Mark J. Keenan
WRITER, TRAIL-RUNNER, ENGINEER, HUMAN
A journey through my music collection.
This is where I share stories about music which has impacted me. If you would like to listen to the music as you read, you can use the playlist below.
This additional playlist has been created as a collection of music intended to promote understanding, inspire hope, build empathy, craft love, support humanity, and help to create long-lasting change through the fulfillment of the requests provided by the people of our First Nations in the Uluru Statement from the Heart. If you have any suggestions for additions to this playlist, please contact me.
Although Business As Usual was the first album I bought with my own money, it would have to be Meet Us inside, a Spy vs Spy EP, brought in at special request to my local record store, which set the course of my life.
I have written about the Spies before, what they mean to me, how they influenced my life. For those who knew me in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s, it would be impossible to have been unaware of my dedication to the band. I wore only Spies t-shirts; I listened to them constantly; and I went to see them live at multiple venues whenever they toured Perth.
My favourite song has to be 'One Of A Kind' since it’s where it all started, but I have to also mention two of my favourite “spoken word” segments by Mike Weiley. Not only because they are they lyrically gold, but because I’ve definitely felt like both these statements have applied to me in the past.
‘I’m being used as a shovel to dig someone out of a jam.’
(Mugshot, Spy V Spy)
‘My mind feels like a bucket of wet sand.’
(Mugshot, Spy V Spy)
“Ah, it’s time to relax.’
And I know what that means…..yep, Smash, the third album by The Offspring.
Released two days before my first child was born, this album was on constant replay during my little girl’s first few months of life.
It’s a cracker of a release.
Of course, some might argue, thematically and lyrically, it’s not really suitable for infant ears. To them I would say, “lean back and just enjoy the melodies.”
Last week, I went to the Perth Concert Hall with Karen, where we saw an incredible solo (mostly) performance by John Butler.
At the concert, John talked about he’d never imagined being onstage when he’d first visited back in 1991 and watched the Violent Femmes - at that time he would have been 17.
As a result, I got to talking to Karen about how I saw my second ever live gig at the Perth Concert Hall. I was also 17. Only, I went to see Robert Cray. I reckon there were a lot more 17 year olds at the Femmes show than Robert Cray, but there were a few of us.
One of those 17 year olds, by coincidence, contacted me this week, nearly 34 years after we went to the gig together. We hadn't been in touch in more than three decades.
I have been listening to Robert Cray, on and off, since I got his message; enjoying his blues guitar magnificence, and relishing the wonders of music and human connection over time.
🧡Robert Cray, along with Eric Clapton, Buddy Guy, and Jimmie Vaughan, were the last people to play music with Stevie Ray Vaughan.
On the 3rd January, 2019, my wife and I went to see Neil Murray at Ronnie Nights in Fremantle. A teeny-tiny venue, upstairs from the main bar, with a step-up stage, two armchairs on one side, a couch against the wall, and a couple of upturned milk crates in front of the stage. There were around thirty people in the room and we stood behind the armchairs, stage right, a couple of metres from the microphone stand.
From the time he walked on stage to when he left and walked up to the bar at the back of the room, I was mesmerised. Neil is an incredible story-teller, singer and guitarist, and he captivated everyone in the room with his gentle nature, authenticity and humility.
Calm and Crystal Clear is my favourite song. And I don't mean my favourite Neil Murray song, I mean my favourite song. Period. It has resonated with me, grounded me, comforted me, since I first heard it in 1989. And, even though the meaning to me at fifty one is clearly different to when I was nineteen, I believe it will always be so.
📷Karen gave me this book, Songs of Neil Murray, for our 26th wedding anniversary, a couple of weeks after the gig. It is a treasure.
🎶Warumpi Band, My Island Home
When I was 15, I thought Charlie Sexton’s song Beat’s So Lonely was awesome. Now I’m 51 and I still think it’s awesome.
Unfortunately, since it’s not available on the streaming app I use, the only way I have to listen to it is playing it on this 36 year old cassette tape (which, as you can imagine, no longer sounds quite right) or watching the clip online.
Fortunately, the clip hasn’t aged and Charlie still looks totally cool with his rolled sleeves, dangly earring, wristful of bracelets and bangles, and, of course, his epic hair.
