bassist to wear a leather jacket in 30 plus degree heat and some gyrations by the two back-up singers, they’re pretty stationary too. Mid-set Spacemen 3′s confessional “Walking with Jesus” picks up the pace slightly and then three songs from Ladies and Gentlemen We Floating in Space including the title track and “Come Together” finally kick the show into a decent gear, before the distortion soaked finale of Spacemen’s 3 “Take Me to the Other Side”. Despite being partly salvaged mid-way, Spiritualzed’s turn on stage is disappointing and unlikely to convert any to their cause.

The anticipation from the crowd which has been slowly building all day has finally grown to a boil as The Saint’s take to the stage. I was overseas when they played their (then) one off reunion at Pig City, at the University of Queensland in 2007, and was borderline ecstatic that I was going to be given the opportunity to see them belt out (I’m) Stranded to an appreciative home town crowd. It’s not too often you get to see a sea of grey hair lining the front of the stage, getting ready to shake their asses to some glorious punk rock.

First surprise of the gig is that they open with “Swinging For The Crime” and “This Perfect Day”, both fantastic songs of course, but they are from Prehistoric Sounds and Eternally Yours respectively. As far as nostalgia goes, the Don’t Look Back series of concerts is a great celebration of a high water-mark moment in an artist’s career. It has a reputation as solid as the ATP festival itself and essentially started the craze of bands playing their most popular/revered album as a tour package. It is generally considered a minor honour to be asked and has proven to be a great way for artists to celebrate their past while retaining their credibility.

Anyhow, I digress. Initially, all impressions were that The Saint’s were going to be awesome. They certainly don’t look like the young western suburb upstarts they were when they wrote the songs, but they can still belt them out with enough energy, to put bands half their age to shame. The song selection was fine and eventually they started playing tracks from (I’m) Stranded. Ed Kuepper looked as cool as man of his age can be as on stage he is still every inch the punk rocker holding a grim, blank stare on his face for the duration while playing the absolute hell out of his guitar. The contradiction to vocalist Chris Bailey’s stage presence couldn’t be greater, with Bailey having an air of pomposity about him, flailing around on stage with bad dance moves and indulging in random and pointless self-satisfying comments. The two practically have no interaction at all during the course of the set and while The Saint’s never really manage to sound dangerous during the show they come damn near close.

The real WTF moment comes at the end of the set when they exit the stage without playing “I’m Stranded”. Like everyone else in the crowd, once it becomes apparent that the album isn’t being played in order, I was expecting this rather obvious set inclusion to be held off  until the final number for maximum impact. When it becomes glaringly obvious they aren’t returning, I and thousands of others are baffled for a number of reasons. Firstly it is the titular track to the album that they were advertised as playing, in its entirety, as a Don’t Look Back set. In some fantastic, final act of punk-defiance, after delivering a good to great set, apparently for the last time ever, in their home town and with it’s two major protagonists both present, they flip the bird at us and refuse to give us the song we really want to hear. A final “Fuck you, Brisbane!” for ignoring the band the first time round. With some distance from the concert, that moment is more like a mild bad taste after a refreshing desert, and not the faeces in my gelato that it felt like at the time.

By this time the crowd who are milling around the dusty grass bowl has grown to a more than respectable number that will hopefully ensure that Brisbane is included on the tour schedule next year. Nick Cave, Australia’s most successful credibility-intact musical export owns the stage this night. In all honesty it was never really an ATP event but more a tease of what we missed attached to a Bad Seeds show.  Nick struts out on stage and launches into the brooding “Night of the Locusts” from their madly successful Dig Lazarus Dig!!!, then we’re  treated to the organ infused rendering of the title track before the band started to work their impressive back catalogue into the set. Highlights included impassioned readings of the “Weeping Song’”, “Red Right Hand”, “Deanna” (introduced with “This is song about a girl I used to know, when I was… younger”) , “The Mercy Seat” and “Papa Won’t Leave You Henry”.

Nick has his demented “cabaret show from hell” front-man routine down to a tee these days, not surprising after twenty years of practice, and as you’d expect is a true showman. This is maybe the third or fourth time I have seen The Bad Seeds, not including Grinderman, and one noticeable change in the band dynamic over this time is the rise in stature of Warren Ellis from supporting character to co-star.  Initially he stood up the back of the stage with the rest of The Seeds, now he plays the Keith Richards role to Nick’s Mick Jagger, albeit a Richards who plays the violin and all manner of instruments that I’m unable to name. Power to Warren though, the guy is a complete rock star, despite looking like a member of the Ned Kelly’s Gang that has been let loose on stage after too many acid trips.

