On Sunday, I joined a group for a walk of Binna Burra’s Coomera Circuit. Billed as one of the great day walks by Australian Geographic, it was the second major walk I’ve done there in the past 12 months after doing the 10km Dave’s Creek circuit last year. At that time, many of the other walks were closed due to storm damage and while they were open this time, there was plenty of water about after South East Queensland’s big La Nina season. After a 90 minute drive (slightly longer than expected due to the closure of Beechworth Rd), I got to Binna Bunna before my walking companions and enjoyed the view down to Advancetown Lake (Hinze Dam) and the high-rise buildings of the Gold Coast beyond.
When the others arrived we set off south down the Border Track, a 21 km U-shaped walk to O’Reillys that traverses the border with New South Wales. Binna Burra and O’Reillys remain private operations adjacent to but not part of Lamington National Park. Our walk was scheduled to be a 17km loop off the main track but in the end we did 21km. The track was wet after recent rains and slippery and extremely muddy in places. It also meant the creeks were up. Conditions are remarkably different now then when they were in September 2019, when the area was devastated by bushfires and the historic lodge Binna Burra Lodge was destroyed.
Binna Burra means “where the (Antarctic) beech trees grow” in local Aboriginal language, a hint of the rainforest’s Gondwana origins. There were glimpses of the wider national park through the dense foliage as we diverted off the border track to the Coomera Circuit around the 2km. As well as beech, the forest is full of giant brush box Lophostemon confertus. The brush box evolved from a common ancestor as the eucalypt and have similar fruit.
Many Binna Burra tracks were designed and built by Romeo Lahey (who helped found the National Parks Association of Queensland in 1930) during the Great Depression, deliberately to have a gradient of less than 10%, something we’d appreciate on the way back. For now we were going down. After descending a few kilometres we came to a viewing spot of Coomera Falls. These are cantilevered falls where the Coomera River cascades into a 160m deep gorge. The Coomera River heads north-east down the range and empties into the Gold Coast Broadwater near Coomera Island and Paradise Point.
The view at the bottom of the falls.
Below we are faced with the first of many tricky river crossings as we follow the Coomera up towards its source. On several occasions we had no option but to get wet, in my case up to my upper thigh, to navigate the crossings.
There were many smaller waterfalls along the way such as Bahnamboola Falls. There is a deep pool under the plunge falls though swimming is not recommended along the track.
A little further on is Kagoonya Falls.
Followed by Gwongarragong Falls.
And then Moolgoolong Cascades.
There were several more cascades to come including the spectacular Neerigomindalala Falls, one of the last before we rejoin the Border Track.
Back on high ground we stop for lunch and a chance to dry out after all the creek crossings. There’s also a view of the Woggunba Valley from Joalah Lookout. This is the view east towards Natural Bridge.
It was a tough eight-hour-plus day of walking made more difficult than usual thanks to the wet conditions. At least it wasn’t raining on the walk so leeches weren’t an issue as they were in October when we did O’Reillys day walks. But it was raining somewhere as this lovely rainbow showed near Beechworth, a highlight of a long, tired drive home.
It’s a long way in space and time from a frenzied and sweaty concert hall in Dublin in 1986 to a languorous and warm afternoon in a Brisbane backyard in 2022, but that’s my 36 year gap between my attendance at Andy White gigs. “Rave on Andy White” might be almost four decades old but always remained a favourite album so when a friend said Andy White was playing at a house concert in Brisbane early last year I was definitely in. COVID got in the way and there were several cancellations but last weekend I finally got to see him again playing in front of the Ukrainian-flag themed washing line in deepest south-east Queenslander suburbia. It was low key but a lovely way to spend a Sunday afternoon.
It was a long way from where either of us grew up, at either end of Ireland. White was from the north, a Belfast boy, something still obvious when he spoke and I was grateful that after the gig he gave me 16 minutes on the record about his records. The singer-songwriter burst on to the scene in the mid 1980s with his EP Religious Persuasion followed by the full length album Rave on Andy White.
