Wordy-Gurdy

Pr1me numbers, aloha aperitivi & chick flicks

2009-11-10T22:50:00.022+11:00

I had a birthday Monday, and we decided to celebrate. Seeing as I was turning the age of one of my favourite types of numbers, a prime number, and seeing as we were the same prime-number age for the last time for a few years, Rog and I decided to party. We wanted to catch up and reconnect with friends – many of whom we hadn’t seen since Rog took off for the wilds of South Australia in 2003, and some even longer.

The moment I walked in, several months ago, I knew the venue. Because some places just make you feel good. So it is with the alternate reality of Handsome Steve’s House of Refreshment, upstairs in the French medieval architecture of the glorious refurbed Abbotsford Convent. It’s not refurbed too much, and retains an enchanting sense of age, a beguiling scruffiness, a sense of lives lived over its nigh-on-150-year history. The suffering endured by the inhabitants it was built for – unfortunate women and children in the care of the nuns of the Convent of the Good Shepherd – adds a sense of gravitas that’s not lessened by too much tizzing up.

Alex Burns and Jen Hawley from the Hawaiian band Adventures in Paradise entertained with a repertoire of island music and early jazz, and Steve mixed up lethal channelling-spritz New York Dolls with Elvis on the teev in Blue Hawaii and aloha shirts in the air.

What a night. Hot as hades, steamy as the aloha outfits of some guests, glam as the mid-century Italiano aperitivo of others. And me? Well, simply could not resist going exotic Eastern to mix it up a bit more, in a black-gold bespoke cheongsam. There was chic, there was kitsch, there was laughter and moonlight and music.

And so to numbers, of which nine is supernumber, the end and the beginning and the number of doom, for ninth symphonies spelt death for Beethoven, Bruckner and Mahler. The magical square of squares that makes Sudoku. The trashy screech of prices that try to look like they cost less than they do. Like $9.99.

Garrison Keillor's wonderful Writer's Almanac came in this morning with other-side-of-the-world-timeline lateness, kind of satisfying to reflect we are so far ahead when in the depths of feeling very far away from so many places I'd love to be. Anyway, it came in with the revelation that 'It was on this day in 1967 that the first issue of Rolling Stone was published.'

On my birthday! And Jann Wenner printed 40,000 copies, and 34,000 were returned unsold.

I love the fact the demolition of the Berlin Wall began on that day, 22 years later.

And Katharine Hepburn, Hedy Lamarr, Carl Sagan had November 9 to celebrate.

Now it gets even better: the first use of chloroform to make childbirth easier. The outlawing of flogging of Brit soldiers. JFK elected.

And some good breaking news: another writing shortlist to celebrate, this time for a short story in an international field of 2500 for the UK mag Aesthetica.

But on a sombre note, we’ll always remember this 9 November. We’re still reeling from the brutal killings of Nick Waterlow and his daughter Chloe. To express our sorrow would take more words than this page can hold.

Thanks to Jinny Coyle and Brendan Hehir for photos.

Wordy-Gurdy on the radio, October

2009-10-21T16:43:00.004+11:00

Jackey Coyle’s Wordy-Gurdy on Helen Jennings’ Roots of Rhythm, PBS 106.7 FM, 9.30–10am, Wednesday 21 October

Our minds were adrift with the festival spirit today, seeing as we head off to Wangaratta Jazz Fest Friday week. I was enjoying James Hunter’s clip on the Wang fest website, and that got me thinking of all the other fests through the years – my favourites in New Orleans, Woodford, Byron Bay and Cropredy for starters – and the music I’ve happened upon.

Festivals are perfect for browsing – in previous years at Wangaratta I’ve come across classic favourites like Tord Gustavsson’s Trio by doing just that. And I’ve found the best way to start out with a review of an unfamiliar band or a book is to simply plunge in, and get the only pure experience that will be available without the left brain and preconceptions kicking in to muddy the waters, and before the researching has a chance to shape any opinion.

We started out with a treat unearthed in the middle of a CD – I reckon LPs were great in that the middle tracks got fairer recognition – ‘Over her shoulder’ featuring the horns of Joe’s son Levon Henry – Joe Henry, Blood from stars (Anti).

James Hunter followed up with ‘Strange but true’, from this year’s CD/DVD set The hard way.

Keeping it strange, Anders Osborne’s ‘Life is strange’, Ash Wednesday blues, recalled a pre-Katrina Jazzfest.

Carmen Lundy followed up with ‘Old devil moon', Old devil moon, a late-1990s masterpiece on JVC with a knockout horn-, key- and drum-laden NYC band.

James Andrews recalled a gig with Allen Toussaint and Dr John and that dirty Nawlins sound in ‘Paper Moon’, Satchmo of the Ghetto.

Well that was enough strangeness and moons for October and Halloween, and we finished off with one for the big October date that is Helen’s birthday – John Mooney, ‘Broken Mold’, Against the wall.

Next show Wednesday, 18 November

Wordy-Gurdy on the radio, September

2009-09-16T22:47:00.008+10:00

Jackey Coyle’s Wordy-Gurdy on Helen Jennings’ Roots of Rhythm, PBS 106.7 FM, 9.30–10am, Wednesday 16 September

So much to see, so much to do.

Reviews – Last month’s album launch by Rocky & the Two-Bob Millionaires went off, with a memorable lead vocal when Forever Young’s Trevor Young stepped out from behind a drum kit for ‘Throw it away’ and a late arrival by Victoria’s Chief Magistrate Ian Gray to front on ‘Justice’ – the late excuse being he was pulled over by police en route. Some listeners loved checking out the FAD Bar gig in the city: we caught the Two Bobs at Richmond Union Bowling Club on Friday – luckily we arrived after the lights got turned down from operating-theatre bright. Find more Two Bobs gigs here.

Acts to watch from Darebin Music Feast – Tom Woodward, Taylor Project, Bossbucho. And a recommended venue – Bar Nancy.

Sin City – On a quick trip to our own northern version we caught up with premier steel guitarist Graham Griffith and singing-uke-guitar-playing Jenny Griffith in their outfit the Honeymooners, with Peter Moloney and Morna. Graham and Jenny lead Hoola Hapa Haole Hawaiian band, a Sydney must-see, but that’s not all for these jazz-indie-western swing aficionados – they appear in many different combinations. Thanks to Graham for today’s selection of music, both known and just discovered.

CDs – ‘How d’ya do?’, ‘Sleepwalk’ and ‘My little grass shack in Kealakekua, Hawaii’ by Hoola hapa Haole Hawaiian Band, from a demo disc (indie). Full-length CD is available here.
‘Tico tico’ and ‘The sheik of Araby’ which features the vocals of Dr John by the Frank & Joe Show, 331/3, Hyena Records, being Les Paul main man, guitar gun Frank Vignola who subbed for Les Paul for three weeks then actually joined his Trio. Catch him live for ‘Tico tico’ here.
‘If you ain’t lovin (you ain’t livin’) featuring the vocals of Chris O’Connell by Tommy Morrell & the Timewarp Tophands, Jugglin' Cats, WR Records, available here. Yes, that’s Chris of Asleep at the Wheel fame, with unforgettable Texan non-pedal-steel player Tom Morrell.

Coming up – The Devil Rides a Rocking Horse::Mojo Juju, The Brothers Grim & The Blue Murders, Singing Sadie, Frankie Valentine and Can Can Dancers, 17 Sept at 8pm, Wesley Anne, 250 High St, Northcote
Fingerbone Bill – Featuring the talents of Dean Schulz on banjo, guitar and vocals; Nick O’Mara on mandolin, guitar and vocals; John Ebzery on double bass, mandolin and vocals; and Peter Graham on harmonica 18 Sept at 9.30pm, Bar Nancy, 61 High St, Northcote
Suitcase Royale, 18 Sept at 5.30pm, Wesley Anne
250 High St, Northcote
Big street party – Sunday Sep 20 including free all-day bands at Northcote Social Club, Wesley-Anne and Bar Nancy
More here.