Still one can’t help but feel for Mick Harvey as while he’s still allowed to play in front of the rest of the band his role is much reduced. Nick now plays guitar on stage and Warren is constantly hogging whatever limelight is left, not that Mick ever seemed to want much attention. When Nick goes over to Warren with a towel, hugged him, and then patted the sweat from his face, Mick looked a little left out in the cold, sort of like watching your wife of 25 years get with another man.

Since Cave and Ellis have become best buddies and each others muse the quality of Nick’s work has been at its best since Murder Ballads so it’s hard to fault the relationship.  (It turns out that not long after the ATP concerts Mick announced his retirement as a Bad Seed and Nick’s trusty side kick after a quarter of a century. Thus there was a little bit of history witnessed tonight, as it marked the end of an important musical era in Australian rock history). The Bad Seeds close their set with a roaring “More News From Nowhere” only to return quickly to encore with the three song punch of “Lyre of Orpheus”, “Get Ready For Love” and a feisty run through of the always crowd pleasing “Stagger Lee”.

All in all this was a pretty great afternoon and evening for music in Brisbane. As you leafed through the program it was hard not to get a little jealous seeing some of the musical spoils our fellow country men in southern states got showered with but tonight still stood far and above most of the other summer options on offer in the sunshine state. Really, if the Saint’s had just played “I’m Stranded” I wouldn’t have a single thing to complain about. Personally I can’t wait for what musical delights ATP are planning for us next year. In fact the mind boggles, at what band they could be thinking of asking to curate it next…

Scott Daniels (except Spiritualized Caleb Rudd). Pictures Charlyn Cameron.

Robert Forster and Grant McLennan were two months into writing the next Go-Betweens album when on May 6^th 2006, Grant McLennan died suddenly of a heart attack at age 48. An indescribable blow to Australian music, McLennan’s death was felt worldwide, and while we mourned his loss, attention turned to Forster in sympathy and uncertainty, wondering what, if anything, he would do next.

A lifetime spent working in song is hard to deny, and with much respect for what they had achieved together, Forster carried on writing anew, intent on finishing the songs they were working on when McLennan passed, and paying tribute to his memory. The Evangelist is the sum total of his efforts, and as solo albums go, it isn’t as solo as it seems. Long-time Go-Betweens collaborators, Adele Pickvance and Glenn Thompson were called to augment the tunes and much like the final Go-Betweens album Oceans Apart, it was produced by Mark Wallis and Dave Ruffy at Good Luck Studios in South London. Forster went as far as calling in the services of Audrey Riley who had done the string arrangements on the fantastic Liberty Belle and the Black Diamond Express to add her touch, and with all the pieces there in place, it’s very hard to look at The Evangelist other than being a Go-Between’s album without Grant.

Opener “If It Rains” is decidedly downbeat, Forster’s voice plaintive?yet strong, conjuring a vision of hope and faith against the times. “Demon Days” was a song that McLennan had begun and left unfinished, and a song that Forster wanted to record the most. Forster added the final verse, and the lines “The half whispered hopes/The dreams that we smoked/Puffed up and ran/As only dreams can” celebrates their friendship. Several of the tracks appear as tender eulogies to McLennan. There’s something in his voice in “Demon Days”, a melancholy of sorts that I don’t recall ever hearing on any of his recordings with strings adding a certain poignancy to the track.

It seems intentional that these two songs address change and loss, and with that in mind, Forster pulls back from the reminiscing blues and throws down a little rock and roll with “Pandanus”, one of Forster’s finest songs in years, spirited and lively, reminiscent of the guitar pop of Talullah. Title track “The Evangelist” was the first song Forster wrote after McLennan’s passing, it speaks of a love affair gone awry, Forster bringing a woman into his world and realising the error in his ways. The familiar brush drums and skiffle beat of “Let Your Light In, Babe” reminds you of that Go-Betweens sound, another of the tracks that McLennan had began and Forster finished, an indication of what the next Go-Betweens album could’ve been.

It’s hard to deny that measured against his past solo efforts, The Evangelist ranks up there with Danger in the Past. Having lost his partner, he’s found his muse and throughout the ten tracks, they find Forster in either a sombre, meditative mood, or in characteristically good spirits. His wit and penchance for throwing out offhand lyrics that border on the ridiculous remains thankfully unchanged, giving us the sublime “Life is art, art is life/But have you met my wife?” on “Don’t Touch Anything” complete with strings, piano and hammond organ carrying along another comedic Forster performance.

