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The age gap between 15 and 17 is massive, though it doesn’t seem that way on paper. But for Australian trio Silverchair, those two years saw them evolve from boys to men. Their 1995 debut, Frogstomp, got figuratively stomped on by critics for its derivative grunge sound. Yet fans were enamored, seeing massive potential in singer-guitarist Daniel Johns, drummer Ben Gillies and bassist Chris Joannou.


Armed with fuzz pedals and teenage angst, Silverchair amassed a huge following— all before graduating high school.

So by the time they turned 17 and wrapped work on their second record, Freak Show, they were seasoned veterans. A newfound maturity could be heard in the solemn “Cemetery” and the orchestral “Petrol and Chlorine.” And the title itself spoke volumes about Johns’ internal battles, later revealed on album three, Neon Ballroom, as anorexia.

 

Freaks of Nature

“When we went in the studio [with Frogstomp], we basically didn't know what the hell we wanted. We were really stupid," Gillies admitted to Cleveland Scene in 1997. Stupid? Probably not, given they were all prodigies at their instruments. Naïve? Perhaps. The gifted lads won a talent competition in 1994 with their breakthrough single, “Tomorrow,” and engaged in a whirlwind Frogstomp recording session and subsequent tour with the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Talk about a trial by fire.

Witnessing the weirdness of the road at a tender age and dealing with mainstream praise and backlash led Johns to pen many an alienated tome.

"Most of the songs on the album are about being perceived as different just because you tour across the country," he told Cleveland Scene. “People throw negative comments at you all the time when they don't really know what you're like. That's what ‘Abuse Me’ is about. It's kind of an aggressive lyric in a mellow song."

“Abuse Me” pegged itself as a companion to Nirvana’s “Rape Me.” Both claimed to enjoy emotional sadomasochism, a trope in many ’90s tunes. With the echoing effects a la Kim Thayil of Soundgarden, this slow-tempo single became a hot bummer, reaching number 4 on the Billboard rock charts. Another promo, “Freak,” employed Jerry Cantrell-like guitar licks and youthful cries of “If only I could be as cool as you.” Much of Freak Show reveled (or rotted) in otherness, despite Silverchair’s immense popularity worldwide.

 

The Door to Self-Acceptance

The second record was a living dichotomy. Though the group’s images were plastered in rock magazines and on MTV, Johns was still getting beaten up at school. He told The Freeborn Times in 2005 that at 16, fame couldn’t save him from bullies thinking him too effeminate. The jangly, spacious “Pop Song for Us Rejects” was the tortured front man’s cynical take on a feel-good anthem. “Now I’m thinking positive, but I know it’s a dream,” he lamented over Gillies’ slamming and Joannou’s meat-cleaver chops.

Inflated sounds characterized Freak Show, a sort of P.T. Barnum sleight of hand to distract from the vulnerability of Johns’ lyrics. He would scream, “Take the time to learn to hate,” or insist over punk time signatures, “Lie to me,” because he felt like that’s what he deserved. The songs were vessels in which for him to purge when his disease had sapped him.

The band has looked back on Frogstomp and Freak Show as “demos” for Neon Ballroom and the material that came afterward until they disbanded in 2011. Yet listening to the robust “The Door” – with its “Kashmir” ornamentation and arena-suited bridges – or the “In Bloom” blast of “Roses” reveals a keener craft than that of most fully grown adults. Perhaps the psychic weight of notoriety was a gift. And with the guidance of producer Nick Launay, who worked with Aussie legends the Birthday Party and Midnight Oil, Silverchair’s Freak Show was the flint that started a prestigious glam-rock career.