Roots? Heritage Act? Piss Off!

Just shy of forty years into an idiosyncratic musical journey, Kim Salmon admits to not quite knowing just what he is, but is strident when dismissing what he's not.

For starters, don't call him a 'veteran'. "Well, it is a war out there sometimes," Salmon muses. "But I really shy away from being described as anything like that — you sound like you're crusty, a bit irrelevant." He then arcs up a bit further: "And save me if you're called 'roots' — or worse still a 'heritage' act. Piss off! I'm not having that. I know it's not meant to be disparaging, but you can take it that way."

He then takes a slightly unexpected tangent: "I don't even like being a called a 'guitar player'." This from a man whose howling primitivism with The Scientists became one of the blueprints for generations of punk and grunge. And echoes in the racket still coming from a million angry kids in garages — whether they realise they're aping him or not.

"I don't even like being a called a 'guitar player'." 

Salmon clarifies: "Here's something: David Bowie was a really accomplished guitar player, but do you think of him as a guitar player? No. Because he was always clever enough to get somebody else to do it," he chuckles. "I'm not a virtuoso. I'm not Tommy Emmanuel or Carlos Santana — and probably don't want to be. I'm a singer, an artist — a performing artist. The guitar is just one tool."

So, to the mostly solo new album, My Script. Where Salmon gets a couple of more unusual instrumental credits, like making percussion tracks and loops from an old Dictaphone voice recorder, or simply sticking a finger over a buzzing guitar lead to make more new noise.

"I still think I write pop songs," he explains. "I think of a melody first, making something that nobody's heard before. Then I have to come up with words to sing over them — and that can just come off the top of my head. I often go back and wonder 'What did I say that for? What was I meaning?' See, it's easy," the former Surrealist smirks.  

Thus, there's music from glam stomps to comparatively reflective balladry across the album. "I dislike bands going all over the place, but not really knowing what they're trying to say. I've tried to keep it a bit cohesive, but go all over the shop — so it's not so much a shop, it's more a department store," he jokes.

Salmon's taking this eclectic approach on tour. "Yeah, it keeps it interesting for me and it's actually more economic to do it this way," comes the pragmatic explanation. "I'll be solo in Brisbane, just me and the Dictaphone round my neck. Melbourne, a four- or five-piece band with Clare Moore on drums. Perth, just a trio. A punk combo in Adelaide, a garage band in Sydney.

"Of course there's an element of challenge, of danger, to that. The theatre that at some point it might all fall out of the sky — and the art of making sure it doesn't."