A truly all-Australian compilation: Red Bellied Black Snake, Punchin', and more.
The Beefs (Source: Supplied)
In the heat of a cost of living crisis, the debate for nuclear, and an election looming ever-closer, Australia could really use some passionate members of society to help us rise from the gutter. The men for the job? Perth “pub-rock” band The Beefs.
The Beefs are one of Australia’s newest bands incorporating the anthemic style of Aussie larrikin tunes to get you up and about. The five-piece released their debut EP, Country Member, in 2019 with the production help of old friend and ARIA legend Matt Corby.
From that moment on, the band have been chugging out hits such as Red Bellied Black Snake, Shins Up, Tins Up, and Punchin’.
The band's latest release is their limited-edition compilation Stuck On A Reef, which was also produced by Matt Corby and features contributions from Kirin J Callinan, Lucy Lucy, and Julian Sudek (Royel Otis, Genesis Owusu).
Stuck On A Reef is not an album as such but a collection of some of the band’s pre-existing tracks, set to be released as a special edition on vinyl. As of today, only 200 copies of the exclusive compilation are available and ready for order.
For a sneak peek behind the scenes of what it means to create a Beefy song, check out a run-through of each track below, recounted by frontman Sammy Smith.
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I grew up in Port Lincoln, South Australia, and left for the wider world when I was about 18. It was such a special place to grow up in, full of interesting characters, amazing scenery, wild waves and colourful times all around. Returning home was always a special time, and even though I moved to the big smoke, I’m a Country Member at heart.
This track is a short, fast, loud celebration of the weekend. Feet are up on the table and shins are pointed toward the sky, the local watering hole threatens and those with even the stiffest of elbows can’t keep away from this dazzling temptress. The bar queen asks if one would prefer a schooner or a pint, and the response is, “Excuse me, love, but I only drink tins.”
This is a pretty common story in most country towns where you’d drive past the pub in the morning, and there’d be a few cars there from the night before. In a way, there’s a small theme of responsibility in this song, given that cars haven’t been driven under the influence of alcohol. Our main character is in a spot of bother. He’s obviously got a pretty serious drinking problem, but it doesn’t stop him from wandering down to the local each day to collect his car; however, each time he goes back, he’s lured through the doors, and his dusty old ute hasn’t been driven for years.
We are so lucky to live in this country; it has wide open spaces, an abundance of wildlife, endless activities on and off the land, a laid-back lifestyle, and is generally full of pretty decent people. One memory sticks out for me in particular: driving from Adelaide to Port Lincoln. It’s bleak, barren, and full of not much more than red dust, saltbush, servos, and Bain Maries full of unidentified frying objects. I feel this land in my blood and my heart; I feel it in my red centre.
The power lines on my street would whistle when the wind blew from the north on a 40-degree day. I would beg for it to get hotter so school would be cancelled. We would feel so good when the sun went down, and sometimes, we would drink so many beers that we would feel just as good watching it come up again.
The lyrics may not reflect my true feelings for average-looking blokes with a smoking hot missus, but I truly respect it from all angles. Well done to that average Aussie battler who managed to weasel himself a good-looking bird. At the end of the day, this song is probably about me.
I’ve never wanted to admit the meaning behind this song, but we owned a cafe in Sydney for 15 years. There were days when I didn’t have the social capacity to be there, yet I would have to smile and be nice when, actually, on the inside, I was a Red Bellied Black Snake about to hiss. This is our most popular song to date, thanks to the calibre of some of the global sports personalities that have used it in clips. I hope I can one day write a song as good as that one.
This track celebrates Ordinary people, things, events, food, and lifestyle. There is nothing wrong with marinating in the moment and striving for nothing more than that.
Port Lincoln had more pubs than people, and one that my family would frequent was the Lincoln Hotel. We used to play across the road in this giant drain pipe, play endless games of pool, and search for coins in the ashtrays under the bar—colourful times from a bleak hotel. Multiple beers were consumed before, during, and after writing and recording for research purposes.
We are all a bit crazy and, in some way, Out Our Minds, and I wanted this track to resonate with the listener somehow and remind ourselves that it’s totally fine to be a little bit loose. This is personally my favourite track and an absolute banger to play live. We recorded this in Tamarama at Julian Sudek’s magic studio with him at the helm of the kit, a bit of Kirin J Callinan sprinkled in on the guitar, and the one and only Micheal Tramonte slapping away on his trusty bass - dream team.
The Datto is such an iconic Australian car. It brings back strong memories of a childhood in a country town. Bogans would drive hotted-up versions, and granny’s would drive them in immaculate condition. It's nostalgia on wheels.
There’s an inherent need to go full speed from the moment we enter this earth. As babies, we crawl fast to walk and walk fast to run. We ride our bikes as fast as possible and bomb hills on our skateboards at terminal velocity. We paddle into point breaks and race down the line until our fins are humming underfoot. From the womb to the tomb, we’re a bunch of absolute speed demons. Ride Hard and Go Full Speed.
Stuck On A Reef is out now. You can pre-order the album here.