Dave Graney and the Coral Snakes
The Gov, Adelaide
Friday, November 21, 2025

Words: ROBERT BROKENMOUTH
Pictures: MANDY TZARAS

It was one of those “where to begin “kind of gigs. Long story short, I've been in a rather horrible tunnel for the last three or so years. Looks like I'm slowly re-emerging, though; but I'm not the only one - and they've been in the shit far deeper and uglier.

Saw The Animals and Friends at The Gov on Wednesday night. Top show, vivid, crisp and filled with bittersweet pills, grim memories and the kind of songs which cry out for audience engagement. Which we got in spades. Norm Helm's jazz-flecked bass is a joy to watch, as is Barney Williams' piano and synth work. Danny Handley's vocals and sweet blues guitar drag me in every time. And, propping the lot up at the back, 84-year old John Steel, one of the original Animals. Just about everyone in the crowd had a smile on their face.

_{Dave Graney and The Coral Snakes at The Gov.}

Dave Graney, though. Seriously, he's one of the most under-rated songwriter-musicians in this country. I can think of scads of better-known, better-pulling joes and giuseppinas who, frankly, couldn't come up with a song with half the subtlety and sledgehammer that Dave does. 

You know, the band are absolutely crackling. So much concentration, all those favourite notes hit, the timing spot-on. There's a lot of work gone on to bring this music to the stage in such a precise manner - Dave's bands usually allow some variation or development in presentation - but not this time. 

This is the first time the entire “The Soft'n'Sexy Sound” album has been played in its entirety and, perhaps to be contrary, they played it in its running order. Dave's commentary on the origin of some of the songs was as revealing as it was baffling, and always highly entertaining.

Just on the musicians. Robin Casinader on mellotron and keys. Marvellous, evocative, he performs the melodies with a tenderness which is so important to Dave's sound. Rod Hayward's guitar was absolutely spot-on, and as you know a Graney song can have some very unique guitar lines (no, not riffs, you bogan). Stu Thomas resonated a (mostly) restrained power, all the more thrilling because you know what a racket he can make. Clare Moore on drums - humour, precision, power. Fabulous.

The entire band welcomed us into their own big world and we didn't want to escape. So much intelligence on the stage - but we Aussies, we don't like clever bastards, so it has to be nuanced, layered, subtle ... dressed up in a kind of wolf-suit. 

_{Robert Brokenmouth photo}

The second set Dave describes as “rock'n'roll', which it isn't. Hell, I don't think Dave Graney's played yer actual rock'n'roll in forever. Seeing The Sputniks in 1979 - they didn't fit back then. Nor did The Moodists, in any configuration. They were a band, but you'd have difficulty saying they were a rock band. At their most visceral, they struck me as being more like an inversion of a rock band.

Then came a sort of glistening, silvery country style with buckskins and historical analogies before melding into some sort of urban C&W of the type which would confuse C&W aficionados as well as rockers. 

A moment on Dave: he has no business being so damn thin, fit and healthy, nor being so very physical and active on stage. Bastard. Come on, any other male within 15 years of his age is either wasting away or, more likely, sporting a hearty false pregnancy and plays Santa at the local bowlo. Dave looks like he eats well, stays clear of fizzy pop, and as for mind-altering substances, I suspect not. 

And he dances. Or something. On the one hand it's a kind of groovy-ed up combination of tai chi and slo-mo karate, on the other it might be kind of like stills from 1940s action movies (at one point he resembles the cover of Wings' “'Band on the Run”. It is, frankly, hilarious and arresting; yet strangely does not detract from the songs. If anything, it adds to them. Most frontmen seem to bare their chest and strut about like they're king of the henhouse. Dave's self-deprecatory behaviour belies the wisdom and the observational drollery which drip through his lyrics like pearls before swine. 

_{Clare Moore.}

Speaking of which. The crowd loved both sets, and were completely mesmerised by a master performer with the kind of effortless vocal chops that talentless bums like me can only pray for. Will God listen? What do you think? All I'll say is that first, when God made Graney, He chucked in a seriously askew dress sense. Can you name anyone you know who could wear a safari suit seriously and make it look cool and casual? No, you bloody can't. But Graney makes it look natural and effortless. 

This show was magnificent, filled with camaraderie and love, rather than some sort of old-fart nostalgia band running badly through the motions and referred to by lazy music curators as national treasures. Wake up Australia, Dave Graney - and whoever is lucky enough to be playing with him - are far more important than 'national treasures': they're confronting without being confronting, fun without the stupidity, and Australian without all the horrifying Australian shit which embarrasses the rest of the world on our behalf.

The tour has three more gigs, and if I could, I'd be visiting Taswegia and risking the possibility of coming back with a newly-sprouting extra head or hand. They’re at The Royal Oak in Launceston on the 28th; The Pier, Ulverstone on the 29th, and the Longley Intenational Hotel, in Longley on the 30th. 

I don't often wish I could win Lotto, but gigs like this make me quite weepy when I get home.