Graham Brazier

The Peter Pan of Ponsonby



Sooner or later in life you come to the conclusion that some people are destined to live interesting lives, while others are bound for mediocrity. Graham Brazier falls squarely into the former category, his fifty-odd years liberally interwoven with a legend that has made him an iconic figure in New Zealand music. And while many who have lived lives as full as Brazier's are
deservedly arrogant, he is anything but. Gregarious and honest in conversation - even with a complete stranger - Brazier is an engaging personality, one of the nicest bonafide legends you could hope to meet.

Brazier lives these days in Grey Lynn, a relatively ungentrified part of the now-bourgeois central Auckland fringe suburbs. He says it reminds him of what Ponsonby used to be like when he lived there in the mid-seventies. Those days, he lived in a large house named the 'Mandrax Mansion', a residence that spawned both Hello Sailor and Dragon, two essential entries in any telling of New Zealand rock history. That period and the years that followed cemented Brazier's reputation as a decadent rock'n'roll animal, as his lifestyle came to mimic that of one of his heroes, Lou Reed. While this story doesn't need retelling, it's heartening to note that he has come through his wilderness years in good shape, belying both his past excesses and his age.

When I catch up with Brazier in his local Grey Lynn bar to discuss his third solo album East of Eden, he's busy in conversation with his fellow patrons. It's obvious he's well liked in these parts, and from what I can ascertain he's explaining what a 'Liverpool Kiss' is - a Merseyside euphemism for a headbutt. Not surprising as Brazier's father Philip was from Liverpool, a colourful seafarer who eventually arrived in New Zealand as a socialist agitator in the 1930's. He and Brazier's mother, Christina, travelled around a fair bit, settling in Auckland where she has now run bookshops for an incredible 71 years. With folks like that, it's unsurprising that Brazier's childhood was not the classic image of New Zealand suburban mundanity. He grew up above his mother's shop, immersed in literature, gaining an invaluable informal education that has benefited him throughout his life, not to mention the fact it rendered his formal education obsolete when he was fifteen.

Literature has long informed Brazier's songwriting, his turn of phrase and somewhat mannered delivery being anything but cliche. His reading takes in modern American writers of the gritty persuasion of Miller, Kerouac, Steinbeck and Bukowski, while also encompassing local poetry and his vast collection of Landfall anthologies. Lyrically his songs have dwelt on similarly gritty themes, somewhat autobiographical in nature while exhibiting a sage-like wisdom that only comes from experience. This is further borne out in conversation with Brazier, as he doesn't hold back on any subject, from offering marital advice to this soon-to-be-wed to lamenting the loss of his good friend Marc Hunter, the Dragon vocalist who passed away in 1998.

"'Long Gone for Good' is about the first song I've done which has been making up a tale about fictional people," explains Brazier of the opening track on East of Eden. "My songs are usually slices of life or emotional things that have happened to me. I either colour them up or dress them down, but don't actually come out and say what's happened. But I try and see the mood around it - I love songs that create an atmosphere, and if I can do that I'm winning."

Like all great songwriters, Brazier acknowledges the unexplainable, spiritual element of the process, which has been described by some as 'channelling'. "It's not just the song, it has another side to it, an atmosphere that takes you somewhere else. There's so many elements have to go into it, the chemistry, the recording, the way it's sung, the mood of the artist who's playing on it. If everything is right you get that magic atmosphere, and those are the songs that last I think. With this album I've purposely tryed to go for that sort of thing. Like the song 'East of Eden' which is just piano and vocal, I think that has got a lot of atmosphere. And it's kind of ambiguous but it does tell a story. When my girlfriend's mother first heard it she burst into tears, and she's a hard Dutch lady, you know! So I think I succeeded a few times. But I wish I could do it all the time."

East of Eden has been at least ten years in the pipeline, says Brazier. One track ('Desert of Love') even dates back to the mid-seventies, while 'Long Gone For Good' was produced by OMC impresario Alan Jansson about four years ago. The remainder of the album was recorded at Ricki Morris' Devonport studio, The Bus, while it is being released on Murray Cammick's Wildside label. A veritable catalogue of New Zealand music characters, whom Brazier confirms he has had long associations with. "I'd known Murray for years. I just like the way Murray's supported New Zealand music and had the balls to do a free magazine for 25 years or something, and basically by himself. And when I had my own band the Legionnaires, Ricki was soundman-slash-roadie for us."