Websites –
http:// www.hoola.net.au
http://www.westernswing.net/
http://www.frankvignola.com/
www.myspace.com/barnancysundaysongs
www.myspace.com/bossbucho
http://www.darebin.vic.gov.au/Page/Page.asp?Page_Id=878

Next show Wednesday 21 October

Sydney & the South Coast

2009-09-10T14:43:00.004+10:00

Wordy-Gurdy on the radio, August

2009-08-19T22:54:00.003+10:00

Jackey Coyle’s Wordy-Gurdy on Helen Jennings’ Roots of Rhythm, PBS 106.7 FM, 9.30–10am Wednesday 19 August 2009

It was certainly a preview-review show today.

Seeing as Joe Henry released his 11th album, Blood from stars, yesterdee, we started out with the first two tracks. With so much production work behind him in the past decade, there’s an interesting happenstance whereby his production work is morphing into his own music, cross-fertilising and setting off sparks like what happened when US mainland bluesmen got a listen to the Hawaiian steel guitarists almost a century ago. Two recent releases, Allen Toussaint’s The Bright Mississippi and Ramblin’ Jack Elliott’s A Stranger Here, explore classic blues songs. Push came to shove and it was only a matter of time before the blues found their way onto Henry’s own recordings, and indeed Blood From Stars is a departure from his style with a rawer, edgier sound.

‘I was playing with a writing form,’ he says, ‘a blues structure, in the same way that you might sit down and try to write a sonnet or a haiku. I was intrigued by how structured and how simple those ideas of, say, a pair of repeating lines answered by a refrain can be. I’ve been reading a lot of poets lately, and lot of diverse poetry very consciously references a blues tonality, whether it’s Langston Hughes or Allen Ginsberg or e.e. cummings. Poets are very aware of the power of that structure.’

We started out with ‘Prelude: Light No Lamp When The Sun Comes Down’ and went straight into ‘The man I keep hid’, Joe Henry, Blood from stars (Anti). Seeing as the album produced for Ramblin’ Jack Elliott was a major inspiration, we went into Tampa Red’s ‘New stranger blues’ from Jack’s album A stranger here (Anti).

Next we featured artists from the Wangaratta Jazz Festival program. In its 20th year, the fest has a new image and will have a new hub this year, at the multimillion-dollar venue with two performance spaces.

James Hunter, ‘Jacqueline’, The hard way
Deborah Coleman, ‘Meanest Women’, from Pinetop Perkins’ album Ladies man
Marco Goldsmith & Blue Heat, 'Shuffle up', Irresistable Behaviour

We spoke with founding artistic director, Adrian Jackson, who outlined the program.
Wangaratta Jazz Festival, www.wangarattajazz.com, Friday 30 October – Monday 2 November

Extra! Rocky Dabscheck came into the studio to talk about the CD launch of the CD Rocky & the Two-Bob Millionaires 3–6pm this Sunday at Grand Central Hotel, Richmond (corner Coppin and Swan).

We played two tracks off the new album and Rocky explained the band line-up and some of the mind-boggling playing history racked up by the members of the band:
Rocky Dabscheck, guitar and vocals. Rocky has played alongside Janis Ian, Eric Burden And the Animals, John Martyn, AC/DC, Tangerine Dream
Nick Carrafa, drums and vocals
Brenden Mason, guitar and vocals – from well known bands Madder Lake and Black Feather; has played alongside the Rolling Stones, Queen
Max McIntosh, bass and vocals. Max has played with Brian Cadd, Russell Morris
Steve Williams, saxophone, mouth harp and vocals; saxophone player for John Farnham; has played alongside Tom Jones , Olivia Newton-John, Ray Charles, Kate Ceberano, Ross Wilson
Sigie Gabrie, saxophone, mouth harp, synth guitar, slide guitar percussion and vocals
Julie Buxton, vocals

‘New trick’, Rocky & the Two-Bob Millionaires, Rocky & the Two-Bob Millionaires
‘A walk across the rooftops’, Blue Nile, A walk across the rooftops, Linn Records
‘Settle it down’, Rocky & the Two-Bob Millionaires, Rocky & the Two-Bob Millionaires

Rocky & the Two-Bob Millionaires are playing here:

CD launch: 3–6pm this Sunday, 23 August 23 at Grand Central Hotel, Richmond
with Forever Young
Also playing:
Friday, 28 August, Panton Hill Hotel, with Deja Voodoo
Thursday 3 September, FAD bar, Coors Lane, City

We ended the show with a quote:
‘If Rocky & the Two Bob Millionaires were playing I would never have left the building’ – Elvis Presley

Next show 9.30–10am, Wednesday 17 September

Music to whose ears?

2009-08-13T22:59:00.004+10:00

Used to be a time when we needed to recover from the weekend. Now we recover from our neighbours’ weekend! Yep, new ones have replaced our lovely old Irish bloke, Frank, and decided a ‘small party’ was in order.

This involved a beat box that increased in volume and bass reverberations throughout what turned into a very long night. An invasion of new attendees took the party out to the street at 2am – within the hour they had set off the car alarm of our catty-corner neighbour. (I guess that wasn’t as bad for our neighbour as the ones who ran across the top of that same car a few weeks ago, prompting us to always park under trees from then on.) Our gate was actually opened in order to come in and urinate in the entry to our house (the lane across the road obviously got too far away after a while). However, my heart went out to our other neighbours, returned from interstate that day for a family illness, who were woken in fright by partygoers running across their tin roof in the early hours and called the police.

We finally begged for mercy just before 6am.

So we’ve hosed down the entry to our house and the rains have taken away much of the other stench but, in spite of Monday’s recycling truck removing three bin loads of empties, the backyard has just as many to go. And that’s the biggest Jim Beam bottle (photo) that we’ve ever seen!

So from now on we’re taking no prisoners – we’ll vigorously uphold every noise and nuisance bylaw there is.

Meanwhile, the on-air bullying of a 14-year-old girl to reveal her history of a rape to a Sydney radio audience has resulted in higher ratings for the offending show, and its imminent return to air. I wonder how her mother could air such a public grilling with the knowledge of what had befallen her daughter.

But life ain’t so bad. I’m 3000 words into The Tall House – yes, the novel at last! It’s taking its own shape and surprising me daily.

Lonely Planet has sent me to Italy (in my head that is, but it’s back at No 1 on my travel list – Turin, for starters).

Melbourne looked Technicolor today in the bright winter sunshine. Fed Square shone bronze and silver and graphite, against gleaming skyscrapers and a blue sky iced with dramatic cumulonimbus. The Yarra actually sparkled and the buskers plyed a wonderful aural tapestry – first a Chinese single-stringed lute, then a little further, a sitar, and further still, a penny whistle.

Tune in next Wednesday for 'Wordy-Gurdy' on Helen Jennings' Roots of Rhythm – 9:30am, PBS 106.7FM

Gold in them thar hills

2009-07-29T22:43:00.008+10:00

The Gold Coast is a place I’ve always passed through, en route to somewhere either north or south. A bit like the inner-city suburb where I live.

The weekend before last I went to the Gold Coast, this time with a purpose, seeing as I had business concerning the Gold Coast Writers’ Association short story prize. And with the opportunity for face-to-face feedback with the judge, who could resist?

Burleigh Heads, where the GCWA holds its meetings, is a northern suburb of Coolangatta, some suburban clicks and a couple of verdant patches on the way to a lovely beach southended by the rocky bluff of a national park and sweeping round to a smaller head at the north. Always in sight, like a magic faraway land, are the shining towers of Surfers Paradise around the coastal curve to the north.

