2023 – South Australia Hall Of Fame Speech

NOV 8, 2023

Hello – Thank you, all, for having me. It’s an honour to receive this award and to be in this distinguished company.

All my early musical memories are from Adelaide and perhaps the best way to talk about them is with a series of thank yous.

Thank you to my parents, John and Josephine who both loved music. Mum played piano and sang. Dad loved Bach’s Brandenburg concertos and would listen to them every Sunday afternoon. They made me and my siblings have piano lessons and later on let me switch to trumpet when I went to high school. I remember mum coming home one day with Herb Alpert’s Greatest hits. I played that record over and over again, lying on the floor with my eyes closed.

Thank you to my elder siblings, Anne, Sheila, Martin and John for bringing other records into the house. The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Peter Paul and Mary, Bob Dylan. Sheila taught me my first chords on guitar – the chords to I’m In Love With a Big Blue Frog. She’s here tonight! Thank you, Sheila! They’ve served me well, those four chords. Later on came Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, The Moody Blues, Jethro Tull via my brothers John and Martin who took me to my first concert Yes at Apollo Stadium. Close to the Edge and Tales of Topographic Oceans. My head flew to pieces!

Sheila had a boyfriend who played trumpet – she doesn’t remember his name and nor do I (she had a lot of boyfriends) – who brought over a record of early jazz for me to listen to. Louis Armstrong and The Hot Five, Duke Ellington. My head exploded again and Duke’s Black and Tan Fantasy haunted me. It still does. I want it played at my funeral. Thank you, sister’s boyfriend who’s name we don’t remember!

I left school at 16, travelled around Australia for a year, working different jobs. Came back to Adelaide and went to Flinders Uni in 1973. I only lasted a term but fell in with a rag tag group of musicians who stayed friends. Tom and Ian Stehlik, Craig Taylor, later on John Hyland. Tom and John are here tonight. Through them I discovered Neil Young, The Byrds, Ozark Mountain Daredevils, Gram Parsons and many others. Lots of singalongs. They showed me things and I graduated from bongos to guitar, learnt how to find a harmony. Thank you, Tom, Thank you, John.

I went back and forth and around over the next few years. I was writing poems and prose poems, but not music yet, no songs. I met John Kingsmill in Hobart and we fell in love. John’s here tonight. Hello, John. Soon after we met we decided to show each other our notebooks. No greater love hath a friend. A huge leap of trust. To me John was a real writer. He sharpened me up, shook out some of my wooliness. He was with me the night I made my debut as a performer at open mic night at The Salamanca Place folk club. I sang two songs – Girl From The North Country and Streets of Forbes then proceeded to get very drunk from relief.. John walked me home, keeping me upright, and put my head on the pillow. Thank you, John.

I was hungry for music. And in those pre internet days the music I was looking for wasn’t easy to find. But I knew people with record players who had music you didn’t hear on the radio. I stalked them with my box of blank cassettes. Blues afficionado Greg Baker let me tape Little Walter, Sonny Boy Williamson, Muddy Waters and Howling Wolf and gave me tips on how to play blues harp. Thank you, Greg. I remember taping the early Joni Mitchell albums Blue and For The Roses on one cassette – an album a side! – at Rob Brookman’s place. Rob’s now a festival director and art curating mogul, amongst other things. Thank you, Rob. The singer songwriter Stephen Foster who I saw at The Catacombs took me under his wing and lent me some early Bob Dylan bootlegs. I learnt to play I’ll Keep It With Mine on piano off one of them.

I met the rambunctious and tender Philip White through John Kingsmill. Phil made me some beautiful artistic mix tapes with his lovely drawing and handwriting. I remember one featuring a mix of John Cale ‘s solo albums which I hadn’t heard before. Another new world opened up to me. Thank you, Phil.

I wrote my first song at the age of 21 in a flat In Buxton St, North Adelaide. I remember thinking If I can write one song, I suppose I can write another.  So I did. Then another. I was hooked.

The poet Chris Barnett and I met and got deeply involved with each other. We set up a regular poetry and song night at Carclew House. Chris was deadly serious. To him poetry was a weapon and he took no prisoners. He’s still giving his guts out in the poorer suburbs of Nantes in France. Thank you, Chris.

