The Badloves - Get On Board (LP)

In 1993, Melbourne’s The Badloves slipped a debut into the Australian charts that felt like it had been aged in oak. Get On Board is a soul-steeped rock record built around Michael Spiby’s grainy, lived-in voice and Tony Featherstone’s warm Hammond organ, the kind of tone you can pick out from a block away. Issued on Mushroom Records and quickly climbing into the ARIA top ten, it made instant sense on radio and in pubs, but it also rewards a full front-to-back listen. If you’re hunting The Badloves vinyl for your shelf, this is the one that tells you exactly who they are right from the needle drop.

“Lost” sets the mood with a relaxed, pocketed groove. The guitars stay unfussy, just enough bite to frame Spiby’s melody, while the Hammond swells and curls around the chorus. It is the sort of opener that knows not to shout. The band trusts feel, and the feel is there. “Green Limousine” follows with a knowing grin, rolling along on a shuffle that nods to Stax and Muscle Shoals but lands squarely in early 90s Australia. The lyric pokes at eco posturing and consumer guilt without turning preachy, which is probably why it stuck so well on air at the time. It swings, it singalongs, and it leaves room for the organ and guitar to chatter like old friends.

“Memphis” became one of their signature tunes for good reason. It has that easy, road-lit sway and a rhythm section that understands restraint. The organ lines move like headlights across a dark highway, brightening then fading, and Spiby leans into a storyteller cadence that suits the band’s unhurried pocket. Across the album, the production keeps the edges soft and human, which is exactly why Get On Board vinyl still feels right at home on a Sunday afternoon. You get the sense of players in a room, trading looks, letting the songs breathe.

Part of the charm here is the Badloves palette. Featherstone’s Hammond isn’t there to show off. It’s the glue, the hum behind the hook. Spiby’s guitar sits just off the center, more rhythm than riff most of the time, which lets the vocal carry. When they do kick up a little dust, it’s in service of a chorus. That approach set them apart in a year when a lot of Australian rock leaned harder and louder. They snuck in through the side door with soul and ended up with a batch of singles that stuck. “Lost,” “Green Limousine,” and “Memphis” all spun heavily, and not by accident.

Context helps, too. The Badloves spent that same era teaming up with Jimmy Barnes for a hit version of The Band’s “The Weight,” which put them in front of a broader crowd right as Get On Board was taking off. It wasn’t on the album, but it told you where their heads were at. They loved classic songwriting, sturdy grooves, and a touch of R&B grit. The album itself drew ARIA attention the following year and cemented the group as one of the more distinctive Australian acts of the 90s, the kind that could anchor a festival slot or soundtrack a long drive down the Hume.

Listening now, the sequencing still works. It’s an album that favors contour over fireworks. Melodies that feel familiar by the second chorus. Choruses that open up just enough. A rhythm section that never rushes the bar line. That’s why crate diggers still light up when a clean copy turns up, and why Get On Board vinyl gets recommended a lot to folks who love The Black Sorrows, early Crowded House B-sides, or those warm, organ-kissed corners of classic rock. If you’re looking to buy The Badloves records online, hunt for a pressing that hasn’t been chewed up by party needles, because the Hammond really blooms when the surface is quiet.

There’s a small pleasure in finding a record that sounds like a band you might actually catch at a Melbourne record store in-store gig, playing to a wall of sleeves and a crowd that knows the choruses already. Get On Board has that energy. It’s friendly, unforced, and built to last. The Badloves albums on vinyl are not exactly everywhere, but when you spot this one in a bin of vinyl records Australia wide, it’s an easy call. Take it home, pour something, and let the organ glow fill the room. The songs still know how to meet you halfway.