Front of Tamworth Grace Bros store. I still have the little sign I made
from a cardboard box.

I saw an ad in the country music magazine Capital News, asking for anyone interested in participating in a show being held out the front of Grace Bros store in Tamworth. I’d already decided I was going to the next Tamworth CM Festival so I enquired about it. Turns out it would cost me $200 to be in it, so much for making money. Anyway, I thought it would be a way to get some exposure so I joined up.

Take a listen to MARY TO TAMWORTH, it kind of gives you a brief rundown on the trip.

I’d been doing a lot of playing around Melbourne, mostly busking, and I was ready for something different and a bit of an adventure. Just so happened that all of my family, unbeknowns to me, had also decided to go to Tamworth that year so that was a bonus. My nephew Stuart had asked me to play at his wedding ceremony in Warnambool, must’ve been early January, after that I intended to hitch-hike to Tamworth. I’d bought a huge backpack to carry some songbooks, a few good shirts and a couple of pairs of jeans. I must’ve had some other gear too because I remember it was pretty heavy. I ended up dumping some things, un-needed paperwork and whatever else I thought was not necessary, in a bin somewhere along the way. It didn’t help much but it was a little lighter.
Leaving Warnambool I hitched to Derrinallum, got a lift from there to Spencer Street station in Melbourne from a friend, Mary, and caught a train to Bairnsdale. As I was walking up a big hill hitching out of Bairnsdale, a woman and her daughter picked me up. I actually scolded them a little, telling them they shouldn’t pick up strangers. Turns out they were Christians and owned a Protea farm just near the mouth of the Snowy River. There I met the husband, they gave me a great feed and that night they had a Bible Study and I played guitar for them and really did sing “I Saw the Light” just as my song relates. To top it all off, they put me up that night in a renovated old Melbourne tram that was part of the house also. It was fully self contained, wonderfully fitted out and had the softest bed and the fluffiest doona Id ever seen. And to think, as I was walking up that hill when they picked me up, I was already checking out suitable spots in the paddocks to sleep the night. The next morning after a farm style breakfast I headed off towards the NSW border. The next night was not going to be as comfortable as my sleep in that beautiful tram.
I think I got dropped off at Orbost and I probably had a short black coffee somewhere before setting off again. I started drinking short blacks when I was busking around Melbourne and in particular Moonee Ponds where I had a little flat. Anyway, I don’t remember much about this leg of the trip except that I ended up in Ulladulla that night. Now I forgot to mention that I had a bit of a chest cold that was hanging around and that night the place that presented the best option for sleep was the caravan park and because I didn’t have much money a campsite was the cheapest option. As I only had a sleeping bag an undercover picnic bench, up off the ground, was where I lay my head that night. Not the most comfortable even though I had one of those thin foam underlay sheets. I was a little concerned that my chest infection might become worse but that was not to be. It did clear up and I can’t remember it being a problem in Tamworth. Enough said about that night. Next morning it was a short walk to the Princes Hwy and thumbin’ it again.
This is where my song varies from the truth. When I wrote it I talked about “taking my time” in the Cann River Forest and that a truckie picked me up there. Well, I went through Cann River  the day before and the truckie I speak of actually picked me up somewhere after Scone, not that far from Tamworth on the third day. Worth mentioning I guess for people who know the area, as I say that I’d already crossed over into NSW. Oh well, thats how it went down on paper to fit the song.
Once again I don’t remember how many lifts I got that day except for the guy who took me from Como to Scone, a fairly substantial way and not far from my destination. That night I got a hotel room in Scone. Well I thought it was a hotel room but when I was looking for the room it turned out to be a Motel room at the back of the pub. Once again I landed alright. They only charged me twenty.
Then, the next day my second lift was the aforementioned trucky in a big white FH12 Volvo who took me into Tamworth and dropped me near the big guitar. No, I didn’t sleep under the big guitar, haha, so many falsehoods in this song. I made it the rest of the way into town, walked around a little and ended up having a cold beer at the Central Hotel. I got talking to a fellow there by the name of Joe and he said I could camp at his house for the duration of the Festival. So far so good but I was nearly out of money.
I think I arrived a few days before the start of the Festival so there wasn’t a lot going on. I found out it wasn’t Joes house at all. It was Jennys place but she didn’t mind me staying. Jenny was a local girl and had quite a few friends in the country music business. Staying with her also was a couple whose names I won’t mention, but the guy was entered in the instrumental section of the Golden Guitar Awards. The female half of this couple was on the phone one day in the backyard and when she got off she mentioned she’d been talking to her old friend Keith Urban. Sure enough, I checked up on her story and found a picture of her and Keith, both about 12 years old, in an Encyclopedia of Australian Country Music. They were singing together about that time. Angie was her first name. I do remember both of their names and I still have a personal autograph from both of them. We were housemates for about 10 days or so. They were both very, very nice people. Greg, the guy, he actually won the Golden Guitar that year for his instrumental. Strangely, I haven’t heard of either of them since. But then, I suppose, they might be saying the same thing about me.

