Recording Diary

What a week! I am so drained and excited and nervous... Over five days we managed to record and mix eight new tracks with producer Dave McCluney at Atlantis Studios in Port Melbourne. Listening to the end results there are a few things that we are going to have to tidy up, but by and large I am fairly happy with the end results...

Anyway, before I forget here are my recollections of a very wonderful and creative five days...

SATURDAY 8 SEPTEMBER

On Friday, my nerves had started to get the better of me and I spent a fairly restless night before getting up very early on Saturday and making my way from Fitzroy to Port Melbourne. I arrived at Atlantis around 930, giving me half-an-hour to settle in before the rest of the band (Dan Hoey/Victor Utting and Fancy Dave Bower) arrived. By about 12 we were ready to start doing takes. Dave McCluney set Dan and I up in the main room of the studio, with Dan playing their 1853 Blunther concert grand piano. I was playing Linday's Gibson mini-jumbo acoustic guitar. Dave and his kit were set up in the middle isolation booth, with Vic's guitar amp in the other. Vic set up playing his Fender Telecaster through an Ampeg combo that belongs to Greg Arnold (Things of Stone and Wood). Although small in appearance, the tone of this amp was absolutely terrific. Later in the sessions I used it to overdub my guitar parts to 'You Can't Stand in the Way of Progress'. It seemed the perfect amp for my Rickenbacker 330.

The session started slowly with us trying to piano/guitar/drums recorded for 'Ode to the Women who Would be my Wife'. In hindsight it was a bad song to start with - very fast and energetic - we couldn't quite get a good balance of energy and precision at that time of the morning. Eventually we abandoned the track to try something else.

At this point we moved onto Smile - one of the slower songs on the record. Much to our surprise, we managed to produce a really great version in only two or three takes. Having settled in a bit we then proceeded to sail through a brand new song. We hadn't yet worked out a title for the song, so we were using the working title of 'September Song' - but during the mix, Fancy suggested 'This One's Made For You' - a line that alludes to the Swan Gold commercial that many West Australian's will remember as a prominent feature of 1980s television. We did two really great takes of this new song - which we eventually edited together.

I can't remember which song we did next - it was either 'Paddy, There's Got to be One More Bar Open' or 'Ghost Town'. Either way, by this stage we had really settled in and got through both songs fairly quickly. For 'Ghost Town', Dan played the 1973 Rhodes at Atlantis, which sounded very lovely.

By the time we had finished Paddy and Ghost Town it was about 4:30pm and Fancy had to head off to a gig with his band Dust at the Empress of India in Fitzroy North. This gave Vic, Dan and I a chance to run through a song without drums. Playing to a click track we recorded a very slow version of 'A Million Ways to Say'. Whenever we played this song live, we always sped up a lot in the first chorus. Dave McCluney was determined that the song kept the same slow stately pace throughout - hence his insistence that we play to a click track. This was pretty tricky at first - partly because playing to a click takes a lot of concentration, and partly because we had never played the song that slowly before. After three or four takes we finally got the hang of it - when we listened back we were really amazed. Dave was absolutely right about the speed - by keeping it slow, the chorus take on a really stately dignity that really brings out the melody.

After 'A Million Ways' we must have had a bit of a break and started thinking about overdubs. I don't know what I recorded, but I must have done some vocals. It is quite possible that I did the vocals for 'A Million Ways' because Dave was pretty excited about that one. I think I also did the vocals to Smile. We ended the day with me recording a guitar/vocal version of the old Clancy Brother's tune 'A Parting Glass'. It was an exhausting day, and Vic and Dan and I headed to the Marquis of Lorne for dinner and to take stock. Exhausted, we knew we had done some good work, but that we had a lot more to do.

SUNDAY 9 SEPTEMBER

Again, I woke early. So I headed to the bakery on Smith Street and bought some rolls for lunch. Having planned to record 8 tracks, we only had one song left - 'You Can't Stand in the Way of Progress'. That said, 'Progress' was the song that we were considering to be the lead track, so we really wanted a perfect take of it.

We had left it till last because it was the only song on which Fancy played his drums with sticks (as opposed to brushes). Having got the sound ready, we slowly settled in to a good groove and got a pretty great take of the song. Again, Dan was playing the Rhodes. Listening to the final take, I must have been pretty happy with it because I can hear my voice saying - 'That take was great' and Fancy agrees.