Rock on!
Trivia: The second track on the album is Impressed. Also a great song and later recorded by Tonio K, a friend of Charlie. Check his tunes out too.
This is a photograph of my mum, Pat, and her older sister, Daph.
At a guess I'd say it's from the early to mid 1960s.
You might wonder what this photo is doing here, in my music gallery. Let me explain.
My mum loved music.
And dancing.
And singing.
In fact, she would sing all the time, with or without a radio or recording on in the background. And she'd dance, with or without music, too. I loved that about her.
She would sing modern songs, old songs, childhood songs, church songs.
And Elvis.
Lots and lots of Elvis.
So this photo is here to celebrate my mum.
And my aunt.
And the King of Rock, Elvis Presley.
And the love of music they gave me.
💃If I close my eyes when I listen to this, I see my mum dancing around the house with the broom.
Of all the artists I have never seen, but wanted to, there is one which stands out from the others.
Jeff Buckley played two gigs in Perth, on consecutive nights, in February 1996. I didn’t make it to either. We were new parents at the time - our first child was ten months old - and I had stopped going out to live music. Maybe because we were reluctant to leave our daughter, maybe because we didn’t have much spare cash.
Whatever the reason, I missed seeing him. Just over a year later, I was outside in the backyard with my wife and daughter, when I heard he had drowned in the Mississippi River.
I’ve thought of him from time to time since then, wondering why he went swimming there, fully clothed. Wishing he hadn’t. He’d been preparing to record music with his band in the following days. He was sober, drug-free, and the coroner ruled it an accidental drowning.
I feel this is as close as I will ever get to knowing how my mum felt when Elvis died. It’s a strange sensation - loss of something you never had, someone you never knew, never even saw - and I wonder at the human condition which makes us connect so through music.
As for the shows I missed. Well, thanks to the internet, I can find a record of the songs Jeff sang, create a playlist, close my eyes and imagine him, and his band, in the smoke-filled Sandringham Hotel, in the mid-90s - ethereal, powerful, uncomplicated.
🎵Satisfied Mind, Jeff Buckley
This is the first album I bought with my own money.
I must have been eleven at the time, since the album came out in late 1981.
It’s pretty much a certainty I first heard the band on Countdown.
The first single, which they released before the album, was ‘Who Can It Be Now?’. I still enjoy the track, Greg Ham on saxaphone going head-to-head with Colin Hay’s voice. It’s something special.
Of course, the big single from the album was ‘Down Under’, whether for it’s use of Aussie slang like ‘chunder’ or it’s references to a ‘vegemite sandwich’, I don’t know.
My favourite song on the album? It’s hard to choose, as all the songs have a catchy beat and sing-along-ability, but I would probably choose ‘Be Good Johnny’, simply because the lyrics make me smile. And I can always remember the fun of the video clip.
I once took a mate to see Slayer who had never seen them before. Or really listened to them either. He described the experience as being run over by a division of Panzer tanks. He didn't like it and never came along to a gig with me again*. It was an awesome show.
I have been fortunate to see each of the "Big 4" thrash bands - Slayer, Metallica, Megadeth, Anthrax - on multiple occassions. Including once when I saw three of them in the one day (sans Megadeth) - Soundwave 2013** at Claremount Showgrounds***
*we are still friends though \m/.
**you could argue the Slayer who played at Soundwave was only half of them - since Jeff and Dave both weren't playing.
***Not only that but I got to see Northlane play a midday slot at this show - it was probably their first Perth show ever, and it was tight. They have since become an incredible, and prolific, creative force in Australian metal.
Recently, I caught up with one of my cousins. I hadn't seen him in ages and it was fantastic to get a chance to reconnect. When I was younger....and I mean much younger....I would spend time with him when we visited Perth from Carnarvon. Even though he was eighteen, four years older than me, he would always be happy to hang out, play pool, show me computer games, and listen to music. I looked up to him.
One of the things he remembered about that time - how much I loved music, and that I introduced him to Frankie Goes To Hollywood. It got me thinking.
FGTH's debut album, Welcome To The Pleasuredome, was released in August 1984. The copy I have was purchased around then, so I was fourteen. Listening to it now, the acquisition by me of the album, at that time and young age, and the playing of it around my family, now seems either courageous or foolish. Perhaps both.