Well the Festival time came around and I guess I did a bit of busking here and there. As mentioned earlier, I was going to be involved in the Grace Bros store show and also at a show in the Bowling Club which was all the people involved in the Grace Bros show. I had entered a few songwriting competitions a few months earlier so I was keen to hear how that all went. Turns out I won the “Best New Talent” in the RFDS songwriting comp and got a little trophy.
One day my new mate Joe and I were over the other side of the river watching the big top for David Williams’ Spanish Dancing Horses show go up. Well it wasn’t up yet and after a few enquiries we ended up on the payroll to help put it up. I’m not sure what pay we exactly were promised or if we even ended up getting anything at all I can’t remember. But I do know that we were banging big truck axles into the ground to be used for the tent pegs. Somewhere along the line I went over to the boss, David Williams and asked him if he had any gloves as my hands were bleeding from swinging the big hammer. I mentioned that I was actually playing in the festival and didn’t want to wreck my hands too much to which he replied “Oh you’re a performer? We’re looking for acts to play in our show”. So I said that would be good and told him my name and he said turn up at such and such a time to play. Later on that afternoon I was approached by a young lady handing out flyers and was surprised to see my name on it. Things happen fast in the big top business.

The flyer for the Spanish Dancing Horses show.

Standing outside at the back of the big top on the night I played was an old fella by the name of Dusty Rankin. He was having a quick stubby before he went on and we got to talking about his career. To me Dusty was a bit of a legend and he told me how circumstance and twists and turns in life were reasons why he had missed out on having a huge career in country music. How David Fitzgerald was in the right place at the right time, adopted the name ‘Slim Dusty’ and the rest is history. Dusty Rankin was a nice old bloke and I may have seen one of the last shows he ever did. An old man, once full of dreams and promise. I enjoyed his songs and looked on with a sense of awe but also a touch of sadness.

Well the rest of the Tamworth Festival went ahead, the show out the front of Grace Bros was okay. There was another bloke at that same show and I promise you that he sang one song, sitting on a stool singing “Just Walk on By” to all of the passers-by, laughing and smiling the whole time. I thought, that bloke better get an act. His name was, and still is naturally, Adam Harvey. I somehow think that he was a little better organised than me and also had a bit of show business in his family. He went on to become a well known name in Australian country music and has won many awards all of them well deserved. I’ve watched his rise to the heights of the industry and have enjoyed listening to and even playing some of his songs. Somewhere in this Glog I will probably relate the story of the Kyneton CM Festival and will tell of how our paths crossed again. Nice bloke and a great entertainer!
So, not much more to tell about Tamworth. As my song says “I made a lot of friends and had a good time, shaking hands with recording stars”. I feel blessed to have done what I have done, played anywhere that I have played over the years. Naturally we hope to rise to fame and fortune but to be honest that has always frightened me a bit. For me, when I think about it, it’s always been about my songs, wanting people to hear them and in some naive way just going about doing that. Now, with a virtual studio at my disposal, I can polish them up.
I will be doing a section on the songs, how they came to be, what I try to do when I write and focusing on the songwriting process.
But for now let’s say goodbye to Tamworth. I did go back in 2003, did some busking but wasn’t even as prepared as I was in ’97. So I guess you could say I just turned up. I remember one night on that trip I was playing in Peel st on my lonesome, and this Koorie kid came over and sat a little way down from me and started banging away on a plastic drum from the toy shop. I ended up giving him money to “piss off”.
I hope you enjoyed listening to MARY TO TAMWORTH and reading my true story.
Maybe I will go back one day, who knows. Nancy would look good in a cowboy hat.

 

I travelled to Charters Towers  twice, while I was living in the Cairns region in ’97-’98. The first time I played at the Commercial Hotel, the Rix Hotel and the St. Patricks Hotel.
It was in Charters Towers on that trip that I learnt that my father had passed away in Wonthaggi, Victoria. I flew from Townsville to Melbourne for the funeral, stayed about a week with family and flew back to Townsville as it was a return ticket. Then I had to hitch-hike from Townsville to Cairns.