After a short break we turned our attention to 'Ode for the Women' which we had abandoned on the first day. When we listed back to the last take we were really surprised. What we had dismissed as being too sloppy was in fact, wildly chaotic and energetic. Listening with fresh ears, Dave McCluney pointed out that whilst we might hope to get a more precise take, it was highly unlikely we'd get anything with that level of raucous energy. Personally, I thought it was the best thing we had done. I think Dan was a little doubtful... particularly as he had to overdub a piano solo over the rather shambollic middle-8. Still, consensus was that it stayed and we moved on to overdubs.

Buoyed with the excitement of discovering the energy of 'Ode' I think I started by laying a vocal down for that track. I'm pretty certain that I did it only one take - again, I think I was just riding on the energy of the song - my phrasing is very different to how I have traditionally sung the song, but it has a looseness and wildness that nicely matches the band's playing.

Next I think we got Fancy to put some very simple drums over 'A Million Ways to Say' - Dave McCluney had this vision of using a big booming floor tom - which Dave recorded first. Again, I think Dan was dubious - not really taking to the floor tom idea. Eventually, I think we got Fancy to layer over some cymbals, hi-hats and kick drum. The drums settled in underneath the rest of the band, just giving it a bit more thrust in the instrumental sections, which I think worked well.

After that I did a few more vocal takes – from memory I must have done ‘September’, ‘Paddy’ and ‘Ghost Town’ because then I had the idea of getting all four of us into the room sing some rowdy choruses to those two songs. With the four of us crowded around a mic yelling like a bunch of drunks at the football it was possibly the most fun and silly things I could ever imagine recording. Dave McCluney dubbed us ‘the yobs’ – a fitting epithet as we certainly sound like the Man U choir. That said, when we listened back, the idea worked, providing a boisterous and somewhat rabble-like chorus. We repeated the technique on ‘Ode’. We ended the day with Dan recording some piano solos to ‘Ode’ and possibly ‘Progress’ – I think I had pretty much lost concentration by this point and was leaving the creative biz to Dan, Vic, Fancy and Dave McCluney. It is quite possible that I was sitting outside enjoying the sunshine. It is also highly possible that I was being a bit annoying as Dan and Dave made the suggestion that I could “if I wanted to” sleep in on Monday morning while Dan did more keyboard overdubs. I think the session finished when Dan decided he had had enough playing. I went home, ate curry and watched rubbish on the television.

MONDAY 10 SEPTEMBER

I am usually very good at sleeping in. That said, I’m not usually very good at doing what I’m told. So, I woke up early, had breakfast at Cavallero on Smith Street, drove to Port Melbourne and bought some rolls for lunch and then headed to the studio. After all that, I still managed to get there by 10:30am. Oh well… Dan had just finished another solo – to ‘A Million Ways’ I think. I’m a bit hazy, but I think he also did some organ overdubs. Vic also did a tambourine overdub on ‘A Million Ways’.

At 11:30 Emma Frichot arrived – so we turned our attentions to doing vocal overdubs. As Dan had been doing ‘A Million Ways’, I think we got Emma to start on that one… Emma’s vocals immediately lifted the songs, giving the choruses a real extra boost. Emma was a real trooper – getting through the songs quickly and professionally. In about an hour, Emma had done brilliant vocal takes on ‘Progress’, ‘Ghost Town’, ‘Smile’, ‘Ode’ and ‘A Million Ways’. Around 12:30, Fancy arrived to do some male backing vocals for ‘September’. Again, the three of us crowded round the mic to sing harmony. Then Dave McCluney got us to all do our parts separately. He was trying to achieve a big chorus effect, which he was able to realise quite brilliantly I think. A very amusing moment occurred at the very end of these backing vocal takes, when Fancy decided to sing his part Idol style (and sadly I don’t mean Billy Idol).

By this stage, Dan and Vic had decided that their presence wasn’t really necessary, so they took the afternoon off. This left me in the studio on my own, so I took the opportunity to finish off the rest of the vocals. Working with Dave McCluney was really great because he was really insistent in not doing things over and over again. He was much more concerned to get great emotion and energy than to get things note perfect. On several occasions I wanted to redo something because I thought I was a bit off-tune or out of time, and Dave would casually reply, with something like “Nah, that was the best bit.” Listening back, he was almost always right.