The album contained instant classics such as the aforementioned Religious Persuasion and The Soldier’s Sash which brilliantly skewered Northern Ireland’s religious divide in the middle of the Troubles: “It was born in London Paris New York SOUTH AMERICA Randalstown Enniskillen and the Boyne”. Aged just 24, White had announced himself as a Bob Dylan with a Belfast accent and a splendid pox-on-both-your-houses punkish attitude that was electrifying (in every sense) to my young Irish ears. White grew up in the mighty shadow of George Ivan Morrison, “he was just there”, he told me. But it was people like John Peel playing records of bands like Stiff Little Fingers that carved out an alternative Ulster for White. “It gave us a lot of confidence that if you wanted to do it you could do it yourself,” he said. Peel’s fellow Radio 1 DJ Janice Long was quick to pick up on the new talent and a major record label deal followed.
By the time he played in Dublin (I can’t remember where, possibly the TV Club where most new music landed), Andy White was hot property and the gig was a sellout. The punks were out in force but so were the folk fans and others who enjoyed his music and quirky rhymes. There was simply no one else doing what he was doing, and you had to admire the audacity of someone taking the mickey out of “Archbishop whatever his name was and John Player Number Two”.
The album was a constant on the car cassette player as I travelled around England in the couple of years that followed. But then I left for Australia and in those pre-Internet days I promptly forgot about Andy White. It wasn’t just my fault. As he explained to me he was transferred off the major label “like a soccer player” and while being an indie artist suited him, there was less airplay. While I forgot about him, I’d never forget the punch of Religious Persuasion.
White continued to make records, 20 in all now, and he too moved to Australia in the years that followed. But it was only after I heard about the Brisbane gig, did I catch up with his back catalog. There was much to admire and his quirky talent for a good rhyme remained undimmed. I liked “James Joyce’s Grave” which continued his literary bent combined with the knack for a good tune (plus a sentimental reason – I too had sought out the author’s final resting place in Zurich).
There was plenty to enjoy too on the latest album This Garden is Only Temporary which the Irish Times called “effortless and captivating”. While I could agree it was captivating, I knew it was hardly effortless. That was because White put out an accompanying podcast called This Podcast is Only Temporary with each episode devoted to a single song on the album, which I listened to on the long drive to Brisbane. White is a great communicator and he explains well the creative process behind making an album. It’s easy to see how he also lectures in a music artist degree course and Music Production music artist degree. That academic career also helped pay the bills when COVID hit. But live music is what he loves doing best. It was a joy and a privilege to hear him play in front of the Ukrainian blankets. As he said “that’s what art is and what telling a story is and that’s beautiful.”
White is a better storyteller than I am a music reviewer. So here’s the full text of our interview when we sat down after the house concert. I apologise for my interruptions as I can see now Andy was trying to take me in certain directions when I should have shut up and listened.
DB: Andy, congratulations that was a great gig
AW: Thanks, Derek
DB: Have you been to Brisbane before?
AW: Yes I played at the Woodford Festival, I played and read at the Queensland Poetry Festival, a long time ago, nearly 10 years. So I haven’t been for a while.
DB: Look, just a bit about where I know you from. I know you from Religious Persuasion, I grew up in Ireland in Waterford, it came out in 86 or 87 I think it was,
AW: 86
DB: 86, it was a huge achievement for such a young man, it was the confidence of it, I guess.
AW: Well that’s an interesting word,
DB: Did you feel confident?
AW: Did I feel it at the time, I guess, yeah, I had that rough confidence –
DB: (interrupting) How did you have that, that’s a rare gift?
AW: That’s a really interesting question. I’ve often looked back at that young man and thought, what went into all that. I was really knew that nobody was saying something about where I was from.
DB: Yeah, that was one of the reasons the album hit home, not just saying it, but the way you said it. Not just pox on both their houses, but taking the piss on both their houses, and very refreshing to hear. Politically this was a very charged time?
AW; The Soldiers Sash, track one was the Soldiers Song mixed with the Sash…
DB: (interrupting) I know, so you would have possibly had people from both sides hating you?
AW: Yeah. A pox on both your houses is exactly right. And to do it with humour. If you grew up in the North, humour was there all the time. At the same time we hated it we laughed at it. It was the only way, to be sarcastic or make jokes about it. It was part of dealing with the situation we were living in.