So that’s where I hung out before decamping south to the Lismore hinterland to chill with my sister Rebecca and her family. Now that’s a much more well-trodden area for me, since spending almost every Easter at Bluesfest from over a decade ago in nearby Byron Bay, first hanging out and later covering the fest for Rhythms magazine. The place is still inspiring and healing to the soul of a cold-ridden southerner, for it’s been a long and chilly winter here.

The Gold Coast was somewhere we habitually shunned, ever since hearing the absurd quotes of Joh Bjelke Petersen and seeing press showing the beaming, glitzed-up meter maids and shuddering at the thought of boiled peanuts. It was all too bright and not quite, well, black enough.

Four years ago, during a stint freelancing for NMP Group’s ill-fated Aura: the magazine of southeast Queensland – one story they actually did recompense me for – I interviewed Chris Nyst, the high-flying Gold Coast lawyer who’s also a surfer, a boxer, a painter, a screenwriter, an author.

At that time his current projects included writing a miniseries screenplay for his first book Cop This! (1999) and a third crime thriller, Crook as Rockwood, as well as a screenplay called Crooked Business to follow-up 2004’s award-winning comedy feature Gettin’ Square.

We talked about boomtowns, starting off with his hometown of Blackall in the heart of Queensland – the birthplace of the ALP, the navy blue singlet, and Qantas – when it was thriving.

'My father was working out there building picture theatres,’ he said. ‘In those days o’course there was a fair bit of money in the west and it was the days of the high wool prices and so forth, so that was where everything was happening.’

And so to the Gold Coast. ‘Yeah, there was a B&W movie starred Spencer Tracy and Clark Gable called Boom Town,’ Nyst reminisced. ‘It was a gold rush town and they spent the whole time walking round these muddy streets, all these kind of real gold diggers. I kinda figure that as the Gold Coast – you know, you’ve got all these guys walking round in mud up to their knees but there’s gold in the hills. Was it Willy Lomond? Walked into the jungle and walked out a rich man? That’s the Gold Coast mentality. I mean, it’s exciting.

‘The Gold Coast … is what it is, y’know,' Nyst said,'it’s crass and it’s gaudy – it’s got its downsides but it can be a great place.'

And so to reality: the folk I met know and love their patch and its history, avoid the shadows of the high rises where Nyst's characters lurk, and have a refreshing anything-is-possible mindset that I'd forgotten existed. I can't wait to go back and see them again. (Maybe I'll pass next time on the Kenny and Dolly act witnessed during the convivial afters at the bowling club … that is the ugliest damn drag-queen Dolly I ever did lay eyes on.)

Thanks, GCWA for a shot in the arm and a lightening of the heart. Thanks to judge Wendy Waters for thinking 'The man with the pencil-thin moustache' was worth highly commending. And here's to making it to Surfers next time.

'Wordy-Gurdy' on the radio, 22 July 2009

2009-07-22T10:58:00.005+10:00

Jackey Coyle’s Wordy-Gurdy on Helen Jennings’ Roots of Rhythm, PBS 106.7 FM, 9.30–10am Wednesday, 22 July 2009

We warmed up the wintry chill with a bit of spice: some double entendres, naughtinesses and impure thoughts across the last century of roots music.

We began with a classic, well-known for good reason, and zigzagged back to the 1920s and up the years to today.

‘Back door man’, Howlin’ Wolf, The Howlin’ Wolf Collection (Spectrum/Universal)

‘Lollypop mama’, Clarence Samuels, Chess Blues Vol 1 1947–1952 (MCA/Chess)

From Raunchy Business: Hot nuts & lollipops, Columbia/Legacy:
‘Shave ’em dry’, Lucille Bogan
‘Wipe it off’, Lonnie Johnson
‘Butcher shop blues’, Bernice Edwards

‘Fan it’, Willie Nelson & Asleep at the Wheel, Willie & the Wheel (Bismeaux Records)

Bob Wills & his Texas Playboys, from Take me back to Tulsa, (Proper):
‘What’s the matter with the mill’
‘Who walks in when I walk out’

‘Saturday night fish fry’, Louis Jordan, The Best of Louis Jordan (MCA Records)

Next show 9.30–10 am, 19 August, PBS 106.7FM

Magic in the air

2009-07-16T13:09:00.004+10:00

I’ve discovered a new favourite term: short list. There's something magical about it. Especially when it comes out of the blue – or rather, out of that black hole where submissions disappear – and it is my short story up for a writing prize. The money is irrelevant; the recognition is what counts – that someone is actually interested in reading a fantasy I've cooked up.

At an exhibition at the State Library of Victoria, The Independent Type, is the 1983 first-submission letter from a 15-year-old Sonya Hartnett, as well as the reply from the MD of publisher Rigby, MD Frank W Thompson:

… Writing is a bit like playing sport – everyone can play most games but only a few play games so well that we will pay to watch them play, and even then they have to practise continually …

How good is that?

I loved the Peter Carey exhibit, made up of his laptop and research materials from the writing of True History of the Kelly Gang. On display is one manuscript page with a quirky charm – it is lovely enough to frame – elegantly typeset and adorned with the arcane and mystical hieroglyphics of the hard-copy editing process using a fountain pen with green ink, by none other than Gary Fisketjon, from the esteemed New York editing house of Knopf. This intimate view into the process gives a precious glimpse of the Fisketjon style, which shaped the words of the likes of Raymond Carver, Richard Ford, Cormac McCarthy and Haruki Murakami.

Anyway, there is some stiff competition up there on the Gold Coast with its well-established writers’ association. So whatever the result, there’s an opportunity to hone my craft with a new tool – the judge’s feedback. The theme is Magic – how apt.

Next radio show is Wednesday 22 July and we’re warming up winter with a bit of spice: some double entendres, naughtinesses and impure thoughts across the last century of roots music. Tune in at 9.30 am on Helen Jennings’ Roots of Rhythm, PBSFM, 106.7FM in Melbourne or on the web.

Longer days & shorter nights

2009-07-06T22:47:00.006+10:00

These days just keep getting longer.

Now we’re over the solstice, it’s really becoming winter. Time for food, snuggling up, reading, dinners with friends. Our house reeks of rich and heady aromas like baking bread; tonight it’s orange and cumin, this morning it was sourdough, last Friday it was cranberry, spices and vine fruits. Herb-infused casseroles and soups simmer, slow and rich; pies bake to be paired with mash in a ritual of prandial pleasure.

On a recent Saturday night we were faced with a culinary challenge: cook for a couple, one of whom is a sensational cook, the other with a series of health conditions necessitating a long list of no-nos: garlic, all onions including leeks, shallots, spring onions, tomatoes – well, that knocks out the entire Mediterranean cookbook – no broccoli, yeast, raisins, alcohol, asparagus, cabbage, fennel, wheat, legumes, no mushrooms, no avocado, no apples, no pears, no apricots, no cauliflower. Not much lemon, butter, salt, sugar.

Well, that was a throwdown of the gauntlet, if ever I saw one. But doable. We ended up with corn cakes and salmon roulades, followed by sweet potato-lemongrass-coriander soup. Next came spiced chicken with lemon-flavoured rice. Now for three ices: chocolate sherbet, rosewater sorbet and honey-vanilla ice cream with flaked coconut and almonds plus strawberries (for those who ate ’em). A few cheeses and rice crackers and we were replete.

I’ve been working out the chemistry to make a combination of ices that’s not too cold, not too rich but exotic and lighter than my beloved stodge puds. With the right combo of fats, sugar, milk solids and water – plus pairing cooked with uncooked mixtures – they can make a palette of colours, textures and flavours that looks pretty and cleanses the palate.