I'm glad I caught up with my cousin and, even though it made me sad to think we had lost touch over the past few decades as our families grew, it made me feel good to realise we had a great deal in common and to tell him how much he had meant to me when I was young.
Music often surprises and delights me in unexpected ways.
The other day, I stumbled across an online playlist of extended singles. Not only was it an awesome find, it reminded me of my small collection of these from the 80s.
Mostly, I bought cassettes when I was young. Portability was important and we also didn't always have a working record player in the house. Despite this, occassionally I bought 12" singles and Kraftwerk's 'Tour De France', released in 1983, is one of them.
Kraftwerk were a ground-breaking group in electronic music but I did not know then (in fact I did not know until today) they were so old. They had formed in the late 1960's! Now, that's pioneering!
Wondering how I had discovered them revealed, of course, they were on Countdown in 1982. Where else was a teenager living in country Australia going to get his music influences from?
The single holds up well today and playing it made me smile - the sound of bike chains whirring and riders breathing leading into the "laser-infused" (my word) sythn introduction.
Researching Kraftwerk I discovered something I did not know. Afrika Bambaataa and Soulsonic Force's song 'Planet Rock' was meant to be a homage to Kraftwerk and utilised two of their songs in it's creation. Why is this interesting? Well there's a guy in a horse mask over here who may be able to explain.
🎶Tour De France (the long version and the short version)
Music can change people.
People can change the world.
This January 26th, I encourage everyone to listen, with an open heart and a loving mind, to the seventh song on Midnight Oil's album, 'The Makaratta Project".
At only six minutes, forty seconds long, you can easily sip at a cup of tea, or a glass of beer, while you do so.
You might have any number of responses - you might cry for the losses of the First Nations peoples and feel helpless, you may get angry and say "this has nothing to do with me" or "I did nothing wrong"- whatever feeling you have, sit with it, acknowledge it, then ask yourself what thoughts made you feel that way.
Are those thoughts fair?
Rational?
Am I generalising, judging, labelling?
Do they align with your values?
Do they come with love and kindness?
🎶Uluru Statement from the Heart \ Come on Down : Midnight Oil, Troy Cassar-Daley
📖Uluru Statement from the Heart
Can I hold you in my arms tonight?
Some days I wake early. Today is one of those. I woke around 3:20 am with the lyrics to this song in my head.
I lay there for an hour, in and out of light sleep, with the words and music filling my thoughts.
The album with this song was released in January, 1987. I have owned a copy since.
Although I didn't meet her until six months later, I think it has always been about Karen.
And it always will be.
My loving wife, my best friend, my beating heart.
Lyrics: genius.com
🎶 Can I hold You?, Colin Hay
A couple of weeks ago, I was buying the standard ten-pin bowling night order; a couple of soft drinks and a plate of curly fries. The person serving commented on my t-shirt.
We got to discussing the Deftones. They had only discovered the band recently but had fallen for them big time, and was buying all the albums on vinyl. With a band like Deftones, that's a mighty committment. There are nine studio albums and two big discs of rarities, B-sides, and covers.
I can't recall exactly how I first heard the Deftones, but I bought their debut album, Adrenaline, when it was the only recording they'd released. So, it would have been 1995 or 1996.
I have lost count of the times I have seen them live, how many band shirts I've worn, and how many times I've listened to the song Change (In the House of Flies) and wondered what inspired it and what it's about. Like many Deftones songs the lyrics are poetically abstract.
Deftones are a band who defy categorisation, slip past boundaries, and make songs with words and melodies which push your listening. Their musicianship and creativity is entrancing and there are few bands I can bank on to interest me every time they release something.
I first heard Wedding Parties Anything live when they played on the Oak Lawn at the University of Western Australia. It was free. It was lunchtime. And we sat about three metres away from them.
They are my second favourite live band of all time (after Spies, of course) and I have no idea how many times I saw them play through the late 80s, and the 90s.
There are so many highlights and memories of their shows. The goosebumps when they would walk out, one by one, singing Barrett's Privateers at the start of the gig; the ten cent pieces flying everywhere during the chorus of Ticket for Tatts; the haunting opening of Sisters of Mercy; the chaos of Sergeant Small; the closing lament of Leave Her Johnny....it's time for us to leave her.