“It Ain’t Easy” has another of those signature Pickvance country basslines, reminiscent of Oceans Apart track “Born to a Family” this time painting a fond portrait of McLennan “He picked me up when I might have slipped and not done a thing/A sly grin that played to win/We will not see his kind anymore.” Pickvance has more of a starring role on this album, and where you would be accustomed to hearing McLennan’s backing vocals, she has stepped in to fill that void. Closing track “From Ghost Town” has Forster alone on the piano, a violin playing off in the distance. It’s the poignant moment amongst an already poignant album.

The Evangelist is Forster’s way of honouring a friend. His wit and charm is still there, but as he sings in “From Ghost Town” “It’s all different now”. Forster’s a different man, and these are different times, but as long as he keeps on making music the spirit of The Go-Betweens lives on.

This bashful quintet (previously a trio, this song is the first recording to feature Robert Vickers on bass), normally introspective and restrained, shows rare garage rock flight, sounding like a cross between the Strangeloves and the Seeds, dispensing with their acoustic drifts and angular shackles, instead furiously peeling out in a overdriven declaration of love. While this isn’t quite the seismic shift of Dylan going electric, it’s a dazzling step up that would’ve surprised fans still enraptured by the previous single, the majestic “Cattle and Cane”.

As soon as needle hits record, it’s instantly apparent we’re deep in Robert Forster territory. It has his off-kilter stamp all over it. The title implies a relationship between two things that by natural order go together, but for reasons unexplained aren’t; his “Man O’ Sand” pleading for the return of his “Girl O’ Sea”. After the introductory screech of guitars, Forster dispenses with all formality cutting to the chase with a stern “I want you back”, and then sticking his chest out further, braggingly announces “I was so sure of our love, I wrote a song about us breaking up”. He ventures forth the title of this imaginary song (unfortunately never penned for real) as “The Traffic Lights on the Street of Love”, uttering it’s parenthetical punch-line “have just turned red…..turned red”, before tearing into the monosyllable chorus matching word for word/beat for beat with Lindy Morrison’s pneumatic snare hits.

The highly acclaimed Before Hollywood was still fresh to the ears when The Go-Betweens went to record “Man O’ Sand to Girl O’ Sea” in August of 1983. The Rough Trade single version here is the song in its most primal form. It spits our fire compared to the later version re-recorded and tacked on to end of the Spring Hill Fair album of 1984, where it sits as an uneasy bookend, tamed and restrained, with Forster’s opening call sounding petulant, rather than forceful. Its place on the end of the album goes to show what an oddity the song was in The Go-Betweens’ rapidly expanding canon. It’s only toward the end of the Spring Hill Fair version does Forster venture into a further R&B/garage influence, borrowing from the Isley Brothers “Shout” with the humorously adlibbed “I feel no better! I feel no better!” toward the end.

Forster’s confident start has all but gone by the third verse, now down on his knees, reduced to whispers, pleading “don’t talk about it, don”t talk about it…pleaaase” the pure comedy of which has barely time to register before he’s back on his feet, announcing with an uncharacteristic scream of “Guitar!” as Grant McLennan launches into one of the most discordant solos in The Go-Betweens’ history. Lindy Morrison’s steadfast drumming never loses its footing, despite Forster appearing resigned to his fate with the line “so we break up, you leave my life, leave me alone.” Over the final verse he becomes even more desperate and deranged, repeatedly calling out “I want you back, I want you back,” as McLennan takes over singing the chorus and their electric guitars fight it out into a ragged fade-out finale. The Spring Hill Fair recording has the slight edge here, adding a frenetic guitar solo that lasts for well over a minute.

Few Go-Betweens tracks really came close to matching the spirit and zeal of “Man O’ Sand to Girl O’ Sea”. There are elements in “You’ve Never Lived” on Spring Hill Fair and “In the Core of a Flame” from Liberty Belle and the Black Diamond Express where the band go on the attack, but never to the same extent. Put simply, this is my favourite Go-Betweens single, my ultimate Go-Betweens song; better than “Cattle and Cane”, better than “Spring Rain”, better than “Part Company”, better than “Bachelor Kisses”. With the sad passing of Grant McLennan in 2006, there will never be another Go-Betweens record, and now after I’ve closed the book on this band, a song like this reminds me just how important they were, and Forster’s lingering call of “I want you back” echoing my own thoughts on how dearly I miss this band.

Go-Betweens Website