It’s time to get the knives sharpened. When I first came to Richmond in 1980, you didn’t have to leave the borders for anything. Knives sharpened, silk screens made, glass cut and anything else you needed. A place opposite the old Ball’s down on Church Street sharpened knives, just up from the row of south-meandering pubs that only contained beer and dusty bottles of sherry for consumption.

My sister Rebecca and I were rather fond of G&Ts at that stage. However, our request at the first we tried was met with a ‘Whatcha fink this is? A woman’s pub or somefink?’ We had to go along Swan Street to the Wine Shop for anything in the way of wine, a place where shelves reached to the ceiling and were crammed together so that whoever was in there had to leave to allow entry to the next customers. Our favourite was always the selection of the week, often with a recommendation of ‘great drinking now’ as suggested by the benevolent Doug.

Anyway, those days are long gone. We now have to take our knives out of Richmond! On a particular day of the month!
Ball’s is gone, Dimmeys too. At least my favourite Empire of Wreckage is still down there, arrayed behind Swan Street. Its windows and doors and bits and pieces stretch into the distance and I still can’t help but gaze on it with a quickening of the heart, a can’t-wait-to-get-in-there-and-fossick kind of a breathlessness. I hope that place never goes.

Trade secrets: the good, the bad and the ugly

2009-06-24T18:51:00.008+10:00

Over the years, living in a Victorian house – stripped of many original features in the 1960s and since arrayed in oh-so-decorous beiges and whites with layers of masonite, vinyl tiles and wall paper – things break, things get tired, things need fixing up and brightening up and things need making good.

Even if you have the best set of tools in the business, climb a ladder with the greatest of ease and your hand-eye coordination is second to none, sometimes you simply have to get a man in. Yep, it still is a blokes’ world, and even though hardware shops have realised that treating women as if they have a brain is good for business, tradesmen have not necessarily moved with the times.

Over the years, you realise that tradies are either a girl’s best friend or the source of untold angst. And sometimes you just gotta laugh.

It’s a bit like a game of snakes and ladders. First of all, will they show up for the quote? Good, now you’ve made it up a short ladder. Now will they show up for the job? And they have but whoops, they’ve wrecked the rest of the house with dust and heavy equipment. Big snake, down you go. (Working at home as a freelance writer and editor has its special challenges at these times.) Ooh, here’s someone on time to start the job with his drop sheets and polite chitchat – big ladder. Oh-oh! there’s an unforeseen hitch, the mobile phone’s ringing, is that a snake, and he hasn’t brought a part and he’s off to the other side of town to another job and you have to do a tag team effort just to keep him there, desperately, just to have water/heating/a roof that night.

Now the job’s done (and just like the doctor who always says ‘it won’t hurt’, you’ve had the one of ‘there won’t be any mess’), and you haven’t entered the room to find a dust fog, will they clean the mess up? Will they dispose of empty drink and food containers rather than leave them on the front veranda? A big snake lurking, ready for action.

Here’s some snakes from through the years.

Snake 1: roofer explains carefully that tinted corrugated sheets must be laid with labels facing up, otherwise the tinting won’t stop the sun’s rays. He then lays sheets with labels all but one facing down. It takes a day or so until he realises this means he can’t simply turn the sheets around as the holes he’s drilled are now in valleys not on hills, as before. Oops.

Snake 2: plumber shows me patiently that gutters need their level down on the drainpipe end. He then attaches the gutter the opposite way.

Snake 3: carpenter replaces part of side fence. I return to find him reversing the position of fenceposts on the new part of the fence, leaving no room for access down the sideway.

Snake 4: genius cabinetmaker eventually takes five years to complete a job. My text messages become condensed into just one word: Please.

Snake 5: plumber comes to replace hot-water system. He puts in an instantaneous model and when we can’t get any hot water for a shower, he tells us the problem will be fixed if we replace a. shower head for voluminous water flow b. all tap fittings as the shower head no longer matches c. bathroom tiles – as he leaves dark smelly boot prints (mud, we hope!) through the house.

Snake 6: electrician arrives nine hours late and looking crazed to complete new bathroom for overseas guests arriving the next day. He locks himself in and noisily gets to work, dropping tools and chipping the new handbasin. I find out later his girlfriend had an abortion that day.

Snake 7: floor sanders shout interminably in Aramaic, whether in the house, or outside in the van, for the full five hours of the job. They dump heavy equipment on expensive rugs and entry-hall Baltic pine floorboards and turn off power during our computer work. In a moment that evokes Seinfeld’s Soup Nazi, we are told we cannot have satin finish like the rest of the house – it must be gloss. They won’t issue a receipt but offer a mug instead.

Well, after that lot of snakes, here’s some ladders.

Ladder 1: FG James damp proofing – wonderful, professional outfit who left our walls and skirtings better than they found ’em. Can you nominate finishing carpenters for sainthood?

Ladder 2: Pele Fireplace Installations – stylish, visionary, and persistent with getting flues up those kinky Victorian chimneys.

Jim’s Mowing – George Kanellakis and his dad have been restoring order to our little patch of wilderness for years.

Ladder 3: Mac’s Place, Flinders Street – helpful, understanding of freelance repair budgets. When my lappy died in the Kimberley, there was no question of shipping it back here for life support.

Ladder 4: Hames Reid Plumbing – Kevin and his crew keep pipes clear with a crew that's usually spot on. George is No 1!

Pic: yet more wonderful relics of the 1960s dual-family accommodations in our little house

'Wordy Gurdy' on the radio, 17 June 2009

2009-06-17T17:27:00.008+10:00

Jackey Coyle’s 'Wordy-Gurdy' on Helen Jennings’ Roots of Rhythm, PBS 106.7 FM, 9.30–10am Wednesday 17 June 2009

Today was gonna be a bit ragtimey and it moved around in place and time, using the theme extremely loosely.

Willie Nelson & Asleep at the Wheel, ‘I ain’t gonna give nobody none of this jellyroll, Willie & the Wheel (Bismeaux Records)

For our feature CD, Willie Nelson and Asleep at the Wheel teamed up for a collaboration released in February.

According to the Willie & the Wheel website, the album was 30 years in the making. It’s a collection of classic western swing songs handpicked by the late Jerry Wexler, better known as ‘Mr R&B’. He was a fan of the original western swing bands like Bob Wills, Milton Brown, Cliff Bruner – introduced to him while he was studying journalism in Kansas City.

The album takes genre hopper Willie Nelson back to his musical roots. As opposed to some of his other style collaborations such as reggae, which didn’t quite gel, western swing is a perfect choice for him – his vocal stylings have always originated in jazz. He grew up on western swing – he was born about the same time it began – and it has always figured heavily into his approach to music.

‘Jerry Wexler originally came up with this concept back when Willie was on the Atlantic label,’ says AATW headman Ray Benson. ‘But before the record could be made Willie left Atlantic for CBS records and so the idea was shelved.’

This is a good story. In 2003 Jerry Wexler, who was retired and living in Florida, called his old friend Ray Benson. ‘’Ray!’’ he said, ‘’I’m getting rid of my LPs! They collect dust and it bothers me. I have recorded them all and I am sending you all my western swing albums!’ A few weeks later a box arrived with 20 or so LPs from Jerry. They were collections of the music originally on 78 rpm records reissued on 33-1/3 rpm LPs. Ray noticed that a number of the song titles had two initials next to them: ‘WN.’ Ray didn't think much about it but when he thanked Jerry he asked what they were – ‘WN’ stood for Willie Nelson.