As the session was pretty much finished, I decided that I wanted to record at least one electric guitar part – partly because I wanted to hear how my Ric sounded through Greg Arnold’s guitar amp and partly because I never get the opportunity to play electric guitar anymore. So I cranked the amp right up and used both pick-ups on the Ric to achieve this scorching but warm tone. I laid down some incidental noise and arpeggios on ‘Progress.’ The tinkling guitar notes at the beginning of ‘Progress’ were achieved by picking the strings at the tail of the bridge of the guitar.

TUESDAY 11 SEPTEMBER

We knew Tuesday was going to be a bit mad, as it was the last day that we had to record and the last day that Dan or Vic could be in the studio. The first part of the morning was taken up with Dan doing organ overdubs. He also added a terrific piano part on ‘Ghost Town’. At around 12:30, Garrett Costigan arrived to do some pedal steel parts. Garrett is one of the most amazing pedal steel players I have ever heard – you might know his work from Tex, Don and Charlie’s first album. Anyway, we were all pretty nervous when Garrett arrived. He started out with Smile – and within seconds had broken our hearts with his pining playing. Noodling through a couple of takes, his playing just completed the song perfectly. He then laid parts over ‘September’ and ‘Ode’. It was around this point that things started to sound complete. The afternoon was a bit of a rush – Dan was leaving for Darwin in the evening, so he had to rush to get the last of his parts complete. By 6:30 we had done all the recording that we were able to do.

We left Dave McCluney to start editing and mixing. I dropped Vic home, picked up Dan and drove him to the airport. Dan had looked so stressed all through the sessions, but he had done an amazing job. This record is a very keyboard heavy one, and Dan really took control of a lot of the rehearsals and sessions. I think a lot of the recordings are very much testament to the sensitivity and delicacy of his playing. In the car I asked Dan if he was excited about his holiday in the Northern Territory. He replied, “Yeah, but I’m more excited about the recording”. I was really glad to hear Dan say that – he had looked so stressed and nervous during the process. During mixing, listening to one of Dan’s takes, Dave McCluney noted, ‘You’re really lucky to have someone like Dan – he takes so much care with everything he plays.” Too true.

WEDNESDAY 12 SEPTEMBER

Dave McCluney has spent a few hours working on Tuesday night to start the mixing, so that when I arrived at 10am on Wednesday, he had pretty much finished the first song. It was the epic ‘September’ – which he has spent several hours getting to a polished final state. It was really nice to be able to walk right in and hear something completely done. We made a couple of minor adjustments and it was done.

Then we moved on to ‘A Million Ways’ – we did a little bit of editing to this song, shortening the ending and fiddling around with a few bits (particularly the harmonica solo, which I was less keen on than Dave was). It took a little longer than we thought, but we were still roughly on track. Fancy arrived around 12:30 and we did the mixing for Smile, before Fancy had to leave to attend to some matters regarding the financing of his new home.

Dave McCluney and I turned our attention to mixing ‘Progress’. We knew this was going to be one of the more difficult ones. We had wanted a fade-in, and had played an extended introduction. Putting it all together was something of marathon, but finally I think it all came together. It wasn’t quite the long epic introduction that we had planned, but I think that it works much better and is much more coherent. Dan’s organ line (a last minute thought of his) really pulls it all together. We did a mix, and then I suggested to Dave that we put a really big slap-back reverb on the vocals in the chorus. All up, I was really happy with how this song came out – although I think it is a song that is yet to find its voice.

After ‘Progress’ we mixed ‘Ghost Town’ – one of the simpler songs to mix, and we did it quite quickly. At this stage we were running out of time. Another band were coming in around 7pm, and we had been mixing all day. We rushed through “Ode” and “Parting Glass”, with Vic arriving just as we finished. Dave burnt us off a CD and we drove home listening to it…

Five Easy Pieces

It's only one sleep till we head into the studio to start cutting our new record. Tentatively titled 'Five Easy Pieces for Piano and Guitar', we're hoping to have it all finished in a couple of weeks for a late January release.

I can't believe how nervous I've been all week. All my thoughts are concentrated on this recording. It is that incredible mix of nerves and excitement which makes you go over things in your mind a million times, like which guitar should I use on which song ... or should I take a towel to the studio in case I want to wash my face ... or who is going to make lunch while we're in the studio. These are all such silly thoughts, but I wonder if this is how famous bands felt before their first few recordings.

