Serendipitous Longevity

Jono, Simon and me - Jan 1989, Grafton NSW.

I was sent this pic by a recently reaccquainted long-lost friend who just happened to have it at hand, and even more bizarrely, just happened to still have it. I told her she’d sent me a wonderful thing, as it shows a 20 year old me with two of my dearest friends, all within the first 48 hours of knowing each other. It’s January 1989 and the location is some church hall in Grafton, NSW. We were attending Camp Creative, one of those worthy things kids get sent off to in the holidays, and where the likes of us went to find uses for the wellspring of creativity bubbling up inside us. I remember it perfectly well - getting off the XPT from Sydney, overnight, sitting bleary-eyed in the shuttle bus clutching a clothing bag, a Gallien-Kruger 250ML amp and that Fender strat copy in an awkward bundle, then turning around to see this knoll of tightly curled locks atop a lean, Bonds singlet-clad frame silhouetted in the glare through the back window. This morphed into the 17 year old whiz-kid drummer, Simon Cox from Sydney’s North Shore. “Do you like Led Zeppelin?” “Yeah!” “I’m into Steve Vai and Satriani too.“ “So am I, that stuff is unreal!” You can see where this is headed. >>> Probably only an hour or so later, we would’ve encountered Jono Young direct from the commune of Bundagen, NSW. He was there to do art, but he also had the will to play bass. And away we went. We started a little trio during those first couple of days, subsequently playing the same 6 or 7 tunes a few times over at a steamy Grafton pub. Ostensibly, the three of us were part of a “big band”, the name they give to a jazzy ensemble with about 10 to 20 members. Simon was OK, having been schooled by jazz greats from the outset, but for 12 bar/rock slouches like myself, the array of chords in the average jazz band guitar chart represented a steep education. The saxes and brass got all the solos. The thing is, you came away expanded and more disciplined. You got handed tools you wouldn’t find a use for till years later.  >>>  But getting back to the point, these two guys changed my life - like my world tripled in size. The people I became associated with, because of them, taught me so much - the worlds of alternative-living, high art and culture, the upper middle-class realms, all manner of literature, film, food - things I honestly doubt I’d’ve ever encountered had I not stumbled across these guys. I’d burn through thousands of words detailing who I was led to and what we ended up doing. >>> Simon and I formed an eclectic little trio with another cohort which we called Anacrusis. We played nimble, rocked-up power-trio instrumentals and did all manner of parties, band comps, random gigs and few recordings. Just great fun. I ended up at university on the back of the connex I made during this time and I know it was there that I finally worked out what I could acutally do - and not do. >>>  I still have rich interactions with Jono and Simon. Mr Young is a fine aesthete who is one of most resourcefully creative people I know, hewing practical and beautiful artworks out of found objects and materials. He’s always got some enterprise going on and he remains a loyal friend. Simon and I did a freeform gig a year ago with another musical luminary from those days gone by. By and large, it was the same as it was 35 years ago in that Grafton pub, albeit more informed, with a greater lexicon from which to draw, no doubt, but the intent was identical. With the magic of tech and the www, here’s that recent set of moments - (thank you Jyoti Cessna for this footage and the upload) - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpGGZDvZq20   >>>  I just love the fact that I still love it. And viva Simon and Jono. X