Fast forward to 2007, when Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard, Ray Price and Asleep at the Wheel set out on the wildly successful Last of the Breed tour showcasing classic western swing and Texas country music. Not long after, Ray got the call from Willie and his manager. According to Ray, they asked, ‘Jerry Wexler thinks now’s the time to do the western swing CD. You've got the LPs don’t you?’ Ray continues, ‘It took me a second to realize what they were talking about and once I put two and two together I answered “Yes of course!” I went to the shelf and pulled out the LPs. Sure enough there were the penned-in "WNs" by certain songs and so I went to work.’
From nearly 40 selections Jerry and Ray painstakingly narrowed the list down to 12. Jerry insisted that some of the tracks should include horns as well as a return to the traditional fiddles and lap steel guitar associated with western swing. ‘To my delight and relief,’ says Ray, ‘he loved them.'

Alex Burns & Nick Charles, ‘Yank Plays Mandolin’, Cordially Yours (Newmarket)

An original from a match made in heaven, featuring the vocals and mandolin of Nick and backing vocals by Alex, Kelly Auty and Tanya Lee.

Sol Hoopii, ‘Hawaii Nei’, Master of the Hawaiian Guitar Vol II (Rounder)
A traditional Hawaiian song from the collection of Bob Brozman, recorded in 1929 and one of only four recorded with his sax trio.

Willie Nelson & Asleep at the Wheel, ‘I’m sittin’ on top of the world’, Willie & the Wheel
Joe Henry, ‘I will write my book’, Civilians (Anti)

According to the liner notes: Henry is a Southerner by birth, and Midwestern by transplant. He lives ‘on the fringe of Los Angeles, right where it begins its slide into the San Gabriel Valley, and in a house built in 1904 for a First Lady of these United States of I'm Sorry…'

He likens his work to ‘shoveling out a fireplace: If I do it well, the next fire will have more air to breathe. And the fire next time is always the thing.’ Recorded & mixed by Ryan Freeland at The Garfield House, South Pasadena, CA, 2007. Musicians: JH – acoustic guitar, handclaps, knee slaps and 'corduroy'; Bill Frisell – electric and acoustic guitar; Greg Leisz – acoustic guitar, mandolin, Weissenborn and lap steel; Patrick Warren – piano, Chamberlin, pump organ and more; David Piltch – upright and electric bass; Jay Bellerose – drums and percussion; Loudon Wainwright the 3rd – backing vocals; Van Dyke Parks – piano

Willie Nelson & Asleep at the Wheel, ‘Hesitation blues’, Willie & the Wheel

Last song was a dilemma with 12 knockouts to choose from so we went with Helen's choice.

Next show: July 22

Winter in a cool climate

2009-06-04T17:27:00.004+10:00

Monday morning the fog came in as we watched. Every other day it’s cleared; the damp dissipates and the sky is suddenly a piercing blue. Rog and I stood upstairs in the ochre-yellow, north-facing room and watched the rooftops disappear. We used to be able to see all the way up to Fitzroy from there – my philosophical dentist John Gilheany once mused on the fact that Brunswick Street was bookended by churches – but the city’s closing in now and today’s vista is made up of rooftops, balconies, angles and palms. Then there’s the ubiquitous TV antennae and further away, the ever-present cranes punctuating the horizon.
Routines are there to be changed, so any morning holds exciting choices. Stay home or go out? It’s usually the latter in this vibrant metropolis, so a couch-potato sojourn is a treat.
As Monday nights are special movie night, sometimes I meet my sister Jinny at Trotters in Carlton for a glass of fizz and a feed. Trotters is one of those Melbourne cafés with good Italian-based food, fast service, attentive, warm staff – what’s not to like there? Some concentrated browsing at Readings, an ice cream and a movie and there you go, we’ve pushed the week off gently and it’s rolling. Rog is starting to get hooked now, and we slotted Gomorra in for this week.
Last week Samson and Delilah knocked our socks off – strong and sad were words I thought of. It took an Aboriginal filmmaker to say it, and I guess it’s how change has to happen to bring happier times in this Age of Aquarius – through the Aboriginal people themselves, not through us and our doomed solutions. Every theme resonated way too deeply with what we saw in our time in the Kimberley. The women who cop all the disasters yet somehow, miraculously, come out stronger; the men who take a crack at being leaders and fall short; the brutality to one another that swells the desolation; the art scene that feeds off the isolation of artists; the irony of hunter-gatherers who have lost their connection with country.
During the week, Snow Falling on Cedars resonated more gently but just as deeply. Set in 1954 on a fictional island off Washington State, it follows the murder trial of a Japanese-American man in the wake of the death of a fellow fisherman. In the film, the effect of Japanese exile camps during the Second World War on the island’s residents is as important a theme as the interracial love story. The gradual exposing of the underbelly of racism following the Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbor led me to think about what might have been, here. So much suffering for our people in the Pacific War. I will never forget talking to a 90-year-old POW incarcerated in Changi who wept, just at the mention of his time there. My uncle never could speak of his time in New Guinea. And that was meant to be the war that ended all wars.
Full of gore and violence, Gomorra was not a film to enjoy. I guess I’d call it a sickening exposé of the stranglehold of the Camorra gangsters over the citizens of Naples.
It segued perfectly into last night’s panel discussion of true crime writing at Victorian Writers’ Centre. Our fascination for turning over the darkest acts of humans, one to another – could it be a quest to understand where the good ends and evil starts? Or simply to solve the puzzles?
Anyway, things aren’t all grim. I discovered Making Modern Melbourne, by my thesis supervisor and all-round mastermind Jenny Lee, and caught her talk to the Coburg Historical Society a few weeks ago. I found her take on our history looking from the western and northern suburbs – as opposed to the usual eastern slant – enthralling. I’m enjoying Lisa Lang’s E.W. Cole: Chasing the Rainbow now, and recalling Cole’s Funny Picture Book. What an extraordinary, visionary, eccentric man – my ideal dinner companion. This is one of the titles in small and perfectly formed A6 format, all printed on recycled paper by Arcade Publications. Lots of illustrations, immaculate research and immensely readable – a quirky take on Melbourne history.

Wordy-Gurdy on the radio, 20 May 2009

2009-05-29T18:52:00.007+10:00

Special Radio Festival show – Pianists’ pianists: who do the ivory-ticklers kowtow to? Selections from the cream of Melbourne’s keyboardists on Jackey Coyle’s 'Wordy-Gurdy' on Helen Jennings’ Roots of Rhythm, PBS 106.7 FM, 9.15–11am Wednesday 20 May.
We asked musicians, Who inspired you to take up the piano, and/or inspires you still? Would you be able to nominate your favourite/s? If there are particular tracks that still tickle your ivories, we will do our best to find them to play.
It ended up being a packed show. Some trivia that didn’t fit in included the World's Largest Organ! as well as a list of Presidential Pianos, courtesy Sullivan’s Music Trivia.
From Oscar Wilde we could have had that memorable quote: Please do not shoot the pianist. He is doing his best. – from a notice in a dancing saloon in America’s West
My favourite quote comes from Austrian-born pianist Artur Schnabel:
The notes I handle no better than many pianists. But the pauses between the notes – ah! that is where the art resides!
For ANDY COWAN we had Bill Evans, Keith Jarrett’s ‘Memories of tomorrow’ from Köln Concert; Muddy Waters with Otis Spann from Fathers & Sons; John Coltrane with McCoy Tyner, and Dr John.
TIM NEAL selected Jimmy Smith, ‘I Got my Mojo Working’, I Got my Mojo Working and Oscar Peterson, ‘Night Train’, Jazz on a Winter’s Night.
We played tracks from my collection for JAMES BLACK (Professor Longhair; Charles Brown, Otis Spann, Dr John and Jimmy Smith); MICK O’CONNOR (Donny Hathaway, ‘Jealous Guy’, Live); ANDREW OGBURN (Professor Longhair, Dr John and Huey ’Piano’ Smith).
From Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue my choice would have been ‘Blue in Green’; then we did get to play Little Richard, and Tom Waits’ ‘Kentucky Avenue’ from Blue Valentine.
My choices: If I’d had half a chance, these’d be part of the playlist:
Lefty Frizzell, ‘If You’ve Got the Money, I’ve Got the Time’, Life’s Like Poetry (Bear Family)
The barrelhouse piano of Wichita Falls’ Madge Sutee – part of the pickup band assembled for Lefty Frizzell’s very first Columbia recording sessions – helped form the distinctive sound that surrounded Lefty’s unique vocal style, which would influence some of the greatest country singers who followed as well as inspire a host of cover versions of Lefty's composition and put Lefty well on the road to stardom.
Tord Gustavsen Trio, The Ground (ECM)
Any track from this ethereal jazz – some called it folk music when the trio visited Wangaratta Jazz Fest in 2005 – would serve to spirit us away. Still one of my desert-island discs.

