Apprenticeship on George St
I stepped onto the stage at The Commercial Hotel Bathurst for the first time in mid 1990 with a brand new Yamaha synth, a handful of blues licks and an untrained but reasonably in tune voice.
I was young, green and unaware of where this move might take me. I remember the feeling to this day. Part scared, part excited.
The Commercial Hotel was the mecca of live gigs in Bathurst. A thriving covers venue with bands three nights a week and swarms of university students, locals and visitors at which to blast your blisteringly loud cover songs.
I had been given a start in one of the town's more popular outfits; The Mad Arabs. In this day and age one would perhaps opt for different nomenclature, but amazingly that band is still going, sans death threats...
We were loud (really loud), rough, honest and energetic. Muddy Waters, JJ Cale, Clapton, Santana, The Stones. You know, all the stuff the kids are into today...
We sometimes played there twice a week, and we became so popular at the venue the owner let us set up in the back shed and rehearse, as well as leave our gear there permanently. They were unbelievable times I'll never forget, and those guys are my very dear friends to this day. This was my apprenticeship, not just in music, but in life, relationships, humour, politics and my favourite sport to this day - people watching.
Such was the old guard. The musicians who worked hard for their living and had the benefit of playing to enthusiastic crowds that loved live music. You made true friends in the industry back then. Before poker machines. Before Napster. Before iTunes and Spotify. Before your audience had their heads buried in a phone, texting someone they'd rather be with than the person sitting next to them, too distracted to applaud.
Many of us had a really good crack at original music as well. Some of the guys from the Bathurst scene did really well. I remember a trio of brothers, The Richardson's, who went on to have solid careers in America, playing with household names. They had insane harmonies, and I remember when they left for the USA, all of Bathurst were behind them. No (or very little) jealousy.
A couple of times I stood on the precipice and it seemed it would all fall into line for me in the game. Melbourne, 1996 was one - but that's another story for another time.
I dug out some of the old original 'tapes' the other day. They weren't that good. They were probably better than half the songs that made it big at the time, but they weren't anything special. Granted in this industry it's never really been about how good you are. It has for some time been about who you hang with, whos arse you kiss and just simply standing in the right place at the right time.
Flash forward 20 years and I'm standing back stage with the support act for Country Music icons Brooks and Dunn at Brisbane Entertainment Centre waiting to go on in front of 12,000 people. Part scared, part excited.
I've come to the conclusion whatever you begin with in your career as a working set of practices, or 'default state', if you like, will probably continue with you all the way.
What had changed 20 years on? Same guy, same doubts in himself, but same weird confidence underpinning it all. New audience. Bigger audience. Different instrument - I picked up the bass about 10 years ago. Adjusted for inflation, probably a similar rate of pay, but I didn't have to lug my own gear, and there was a rider, a hotel room, a tour bus and stars all around. Kix Brooks made me a steak sandwich that night. It's one of his traditions on tour - the big fry up, cooked by the man himself. That one will stick with me...
I don't want to be one of those jaded musicians that bangs on and moans about the industry and how it's changed so much and screwed us over. I think I've dipped my toe into those dangerous waters a few times already. It's hard not to sometimes. It's all around you. I've worked with so many people who have unrealised ambition and have become so negative and narcissistic it has turned me the other way.
To qualify, yes I tend to loathe the drivel pumped out by today's music industry. However, these are artistic musings and opinions, not so much an attack on the inevitable - change. Yes the industry has changed, and I believe for the most part, music is being dumbed down and sold to the masses in a shiny plastic form of it's former self. But what hasn't changed in the last 25 years? Well, Keith Richards, but apart from that....
Anyway, it's not all bad. We do have Sara Barielles, Beck, The Arctic Monkeys, and Toto and Fleetwood Mac are still touring! There are still glimpses of hope and plenty of people making beautiful music. You just have to seek it out these days...
To be honest, just make your own. Then you'll listen to something you'll really enjoy. That's what I did last year, fulfilling a lifelong dream to record in Nashville. With enough industry connections I was able to record at Quad Studios (no-one cool has recorded here except for Elvis, Johnny Cash, Emmylou Harris, Lady Antebellum...) with some of Nashville's finest. The result is a beautiful EP of which I am incredibly proud.
What am I going to do with it? Haven't worked that out yet...
With 25 years of live playing, and gigs ranging from playing piano in a deserted, and I do mean 100% deserted, poker machine lounge to the biggest festivals and rooms in Australia I'm transitioning out of the music industry. It has been really kind to me, but like everything it has a life span. Goals change. Everything changes.
I have a great many mates in this industry who will look for every reason under the sun as to why they didn't become famous or hit the dizzy heights of stardom. It eats them up, plagues them and makes them question their own very talents and gifts. I refuse to be the guy who keeps on having this discussion, because it's probably going to take place in the aforementioned poker machine lounge.
I had my chances. Maybe I wasn't good enough. I'm comfortable with that. I know I made choices that put me out of contention for things that would have led me to different places, but I chose family over the industry a long time ago. No regrets. In fact a wise old muso from Bathurst once told me "you can be rich or famous". There's absolutely something in that, and I've had that mantra buzzing around in my head for years.
I've been in non-stop work for 25 years and have raised three children (still raising two) on a musician's income. I'm far better off financially than some of my peers who chased fame, including the ones who achieved it. The music industry is a strange beast. The more you earn, the more you spend, and there is no shortage of people waiting to take their cut, advise you how to spend 'your' (and the company's) money and you see a lot more lunchtimes than lunches.
I'm proud of everything, especially the mistakes. They're just the little building blocks of success. What a great time I've had. I've met and played with some of the best. The music in me will never die, but the job must eventually go.