I got a band together. We were called The Debutantes. Phil White played guitar, Craig Taylor bass, I think. Tom on drums, John Hyland on pedal steel. James Black on keyboards and guitar. My sister Mary Jo on vocals and violin. Thank you, Mary Jo. Jo Moore, who’s no longer with us, sang lead and harmony vocals. She was the first person besides me to sing my songs. Others came later. When someone else sings your song then you really feel like a songwriter. So, thank you, Jo. We played at The Wellington Hotel in North Adelaide, The British, The Box Factory. I don’t remember big crowds but our friends were very supportive. Thank you, friends! I also played solo at Ginger’s Coffee shop in O’Connell St, long gone now. 

James Black was known as a whizz kid at music, science and electronics. He brought some recording gear to the family home and The Debutantes put down four of my songs. They’re floating around somewhere. I remember hating the sound of my voice. Not much has changed! James has had a long music career with Joe Camileri, Mondo Rock, the Rockwiz Band and many others. Thank you, James.

My friend Nick Lainas and I went on a road trip to Sydney to interview the playwright and actor Steve Spears. Well Nick did. I just went along for the ride. Steve went on to Mad Max and other things. We crossed the Hay Plains on the way over then swung by Melbourne on the way back to visit some Adelaide friends of Nick’s who played in a band. Originally called Spare Change they’d changed their name to Parachute. John Dowler (another John!), Chris Langman, Tony Murray, Bob Kretschmer, Graham Perry. Cool guys. Smart. Worldly. They could quote dialogue from European art cinema; subscribed to the latest music magazines from the UK. Some time after that I decided to move to Melbourne and they let me stay with them. I arrived in 1977, the month Elvis died. Slept on John’s floor for a while and then in a sort of cupboard under the stairs. John played me The Beach Boys, The Ramones, Tom Petty, Talking Heads, Television, Iggy Pop, Bowie, Velvet Underground. 1977, what a year for music! Chris and I wrote songs together. We wrote a song about nothing – this was long before Seinfeld – which we called Leaps and Bounds. Thank you, Chris. Thank you, Nick.

About ten years later, not long after eventually recording Leaps and Bounds, I was living in Sydney and received my first royalty cheque. The first thing I did was to go out and buy myself an electric guitar. I was 33 years old and finally just starting to make close to the minimum wage. There’s a whole lot more to tell but that should do for now. 

Our time being limited tonight I thought I’d do a sort of top and tail, a kind of Alpha and Omega. I’m going to play you two songs, one very old and one very new. First of all, I’m going right back to the start, back to The Streets of Forbes which I sang nearly 50 years ago In Hobart.

        It’s a folk song about Ben Hall and my version of it owes much to Dave Clarke to whom I listened and watched closely in various Adelaide folk clubs, The Catacombs and others. Thank you, Dave, giant of the scene.

Sing Streets of Forbes

Now to the new. As for all the in-between I’ll leave it to you. This next song has just been written. It’s called Going To The River With Dad. It still has fresh paint on it and I’ve never sung it before in public so wish me luck!

Sing River With Dad.

GOING TO THE RIVER WITH DAD 

I’m going to the river with dad

In the kitchen the old kettle’s singing

I’m gonna get up soon and get out of bed

Outside the cockatoos are calling

I’m going to the river with dad 

I’m still half awake and half dreaming

Now we’re driving down that old bumpy track

Between us the thermos of sweet tea steaming

Lines and spears and bait up the back

That old river appearing and disappearing

I’m going to the river with dad

All my brothers and sisters are still sleeping

We’re going for the good silver mullet

At the back of the boat I’m steering

Dad’s standing up front with his spear

Deep into the mangroves peering

I gotta keep my tiller hand steady

I don’t wanna see my daddy stumbling and falling

I’m going down the river with dad

With the song of the birds in the morning

He’s long gone, I’ve passed his span

But myself against him I’m still measuring,

Aiming for the mark of a man, 

Sometimes hitting it, sometimes missing

Trying to fill the unforgiving minute
With the full sixty seconds of living

Yeah, I’m still on the river with dad

With the birdsong bringing the dawn in