Wordy-Gurdy goes pianistic next week

2009-05-13T12:04:00.003+10:00

Next Wednesday marks the start of the annual PBS Radio Festival.
So have we got a show for you! We'll sit in with Helen Jennings for a special extended two hours themed around
PIANISTS’ PIANISTS: WHO DO THE IVORY-TICKLERS KOWTOW TO? FEATURING SELECTIONS FROM THE CREAM OF MELBOURNE’S KEYBOARDISTS AND TRIVIA FROM THE ANNALS OF THE ‘GOANNA’.
We are asking the players, Who inspired you to take up the piano, and/or inspires you still? Are there particular tracks that still tickle your ivories?
And we’ll do our best to find them to play, as well as digging up anecdotes, trivia and strange facts.
Wordy-Gurdy goes pianistic 9–11 am, for a special extended show on Roots of Rhythm Wednesday 20 May on PBS 106.7FM.

The festiv-al season

2009-05-07T23:06:00.002+10:00

Autumn – my favourite time in Melbourne. Festivals galore, luminous days, bright leaves turning to crackling ground cover to scuff through. How lucky was I to be in Kyoto last November for its celebrated autumn foliage – coming from the dry heat and dust of the Kimberley, the rich, lush and gracious gardens were a tangible reminder of my hometown.
Talk about festival city: last week we had the Williamstown Literary Fest and the Melbourne International Jazz Fest. There was no time to long to be in Nawlins for Jazzfest; we had Charlie Haden, Bill Frisell and Joshua Redman right here: the first two playing with Ethan Iverson at the Melbourne Town Hall; the latter with his quartet at the new Melbourne Recital Centre.
Earlier in the week in Hamer Hall, Katie Noonan performed her Blackbird Project: the songs of Lennon & McCartney, which went to show what a singer she is, angel voice and all, and how much McCartney needs Lennon, ie four McCartney songs in a row just cry out for the tang of Lennon to balance the saccharine. Miss Katie’s main squeeze, Zac Hurren, starred on sax, whetting our appetite for his trio’s opening of the Redman gig two nights later.
Yet FGHR disappointed as Katie’s opener – six of our finest delivering blah compositions that showed the wisdom of a master such as Redman, who ain’t too proud to open a set with someone else’s, in this case a magical interpretation of (yep, had me puzzled for awhile too) Rodgers & Hammerstein’s ‘Surrey with a fringe on top’. (I remember my mum singing it in her fine soprano voice, busying herself around our childhood needs, sometime long ago.)
Hurren’s trio was a dazzling complement to the elegance of Joshua Redman. The Ornette-channeled energy filled the hall to bursting before interval, when exiting onto the first-floor lobby the lights of Melbourne laid themselves bare through the asymmetrical hex-glass shapes that made up the north-facing wall of this brand-new apparition risen from the longtime car park we drove by so many times it became invisible in the way that ugly things do. Such surprises happen often as we rediscover this town, see what’s new and what’s changed and who’s where.
To watch the Joshua Redman trio was to see the rhythm, as soulful as the music we were hearing. The reed-thin Redman’s exuberant kicks as he blows up a sweet storm evoke life on the backstreets and Nawlins funerals and Jazzfest a decade ago. Although nothing matched the sheer spare perfection of MoodSwing’s ‘Sweet Sorrow’ or ‘Dialogue’, the perfectly matched trio delivered a set that floated us right out into the crisp night.
The Melbourne Town Hall let us down in terms of the barnlike acoustics after the excellence of the Recital Centre. Even worse was the opening act, when the grand old organ, recently restored, was wrenched to life by Paul Grabowsky for a performance named after Glen Waverley’s Shirley St, where he grew up. He apologised to those from the suburb beforehand, and rightly so. The composition was cold as the hall periphery, lengthy too, sending many of the audience around us into a postdinner slumber. The vibe was hard to bring back for the magnificent Haden-Frisell-Iverson combo, who battled against the sound to fill the space with their decades-honed mastery.
So here we are, just four days on from celebrating 29 years together, my Roger and me. The Footy Show is on and Sam Newman just got tarred and feathered and I’ve turned up a Christian McBride bass solo and Brad Mehldau’s come in on piano and Joshua Redman’s there now to go out on ‘Mischief’.
I’m sad for someone I love who’s too far away to hold close, thinking how fragile a decade the 20s is. How painful it is and how much you have to learn and to work out for yourself and how much there still is to go when you get through. What a miracle that is, coming through to the other side – I know I barely did. Here’s to coming through.
And here’s to life with its sweet rhythms and dud gigs and surprises, always surprises.

Wordy-Gurdy on the radio, 15 April 2009

2009-04-15T13:25:00.008+10:00

Jackey Coyle’s Wordy-Gurdy on Helen Jennings’ Roots of Rhythm, PBS 106.7 FM, 9.30–10am Wednesday 15 April 2009
In view of the fact that New Orleans Jazzfest begins end of this month, we featured the best track off an album by San Francisco Bay Area native Eric Lindell, recorded in Louisiana. Lindell moved in 1999 to New Orleans and made a name on the local scene; by 2005 Alligator Records had signed him.
We reviewed a new music fest and previewed the Melbourne International and the Stonnington jazz fests, with a stunning track by Charlie Haden featuring Chet Baker and Italian pianist Enrico Pieranunzi recorded in Italy in 1987 and released following Baker’s death.
We closed with more of that Nawlins sound.
CDs: Eric Lindell, ‘Lullaby for Mercy Ann’, Track 7, Gulf Coast Highway (Alligator)
Vince Jones, ‘We let them do it’, Moving through taboos (Universal)
Charlie Haden with Chet Baker, Enrico Pieranunzi & Billy Higgins, ‘My Funny Valentine’, Silence (Soulnote)
Marcia Ball, Irma Thomas & Tracy Nelson, ‘Sing It!’, City of dreams: a collection of New Orleans music (Rounder)
Review: The inaugural Chill City music fest, held on Good Friday in the Alexandra Gardens, has all the big-picture stuff right: lighting, setting, ambience. The legendary Chipmonck brought the laid-back style of his Woodstock gig to his MCing, and star act of the day was Paul Kelly. US newcomer Mamie Minch garnered some attention too. Notes for the future: you could die of thirst before you got to the head of the queue, and that was just to pay for your drink! More attention needed to book the very best of acts too.
Previews: Stonnington Jazz, coming up in May, focuses for its fourth outing on Australian composers and has added small venues such as cafes to the Malvern Town Hall and Chapel off Chapel. Go to www.stonnington.vic.gov.au/jazz for info and program or Chapel off Chapel for tix: www.chapeloffchapel.com.au or 03-8290 7000
Meanwhile, end of this month bassist Charlie Haden visits as resident muso and Joshua Redman signs in for one gig at the Melbourne International Jazz Fest. Go to www.melbournejazz.com.
Next Show
Wed 20 May – Special Radio Festival show – Pianists’ pianists: who do the ivory-ticklers kowtow to? Selections from the cream of Melbourne’s keyboardists.

