Happy Halloween, and welcome back to the CD Odyssey! Before our review I will share four of my favourite albums from the year corresponding with the review number – 1970!
- Black Sabbath x2, “Self-Titled” (Disc 105) and “Paranoid” (Disc 194)
- Simon and Garfunkel, “Bridge Over Troubled Waters” (Disc 351)
- Allman Brothers, “Idlewild South” (Disc 940)
I’m falling behind in my listening to new albums right now, as my wallet is turning out to work faster than my ears. This next album is one of the reasons why – an impulse buy that led me to several more of the same.
Disc 1970 is…Comedy
Artist: Paul Kelly and the Messengers
Year of Release: 1991
What’s up with the Cover? A dingy comedy club awaits its next hopeful fool. The time lapsed photography blurs some of the patrons and lends an air of listlessness. Every night in this place is the same –uneven performers and tired jokes.
On the plus side, cheap drinks and no cover!
How I Came To Know It: My friend Casey introduced me to Paul Kelly when he bought me Kelly’s 1989 album “So Much Water, So Close to Home” for my birthday one year (thanks, Casey!). Years later I saw “Comedy” and a couple other albums sitting in the local record store at discount prices. I took a chance on all three and here we are.
How It Stacks Up: Paul Kelly has an impressive 28 studio albums across his career, but I only have four of them. Of those four, I put “Comedy” in at #1.
Ratings: 4 stars
Going for a double album is a delicate decision. For every “London Calling” and “The Wall” out there, there is another double record in desperate need of a trim. Paul Kelly’s “Comedy” lands somewhere in the middle. Could I have cut a few tracks and squeezed it into a single LP? Probably, yes, but the quality of the songs would have made the task difficult. So while I initially chafed at the length of this record, I still found myself sinking into a lot of timeless gems from one of Australia’s finest singer-songwriters.
In 1991 Paul Kelly was walking that folk/rock line that would later morph into what the kids now call “Indie” but back in the day we called it “College Rock”. Terms change, but this particular mix of lyric-forward delivery and jangly guitar will be well familiar to any fans of R.E.M., Uncle Tupelo and countless other bands doing similar stuff across the Pacific and International Date Line. Slap a helping of the Pogues in there, and you’ll have the idea.
If you like that jangly, sometimes dark approach to storytelling, then this record will not disappoint. Yes, the sound and production is a bit light on the low end, but its by design, not accident, and once you settle in and acclimate you can appreciate how that slightly diffuse sound brings exactly the kind of uncertainty that these songs need to help you think deep thoughts.
The album opens with “Don’t Start Me Talking” which for an album called “Comedy” is a pretty good (if unintended) inside joke. The song isn’t about the fact that a double album and 17 more songs await you, but it was hard not to feel Paul was winking at me.
Kelly is a masterful songwriter, and he knows how to take a small event or image and blossom it into a broader theme that explores the complicated trials of the human heart.
“Wintercoat” is a fine example, which in just three and a half minutes walks us through the start of a relationship, its collapse and the stark cold that you’re left with. Our narrator clutches his coat about him against the winter air, but the song leaves an unstated certainty that the chill is coming from within, and the coat’s value is in its memory, not its warmth.
“Leaving Her for the Last Time” is a good example of a song where just the refrain can tell you more than the narrator is willing to say out loud. Anyone who is leaving their problematic relationship “for the last time” already has an established track record of not following through.
Kelly is a master of language to match his musical themes. “I Won’t Be Your Dog Anymore” is full of minor key menace, and a plaintive chorus that cries defiance. The lyrics are some of the best on the record and match the tone. A couple of great snippets:
“I’ve been drinking muddy water
And it tastes like turpentine
I’ve been leaving muddy footprints
Up and down the Morgan line”
And later…
“Now the mangrove sun is sinking
And the moon is bloody red
Every gun is clean and loaded
Lying by a feather bed”
That is some dark and brilliant shit.
At the end of our epic journey, Kelly returns to his comedy theme with, “Little Boy Don’t Lose Your Balls”. It’s a funny time and a good image to giggle to, but like “Don’t Start Me Talking” it isn’t just for laughs, as Kelly works in deeper messages. On “Don’t Start Me Talking” Kelly warns that if you invite him to share his deepest thoughts he’ll do just that, and the record that unfolds explores individual tragedy, as well as social justice themes, inequity and a host of complex human emotion.
“Little Boy Don’t Lose Your Balls” bookends our journey through comedy that’s not. It’s a reminder that wealth and recognition don’t mean a thing if you lose your integrity along the way. Wise words to live by.
Could this record shave four or five of its 18 songs and be slightly better? Absolutely, but even with the bloat it is still one of Paul Kelly’s best.
Best tracks: Don’t Start Me Talking, Wintercoat, Leaving Her For the Last Time, I Won’t Be Your Dog Anymore, Take Your Time, Sydney from a 727, Little Boy Don’t Lose Your Balls



