NUNCHUKKA SUPERFLY: The Lost Verses (2024)

By BRIAN GIFFIN

IN EARLY 1994, after a decade of blazing their own unique trail through the Australian music scene, the Hard-Ons declared they were splitting up. The announcement came precisely at a time when the independent and alternative rock movements, of which they were among the biggest champions, were breaking through like never before. 

But they were done. They had wanted to further expand on their sound but felt they weren’t being allowed to.

“[The] Hard-ons started feeling restrictive,” Peter Black recalls. “That’s why we broke up. It was a bit of a shock to us when people were saying, ‘That’s not what the Hard-ons is about, mate!’ People telling YOU what your band is about. It’s like, ‘Fuck this shit!’”

Even the band’s label, venerable Sydney punk flagship Waterfront for whom they’d delivered a constant stream of indie chart hits, was getting on their back.

“It wasn’t just fans,” Blackie goes on. “Our record label really blasted us over that last record we did [Too Far Gone]. I can hear a lot of Nunchukka wanting to happen in that last Hard-Ons record.”

Within months – while the Hard-Ons was in its death throes, in fact – Blackie and bassist Ray Ahn had moved on. Retaining their tried-and-true power trio format, drummer Pete Allen from fellow Sydney punk cornerstone Massappeal (also recently defunct) was brought in and Nunchukka Superfly was born. Sometime later (“It might have been ‘94,” Blackie guesses, but he’s hazy on dates), they found James McCann, who came on board from the less-venerated but equally as devastating Harpoon.

It was lightning in a bottle.

“This line-up … there was something really intense about it. All four of us were really volatile as individuals, and I think that what we made together, in hindsight, was pretty fucking incredible. But it was just so hard to keep it together, which is why, when James said to me, ‘You’ve gotta hear what we did back then, it’s fucking awesome!’ I was like…” He shrugs. “‘Yeah…’”

McCann went on to form the Drones; his current band goes by JJ McCann Transmission. That band’s late-2023 album Hit With Love was produced with Rob Younger. It was McCann who re-discovered Nunchukka Superfly’s long forgotten first album.

The album was recorded in a single 11-hour session in Sydney in 1995 but the band disintegrated shortly after the 1996 Big Day Out and the project was shelved. The tapes were thought lost. Apparently no one had a copy, except maybe some bloke who permanently borrowed one from Blackie.

“I had a friend who was one of those fucking ‘collectors’”, Blackie says, “and I’m sure I lent him the tape that I had of it, but I never fucking got it back. So James sent it to me and I heard it, and I was like, ‘He’s right, this is mad!’ Normally, you hear something you made 30 years ago, you roll your eyes and go, ‘Wasn’t I just a kid!’”

Obviously he didn’t feel that way about this recording, which has now been released as Nunchukka Superfly ‘95. It’s a collection of ten explosions of unclassifiable, seemingly structure-less jams filled with guitar violence, noise and McCann variously mumbling and screaming apparently stream-of-consciousness lyrics. 

“With Nunchukka, we definitely wanted to go a lot further. When I hear the ‘95 thing, you can hear that it was starting to want to go there, but there was still a lot of familiar territory. Obviously not just wanting to experiment, but we fucking love rock and roll, so there’s shitloads of that in it. That’s what made us want to do it in the first place.”

It was the experimental element that was the most important aspect for them, however. There were none of expectations on Nunchukka Superfly to conform to a genre or sound a certain way that had been pushed on the Hard-Ons, especially given the reception to Too Far Gone. It was the break from their usual gig that Blackie and Ahn needed that eventually led – a year or so after the original Nunchukka disbanded – to Hard-Ons reunion shows, then to the band getting back together permanently. Since then, Blackie has never allowed anyone but the band dictate their artistic choices.

“We sort of didn’t realise it back then,” he declares, “but WE CAN DO WHATEVER THE FUCK WE WANT! These are our bands! There’s no restrictions. I’m so glad Nunchukka happened, and I know for me – and I know for Ray as well – it was such a great learning curve, for starters, and it was so liberating. All it took was a different name and all of a sudden it felt like there were no rules. In the end, it was us imposing the rules on ourselves. Anyone who thinks your band should act and think a certain way – that’s utterly incorrect. There’s nothing wrong with talking about it amongst yourselves, and others if there’s like management or whatever, but in the end you should do what is right for your art.”

That spirit pervades all of Blackie’s creative outlets. When the Hard-Ons suddenly found themselves without a vocalist, Ahn suggested they bring in Tim Rogers. At first, almost no one thought that would work. Two Top 10-charting albums later, a third just completed and a fourth already starting to be written, the band is probably entering its most successful and creative era.

“There were people who were like, ‘I don’t like Tim in the band’,” Blackie says. “Well, you don’t have to. I get that, as well. There are certain bands where I tend to be more…” He pauses for a long moment. “…if a band that I like makes a record that I don’t like as much as the last one, I don’t immediately switch off! I give that record more time. I maybe don’t get it yet, but I’m interested to know what they’re thinking, what they’re trying. Not everything’s going to connect. I might like certain Ramones records more than others. I just appreciate the fact that they’re there. Blue Öyster Cult’s another good example. They changed quite a lot, and I like a fuckload of their material. If you don’t like everything a band’s done, that’s fine. But for us personally, Tim joining has been phenomenal.”

He feels the same way about getting back together with Allen and McCann. The original Nunchukka line-up will be performing together in July. 

“Being reminded of it, and us having a bit of a giggle and going, ‘Should we release it?’ And then actually having a jam … I gotta think how lucky I am that I’ve gotten to play with some of the best musicians. Having that jam again with Pete and James … James’ voice is like a demon. How he can be that age and still sing like that..? And Pete said to us, ‘I haven’t drummed in ages. But I’ll give it a go’ – he’s a fucking animal!”

Given the nature of the material and the gulf of time since they were last played, one might think that re-enacting them would be a significant challenge. The vibe, too, might be difficult to find.

Apparently not.

“We had a jam, just to see if it was viable, and it was incredible. Some of those gigs I played with those guys I’ll never forget. Just insane. They were really out-there shows. In terms of energy level – all that sort of shit – was just off the Richter scale. It felt exactly like that when we had a jam. We just looked at each other and thought, ‘It couldn’t be this good’. But it was.”

Blackie may have always been at the core of Nunchukka Superflu, but it’s JJ McCann who gets all the credit for their long-lost recording surfacing at last. It was he who convinced the others that it should be released, and the guitarist is more than grateful that it has finally seen the light of day. He’s even left the possibility that more stuff from that era might be heard again.

“I’m glad that James pushed to have that released now. 30 years ago… how immature I would have been as a person, even more so than now, and that line-up not fulfilling the potential it had…being able to play with those guys again feels really fucking good. Even when I leave the door open and maybe get together and play some other songs. There were other songs we wrote that never even got played…I’m hoping that we can find the old rehearsal tapes. Maybe even go and record them. Who knows?”