The second time I went to Charters was a “planned’ trip to enter the Charters Towers Country Music Festival Talent Quest. I put ‘planned’ in quotes like that because it was about as planned as hitting a kangaroo.
I left Cairns and picked up my mate Bodie Malone from Innisfail on the way through. Bodie didn’t know he was going until I turned up at his place, wasn’t too keen but I convinced him it would be great fun. We got about halfway to Townsville and Bodie had a panic attack or something and wanted me to take him home again but after he settled down and thought about his options he decided sitting in an air-conditioned car was better than humping his bluey on foot back to Innisfail.
He really did end up having a good time and I’m sure he still remembers that weekend, as do I, for it was a great couple of days of playing our hearts out, drinking our fill and meeting some unforgettable characters…well, as far as I can remember anyway.

Both Bodie and I had done a lot of playing over the years and had a big repertoire of songs between us.  He, playing guitar and front man for pub rock bands had become somewhat of a local legend but for a few years had languished in depression having had all of his equipment stolen and his heart broken about the same time. When I met him he was still playing in his lounge room, tinkering with songs, but had lost the urge to get out and play live again in the pubs.
He had a bunch of great songs down. 60’s classics, Bee Gees, Beatles etc. A great mix of laid back easy listening stuff covering 20 or 30 years or so.
I on the other hand had been concentrating on classic country and some of the newer stuff as well, both Aussie and American. So we complimented each other as we took it in turns to play and do our own thing individually.

Have a listen to HURT TOWN. Even though the hurt from this town was self induced, as you will learn, I thought it appropriate as a title song.

Unfortunately I don’t have any pics of Bodie or of us playing. It was in the olden days before everyone had a digital camera in a mobile telephone. Such a shame, there aren’t a lot of photos of my gigs at all. So I will have to relate as best I can, in story form…

How Bodie and me nearly die from playing music (and having a few beers…too many.)

As you heard in our last episode, Bodie and me were on our way to Charters Towers. Now, we arrived at sundown on the Wednesday before the CM Festival. I had every intention of registering for the Talent Quest and any songwriting competitions that were going but our plan was to go to a pub and ask if we could set up and test out our gear and possibly entertain their patrons.
The first pub we come across was the Waverly Hotel on the way into town. The publican was happy for us to play and even brought out a six pack each for me and Bodie and some sausage rolls and party pies.
Well we made a lot of friends and had a good time, there were even people dancing. One old bloke in particular, a tall grey haired fella in the biggest Stetson hat I’d ever seen, became our mate and, when he heard our plans, offered that we could camp at his place that night.

The Waverly Hotel

The next morning, encouraged by our success the night before, we set out for the main street in search of a venue more befitting our new found fame.
And so it was, not long after opening time on Thursday morning, that we walked into the Courthouse Hotel and approached Scotty, the publican, with our business proposition. We would draw in patrons, he would make a lot of money and we would play for ‘a couple of beers and a feed’. Scotty agreed and that would be fine…as long as we drank HIS beer. The deal was set, and Bodie and me were very happy with our entrepreneurship.
It wouldn’t have even been 11 o’clock and we were set up in the corner of the bar that would become our home for the next two days.

to be cont…..

The Courthouse Hotel. Scotty is no longer the publican and as you can see on the front its now known as Irish Mollys.

 

Above is a photo of me playing at the Broken Hill CM Festival. You can’t really see the boys of “No Exit” who were the backing band, because I was trying to get an effect called Tiltshift. Its a video effect that makes things look like toys. Didn’t work out that well for me but the Festival did, it was a great weekend and the No Exit band were real good players and a nice bunch of guys. 

I wrote DIAMOND not long before the Broken Hill Festival so I’ll wack it in here it’s only fitting I suppose. Have a listen.

More pics of No Exit and me playing at the Muso’s Club and the Legion Club
Broken Hill

I played a gig out at the Silverton Hotel about 26kms from Broken Hill.
Not much of a crowd there but a great place to be able to say I’ve played at.

Down the road about 8kms is the edge of the Mundi Mundi plains where they filmed some of the Mad Max movies, hence the Mad Max replica car in the background.
Standing on the hill looking out over the plains that day, nothing but flat red dirt as far as you can see and about 7 or 8 big willi willi’s wandering around out there. Really awesome place.