Anyway, the most daunting thing I had to do was finish the words to one of the songs we are going to record. It is the song I talked about a couple of posts ago (My Life Flashing Before My Eyes). Musically, this was probably the quickest song I've ever written and Dan and I have been tinkering with the music for several weeks. But other than the first two lines that I mentioned, I've been really stuck with the words. For the last few days I've been sweating over them, and I've at least got some words for each part. I'm not that happy with them (some are way too corny), but I thought that I could post them here and then if anyone had any better ideas for parts they could suggest them... It could be a communal act of nostalgia. So here goes nothin':

September Song

I remember when you passed unto the Lord
I was working ten till four at the video store
You whose generous fruits were savaged with pain
I know on that day you marched with the saints

So I drove to your side at 109
It was as fast as my car would go without leaving the road
Listening all the way to community radio
While two fools went on and on
I just wished they'd play another song

I got there just in time to see my Aunt all bleary eyed
And my brothers and sisters as they started to arrive
As we measured your life in Swan Gold and the shedding of tears
Because all words hung frail in the fluorescent hospital air

So we talked of how you walked so slowly round the shops
Of how you used to use a shopping trolley for a crutch
As your poem left the earth on the flickering bow
Of a silent spring wind whispering 'where to now?'

But I don't know who we are anymore
Who we are anymore

Your last years were a labour but you wore them like a martyr
Till one day your knees finally gave out asunder
'Neath all of the weight that your old Scottish shoulders could bear
As you gathered your flock 'round the buffet of your life
Of every joy you had saved, every cent set aside
For a time when we needed it most, well we needed you now

But I don't know who we are anymore
Who we are anymore

------------------------------



So please be savage and give me any suggestions that you have...

Justifications

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

Who would have thought that this blog thing was going to be so difficult. Anyway, I have been so busy of late that I haven't had much time to write anything on my blog. I started this blog on a whim, and now it is causing me immense amounts of guilt at my general laziness and inability to produce anything...

But, I haven't been that lazy... I've been very busy. Moreover, I have several good topics which I will post in the following month or so. But, I figured I could let everyone know why I have been busy.

Firstly, this week I turned 28. Although none the wiser, I have grown a beard, which I hope lends some gravitas. Anyway, this week my band (The Holy Sea) is heading into the studio to record the follow-up to our critically acclaimed (read: commercial failure) 2000 ep Blessed Unrest. Anyway, the new record is going to be called '5 Easy Pieces for Piano and Guitar' and is being recorded from Sat-Wed at Atlantis Studios, under the watchful eye of Mr David McCluney.

Anyway, the four of us (Dan Hoey/Victor Utting/F. David Bower and myself) have been busily rehearsing and whatnot and are very excited about committing some of our songs to tape. Expect to see it on shelves around January. Edward J. Grug III is doing the artwork, and their should be a video clip to accompany the release.

Anyway, that's my big news for the moment... In the next few weeks I'm going to add some more intellectual posts.

A Response to Mr O. Boot

It was with a wonderful pang of pleasure that I received my first critical response on this blog. (I mean critical in the discursive sense). It gave me a chance to revisit my earlier musings. The comments below are my first response, but hopefully they will spark further debate, because reading through these (and my first post), I realise that I have not yet fully elucidated my theories on exile and Antipodality. That said, hopefully these comments will spark further discussion.

So, first, here are Mr Boot's comments...

Three things:
(i) It's not no-man's language heading into no-man's land - it has your name on it. You might write something here, that you wish you hadn't but someone, somewhere will find it stashed in a cache of memory and remind you that you once said it. Sort of like Rudd and the strippers, but more like the Liberal guy who lost preselection because he called Lynne Kosky a ho, or somethign like that. That is why it is better to be anon on the web.
(ii) You're not an exile, you're a migrant. Just like the Greeks, Italians, Vietnamese, Sudanese etc etc coming to Melbourne to seek a better like. It's good here. If you really want to assimilate you should go for Essendon or Collingood.
(iii) Welcome to the 21st century.


And here are my somewhat rushed, immediate responses.

Dear Mr Boot,

Thank you for your thoughtful comments. They certainly require thoughful responses, to which at this point I can only offer my immediate gut resposes.

