Back In Town

For fans of Oz rock legends Cosmic Psychos it's always been a bit of a mystery why the veteran outfit aren't more venerated here in their homeland. For nigh on 30 years they've been an institution on the local scene, releasing a steady stream of great albums and eternally owning it onstage in their yobbishly boisterous but otherwise understated manner, but to many they've always been more famous for being a cause célèbre in the nascent years of the Seattle grunge explosion rather than for their own canon of brilliant fuzz-laden rock'n'roll.

Which is why new documentary, Blokes You Can Trust – the baby of director Matt Weston (until now best known as bassist for The Nation Blue) – is such a timely reminder of this great outfit's many merits and achievements. As people the Psychos have always been the most unlikely rock stars you'll ever meet – especially songwriter and cornerstone Ross “Knighty” Knight (vocals/bass) – and a lot of their charm has always been in their laddish, from-the-land bonhomie, a trait that endears because it's so clearly genuine rather than some calculated affectation.

“He did a top job,” the ever-jovial Knight offers of Weston's efforts. “He was just given permission to do whatever he wanted and we didn't really have much to do with it. It's brought back a lot of good memories for me, that's for sure. I'd forgotten how much fun I'd had – I could spend the rest of my life in a rocking chair with a couple of bottles of plonk laughing my head off thinking about everything.

“The only reservation I had was that I didn't want to make it a Ross Knight film, and there's a bit of my private life in there I suppose, which doesn't sit that easy with me because I'm a pretty quiet kind of a bloke, believe it or not. But it was a great opportunity; I didn't know Matt at all when the idea came though, I sat down and had a couple of beers with him and thought, 'Oh he's not a bad bloke' and away we went. All we had to do was answer a few questions, and he basically put boxloads of shit that we'd collected over the years together in some way – he did a good job sorting through all of that crap, because my filing system's fucking terrible. What I can't fit in my ute I just chuck in a box in the shed!”

While the film provides fascinating insight into how the band's formation was inherently linked to Knight's upbringing in rural Victoria, and goes a long way towards explaining the band's ongoing farm-related iconography – tractors, guns and bulldozers have always figured prominently in the Psychos' lyrics and artwork – its power is derived mainly from providing a human dimension to this often gruff-seeming and ragtag outfit, and their delightfully flippant approach to a craft that's often afforded far too much gravitas.

“I've been so lucky to be in a band like the Psychos. We've never been serious about it – it's had serious moments obviously – but it's just been fun. We've just bumbled our way through – I guess we're more famous for knowing famous people than we are as a band. And that sits alright with me, because I don't give a stuff about the music side of it really – it's just a hobby for me. But what a hobby! Some people collect stamps, I have to stand up onstage for fuckin' an hour in some part of the world and drink free beer, it's great fun!”

Of course there is, as Knight suggests, always a serious side to any long-term endeavour, and a lot of this is broached with great poignancy in Blokes You Can Trust. For instance the acrimonious departure of founding drummer (and industry stalwart) Bill Walsh is dissected from all angles, and gives a fascinating insight into how interpersonal dynamics can affect a band's bigger picture. “Yeah, that's all really a personal thing I guess – it was really in-house and in-band business – but it had to be mentioned I suppose. It was disappointing at the time, but things move on – there's more important things happening in the world than what's happening within the inner sanctum of some shitty little pub band. Like I said in the film it's disappointing and all that stuff but at the end of the day, fuck, you can get let down by your mates sometimes but you just get on with it. There's other good people in the world.”

Some things, however, can't be brushed aside so easily, and the 2006 passing of the Psychos' long-term guitarist Robbie “Rocket” Watts is fittingly treated with great love and respect. Indeed the scene of Knighty visiting his friend's grave and sharing a beer with him (both literally and figuratively) is one of the film's most powerful moments, especially when contextualised in relation to his long-term drug habit. “Yeah, that was the hardest thing to talk about,” Knight reflects softly. “Every day I think about the little bugger, and it's a really hard thing to get over. You put a lot of time and effort into keeping someone ticking away there, and when it doesn't work out in the end it's pretty disappointing. But it's great to see his little head back again. I couldn't watch it – the first rough copies that Matt showed me when it was talking about Rob I had to go outside and have a beer. It was hard. He was such a wonderful bloke, and hopefully that comes over in the film; what a great guy he was. He was a pleasure to be around, that bloke – no matter what mood you were in he'd make you smile. He was just a lovely fella.”

And of course the grunge royalty by whom the Psychos were always held in such high regard make an appearance to explain the band's influence on one of music's most important eras – key figures such as Eddie Vedder, Mark Arm, Steve Albini, Sub Pop founder Jonathan Poneman and Butch Vig all sing their praises – and this hammers home the overall importance of these most unlikely rock'n'roll heroes. “Yeah, it was a nice touch. Probably the funniest thing for me was that I was going through a pretty bum time during the making of the doco, and when Matt went over there and did the interviews with everyone they all put a little personal message on for me – I found that not only humbling but also so uplifting. That's why they're me mates – they're really good people. That really lifted my spirits there for a while when I was really down in the dumps, it was a nice little touch. They were just nice little personal messages, some of them were funny but some were quite heartfelt – it was great.”