Domino's TRIFFIDS re-issue campaign has been a source of great joy for this particular writer over the past couple of years, with expanded editions of their classic triumvirate 'Born Sandy Devotional' (1985), 'In The Pines' (1986) and 'Calenture' (1987) finally doing justice to the memory of the finest band ever to step out of the shadow of enigmatic Western Australia.
The wonderful news, though, is that Domino have gone the whole hog and culled together the rest of the Triffids' treasure trove for three further releases: an expanded 2CD edition of 1989's 'The Black Swan', 'Beautiful Waste' (rounding up the 'Raining Pleasure' mini-LP, the magnificent 'Field Of Glass' 12" and more besides) and this, the band's 'official' debut album 'Treeless Plain', originally released by the Hot Records imprint in 1983.
And, listening to it now, it really is a case of "was it REALLY 25 years ago?" because 'Treeless Plain' remains every bit as literate, looming and luscious as it was when it first blinked in the fractured daylight of late 1983. It was light years ahead of much of the competition at the time and remains a credit to its' creators to this day.
Of course, while 'Treeless Plain' goes into the history books as The Triffids' official debut album, they were actually seasoned campaigners by the time they laid down the album's twelve tunes with engineer Nick Mainsbridge across "twelve midnights to dawns" in Sydney during August and September 1983. Indeed, they had already released a string of limited edition cassettes and established themselves on the live circuit in Sydney after relocating from their native Perth.
And it's immediately apparent that The Triffids were already well on the way to becoming consummate performers even at this relatively early stage. After all, few bands would have the confidence to open their debut album with the swooping strings, sheer baroque bravado and obsessive romance ("next to you my love/ all colours turn to black") of the gorgeous 'Red Pony'. Or follow it up with something as spiky and visceral as 'Branded' ("if you've broken a pure heart you're branded for life!") before driving the denouement over the edge with a breathless collapsing crescendo. And this is just for starters.
But then David McComb was always that crucial degree stronger and more versatile than most of his contemporaries and for this writer he's always just shaded even his ultra-talented near-contemporaries such as Nick Cave and Robert Forster. He goes on to display a further clutch of his finest as 'Treeless Plain' opens out, taking in vivid psychodramas like the Doors-y 'My Baby Thinks She's A Train', the memorably claustrophobic 'Hell Of A Summer' and the sinister purpose of 'Hanging Shed' which opens with the sound of a saw and contains the sort of demented lyrical content ("the berries are black and ripe and ready for picking/ the chicken is dead but it's still kicking") that would even give The Violent Femmes' 'Country Death Song' a run for its' money.
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Elsewhere, the band display both a rocky, guitar-heavy swagger ('Old Ghostrider' and their compelling cover of Bob Dylan's prophetic 'I Am A Lonesome Hobo') they would later leave behind and also hit us with heavy hints of the well-crafted poppiness of their later work courtesy of tunes like the deceptively cute 'Plaything', the sad'n'blue 'Place In The Sun' and 'Rosevel', which - despite Rob McComb's spirited and jaunty violin - actually drags every bit as much murderous lyrical intent ("and I warned you I would have to cut off deadwood") in its' lonesome wake as 'Hanging Shed' does.
Actually, if it wasn't for the slight falling off that comes via the plodding, stylised narrative ballad 'Madeline' and drummer Alsy Macdonald's insubstantial 'Nothing Can Take Your Place', 'Treeless Plain' would be just about as perfect and confidently mysterious as a debut album gets. But even this temporary lapse is repaired by the additional live tunes recorded for Sydney's ABC Triple J radio just prior to the album's release, where we're treated to venomously successful versions of '...Plain' highlights like 'Rosevel', a stinging 'Old Ghostrider' and the previously unknown 'On The Streets Where You Live': a slice of typically Velvets-esque pop shimmer which I can only assume must have been considered as a single at the time. Whatever the case, its' re-instatement is welcome and an unexpected addition to the impressive McComb canon.
This was only the start of it all, of course, for on the way to the classic 'Born Sandy Devotional', The Triffids would spend 1984 leaving us a magnificent paper trail involving the potent 'Raining Pleasure' mini-album and the towering 'Field Of Glass' 12" EP, not to mention stumbling upon their sixth member 'Evil' Graham Lee along the way. We'll be getting to all that shortly, but for now let's concentrate on revisiting their 'Treeless Plain': a place where the landscape may be strange and blasted, but the creativity is anything but arid.
(www.myspace.com/thetriffids)
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