My first response would be to challenge the blunt literalness with which you have taken my metaphorical musings. My major criticism of your response to this post would be your failure to recognise that, beyond dictionary definitions, states such as 'exile' or even 'anonymity' can be purely psychological states of personal identity creation. In fact, a good argument could (and has) been made that the state of exile is often a very personal decision on behalf of the exile. (See for instance, Adorno). This decision is very different to that of the migrant or even of the refugee. This is a much larger semantic argument, which I will take up further below.

So, for the sake of clarity, let me return to the original post and add some definitory clarifications in response to your three criticisms...

(i). The reference to 'no-man's' language in no-man's land' was a pointed one - it was not solely intended as a reference to the internet, nor to Victoria, to anonymity, nor even to the nature of Antipodality, but rather an amalgam of all of these and perhaps even more. You criticise the nature of my anonymity, and yet, even through the veil of your non de plume I have a fairly good idea of who you are...

But, of course, this is beyond the issue - the point is that we are all, to some extent anonymous. I for one, could stand in the middle of Times Square or Piccidilly Circus with an enormous banner saying 'Henry F Skerritt' and would be as anonymous as the man next to me. Anonymity is a state of recognition - and as the Kevin Rudd story proves - one only ceases to be anonymous when everybody knows who you are. His trip to the strip club took little importance until he became a figure of note. In fact, your comments make the amusing double take of refusing to recognise the 'Liberal guy', over Lynne Kosky - thus returning him to the anonymity of the blogosphere (such an unattractive word). As something to hide behind, anonymity is a con. Rather, I think any written word should be chosen carefully, with the view that it will be read. Why else go to the narcissistic exercise of a diary or a blog? Also, anonymity can be very restrictive. I really enjoyed writing the post on Col Jordan and my grandfather, which I could not have done and remained anonymous. And, yet paradoxically, such a post is really quite meaningless to anyone who does not know me. No, I think the nature of anonymity is much broader than what name you choose to put on a piece of writing.

So, why did I choose the term exile. Certainly I do not see myself as a refugee, nor indeed a migrant. Both these terms come with a certain level of cultural baggage that I was hoping not to invoke. No, exile is the right term. Like Phillip and the 300 officials who travelled with him on the First Fleet, I left Perth for many reasons. Some were about adventure and the possibility of better things, others were about running away - about leaving those things that cramped us in. The utopian vision of the Antipodes as a place of abundant space and wealth (as spoken of by Cook and Banks), was tempered by the much older view of terra australis as 'Hic Sunt Dracones' or 'Here Be Dragons'. Part of the reason that it took over 130 years from the European discovery of Australia to the eventual settling of a colony was that since the arrival of Dutch and Portuguese sailors, Australia had tended to be considered as a barren, inhospitable land inhabited by violent savages. These two competing visions of the new country bore heavily on the minds of the officers of the First Fleet, and in many instances were given as the cause of insanity that living in the new country produced.

The nature of exile takes in both these competing positions. When Adorno discusses the European exiles living in New York, the distinction becomes very apparent. For although these emigres fled persecution in Europe during WWII, many lived their entire lives out in America. Despite this, they largely refused to learn the language or make much effort to assimilate. These exiles couldn't return to Europe after the War, because the Europe that they left had disappeared, but more importantly, they needed to hold on to the great concept of Europe that they remembered. Their whole self-defintion relied on a Europe that no longer existed and for them to give this up - to relinquish the position of exile - was for them to lose the great history that defined them as part of a great European cultural tradition.

You can be in exile for many reasons, but perhaps the simplest defintion could be that you cannot return, but you cannot let go. I think that perfectly describes the condition that I spoke of, and more pertinently describes the condition of Antipodality that Australia desperately needs to shed itself of.

That and Collingwood suck.

My Life Flashing Before My Eyes.

We are just about to open a retrospective from the Sydney based hard-edge painter Col Jordan. I studied Col's work when I was doing my masters, so this exhibition is really important to me - it is such a thrill to handle works that you know so well from reproductions. Anyway, I was in the gallery hanging the show till quite late last night and then I got into work this morning at about 7am, so I am feeling a bit frazzled and generally a little nuts. For this reason, I doubt this post will be particularly cogent.

