Sherbet Fizz
Sydney Morning Herald
Friday March 16, 2001
There is only one thing more important in the world of rock than an amplifier that goes up to 11 and that is an Access All Areas pass. Instantly recognisable by the three As on its surface, it is without a doubt the most valuable currency in the music industry.
More powerful than most of the egos around whose neck it hangs, it can be seen as a double pass to heaven, with a complimentary glass of Tooheys Old when you check-in.
It allows you to brush past the crowd with an air of aloofness, stare lewdly at people (or parts of people) which catch your eye and, most importantly, it allowed
Plus One and me to stand, as we did last weekend, backstage at a Sherbet concert.
Did you hear me? I said I was backstage at a Sherbet concert.
This moment - though it came about two decades too late - was life-defining. Almost as defining as the week I spent with Joan Collins (no joke) which climaxed with me sitting on the end of her bed while she quoted passages from a Dynasty script.
I guess you had to be there.
For a breathless generation of Australian pop music fans, getting backstage at a Sherbet concert is like dying and going to rock heaven.
If you're too young to remember Countdown, then you may need a little reminder that Sherbet were Australia's most popular pop group of the '70s. The band racked up 20 consecutive hit songs and 17 albums, almost all of which went gold or platinum.
(They are, however, not to be confused with my own humble beginnings in the rock world as lead singer of The Fizz Wizzers, a local Sydney band whose signature single The Theme From Petticoat Junction went triple copper on the music charts of the day.)
Sherbet were the textbook glam-rock band, complete with big hair, hairy chests and satin costumes which (thankfully) didn't hit the comeback trail when they did.
They also hold the rather dubious honour of booting ABBA off their chart-topping peg, halting the record-setting run of Fernando in the No. 1 position in July 1976 with Howzat!.
By the late '70s, Sherbet were recording their albums in LA and in a moment of inspired madness changed their name to Highway. In Australia, we took a dim view of this, and responded in much the same way we treated Joanie and Chachi when they left Happy Days bound for their own show. We knew in our hearts they meant well, but somehow it just didn't feel right.
By 1983, the fairytale had ended, though it would be many years before some of us put our Joanie and Chachi anger behind us.
Sherbet's return to the stage last Saturday was for a good cause. They were part of a weekend of fundraising concerts to benefit their good mate Ted Mulry and the stage at Fox Studio's City Live trembled to the sound of veteran bands including Noiseworks, Rose Tattoo and The Ted Mulry Gang.
The crowd was a strange mixture of the music industry's A-list, small-time celebrities, a lot of guys with mullets and a few girls wearing the rock industry uniform of years gone by: black jeans, a black T-shirt and a packet of durries up the sleeve.
There were even a few of the original groupies who, it should be said, haven't weathered the years so well. One poor soul looked like Darth Vader (outside the suit) but Plus One whisked me away, with: "She's bitter. Don't go there."
Even Pauline Hanson made an appearance, pausing only to assure us "I'm not here to talk about me; it's Ted's night". One insider suggested she was a Ted Mulry devotee of years gone by, but few believed it. She just couldn't be that cool, could she?
There was a tense moment when Mental as Anything rocker Martin Plaza suggested the politician might like to return, instantly, to Queensland (he didn't use those words exactly) and hurled his drink at Hanson. Showing remarkable restraint, she excused herself and dried off in the ladies loo. Jon English was rather less hostile and ended up chatting with her for quite a while.
Spotted in the crowd in the VIP tent were television producer Maurice Parker, Chadwicks model broker Louise Patrick, retired beauty queen Belinda Green, former Neighbours pectoral Craig McLachlan and former Sounds television host Donnie Sutherland.
Inside the venue, the PA was cranked up and Sherbet stood in the limelight one last time, to help a mate, and to gently remind the rest of us how the music industry has lost its way under the guiding hand of marketing executives.
Plus One was mesmerised, watching the show with Ted Mulry, from the side of the stage. OK, so they're not the posterboys they used to be - but despite the bellies and blue jeans, the boys from Sherbet played like it was 1976 all over again.
The magic was there just as we always knew it would be, and Daryl Braithwaite, Tony Mitchell, Alan Sandow, Harvey James and Garth Porter proved that old rockers never die.
They just settle down and raise a family.
P.S. There were unconfirmed reports on the night that Garth Porter's wife Mary had slapped my face. The reports are indeed true - but may I offer two points for contemplation: (1) it was a loving, almost maternal, slap which, in hindsight, I rather suspect I enjoyed, and (2) she thought I was someone else.
© 2001 Sydney Morning Herald