But, if I had to, and I'd prefer not to, my favourite memory was the time they played A Tale They Won't Believe as the last song in their set at the Shents.
The pub was packed that night. Too packed it seemed. And the cops had turned up and were waiting outside at five minutes to twelve to, firstly, ensure they finished at midnight and, secondly, to count the punters. Now this song clocks in, officially, on the album at 6 minutes 58 seconds. They finished it in about 4 minutes 30 seconds. It was absolutely frantic!
If you want to listen to the song, you can right here, and if you want to know about the story of Thomas Cox, the "rather tasty one" at the end of the song you can read my research here.
It’s no secret my favourite band of all time is Spy V Spy.
So it’s probably not surprising when I woke up on Sunday, to a hopeful Australia, clear skies and crisp air, that I put on their music.
Last year, the original drummer of the band, Cliff Grigg, along with “new members” (Dean, Andrew, Cameron), released a new studio album.
Missing, of course, were larger-than-life singer and bassist, Craig Bloxom, and the brilliant guitarist, Mike Weiley (who passed away in 2018).
I was initially skeptical.
How can this be the Spies?
How could it possibly anywhere near as great as the old music?
But it is!
And, after yesterday, the title track of the album, New Reasons, is now my anthem for this optimistic future.
In 1998, my young family and I were preparing to leave Australia. I had a new job lined in Kuala Belait, Brunei in south-east Asia.
On the last day in my Perth job we held a farewell morning tea and I was gifted with a large, wrapped present. Removing the paper I found a cardboard box filled with an eclectic mix of objects - a Mr Potatahead tie, a squeezable cow, a t-shirt with a penguin masquerading as a chicken, a Wallace and Gromit coffee cup, and this compilation album created by Triple J's Three Hours of Power weekly metal show.
The box provides a window into my being at the time. If you were to find such a "box of Mark" today, it might not be much different.
Music is powerful,
Metal, more so.
For me, anyway.
Even if it's not "everyone's cup of tea", it is mine.
❤️much love to those who gave me this box of goodness; you know who you are.
Every so often an album comes along at exactly the right moment.
Just in time to set you back on your feet, rebalance you, point you in the right direction.
And sometimes it can feel like the music is there to save you.
This album is one of those, entering into my life at the perfect time, years ago, stopping me from falling into the hole I had been digging for myself.
Now, when I listen to the record, each track and lyric, every shift in melody and rhythm, takes me back to that time; allowing me to see just how far I have come.
I will always be grateful to Dave, Ryan, Simon, Michael and Ben, for creating this album.
🎸🥁🎤
Chaos Divine are an outstanding band from Perth, Western Australia.
Do yourself a favour and listen here.
One of my fondest memories of summer 1987 involves Guns N' Roses debut album Appetite for Destruction, a carton of Emu Bitter, my Dad's Land Rover, and my mate Phil.
We were waiting for our friends to arrive at Phil's house for a party and to fill in the time we decided to open all the windows and doors at the front of his house, turn the amp up and crank the Gunners to maximum volume, while we sat on the roof of the Series 3 long-wheel base four-wheel drive, drank beer, and wave at passing cars.
Gunners didn't come to Perth on their first tour in 1988. They played Melbourne and Sydney. There was no way we could ago. On the second tour in 1993 they did the same. I missed them again as I was travelling around Australia in a Land Rover, mine and Karen's, not Dad's.
They fell apart after that and it was 2013 before I would get to see them. By then it was only Axl from the original band. They came to Perth but I flew to Melbourne to go with Phil. ZZ Top also played and Rose Tattoo. The Angels were to play but Doc Neeson had developed brain cancer. Sadly, this total legend of Australian music would die the following year.
Finally, in 2017, I got to see three-fifths of the Appetite lineup (Axl, Slash, Duff) at Subiaco Oval with my 15 year old son, wearing his battle jacket. It was an awesome show. Axl's voice was on point and Slash's playing ripped it up over Duff's punchy bass lines. It had been worth the wait.
Two weeks ago, I travelled to Melbourne to attend one of the last ever Midnight Oil gigs. It was held at the Palais Theatre, next to Luna Park. at St Kilda beach. I went with Phil, my (music in our) blood brother.