In any case, coming in this morning I had my first chance to properly survey Col's exhibition. It contains works done over 40 years - from 1966 to 2007. As I entered the gallery I had this strange thought about what entering a show like this must be like for the artist. After all, a retrospective like this aims to sum up an entire career's worth of production - it must be a bit like seeing your life flash before your eyes. I asked Col about this when he came in this morning. I think he was a bit hot and flustered after walking from his hotel to the gallery and thought that the question was a bit strange. That said, when he walked into the gallery and saw all of his works beaming forth, I think he was genuinely taken aback - I actually think the analogy of his 'life flashing before his eyes' seemed quite appropriate. Once he had caught his breath and thought about my question, Col replied "I just hope it looks this good when I see my life flashing before my eyes!" I thought that was a really great response, and I really hope that one day I can look back on something like that a say the same thing...

I am currently writing a song about my late grandfather. I don't know why this happened, but like most songs it just happened. Usually a couple of ideas come into my head and I then have to try and find something to tie them all together. In this case, the first line that came to me was"

We talked about how
you walked so slowly round the shops
using a shopping trolley as a crutch.


The second line that came to me was

Your last years were a labour
but you wore them like a matyr
till one day your knees finally gave out asunder
'neath all of the burdens your old Scottish shoulders could bare.



My grandfather, Jim Doherty was a really great old man. The thing I remember most about him was how he held the whole family together. Whenever something bad happened to one of the family, I remember my mother always being terrified about how much it would upset granddad. I don't recall him getting angry very often, but I do remember sometimes he looked upset about things that happened. He would be quite silent and you could see him carrying weight. Maybe this was why he was such a great patriach to the family. For most of the time I knew him (1979-2000), Granddad's arthritis was giving him trouble. His knees caused him so much pain that in the last days he could hardly walk. For such an active and social man, this was like being a prisoner in his own body. Up until he died, Granddad would relish any opportunity to get out of the house. In his later years, when mobility became a major issue this was largely restricted to visiting the shops twice a week. The trips to the Karrinyup shops followed a carefully plotted routine, where he slowly ambled around the centre pushing a trolley. Granddad always resisted a walking frame - preferring his old walking stick which my brother bought him in Scotland. But the stick wasn't much use towards the end, so the trolley became a substitute walking frame, which he mastered to quite good effect.

The other thing I remember about my grandfather was that he loved taking the family to Miss Mauds buffet on Murray Street. I don't know why he was so attached to Miss Maud's. My Dad always thought it was a reaction to the extreme poverty of Granddad's upbringing. According to this theory, having grown up hungry so often, the idea of being able to give someone 'all they could eat' took on a major significance. I don't know if this is true - it might be. Or maybe Granddad just really liked Miss Maud's. It doesn't really matter - but I haven't been there since he died. Anyway, the thing about Miss Maud's that sticks in my mind was how much my Grandfather remained dedicated to Miss Mauds, even though he was not able to get up and got to the buffet. He would be reliant on other members of the family to tell him what was at the buffet and to get his helpings, but that didn't worry him. As long as everyone else had their fill.

In writing this song about Granddad, I don't know why his physical ailments seem to be the continuing theme, but I think the reason is that even though his body was giving up on him, even though he was becoming more and more dependent on others, even though he couldn't help everyone in all the ways that I know he wanted to; somehow he still managed to hold us all together. Somehow, in the time when he was at his weakest and most vunerable, when we were all so terrified about what the future would hold, about how his condition would deteriorate and how unbearable it was to watch his and my Nannan's final days; even in those final months he held us all together and kept us a family. In the years that have passed a lot of things have changed. When she is really worried my mother still talks about wishing she could call up Nannan and Granddad. For me, I think that when Nannan and Granddad were alive it wasn't just about them or the advice that they would give, but about the stability and solidity that they provided our world. Amongst the family we would fight and people would hold grudges and grievances, but everyone would still turn up to Miss Maud's for Granddad's birthday. Just the idea of upsetting Granddad - of breaking his heart - was a symbol enough to keep us together. I think that is what I miss most about Granddad.

How Rad is CSIRAC?

The anwer is extremely rad...