Starting Over

2009-04-05T21:39:00.004+10:00

Aries marks the beginning of the new year, Gita yoga tells us. Which I always thought was strange. How do the northern hemisphere rituals that mark rebirth and regrowth – such as Spring and Easter – translate to here?
But more and more, it’s feeling like new beginnings. Daylight saving ended today and we’re into the long, cool nights of warming food, moving into a more inner phase after the long, hot extroverted days of Summer. Our house needs to be made warm and cosy; gutters made clear and structures made sound. It’s cool enough to begin running again and the leaves are starting to turn in beautiful Autumn Melbourne.
We’ve had rain and our parks and gardens are green again. It’s a lush, bright green covering the ground and after rain the scent of flowers and eucalypts is intoxicating.
Yesterday we drove an hour north to Kinglake for the first footy match of the season. To be held on the very oval that offered refuge from the insanity of the hellfires of 7 February.
On the way there the road curved through black expanses as far as we could see, hills and valleys, tree trunks, occasional bits of building materials, all black. The smell of soot and smoke. I felt numb; unable to feel the grief I felt at the fire sites of South Australia four years ago. This was alien landscape now. My head said it’s natural for the country to burn; my heart ached for the loss of life, the homes, the lives that’d have to be rebuilt.
Once my eyes adjusted to the surreal blackness, they began to pick out signs of new growth in the midst of the aftermath. Tree ferns unfurling their perfect spirals. Shoots shooting, bright green. Now more and more appeared, carpets of green against the vertical black trunks striping the sky.
We got to Kinglake just in time for Peter Garrett to lead the national anthem with the local band Paydirt. Two thousand people were there in the crisp mountain cool. It was a celebration, it was a grieving. The bright flags of our country fluttered against the black, but all around the green was showing through.
And Kinglake killed ’em.

Moving Pictures

2009-03-25T12:35:00.009+11:00

The other night I saw The Reader again. Since my first viewing, two months had passed. By now I’d read the book by German law professor–judge Bernhard Schlink, so this time the plot held no surprises. Yet the power of the film had not diminished; I left the cinema in the same state – shocked, unable to speak – as that first time, on the other side of the world. My companions were prepared a little, but not enough to insulate them from feeling similar shock.
I remember visiting Auschwitz in 1976 searching for clues, trying to imagine the unimaginable, to reconcile the reality of the cold, scrubbed rows and echoing chambers with the horror stories I’d read and heard throughout my bookwormish growing up. The smell was musty and faintly deathly in the crisp, frosty air. I examined the faces of the German bus driver and attendants, searching for reasons for how they all could have let it happen. But now, what's changed? Are Israelis echoing that nightmare now on the Gaza Strip, avenging the locking into camps of their own ancestors?
The Reader resonates for any of us who heard of the Holocaust without being there. The other night I felt, all over again, the rawness of Michael’s pain and the conflicting emotions that spun his head around.
He was so young – another current showing illustrates that fragile early manhood. The film Easy Virtue shares the young man/older woman ending in tears theme, yet in a setting so dissimilar as to be almost a primer on different nationalities. Noel Coward's hilarious one-liners, brought to celluloid by Australian director Stephan Elliott, left a feeling of anticlimax after laughing so much, I was disappointed at the obviousness of the Hollywoodish ending. The film touches on WWI horrors in a way that underlines a national Oz characteristic – trivialising the important and making the trivial important.
The character Jessica, way more articulate than Hanna Schmitz, describes her relationship with the younger man as wanting the 'innocence of youth'. Once her terrible secret is revealed, sure – understandable that she would need to replenish the well, recharge the batterings of life with the purity and energy of youth.
Way more common, ad nauseam in fact, is the pattern of older men taking up with young women – like Mickey Rourke’s character in The Wrestler. After a life of feeding off fame, he realises his need for redemption only when that's dried up – in this case with ageing and illness.
All three characters eventually reach out for more honest relationships. Perhaps what is most shattering about The Reader is that sometimes – for someone such as Hanna – there is nowhere else to go. It is too late.

Wordy-Gurdy on the radio, 18 March 2009

2009-03-22T21:19:00.005+11:00

Jackey Coyle’s Wordy-Gurdy on Helen Jennings’ Roots of Rhythm, PBS 106.7 FM, 9.30–10am Wednesday 18 March 2009
Still buzzing from the gigs previewed last month, we played a Peter Rowan song that encapsulates his narrative chutzpah – the storytelling that lands us in the America that struggled itself into prosperity in the first part of the 20th century.
Remarking on the diversity of songs shared by Rowan and the Red Stick Ramblers (graphically summed up in the five-hour jam they spoke of, at a music fest five years ago), we looked at the nigh-on-140-year-old song ‘In the Pines’, performed by them all at the end of the show on 13 March. It's been covered and modified by artists from Leadbelly to Dolly Parton to Nirvana.
The definitive 1952 Monroe version, complete with high lonesome vocals and wind-mimic whistling, led into an idiosyncratic version put down by the Crumb Family at a Hamburg, Germany gig in 2003. The Doug Sahm arrangement was, strangely enough, part of an album to bring the Quintet back into the limelight in a post-‘She’s about a Mover’ lull – ironic in their incarnation as British, complete with Beatles suits and haircuts, to include such an American classic.
For more info than you can poke a stick at, see Wikipedia.
CDs:
Peter Rowan, ‘Dustbowl Children’, Quartet (Rounder)
Bill Monroe, ‘In the Pines’, The Best of Bill Monroe (MCA)
The Sir Douglas Quintet, ‘It was in the Pines’, The Best of the Sir Douglas Quintet (Beat Rocket)
R Crumb, ‘In the Pines’, The R Crumb Handbook (MQP, London, 2005)
Susannah Espie, ‘Already Gone’, The First & Last Hotel (Independent)
Gigs: Review
13 March Peter Rowan and Red Stick Ramblers, Brunswick Town Hall
15 March Redstick Ramblers and Ten Cent Shooters, East Brunswick Club
Gigs: Preview
Wed 18 March, The Songs of Mick Cameron, Don’t Tell Tom
Fri 20 March, The Davidson Bros & Peter Rowan, East Brunswick Club
Fri 10 April Chill City, noon–10pm, Alexandra Gardens, Melbourne
Next Show
Wed 15 April