I have written previously about the effect of discovering v. Spy v. Spy and how my love of their music created an encounter which fundamentally changed my life path. You can read about it here or, as a summary, imagine an awkward sixteen-year-old me, uprooted from the north-west town I'd grown up in, replanted in a suburban city school, for my final, and most important, year of secondary education. On the last day of semester we were permitted to ditch our uniforms and wear whatever we liked. I was already a square peg in a round hole, a fish out of water, an oddball, so I wore my faded jeans, well-worn Dunlop Volleys and my Spies tank top.
"In the afternoon, I was sitting at the back of the maths classroom when a pile of books were placed onto the bench next to me and a blonde guy, 6 foot something, with a huge grin and a Midnight Oil tank top, sat down next to me. His name was Phil and he’d spotted my Spies top. We got talking about music and have been best friends ever since."
Phil and I have seen Midnight Oil together many times. They have all been great. This one was incredible. Two hours and forty minutes of light and shade, heart and soul. Connective. Transcendent. So, if this is indeed the last one I will see with my mate, Phil, then I am okay with that. Just.
Living in northwest Western Australia, and only a child, I was far too sonically isolated to know about Black Flag when they existed. The Rollins era, when Henry was out front, lasted five years and produced some of the best hardcore of all time, but I was barely sixteen when they called it quits. Henry's next project, The Rollins Band, I was fortunately able to fully experience.
Henry Rollins is a force. A powerhouse, intellectually and physically.
No one does rage like Henry. Live on stage he was an intimidating sight and with the band created a sonic experience like no other.
No one does compassion and empathy like Henry either. In his writing, his spoken word, his actions, he is a truly good human.
I saw Rollins Band a total of three times. Each time they came to Perth. The Berlin, Metro Freo, The Lookout. Each gig forged into my memory.
🎥"you're so civilized, you get brutalized"
📷Photo from rear of Life Time album by Rollins Band.
I would have been fifteen when I first heard Blackfella/Whitefella by Warumpi Band. It is a song which resonated deeply with teenage me and one which continues to connect me to one simple mantra - 'it doesn't matter what your colour, as long as you are real fella, as long as you are true fella'. This song appears on Warumpi's first album, Big Name, No Blankets.
Before this release though, Warumpi Band had released a single called 'Jailanguru Pakarnu.' The first ever rock song recorded with lyrics sung in an Australian indigenous language. It is quite the song but it didn't make it onto a Warumpi's discography until their second album, Go Bush!
This album also spawned another incredible track, My Island Home, a song which would be reworked a few years later by Christine Anu and win 'Song of the Year' at the Australian Performing Rights Association Awards (APRA).
Neil Murray and Sammy Butcher, two of the founding members of Warumpi, made an album together in 2019, called Tjungu (joining together). It is a heartfelt record, an emotive collection of songs, and a treasure.
📷Photo from rear of Go Bush!
I have been emotionally affected by many fine songs this year but none more than this one. The song, written by Jimmy Kyle, and performed by him with his Chasing Ghosts bandmates, was played at Good Things Festival in Melbourne on December 1st, 2022. I was in the audience.
Before performing it, Jimmy explained the inspiration of the song was his Koori ancestor, Uncle Baaba Jack Scott. Baaba was the sole surviving Aboriginal in a massacre which occurred at Towel Creek in 1856. Baaba was an infant at the time, "a babe survived amongst the slain."
The lyrics explore “white nationalism, colonisation, assimilation and ultimately reconciliation[1].” These are things I feel and think about but which I often cannot articulate. Songs like this one help me to do so.
In 2023, I trust we will see a real step towards recovery for this country, it's First Nations Peoples, and for all of us. We cannot change our history, but we can change the future's history, starting with a First Nations Voice to Parliament. I want to be proud of Australia. I want to be proud of my First Nations Peoples and of my relationship to them as a fellow Australian. I hope you do too.
🎶This song and others can be found on my Makarrata playlist.
[1] JENKE, Tyler. Song You Need to Know: Chasing Ghosts, ‘Summer’.
On Monday 14th February 2000, a friend called me at work. Fortunately, because I was (and am) happily married, it wasn't to ask me to be his valentine. Whilst it wasn't a romantic communication, it was important. Phil was not calling from Melbourne for a chat, he was calling with clear instructions. I had to listen carefully and I had to do two things:
1) buy Slipknot's debut album and listen to it - immediately - and;
2) purchase a ticket for their gig being held the following day at Metropolis.