Also completely rad are the following CSIRAC links:

CISRAC at Unimelb

CSIRAC at Melbourne Museum

The Machine That Rocked Our World

Number One Blog - Exile on Gore Street

Ok, so here goes... This is my blog. Something I have long resisted, but now have decided to embark up. To those wondering (and as I am the only person who, at this stage, is aware of this blog, this is clearly only for my own benefit) the title comes from a line from Ern Malley's poem "The Black Swan of Trespass". The Line in question goes:

"It is something to be at last speaking
Though in this No-Man's-language appropriate
Only to No-Man's-Land"

Why this quote? Well, it seems to me that the web is a big place. Recent statistics show that every day 2 squillion new blogs appear and because most blogs are immortal, eventually NASA scientists estimate that we are going to have to colonise at least another four major planetary systems just to have enough hard-drives to sustain these blogs. (Estimates calculated using CSIRAC: see above image - for those of you who don't know - CSIRAC is completely rad.) Anyway, as this blog is, for now at least, a space for my private rantings, it is a space where I can speak with the freedom of a 'no-man's-language', knowing that it will be heading into 'no-man's-land'.

That said, on another level, it begs the question; how much of everything that I say and do belongs to no-man's-land. Saying this, I don't just mean this virtual no-man's-land of the internet. Nor am I suggesting an existential dilemma to my purpose on the planet. Rather, I suppose I am pondering on a very specific question which relates mostly to myself and those friends of mine who have chosen to relocate from the seaside idyll of Perth, Western Australia to the burgeoning metropolis of Melbourne, Victoria.

And what shall I say about us? Firstly, there is a lot of us. Secondly, we all seem to congergate - largely in the Northern suburbs. We all seem like pretty motivated, intelligent sorts, so what has motivated our move? Were we running away from something? Were we just too gutless to move overseas, but too ambitious to stay in Perth? Or did we just want a seachange? I don't know - and I ask myself these questions often, along with other questions, like why are almost all of my friends here from Perth? Will we still be her in five/ten/fifty years time? Who knows...

What I do know is that, however long I stay here, I don't seem to ever shake saying 'I'm from Perth'. I don't say 'I grew up in Perth', I say 'I'm from Perth'. Like many of my friends, I talk about going 'back' or even 'home' for Christmas - but every time I go back to Perth it seems more alien to me. In some instances this is because things have changed, but mostly it is just because it really isn't my home anymore. From the day I got to Melbourne, I felt comfortable here, and I feel the city has changed me. But why then does this city never quite feel like home? Why do I still feel like an exile on Gore Street.

Part of the answer, I guess, is that we are still a community of expatriots. I was contemplating using a different word to expatriate - as WA is not a seperate country, although moreoften than not it feels like another world - but the more I thought about it, the more the word fit. We are an expatriate group - huddled together in the inner city suburbs, finding it hard to assimilate into the broader society. And why shouldn't we be... Personally, I think the Perth gang is great. I've met so many amazing people from Perth - I am just very disappointed that I had to travel to Melbourne to meet them.

I don't have answers to any of those questions... I just have more questions, and a whole bunch of meaningless speculations. For centuries, philosophers and scientists had speculated on the existence of a great southern land - terra australis. Ironically, one person who never believed in its existence was Lt. James Cook. Even upon sighting the east coast of Australia and landing at Botany Bay he remained unconvinced...

And maybe Cook was right. Maybe Australia doesn't exist. Maybe it is just a concept in our collective colonial imaginations. Not a place, so much as a conceptual formulation - something to balance out the idea of Europe - an Antipodes where eveything is upside down and nothing is as it seems. And then, maybe, just maybe it is not us expatriates from New Holland that are exiles in this country - maybe everyone else that lives here is also living in exile. This is not purely because we don't belong here, but because the notion of Australia actively rejects our ability to belong here. For this is the antipodes - the counterbalance and opposite of Europe - where Europe is small and full, here is big and empty, where Europe is civilised and cultivated, here is wild and ragged, Europe is up, here is down, Europe is home, here is abroad.

But I've never been to Europe. Like the rest of us, I'm just floating out to sea. Anyway, at least I'm living in Melbourne. I might be in exile here, but I've already learnt to hate Sydney ... which reminds me of a line from the old convict song 'Jim Jones':

And our ship was high upon the sea
Then pirates came along,
But the soldiers on our convict ship
Were full five hundred strong.
For they opened fire and somehow drove
That pirate ship away.
But I'd rather have joined that pirate ship
Than gone to Botany Bay.
With the storms ragin' round us,
And the winds a-blowin' gale,
I'd rather have drowned in misery
Than gone to New South Wales.