The Bus is located behind an art gallery in Devonport, a place Brazier says was conducive to the creative process, with new exhibitions hung in the entrance everytime he went there. He's thankful to Morris for the amount of work he put into East of Eden, which it seems may have been a cathartic exercise for the producer. "He'd been going through a tough time, and he really threw himself into the album. There's a lot of heart gone into it, and the production job I think is fantastic. It's done with a lot of love and care, and that is art... when something is done for the buck it's...you know. I'm really jazzed at the way he produced it and at a time that must have been tricky for him he just threw himself at it. Some people drink their way out, some people throw themselves off bridges, but he did the smart thing and immersed himself in work. He's very proud of the album too."

The amount of time and sweat that has gone into East of Eden certainly shows, both in terms of song-writing and production. Songs such as 'Ennui' and 'Fairweather Friend' hark back to the late seventies, classic rock songs with a lyrical bite. Conversely, 'Greylands' and 'East of Eden' are sparse and melancholic, showing off Brazier's long-practiced song craft. Morris' production is sympathetic throughout, always doing justice to the songs, which he also helped to arrange. In addition he assembled the band for Brazier - drummer John Scott, bassist Paul Woolright, guitarist Brett Adams, Hammond organist Ian Morris, and keyboardists Stephen Small, Stuart Pearce and Mathew Brown. Brazier was happy taking a fairly simple approach to the studio, having learnt his lessons in the past about over-complicating things. "I approached it with acoustic guitar, bass and drums, so everything was set on quite a solid platform, and then we built up from there. So I did it the old fashioned way and it worked."

One of the biggest problems concerning East of Eden, says Brazier, was deciding on the final track sequencing for release. "We had a hell of a job getting a running order. It took about six weeks writing lists and playing it to people, and in the end Trevor Reekie (from Antenna Records) came up with the running order. Without sounding like an old hippy, it's a bit spiritual, and you can't really be totally objective about your own stuff. I think putting Alan's song ('Long Gone For Good') on first was quite good because it opens it with a good groove."

Brazier's last solo album, Brazier was released in 1988, preceded only by 1981's Inside Out. What else has he been up to in the intervening period? "Sailor still gets together and does the odd corporate gig," he explains. "But most of those guys have got families and day jobs and stuff. I've been doing a lot of the troubador sort of thing, in the corner with the guitar and the harmonica, just doing solo gigs like that. They're really challenging and if they work you feel like you've achieved something, and if they don't it's scary."

This is surprising, as you'd expect a performer as weathered as Brazier to be more than confident on stage. However, he confesses to having been severely affected by nerves in the past, something he says contributed to his sometime over indulgence pre-performance. "A few times I've let my nerves get to me and had a few too many drinks before a show and blown it a bit. But I've grown out of that now, finally. It takes a long time though. I probably don't appear like a nervy guy, but I do get nervous before a show, and put my partners through hell. My darling old mother calls it pre-minstrel tension, which I think is really hilarious!"

The revelation comes in the context of a discussion about Brazier's regrets about the past, and whether, under different circumstances, he would have liked to have achieved more. He's not the type to rue the past though, preferring to view the future with optimism rather than waste time and energy looking backwards. "I'd like to now," he reflects, referring to the prospects for his new album. "I think I'm the kind of guy that if I had of got fame or world recognition when I was younger I probably would have killed myself. But, if I get the opportunity now, and I think I've got a few years left in me. If I get the chance... but I have a little saying that in America they have adult contemporary, and in New Zealand we have adult contempt!"

Having said that, Brazier denies any bitterness towards the music industry and the fact that despite the fact he is one of the more renowned figures in New Zealand music he doesn't make a living from it. "In this country you can't live on royalties, unless you're Dave Dobbyn or Neil Finn. No, my royalty cheques are pretty meagre. I do a bit of work in my mum's shop, and get a few rare books for her. Because there's only her and I left we kind of look after each other. So if she's broke I look after her, and it seems to work out. But I'm by no means wealthy, and someone said to me not so long back "You must be rich, eh?" and I laughed and said "Man, you wouldn't know". I'm certainly not in the music industry for money. I'd be doing it anyway, I'd be sitting in my bedroom playing guitar anyway. My attitude to it is if I can go somewhere like a bar, and play solo and get a bit of pocket money and a few drinks, I'm happy. And if I get another shot at it I'll be a lot more sensible than I was in the past. But I think for a lot of people it takes them a long time to grow up. It's taken me a long time... I'm the Peter Pan of Ponsonby!"

Gavin Bertram.