I listened on my Discman on the way home. A thirty-year old man, wearing a Daffy Duck tie, banging his head in time to the music, holding the liner notes with a photo of nine masked freaks on the cover in one hand, and gripping the vertical handrail with the other. I don't know what anyone else thought, just what I did. I had to go to this gig.
I couldn't find anyone game enough to go with me. So, I went alone.
What a show! I will never forget the smoke billowing across the stage, floodlights sweeping back and forth across the room, as nine people wearing barcoded overalls and fright masks walked out onto stage.
🎶the whole thing was (sic).
📷In 2012, Slipknot played at Soundwave following a two year hiatus after the death of their bass player, and founder, Paul Gray, Number 2.
This weekend I have tickets to two shows.
The first is a metal gig celebrating ten years since the release of an album which saved me - The Human Connection, Chaos Divine.
The second is an 80s tribute show which we are attending with some of my longest and dearest friends. A night of laughter and memories, stories and misremembered facts, and enough nostalgia to power the Delorean or the Tardis to transport back to our teen years. Back to simpler times in a windswept, dusty, coastal country town. When going out meant roller skating, the drive-in with friends, or Blue Light discos. And staying in meant watching All Creatures Great and Small followed by Auf Wiedersehen, Pet on the ABC with your mum.
Perhaps it's uncool to include a photo of three Wham albums on a page which has so far been dedicated to my adoration of artists like Jeff Buckley, Warumpi Band and Slayer. If so, I'll take that judgement, and accept it as a compliment.
Uncool. Unexpected. Unusual. Unsensible. Unbelievable. I've been permutations and combinations of all of these. I loved these albums. I still do. And if you don't, well you can admire my old walkman instead, because it is cool even, and maybe especially, in yellow.
🎶Beach perms can be found here.
Towards the end of 2021, I discovered Liz Stringer. She had recently released her sixth album. It was called 'First Time Really Feeling.'
The fact I had not heard of Liz before then is a mystifying and, in some ways, a shame. That her music and lyrics reached me with that particular group of songs though is not surprising, even if initially I didn't really understand why I was having such an emotional response to the record.
I must have played the album and listened to the lyrics - reflective and uplifting, sorrowful yet full of hope - a dozen times or more, before I read about her experience writing it.
Conor Lochrie, Tone Deaf/Brag Media writes:
That last sentence; I get it, I'm living it every day. I am grateful for that. And I am thankful this wonderful artist and human, Liz Stringer, has created a soundtrack for this life of mine, and for her own.
😊In 2022, six of my top ten streamed songs were from this album. No mean feat, considering the 140,000 minutes I apparently listened to between January and October that year.
In June 2000, I had my first experience of losing someone outside of my family. My friend Pete, who I had known for twelve years since meeting at university, passed away. We had seen each other several times that year, attending a few gigs in the city, and I had been out with him just a few weeks prior to his death. We were both thirty years old.
This song, from Frank Turner's ninth studio album released last year, reminds me of Peter, and all our mutual friends, and I wish it had existed in 2000. Maybe it would have helped us discuss more openly how it felt to lose someone at a time when we were still so young and when it seemed like we were all just getting it together with our careers and our young families.
Yesterday, I attended the funeral of an old friend and work colleague. He was not a close mate, but we had a connection, one which went beyond our common passions of engineering and martial arts. But when I woke up today, with the lyrics of this song in my head, I was not reflecting on Simon and me. Instead, I was thinking about Simon and his best friend, Andrew, who gave the eulogy at the service, the final words of which were simply 'I'll miss you, mate.'
📻Frank Turner was a new find for me last year. Recommended by a good friend. The album which contains this song is called FTHC and is a ripper.
Six years ago today, an invitation was issued to all Australians in the form of the Uluru Statement from the Heart. In it we are all asked to walk together for a better future.
In 2020, Midnight Oil released The Makarrata Project album. It came with a copy of the statement which I have kept hung on my wall since the day it arrived.
