As a man who once said the best hangover meal was “two dexies and a Bloody Mary”, Peter Bibby has certainly developed a reputation for being a little different. Maybe even a little quirky. He’s certainly not your X-Factor fodder. I would like to see what he’d say to the likes of Simon Cowell though.
Most of that reputation was brought about through Bibby’s overindulgence in alcohol and chemical substances. That was then, but this is now. Bibby has embraced sobriety and Drama King reflects his evolution from party animal prankster to a more enlightened, mature bloke who now understands when enough really is enough. Does this change of lifestyle and attitude detract from Bibby’s creative talent? Not if the first track on the album is anything to go by.
‘The Arsehole’ is a big wedge of rock music, extolling tales of excess and the overconfidence that comes with it. Soon into the opening song, we get a raw, unpolished look at the man behind the music. Observing the late-night scene of a local bar with progressively drunken eyes, Bibby brutally declares, “No one seems to want to talk to me/‘cuz I’m the arsehole, probably.”. No attempt to put lipstick on a pig here, Bibby owns his past behaviour with a savage honesty.
Flipping the narrative, “Fun Guy” is pure riff-driven punk that attacks you for three and a half minutes. Bibby focuses on his epiphany that things need to change as he scowls, “These get-togethers don’t do nothing for me/I’ve got better things to do with my energy.” Judging by the furious nature of this track, he undoubtedly has plenty of energy to utilize.
Calming down a little, Bibby delivers a melodic rock ballad in ‘Bin Boy’. A beautiful sixties-sounding organ bubbles away beneath the guitars to give the track a fabulous, rich sound. Bibby seems to be comparing himself to a wheelie bin, allowing people to dump their troubles and issues within. Or maybe he just has a real affinity with them.
Moving into 90s indie-rock, and one of the most radio-friendly tracks on Drama King, ‘The One’ is a lovely mix of piercing guitars and runaway rhythm, overlaid with Bibby’s gravelly vocals, the song has a trippy feel about it. This may well have been intentional as it seems to highlight his relationship with drink and drugs. “I always get attached/And I always come undone/I should really use some tact/And stop thinking she’s the one”, croons Bibby, acknowledging an ever-increasing one-sided relationship.
‘Bruno’ reminds me a little bit of early REM, with Bibby’s vocal reminding me of Wreckless Eric. “He’s got no idea/And nowhere to get one”, snarls Bibby as he describes the mysterious Bruno, who he also calls a piece of shit. Curious to know who this chap is, but I don’t think I’d want to meet him.
From Eric to Robert, Bibby channels his inner Bob Dylan in the track ‘Baby Squid’. The track begins as a slow, lumbering ballad but finds its punk inner core halfway through and leaps into life. A realisation of becoming washed up, Bibby explains the motivation for the track came after getting mixed up in a party with his next-door neighbour. “They were at least twice my age, and they were up to all sorts of weird shit,” says Bibby. “The loud bit is kind of like pining for a girl I was probably breaking up within the midst of all this drunken behaviour.”
Arguably the most beautiful track on the album, ‘Terracotta Brick’ is an Americana-soaked belter. A compassionate, heartfelt lament for an honest tradesperson, the unsung backbone of society. Bibby states he was inspired to write the track whilst working as a brickie’s labourer. “I took a direct quote or two from the boss, he was full of great lines. He was also full of piss on a regular basis, and it got me thinking about the connection between the building industry and flat out, celebrated alcoholism.”, he expounds. He absolutely nails it here, really pulling you into that world or working hard and partying harder – often to escape the daily grind of working hard. Brilliant.
‘Turtle in the Sand’ is a rock ballad in 3/4 time that would have been very at home on Dylan’s 1966 album, Blond on Blond. In an exploration of a bitter relationship break-up, Bibby sounds as if he is losing control, utterly distraught at what has occurred. If you fancy the sensation of motion sickness, then ‘Feels’ is your song. The song is driven by a juicy, wobbly guitar riff. Imagine a punked-up version of ‘Mr Soft’ by Steve Harley and Cockney Rebel being sung by Jake Burns of Stiff Little Fingers fame. An odd description I know, but an accurate one in my opinion.
Keeping in the up-tempo milieu, ‘The Pricks’ takes an energetic rhythm whilst Bibby screams at you. Describing one of the song’s characters, Little Georgie, Bibby describes him as “He sounds like a trumpet wearing a wig”. That just tickles me. I always did have a weird sense of humour.
We go all-out country for ‘Old DC’, as slide guitars swirl and sweep around Bibby’s vocals. “And all my dreams they fade away/No faces and no names/I’m getting tired of it/But you can’t teach an old dog cunt new tricks, oh”, proclaims Bibby, with a hint of frustration and distress in his voice. Another introspective number that is elevated by the fantastic instrumentation of the Big Horse Band, Bibby’s latest musical ensemble.
Speaking of horses, the album concludes with its longest track, ‘Companion Pony’. Telling the story of a racehorse that decides he’s had enough of being used and abused for the benefit and amusement of others, he snaps and “Takes his big old hooves, and he stomped the gambler’s backs in”. The jockeys didn’t avoid the melee as the horse “gave them what for”. The horse gets his freedom and wants a buddy to help keep him safe and help him stay free.
Whilst the story works on its own as an idea, it is also a metaphor for breaking free and not taking people’s shit anymore. Be yourself. Live your life. Run free lads and lasses. Musically, it is a slow building crescendo of echoing guitars, punctuated drums, piano, strings and vocals as the song goes from a trot to a canter before breaking into a strong gallop at the end. A wonderful way to end the album.
I’d never heard of Peter Bibby before listening to Drama King. I’m pleased I’ve had the opportunity to acquaint myself with him. This album jumps around musical styles but doesn’t feel confused or contrived as a result. Dan Luscombe, known for his work with The Drones and Amyl and the Sniffers, worked with Bibby for the first time on this recording and has done a sterling job. This is Bibby’s fourth album, and it feels tight, punchy and mature. He tackles some dark stuff across these twelve tracks, but with a cheeky sense of fun poking its nose into proceedings when needed.
But why is the album called Drama King? I’ll let Bibby explain. “Everyone uses the term ‘drama queen,’ even regardless of gender. I was thinking it’s a bit unfair to the queens to always be called ‘drama queens.” With a big smile, he adds, “I consider Drama King to be a woke title.”
If, like me, you’ve not come across Bibby’s work before, this unique and intriguing Aussie troubadour is well worth exploring.
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