Choirboys - Big Bad Noise (LP) - 35th Anniversary

Big Bad Noise landed in 1988 right as Australian pub rock was flexing its last truly mass‑market muscle, and it still feels like a Friday night captured on tape. Choirboys sharpened everything after their 1983 debut, and the result is a tight, roaring set that peaks with Run to Paradise but has plenty of bite elsewhere. It went top five on the ARIA Albums Chart and earned double platinum at home, which makes sense the moment those first guitars spark up and Mark Gable opens his throat.

Run to Paradise is the hook that drags most people back to this record, and fair enough. It hit No. 3 in Australia and never really left radio. What keeps it interesting decades on is the tension in the lyric. Gable has said more than once that it was written about people he knew slipping into drugs, and you can hear that tug of concern inside the sing‑along chorus. It’s a cautionary tale dressed like a party, which is pretty much the sweet spot for late 80s Aussie rock. Spin the Big Bad Noise vinyl and you get the full picture. The open chords ring, the backing vocals bloom, and Lindsay Tebbutt’s drums feel like they’re pushing your chest.

The rest of the album isn’t just filler around a hit. Boys Will Be Boys is a gnarly barroom shout, all clenched‑jaw guitars and a bassline from Ian Hulme that swings just enough to keep it fun. Struggle Town is the sleeper. It sketches small suburb tensions with a little grit under the fingernails, the sort of song you’d hear at closing time and suddenly pay attention to. Even the title track squares its shoulders and goes hard, built for sticky floors and raised glasses.

Production is punchy without flattening the band’s personality. Peter Blyton and Brian McGee worked with Choirboys to keep the edges intact, so the choruses lift but the verses still bristle. That balance is why the record has held up. You can throw it on while getting ready to head out, or sit with it and notice little things, like a guitar harmony tucked behind Gable’s lead line, or the way the rhythm section nudges a tempo forward without rushing. It’s built for pubs but it survives close listening too.

There’s a reason punters still chase this on wax. Choirboys vinyl tends to move fast in the new arrivals bin at my local, and a clean copy of Big Bad Noise vinyl is a sure way to light up a room. If you buy Choirboys records online you’ll see this title getting snapped up by fans rediscovering that late 80s sheen, and by younger collectors who know a stadium‑sized chorus when they hear one. Among vinyl records Australia, this sits in that sweet spot where nostalgia and genuine craft overlap, right next to the best of The Angels and Cold Chisel for a certain kind of listener.

Culturally, the album sits right on the line between the rougher pub circuit and the glossier FM era that followed. Choirboys never lost their bark. Gable’s voice has that sandpapered sincerity, and the band plays like they’ve spent years staring down the back wall of a stage while a pool table cracks in the corner. That road‑tested feel is baked into these songs. You can almost smell the smoke machines and old carpet. Critics and fans alike have kept Run to Paradise alive because it speaks to something familiar. But the album around it is why people keep coming back.

If you’re building a shelf of Choirboys albums on vinyl, this is the anchor. It still sounds immediate, it still makes you want to sing too loud, and it carries more weight than its party reputation suggests. Walk into a Melbourne record store on a Saturday and you’ll probably hear someone testing a copy, nudging the volume a notch, waiting for that chorus to hit. That’s the test that matters. Big Bad Noise passes it every time.