South

St. Valentines Peak, near the summit, looking west - Lutruwita

As far as music goes, the imagining of it, the creating of it, the idea or the inspiration is often the thing we attempt to rationalise. Good songwriters might have it easier - presumably they have something to say - a message or a feeling. I haven’t written any kind of decent song, but I know my stock-in-trade is atmospheres and I get many of those seeds from the natural world. And also certainly from visuals. To that end, I can think of few places better to engage this urge than Lutruwita - Tasmania. It’s South - at the beginning of the ends of the earth. It’s loaded. It’s quiet. It feels primordial. There’s a subdued vitality - one that requires certain care, as conditions can turn harsh, cold and hard-bitten. Around a third of the island is devoid of the stuff that people do. This place seems to say that ideas are on the way and that all one needs to do is wait. For me, Lutruwita possesses a powerful draw that found me atop St. Valentines Peak yesterday - a demanding hike. I was alone in some five hours of going up and coming back down this igneous mountain that shapshifts as you move around. It was magnificent. Now back down in the bolthole I’ve made in the NW, and also very sore, I’ll wait. I have a new laptop and recording interface to work with - no instruments. In a few days I’ll be heading east to play a 70th birthday show with Rob “George” Luckey, one of Australia’s truly great but unfortunately little-known singer/songwriters. Lucky for sure. People like him satisfy in me stories as song. I have to borrow a guitar, but the experiences do the rest.

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