January 2008

The Comeback Kids

Fresh from an unprecedented win at Australia’s ARIA awards night, we ask singer Daniel Johns how Silverchair claimed rock music’s throne

WORDS BRET LOVE

It’s not every band that can disappear from the here-today-gone-tomorrow music world for five years, only to come back and release the strongest album of their career. But then again, Silverchair is not just any band. In fact, with the release of their ARIA (Australian Recording Industry Association) award-winning album Young Modern, the Newcastle trio became the first band in Aussie history ever to have five consecutive albums debut at #1.

A snapshot of Silverchair –
Ben Gillies, Daniel Johns and
Chris Joannou – reveals a
band driven by creativity
and musicianship rather
than commercial success
Photo: Martin Philbey

Few would have predicted such a prosperous future for Silverchair on the strength of their 1995 debut Frogstomp. Despite the strength of their debut single “Tomorrow” many critics dismissed the band as a novelty. And who can blame them? Frontman Daniel Johns, bassist Chris Joannou and drummer Ben Gillies were clearly influenced by grunge greats such as Nirvana and Pearl Jam, and were all barely 15 years old when they rose to international stardom.

“I started writing music when I was 12,” recalls Johns as the band prepares for its first US tour since 2002, “and a lot of the songs on the first record were written between the ages of 12 and 14. We became so well known that we backed ourselves into a corner. People made up their minds right away about what Silverchair was, so you’re forever known for the work you did as a kid. I don’t think many musicians would want that. But at the same time, from a young age, people have always been interested in hearing what we’re doing.”

Few audiences can resist the swank
and swagger of the band, especially
charismatic frontman Daniel Johns
Fortunately, Johns and Co. matured far beyond their early musical influences, tinkering with experimental sounds their grunge forefathers never would have imagined, and evolving into one of modern rock’s most critically-acclaimed and commercially successful groups. Johns actually credits the band’s critics with making him hungry to prove Silverchair as more than a mere teen novelty.

“I was very conscious of the public perception of Silverchair,” he acknowledges, “and Neon Ballroom was the first record where I felt like, if we wanted to be an important band, something had to change. I wanted to do something that would shock people and establish our musical identity.”

But it was 2002’s Diorama that would ultimately prove to be a major turning point for Silverchair. On the positive side, it was an impressive creative step forward, with the trio trading its grunge roots for horns, string arrangements and mature lyrics, and earning the best reviews of their career. On the negative side, Johns developed a crippling case of arthritis that prevented him from touring to promote the record, which led to abysmal sales and ultimately being dropped by their record label.

Photo:Nabil Elderkin

“I was really depressed about the whole situation,” Johns recalls, “because I was very proud of the record. When I got sick and couldn’t tour, I was so frustrated. I put a lot of my heart into that record, but we got dropped because we weren’t making any money. It was impossible for me to get better, so it was out of my control. But in the long term, it affected me in a positive way, because once I got better I had a really healthy perspective – I just don’t care what people think anymore.”

It was Johns who initiated the band’s five-year hiatus, but he insists they always knew they’d get back together at some point. “It could’ve been a year,” he ponders, “it could’ve been 15 years. We just didn’t know. We never fought or hated each other. I just didn’t feel comfortable being in the same band since I was 12 and never doing anything else. So I did The Dissociatives record and worked with different artists, did stuff for films and had a lot of fun and learned new things.”

Johns says it was Silverchair’s performance at the Wave Aid tsunami benefit in Sydney that convinced them it was time to restart their creative engines. He had just come off tour with the Dissociatives when Silverchair’s manager called with a request to play the benefit concert – their first live performance in almost five years – and the trio agreed that they couldn’t say no considering the cause.

Photo: Wireimage

“We started rehearsing,” Johns recalls warmly, “and I guess we realised how much we enjoyed playing music together. It was one of the best shows of our careers, really sloppy but really exciting, and the crowd was amazing. I’d been working on some new music, and after that show, I said let’s make another record, because I had 52 new songs.”

Of course, five years is an eternity in the music world, and the business had changed considerably. The dawn of the downloading age had sent the entire industry into a downward spiral, and rock’s popularity had been usurped by R&B and hip-hop. But according to Johns, none of these changes impacted his mission when it came to the recording of Young Modern.

“We definitely wanted to make the best record ever in music history. I was really overly ambitious,” he admits with a laugh. “My main thing was just wanting to do something unpredictable, even shocking. It was a time of major experimentation, and I went crazy with overdubs, tape loops and orchestral stuff with Van Dyke Parks. I really wanted this album to be special and enjoyable.”

And now that the album is out, earning nearly universal critical acclaim – Rolling Stone (Australia) magazine has called Young Modern a “towering triumph” – and taking home five ARIAs (including Album of the Year), Johns laughs as he acknowledges a feeling of personal redemption in Silverchair’s renewed success.

Photo: Nabil Elderkin

“We’re not one of those bands that will ever have a tour sponsored by Tommy Hilfiger. We never make decisions based on money, and always take record deals that allow us to own all of our masters over those with financial benefits. We take our music really seriously, but the business itself is a joke. Despite our delusional ambition, people still care,” he says with a sense of wonder, “and we know we’re lucky and shouldn’t really be here. We’re just really grateful, ya know?”