We’re driving in the shade…
Coolgardie Railway Yard, Western Australia
Once again, out with the Desert Stars, and once again, flooded with thought provoking stuff. Every time I get together with these fellas, it’s a cause to assess one’s way of thinking and usually a time to suspend personal norms to some degree. I have to, otherwise it wouldn’t work. There’s methods of reasoning, areas of knowledge and interpersonal juristictions that I’ll never completely understand much less be informed of. So yeah. It’s a fascinating ride regardless of how it turns out. >>>> We’re here running down the latest batch of Jay Minning’s songs. They have some interesting titles… Boulder Bronx Street, Ukiry Wiru (Good Ganja), Ngura Kutta (Gotta go Home), Ngura Wiruka (It’s a Good Place) and also Rock ‘n’ Roll Traveller. See the thread? The latter is a fierce, rambling jam of a song that I’m encouraging them to stretch out on a little and keep hammering home. It smacks of another fine desert anthem. >>>> The recurring themes are the sense of place and country that we often hear of, but may perhaps always be remote from. Sure we have our homes, but the Indigenous connection to these places is on another level altogether, just like we’re told. Other themes are certain recreations, hardship and love. Nothing alien there. >>>> We’ve been graciously accommodated by Drew Goddard of the WA-based progressive-metal act, Karnivool. He has a deal with Coolgardie folk that’s resulting in the old historic railway station being given over to act as a rehersal and recording studio for whatever work needs a place to flourish. It’s an atmosheric facility, opened in 1896 but over and done with by 1971. An old steam engine with 1st and 2nd class carriages in tow sits along the platform, inexorably returning to the earth. The track is only as long as the train. A corrugated iron-clad roof covers many high-ceilinged rooms, economically ornate wood and masonary work and creaking jarrah-planked floors. A loose mix of musical gear is found across three spacious rooms, with about about one power-point in each. Extension cords are a currency. Various mattresses, blankets and foam tiles cut down the acoustic shine. Quite the racket can be made without drawing too much fire, though, I’m informed , the Coolgardie township is all aboard. >>>> Outside, there’s a white picketed fence running out from either end of the station building. Jay told me he painted that fence and other parts of the station when he was doing time. Derek Coleman, erstwhile lead guitarist and shaman, told me how he played amongst the same engine and carriges when he was only knee high. The other band members, Justin Curry and Ashley Franks, they also have their stories, in and out of Coolgardie, as kids, as young men, and now. Always the stories. I guess they own the place. >>>> It’d be easy to say what a wonderful treat it is, to be out here, preparing for an artistic statement by Indigenous men, via a genre whose days seem utterly numbered. End times, again. For sure, elements of this endeavour are quite the gift - the stillness that accompanies the vastness, the absolute nature of the environment, the passive wonder of what went before and will come next, but it’s also incredibly stark, harsh and uncompromising. I see that in these fellas more and more every time we meet. They embody a series of truths that I can easily fly away from, back to wherever I need to be. It’s a privilege, essentially, to have this exchange. It’s good to have these kind of friends and it’s an honour to be trusted by them. I’ll always be back. Besides, we have an album to make. >>>> Mid-year, on the short tour we undertook with my own band, driving around the base of Mt. Warning, NSW Nth Coast, on the way to Brisbane, Derek noted with understated wonder, “We’re driving in the shade.” Yeah, we sure were. Out here, nobody is ever doing that.