Dave Graney & The Coral Snakes Revisit ‘The Soft ‘N’ Sexy Sound’ at Factory Theatre

Birdsong filters through the speakers in the main room of Marrickville’s Factory Theatre. The lights go dark. Chatter subsides. A band takes their position on stage. As if announcing the arrival of these musicians, an electric guitar rings out with one single note. It hangs in the air briefly before a lounge-like riff swaggers in, replacing the birdsong and providing Dave Graney – the 90s Australian rock icon – a rhythm to dictate his lyrics.

As slow drums, organ, and bass guitar join this riff, Dave Graney and the Coral Snakes launch into their performance of the acclaimed ‘The Soft ‘N’ Sexy Sound’ – the first full rendition of the album since its release in 1995.

Standing at the back of the room, I’m swept up by the lilt of this opening track, ‘The Birds and the Goats’, recalling the anecdote Graney had told me about it in an interview just an hour earlier.

“It’s not like we’re coming on like Kiss… It’s a very quiet beginning.”

He was holding a cup of tea, and visibly exhausted from the hours of rehearsals he and the band had only moments ago completed. Yet, despite this exhaustion, there was a cheer in the way he spoke – glad to revisit these memories.

“Once, we played in Whyalla at 2am,” he laughed, “at a pub people only went to after everything else was closed. When they all started coming in like zombies, everyone in the band was saying, ‘we’re not starting off with that f**king song are we?’ But I told them, ‘We’ve got to be true to what we’re doing. We’ve got to uphold the standards.’ So, we did… and it was great.”

The story is a perfect example of what the Coral Snakes are famous for – unapologetic subversion of general norms. Humorous, outlandish, and artistic music which can capture the attention of any audience at any time.

Never once, while the Coral Snakes were active, did Graney shy away from ‘upholding these standards.’ From small pubs to The Big Day Out, every set began with this slow, gradual introduction.

Thirty years on from that night in Whyalla, reuniting with the Coral Snakes for the second anniversary tour in three years, he is still upholding these standards. Though to call his performance in the Factory Theatre merely ‘great’ would be an understatement.

The set was filled with synthesiser strings, piano chords, racing solos, and catchy riffs so ingrained into public consciousness I’d forgotten it was the Coral Snakes who’d written them.

As if flicking between channels on a TV, the band swapped rock n’ roll with lounge music with blues, and all the while – with his cool cadence and tongue-in-cheek lyrics – the maestro, Graney swaggered out front.

With no sign of his earlier exhaustion, Graney swayed coolly behind the microphone, comically adopting the role of a mock karate master between verses. Hands fanned and moving in slow-motion, he would chop and dodge to the rhythm of the music – capturing the energy of his songs and channelling them perfectly through his whimsy.

In this manner, the Coral Snakes made their way through the album which had won Graney an ARIA and cemented the band in Australian rock history.

Crowd favourites such as ‘I’m Gonna Live in My Own Big World’, ‘Apollo 69’, and ‘Rock ‘N’ Roll is Where I hide’ all elicited cries of excitement and broad grins from adoring fans who likely thought they’d never hear these songs live again.

Yet, despite the joyous atmosphere, when the band reached the final track, ‘Dandies are Never Unbuttoned’, I couldn’t help but search for a sign of pensiveness within the rock-star’s swaggering caricature.

In my interview with Graney, it was this track he had talked about the most – describing it as a novella-like manifesto from thirty years ago, in which Graney poses a string of introspective philosophical questions about life.

Ultimately, these questions amount to: Is it better to just try and live? To preserve ourselves without worrying about affecting the world? Or should we strive to get involved with life?

It’s a question that, when he stated it so plainly in the interview, resonated deeply with me. I was amazed he could pose a question thirty years ago which has become so relevant today.

When writing the song, Graney told me the question was rhetorical – he couldn’t answer it – but now, having revisited these lyrics, he had an answer.

“Yes,” he said, “nowadays I think you should definitely get involved with life.”

In many ways, this was the same answer he delivered to the adoring audience before finishing this momentous set, summoning a spectacular round of applause.

From what I had seen both on stage and behind closed doors that evening – most clearly in that epic final number – Graney was very much living by that belief.