I support this statement as an Australian. And as one of more than 8 billion humans who call the Earth home. I support it as a man who lives, with gratitude, on unceded Mooro Boodjar. And I support it as a fifth generation descendant of men and women who came from Britain and Ireland, many seeking escape from poverty and abuse. I support it as an ancestor of those, who took what was not theirs to have and who used, or allowed the use of, violence and power to take it.
A First Nations Voice enshrined in the constitution will not change the past. But it can alter the future. And that is something I want to be part of.
🎶Uluru Statement from the Heart, Midnight Oil.
📻You can read all about the Uluru Statement here.
Four weeks ago I set myself the task to listen to all of the bands listed in Daniel Bukszpan's Encylopedia of Heavy Metal (2012).
To make the exercise manageable, I decided to only listen to the top five songs from each artist (as declared in spotify on the particular day I was listening). Later I will go back and listen more extensively.
I also read the articles on each band as I went and have to say Daniel Bukszpan has a fantastic sense of humour and an eye for interesting details.
I also created a playlist, linked below, which is available for anyone who fancies an 87 hours listening journey.
From my point of view it's a magnificent set of songs. \m/
It is seven years since I started to share my ramblings here. A lot has happened. Many things have changed. One thing which remains the same however is my admiration for Peter Garrett and my gratitude for the part which Midnight Oil has had in my life. It is not an exaggeration to say my life would have been vastly different life had it not been for the Oils. But that is covered here and not what this is about.
This photo is from Peter's first ever "solo" gig, taken at the beginning of the first song and is the only one I have. The show was at the art gallery in Perth. After this song Peter said "how about we all put away the phones and enjoy the experience." It's a measure of the respect this human has that everyone did as he asked.
Peter's solo album had come about while he was writing his memoir, Big Blue Sky, and captured him at a more personal level than his work with the Oils. This gig was supporting that album, A Version of Now, and was the subject of my first rambling (blog). At the time I thought I needed my posts to be about something specific (a gig review, a book critique, etc), thematically categorised and suitably titled. This one received the catchy headline of Music: Peter Garrett, Artbar, Perth.
Thankfully, I've come a long way since then and now my posts are about all manner of things - stuff I'm working through, something which has inspired me, a way of living in the world which is working for me, memories and emotions, hopes and worries. They are difficult to manifest but writing them helps in finding my way to me and my "version of now".
Last year, I asked a friend for his recommendations for starting to listen to reggae music. He sent me a list of six albums to start with. They were:
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UB40: Signing Off
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Alborosie meets The Wailers: Unbreakable
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Lucky Dube: Greatest Hits
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Tiken Jah Fakoli; Greatest Hits
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Alpha Blondie: Greatest Hits
The first one surprised me but after some research I realised I was over a decade and a half late to the party. Sinead's reggae roots album was a surprise release to many but was, and still is, lauded as one of the greatest reggae recordings.
I have listened to it many times, mostly on Youtube. Physical copies were expensive and Spotify was missing it. It's a fantastic listen which led me then to the originals and many more great tunes.
You will be missed, Sinead.
About six weeks ago, a friend played a song to me. It was 'Nothing Compares 2 U' but it wasn't Sinead O'Connor singing. It was Chris Cornell. I had heard the song many times but my friend had not.
As a result, I created a 10 song playlist to introduce him to the marvellous that Chris Cornell created. In retrospect I don't think it is possible to capture Chris in just ten songs. A hundred or so seems more plausible.
In any case, I have since been listening to lots of music made by Chris and his bandmates. One of these has been Soundgarden's Badmotorfinger. It is an album which I can listen to from end-to-end anytime and anywhere. I can't choose a favourite track on this recording. They have all been ear-worms at some time or another. Right now it's 'Somewhere' but if I listen again in a couple of weeks it'll be another.
Ending this close to where it started though, here is another version of 'Nothing Compares 2 U'. This one is sung by Chris Cornell and his daughter, Toni. It was released by Toni about a year after Chris' tragic death. It hits me hard every time I hear it.
Kindness
Love
Hope
These are three words which come to my mind when I think of the music of Michael Franti and Spearhead.
I was introduced to the healing power of Franti's music in 2008 by a new friend who is a passionate fan. Every album, every song, I have listened to since then has been a gift.
