Scientists – Negativity

While unsung in their heyday (often by design), the bands of the ‘80s punk/indie underground have long since received their dues. From Sonic Youth to Mudhoney, the sprawling network of DIY bands that made the alt-rock boom possible has been endlessly memorialized with books, tribute albums and t-shirt after t-shirt. But to this day, at least outside their home country of Australia, the Scientists fly under the radar. Hence “Outsider,” the opening track off their first album in 35 years, Negativity. Rather than make some sort of grand comeback statement, the band decided to reassert their outsider status with this record and pick up right where they left off as if they never broke up in the first place. “People think of the ‘80s as being keytars and mullet haircuts, but there was another side to all of that, and we were part of it,” lead singer Kim Salmon said, “This record is another thing again. It is like a contemporary version of the Scientists of the ‘80s.” And he’s right. Unlike most comeback albums, this is a surprisingly good entry point for the band; if you don’t know what the Scientists are all about, Negativity provides a good summation. But it’s also a love letter to the musical underworld from which they emerged. “Outsider” reeks of The Gun Club, while art punkers like The Birthday Party and The Jesus Lizard are all over “Make It Go Away” and “Safe,” among others. The best track, “Moth Eaten Velvet,” is described as a Velvet Underground homage in the album’s Bandcamp description, but the three-piece string section featured on the track more closely evokes The Pixies. And “I Wasn’t Good At Picking Friends,” with its gnomish backup vocals, campy lyrics and synthesizer, sounds like a bluesy B-52’s cut.
An entire decade’s worth of underground rock gets thrown into the Scientists’ meat grinder, and the result is enjoyable but slightly unbalanced; tight, propulsive punk songs are outweighed by dirges and feedback-drenched freak-outs. This is what the band has become known for, but they’re plenty capable of the former too. The instantly catchy “Outsider” proves their song writing chops are alive and well, so it’s disappointing when subsequent tracks mostly fail to exploit this. The sludgy stuff isn’t bad, but wouldn’t it have been fun to hear them channel the song writing heights of their earliest records? Still, the band manages to keep things exciting with a seemingly endless supply of scuzzy, juiced-up riffs and skull-battering percussion. “The Science Of Suave” might be the best example, with its gleefully deranged, freewheeling lead guitar riff and spastic drum beat, and the abrasively-textured rhythm guitar on “Make It Go Away“ sounds like someone’s head being slammed against concrete. “Dissonance” is more stripped-down, built solely on troglodytic Scott Asheton-style drums, while the guitar settles into the background to supply a steady hum of feedback. Guitarist Tony Thewlis is no stranger to effects though; on “Seventeen,” he shamelessly coats his guitar in a syrupy layer of tremolo. Meanwhile Salmon sounds like he’s crooning from some primordial, watery abyss with all the reverb on his vocals. It’s like a surf rock song from hell.
In his old age, Salmon’s voice hasn’t diminished the youthful petulance of the music in the slightest. If anything, his world-weary snarl sounds more convincing than ever. Whether he’s serving up an impassioned, gravely wail on “Safe,” or a calmly demented growl on “Outer Space Boogie,” Salmon proves that rock isn’t just a young person’s game. Negativity might not always rock (it trudges a bit more often than it should) but this is what it ultimately reminds people: that rock and roll is a “teenage sport, meant to be played by teenagers of all ages,” in the words of Calvin Johnson. And after 35 years, it’s clear that the Scientists have still got it (down to a science, you might say).
 

The Scientists - The Scientists EP

Perth, Australia; May 1978. An unrecorded band named the Invaders (which included bassist Boris Sujdovic, guitarist Rod Radalj, and guitarist/lead vocalist Kim Salmon) joins forces with drummer James Baker, changes their name to the Scientists and releases “Frantic Romantic,” a bright little pop single. A four-track EP and a delightfully gritty LP of hard pop follow. But music life in Perth (on the far west coast of Australia, 2,500 miles of outback away from anyplace else) becomes frustrating. Baker leaves for Sydney where he meets up with fellow Perth renegade Dave Faulkner (who had been in a band named the Gurus and was then in an unnamed ensemble with fellow Perth-escapee Radalj). Baker joins the new Faulkner/Radalj group and they name it Le Hoodoo Gurus.

But we’re not here for a history lesson about Le Hoodoo Gurus

The first self-titled EP by Perth's Scientists bears almost no resemblance to the Scientists who released so many wonderfully dirgy records in the '80s. Rather, this EP serves as a predecessor for another Australian rock institution, the Hoodoo Gurus. As on all Scientists' releases, this one features Kim Salmon on vocals and guitar, but here he is joined by future Gurus rhythm section James Baker (Victims) on the drums. The music chugs along with all the right influences, including Big Star, the Ramones, Johnny Thunders, and the Troggs. Not quite punk, but in Perth circa 1980, it must've sounded pretty radical. With the simple themes of teen romance, teen alienation and girls this record comes out of nowhere to bring you right back to that place when these subjects fixated you. The still to come album was recorded as the band was breaking up and may be a bit overproduced (read: loud drums, separation of instruments), but the music stands on its own as a joyful ode to simpler times, before Salmon's heart was in a place called "Swampland" which is, of course, nine parts water and one part sand.

Scientists – Absolute

This collection is a band-compiled best-of, with cuts from Australia's the Scientists dating from 1981 to 1987. While the group officially formed in 1979, they released a string of astonishing albums in the '80s displaying a style that pre-dates the Sub Pop sound of the next decade. Drawing on the Stooges, the Rolling Stones, and the Seeds, their garage-influenced post-punk sound veered toward psychedelic pop, much like fellow countrymen the Saints. Absolute collects their highlights, "Swampland," "Set It on Fire" and "Blood Red River," making for an intense pummelling within the first half of the record. What separated the Scientists from any number of post-punk bands of the time was the diversity of influences, where Cramps-style garage twang rubs up against Big Star pop hooks, often within the same song, and leader and main mouth Kim Salmon has a keen sensibility for arrangements built around a drone -- such as the sublime "We Had Love" -- so it is no doubt they had admirers in Spacemen 3 and Mudhoney. Despite varying production standards, and non-chronological sequence of songs, this collection hangs together as well as any album could, and is a great introduction to the Scientists.