_{New Dictator Keith Roth flanked by (from left) Andy Shernoff, Albert Bouchard and Ross The Boss.}  

As far as reformations go, it was a longshot at best. We speak not of Oasis, but the much more seminal and important Dictators, out of New York City, who all and sundry figured had drawn their last collective breath after some bitter internal fallings-out.

The May 2020 announcement that the Dictators were reassembling - sans longtime frontman Handsome Dick Manitoba) - caught the world unaware. Before the first single, “Let’s Get The Band Back Together”, hit the Interwebs, it seemed similarly implausible that the new line-up was recording.

A new album, the plain language-titled “The Dictators” will be released online and on CD in September, with vinyl to follow in October. Which leads us to ask: How did punk rock’s original misfits and premier proto-punk influences find their way to being a band again?

Co-founder and songwriter Andy Shernoff gives us all the answers, live and on the line thanks to the wonders of Zoom…

 _{Ash Naylor, Dave Shaw. Dom Mariani and Julian Matthews are The Stems in 2024. Craig MacLean photo @shot.by.mac.}

It’s called anticipation. You’re in a band. You’ve re-convened after a very long lay-off. The line-up’s now well-rehearsed, fed and watered, and it’s the lull before the storm that will be the first day of your 40th anniveresary tour. 

Rock and roll is more waiting than playing. Dom Mariani knows it well. He’s on the line from a hotel in Melbourne where The Stems are poised to undertake their first Australian tour this week in five years (thanks COVID) before taking off on a sweep through Spain and Italy.

Oh no. There’s a brief coughing fit. It's from Dom’s end. 

“You all right?”

 _{Onstage with the "Searching For Charlie Owen" show at Sydney's MoshPit Bar in 2023.}

Master guitarist Charlie Owen  - notably of Beasts of Bourbon, New Christs, Tendrils, Tex Don and Charlie, Divynils, Working Class Ringos and Louis Tillett among many others - is on the road along Australia's East Coast in August and September, touring his music and spoken word show "Searching for Charlie Owen", the dates for which are here.

It's an engrossing and emotional stroll through his own back pages. We decided to mark the occasion by pulling this nugget from our archives. It's was conducted in Melbourne in August 2022 by then I-94 Bar writer John McPharlin. 

* * * * *   

JM: Charlie, I guess the first thing that's going to knock most people out of their chairs when they start reading this interview is your interest in techno music. Can you tell us how you got into that and what you've been doing with it?

CO: I don't have an interest in techno music; I have an interest in all music. My reason for playing it recently is the same reason for any other music I've played. I hear it and hear what I'd like to do with it, not liking what I've heard... it's not because I like what I hear, it's what I'd like to do with the medium.

 
Take a look at the photo. There they are. The original Saints, outside their Brisbane share house, Club 76. Now a posh real estate agent's rather scrappy-looking digs, the house still stands. 

Queensland does have a heritage register: the Saints' Petrie Terrace share house should surely be on the list, but it's not. Queenslanders, make it happen!

It's mid-winter in Adelaide, and I'm reflecting on the passage of time. As I get off the bus, I pass the new and improved Her Majesty's Theatre on the corner of Pitt Street and Grote, adjacent to the shop I worked in for a year nearly 30 years ago. A few doors up Grote, toward Victoria Square, was the one building I worked in periodically over 22 years, The Antique Market, run by Dean Donovan and his wife, Kathy.

Quite an awkwardly-designed building, after Dean sold all the stock in 2018, it was sold, remodelled and occupied for a few years, then finally emptied and demolished; today a huge hotel or somesuch is heading upwards with a great deal of clamour, gusto and grunt. 

_{Jon Schofield leading The Grooveyard through a set with (fron left to right) Ian Little,  Richard Lawson and Bob Wackley.} 

A little piece of Australian underground rock and roll history was rescued from relative obscurity in April when the modestly-proportioned back catalogue (one 45 and an EP) of 1980s Sydney band The Grooveyard was re-issued digitally.

Grooveyard played ‘60s-influenced power pop in and around Sydney in the 1980s. Their recorded legacy kicked off with their Chris Masuak-produced “Avalanche of Love” single in 1984 and ending with the posthumous 12-inch “Grooveyard" EP in 1989. 

The Grooveyard was something of a supergroup. At various times, its ranks included future Paul Kelly and Messengers, Chinless Elite and Hell To Pay member Jon Schofield, Lime Spiders drummer Richard Lawson, ex-Razar member and future Screaming Tribesmen Bob Wackley, Geoff Rhoe (ex-Minuteman), Ian Little (Bambalams) and Sean Maguire (ex-Minuteman).

^{Dennis Thompson (rear) with Fred Smith, Wayne Kramer, Rob Tyner and Mike Davis.}

We are marking the passing of Dennis Thompson, last man standing from the MC5, with this flashback interview. Ken Shimamoto conducted it in two parts, beginning on March 24 1998 and winding up on March 28, 1998.

Besides being the party who propelled the MC5 (and New Order, and New Race, and The Motor City Bad Boys, and...) into the stratosphere with his percussive power, Dennis "Machine Gun" Thompson is also undoubtedly the greatest living high-energy conversationalist on the planet. He talks the same way he plays the drums -- energetically, assertively, aggressively, thoughts spilling over each other two or three at a time, punctuated by explosions of laughter.

K: How'd you get started playing music back in Lincoln Park?

D: Well, what it was, was that I had a friend named Billy Vargo who played guitar, and I'm thinking, how old were we, we were like maybe 15-years-old, and he was the leader of the band. We had three guitars, no bass, and me on drums. And I was doing it, I was playing.

My brother is 10 years older than I am, and he's been a musician all his life. So when he was 16, I was six years old, and they had a rock and roll band, practicing music in my basement, the drummer would leave his drums, so four year old, five-year-old Dennis would run down there and bang on the drums and Mom would yell down there, "Dennis, get off those drums, they're not yours!" But she'd always give me at least 10 minutes, you know?