Michael is talented. Spearhead are masterful. Incredible on record, off-the-charts live. But, most importantly, they are human, they are kind, and the music is full of love and hope. And something else.
Fun.
I cannot listen to this album without singing, without dancing, without smiling. It fills my heart and soul.
I may have initially missed the first few albums they released but I have discovered it's never too late to find Michael Franti and Spearhead.
Like many of my long-time favourite artists, Stephen Cummings arrived in my listening space for reasons which have little to do with why he would stay there.
In 1984, I saw Stephen's music video for Gymnasium on Countdown. The song was upbeat and the video clip included a lot of cool breakdancing, so I was hooked. I bought the album, Senso, on cassette tape. Most of the songs were danceable. I liked it a lot, but it was years before I would realise who Stephen was, discover his earlier band The Sports via a cover album by Weddings Parties Anything, and become clued into his musical genius.
Since then he has released another twenty studio albums. Some I missed completely when they first came out but have since found. He is one of the greatest lyricists this country has ever seen and has a voice which can be confident and calm in one moment, then broken and yearning in the next.
Three years ago, after releasing what he had planned to be his last album, Stephen had a stroke. It stopped him from being able to play the guitar. And it affected his speech and singing. Somehow that made him change his mind and so he set about making a new album, released a few months ago, called 100 Years from Now.
It's impossible to choose one song to represent his artistry and his resilience. He is too diverse and too prolific. Still my favourite track is as good a starting place as any. So here it is: When Love Comes Back to Haunt You, Stephen Cummings live at the Forum Theatre.
Craig Bloxom was the bassist and lead singer for the Australian three-piece band called v. Spy v. Spy.
The impact on of the Spies on me has always been deeper than just the music. My love of their music, combined with the inspiration provided by their lyrics and the energy and heart of their live performances, was the catalyst I needed to become me. They were, are, and always will be, a central part of who I am.
Three weeks ago, at a bar called Shotkickers in Thornbury Melbourne, my mate Phil and I watched Craig and his two friends, TK and Chrissy, play a brilliant set of Spies songs in a form of what they have called 'mongrel Australian reggae' under the name of ReggaeSPYS (RSPYS).
How they ended up on that stage is a story best told by Craig and some fantastic interviews with him about it, shared by my long-time Spy-in-arms friend Ned, are worth watching (and linked here). In summary, my version at least, Craig wanted to see if he had it in him to do two things:
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Firstly, to learn to play the bass using his fingers before he 'karked' it. He had always used a pick when playing in the Spies.
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Secondly, to take to the stage again, at the young age of 64 years, and bring his love of Spies and reggae with him.
And I am so glad that he did. Seeing Craig playing and singing again was emotional, uplifting and exactly what I needed.
🎙️RSPYS are recording. Hopefully they will tour Perth at some point after that and I will get to drag as many friends and family as I can to join me in singing along and feeling good. In the meantime, here's a playlist of the songs they played at Shotkickers (sans reggae vibes).
It's true that I love live music.
It's also true that I love live music even more when I get to experience it with my best friend.
Karen and I first saw The Cat Empire in 2004. They played on a small stage at the Joondalup Festival. We were there with our three kids, the youngest just 18 months old. I had bought their debut album a few months before after I heard the first two singles, Hello and Two Shoes, on the TripleJ.
They were incredible, full of energy and creating a fantastic vibe with everyone in the audience with their unique mix of ska, funk, rock and Latin influences music and lyrics.
Last weekend we got to see them again, in a different setting at a Metricup winery, and with a changed lineup. Of the original core members only Felix and Ollie remain with four others retiring a couple of years ago. They were absolutely sensational!
🎙️Side-note:
While researching this piece, I read that Gough Whitlam was instrumental in creating 2JJ as a youth radio station back in the mid-70s in Sydney. This is the station which eventually became Triple J, broadcasting nationally and regionally. Thanks, GW.
I was 14, and it was the mid-1980s, when I first discovered Spy V Spy through the music video for One Of A Kind being broadcast on the Beatbox on the ABC.
I was 17 when I first saw them play live at their opening Perth gig at Canterbury Court.
I was 20 when I drove back 12 hours from Leinster, where I was working as a liney's assistant installing power lines, in a Class 6 truck fitted with an auger, to see the Spies play in Mandurah.
I was 23 when, while travelling around