I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain…

2009-03-12T12:24:00.003+11:00

Melbourne is wet. The air’s laden with moisture and outside we hear car tyres sloshing and water dripping from gutters laden with the leaves that fell prematurely in the 40+-degree days of February. And there’s the patter of rain on the tin roof.
It seemed like all of Victoria was burning last month. All our country was disappearing, all the places where our memories are fastened – in the gold-rush buildings and the wildlife sanctuaries, in the ranges and valleys, the little cafes and rest stops, on the winding roads.
I remember years ago riding my motorcycle along those roads, gasping in eucalypt- and fern-laden air like a drowning woman as I sped from the crises of the city to chill out in the Dandenong Ranges. It’s hard to imagine it burning.
My siblings all remember family holidays in lovely Marysville; when we revisited it later it was even lovelier. Hard to believe it’s gone now.
In Melbourne the smoke and ash travelled into the inner city. We couldn’t breathe; we choked up and got sick with it. Our hearts and minds were choked too – drenched in a sickly feeling of dread. As the death toll rose, the uncertainty rose too – what would happen next? Who was safe?
We tried to keep track of those we loved, not wanting to clog the phone by calling and feeling impotent in our inability to make it right for them. Every time they evacuated we stopped breathing until we knew they were OK.
Late morning on the day before one horrendous north-wind day, Rog and I stood on the Glenlyon bridge where we were married. The little creek where the dogs had frolicked beneath us was dry, had been so for a long time. The ground was dusty and brown; the trees hung limp. As we pumped mineral water, drank then passed it round, the wind started from the north. A siren sounded on the road nearby and I didn’t want to know it, but it was a fire truck.
The plume of smoke was not far, and when we drove through Daylesford no one seemed fazed. That was all to change.
Back at our guest-stay in Creswick we tracked the fire’s progress and heard the ABC reports and learned of people leaving Daylesford; held our breath again for our loved ones as they evacuated for a third time, he staying to fight the fire, she taking child and dog and whatever they could think of to salvage should the worst happen, but torn and not wanting to put a mozz on as if they expected to lose the 140-year-old miner’s cottage filled with treasures and years of toil to make it into a family home. They love that country.
Last week we drove to the Yarra Valley, through the smoky stench and blackened crops to the TarraWarra Estate, set like a jewel in its still-lush country, with its sublimely designed art gallery framing serene vistas in its huge windows. Small signs of green were showing already showing through along the way.
By now the grass of our Melbourne parks is green again. We need the respite of those parks as something that remains constant, for after February Victoria will never be the same again.

Wordy-Gurdy on the radio, 18 February 2009

2009-02-18T22:20:00.010+11:00

Jackey Coyle’s Wordy-Gurdy on Helen Jennings’ Roots of Rhythm, PBS 106.7 FM, 9.30–10am Wednesday 18 February 2009
Today’s show previewed two VIGs (Very Important Gigs) at Brunswick Music Festival, which kicks off on Feb 28 with a Music for the People afternoon gig, then really hots up with the famous Sydney Road Street Party the following day. (PBS is sponsoring the Roots Stage there.)
13 March Peter Rowan and Red Stick Ramblers, Brunswick Town Hall
15 March Red Stick Ramblers and Ten Cent Shooters, East Brunswick Club
These gigs straddle the entire straits of roots music – from the USA cult bluegrass-country-folk, let’s just call him Americana as he’s played with everyone from Bill Monroe to Peter Tosh, master Peter Rowan; and the Red Stick Ramblers from you guessed it, Baton Rouge LA, setting the circuit on fire with their gumbo of southern and not-so-southern musics. From WA we have the Ten Cent Shooters with their contagious old-timey blues.
The Town Hall gig’s a sit-down affair and the pub gig is a dance-your-socks-off affair, so we started out with a dangerously infectious back-to-back of Ten Cent Shooters do Big Joe Williams into Red Stick Ramblers do Clifton Chenier, mellowed out with a Rowan-Monroe cowrite, then broke up a chat with Festival Director John McAuslan with Ten Cent Shooters. We took it way over time with the mindblowing 9:45 ‘Smeckled Suite’, named after the famed Hawaiian player Roy Smeck’s 1938 Recording King guitar of composer Chaz Justus – just to reinforce why booking the sit-down as well as the dance gig is a must.
Tracks: Ten Cent Shooters, ‘Wild about It’, ‘Saturday Night Rub’, from Wild about It, Independent
Red Stick Ramblers, ‘Hot Tamale Baby’, ‘The Smeckled Suite’, from Made in the Shade, Sugar Hill
Peter Rowan & Tony Rice, ‘The Walls of Time’, from Quartet, Rounder
Websites
www.peter-rowan.com
www.redstickramblers.com
www.brunswickmusicfestival.com.au
Next show: March 18, Brunswick Music & Stonnington Jazz fests

Libby Matthies, 1951–2008

2009-02-11T23:25:00.008+11:00

Death lies on her like an untimely frost
– Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet

Her voice – mischievous and a bit posh. Her scent – patchouli and rose. Her style – modish, sometimes surprising, always stylish. Her stories – larger than life. Her loves – dogs, chic, houses, text, music, central Victoria. She loved hugely – children, lovers, grandchildren, friends, family. These things I remember.
Hot pink club chairs. A cool brown cashmere scarf she knew would suit me. A wardrobe of black clothes from when she decided to wear only red. The dolls of Janice Hunter. A card by Katharina Rapp. Bric-a-brac and bright knits. These things I have. Only a couple of photos, for we were always doing things, making things, going places, walking dogs, talking, talking, always talking.
We met at a party, somewhere in the mid-1990s, through a friend. We quickly found a host of other commonalities – our alma mater, marriage patterns, creative urges, Richmond houses, sense of humour.
Friends and family had a last afternoon in her apartment, three months on. A faint trace of her scent lingered in the airy, elegant space. The garden’s grown. The earthy colours and soft, rounded shapes of the doll collection evoked her sharply. The space was the old space, but empty, like clothes when someone has stepped out of them. Not in the sense that she had just gone out, but devoid of a soul.
She trod lightly, but what an imprint she left. Goodbye, Libby. You are missed.

Cornwall Capers

2009-02-04T23:21:00.012+11:00

From the locations of Daphne Du Maurier novels to Bodmin Moor to the Lost Gardens of Heligan – New Year's in Cornwall was a treat. Bolstered by a steady diet of Cornish pasties, ale and hearty fare, and guided by fish cookery guru Felicity Sylvester, we explored the diverse history and culture of this tiny corner of England. Based in a tiny, high village called Minions on the edge of Bodmin Moor, we arted out at Tate St Ives, chilled out on the moor, seaworthied out on the Tamar and down by St Michael's Mount and pigged out at our local, the Cheese Wring pub. We clambered down to the Rebecca beach and up to the Cheese Wring; marvelled at the human traces throughout millennia layered on the moor... and that's just for starters.
Thanks to Alice Coyle for some photos and Ian Miller for the ride, and, always, Roger.

Wordy-Gurdy on Roots of Rhythm, PBSFM, 21 January 2009

2009-01-21T17:07:00.011+11:00

Jackey Coyle’s Wordy-Gurdy on Helen Jennings’ Roots of Rhythm, PBS 106.7 FM, 9.30–10am Wednesday 21 January 2009
The first Wordy-Gurdy on Roots of Rhythm for 2009 focused on discoveries unearthed in London recently. And two of the hottest new albums happen to be from USA artists.
London happenings
Musos & art: Eric Clapton opened paintings show by Oz's own Philippe Mora
Also featured in What am I like exhibition & catalogue, Dulwich Picture Gallery; as well, Brian Eno; limited edition prints available, www.houseofillustration.org.uk
Bob Dylan, The Drawn Blank Series at Halcyon Gallery, New Bond St, www.halcyongallery.com
Musos & ads: Iggy Pop, Swiftcover car insurance, huge billboard featured on every second underground & overground station
Johnny Rotten, Country Life Butter on TV (catch these on youtube.com)
Musos playing in black London cabs, www.blackcabsessions.com
Tracks: Ray La Montagne, ‘Henry nearly killed me it’s a shame’, Gossip in the grain (14th Floor)
Seasick Steve, ‘Just like a king’ with Nick Cave, ‘Chiggers’, ‘Walkin man’, Started Out with nothin and I still got most of it left (Warner)
Joe Henry, ‘Parker’s Mood’, Civilians (Anti); ‘Cold Enough to Cross’, Scar (Mammoth) 3:16
Gigs: Joe Henry Corner Hotel, Richmond, this Friday
Seasick Steve, Bluesfest, Easter
Magazines: The Word October 2008, January 2009
Time Out London, January 8–14
Ta to Paul, HMV, Terminal 4, Heathrow Airport, London
LISTEN LIVE (requires Real Player)
Next show is 9:30–10am, Wednesday 17 February, PBSFM 106.7FM Melbourne Australia.