DB: Another way you dealt with it was music obviously? One of the things I like about your podcast is you talking about the Berlin years of David Bowie. What was it about that kind of music?
AW: Well at that time I really understand even nowadays people who hear or see themselves in TV or radio or streaming. They hear themselves because they see someone who speaks like them or looks like them and they feel they can do it themselves. For me that was when I was about 13 or 14. Punk happened in Belfast. It wasn’t just a fashions exercise, it was really political. We also had the fact that (BBC) Radio 1 were playing records which were made by people a little bit older than me but they had your accents so I could hear my accent on the John Peel Show. It gave us a lot of confidence that if you wanted to do it you could do it yourself. I had that punk attitude. But I also listened to folk music. The first big concerts I saw were by folk musicians John Martyn, Roy Harper. And, of course, Horslips.
DB: What about Van Morrison, was he much of an influence?
AW: Well, he was, because he was just there. He was like an institution. It was great to hear his accent. But as a young man who I really thought I couldn’t sing, he was such a good singer, I was like, I can’t sing like that. But all the stuff in his music, talking about places in Belfast that was really beautiful. All that literary content in his songs, that was a really big deal as well. Listen to Working Class Hero and John Lennon saying “fucking”. Those big artists give you the way to be and the local Irish artists gave you confidence, ‘Oh I can do this as well.’ There was the Boomtown Rats, everybody came to Belfast to play. I saw all those by the time I was 16 or 17. By the time I was 22 I felt I could do it myself. I just thought nobody else was doing this.
DB: Do you have a sense of Irishness? Do you feel Irish?
AW: Yes. Mum’s family is from Tipperary. Mum was born in Roscrea and her side of the family was from Cavan. She grew up in the north.. My father –
DB: Was your mother Catholic or Protestant?
AW: It’s all a mixture. Things could have got mixed up a long time ago – they were McDonaghs.”
DB: I don’t want to talk too much about religion. But it was clear, your songs were dripping with the whole angle of religion
AW: And also knowing how good religion could be and how badly it was being used by people. I’d seen the best religious people in Belfast. This guy who my mum knew who founded the Samaritans and did soup kitchens for people and looked after homeless people. And then when you see religion being used by other people. We were really angry, we were disgusted, they were so hostile.
DB: Who’s “we”?
AW: People like myself. People ask which side are you on. Well we’re not on either side. That’s what we want.
DB: I was born a Catholic but rebelled it fairly young. It’s good to see someone say, “no, forget Catholic, forget Protestant, what about all these other things”
AW: Okay, Derek, you totally got it then because that’s what it was about. And punk was a bit like that because you really didn’t ask about religion. Who cares? It was the same in the City of Belfast Youth Orchestra, by the way and it was the same whether it was classical music or punk, it didn’t matter if people came from the other side –
DB: (Interrupting) How did your music go down in the UK?
AW: They got it. Janice Long played it all the time on the BBC.
DB: Did it lead to commercial success?
AW: The first person who got it was Dave Robinson of Stiff Records. I went to him and Religious Persuasion was the B-side of what I thought was the first single –
DB: Which one?
AW: Rembrandt’s Hat. But he immediately said Religious Persuasion is the A Side. He gave me a pen and said draw the cover and that little squiggle is the cover. Dave Robinson is amazing. I’d listened to Ian Dury and Elvis Costello and I loved their records so when he said I want to sign you, I said great, So I got signed by them and Janice Long played it all the time. Then Stiff Records fell apart. I got signed up by a big record company, Polygram. But the first record was already made and that’s why it went so far. So a really big company put out Rave On Andy White. Nowadays you’d think no chance, this’d be an indie release but MCA signed it up in a heartbeat –
DB (Interrupting) – So what happened after?
AW: Well they give you about two records and then I got transferred like a soccer player with Michelle Shocked. Michelle Shocked was on Cooking Vinyl, I was on Polygram and they swapped us because I thought, and my management thought, it was better for me to be on an independent label. Because I’m never going to give them a hit single and that’s what they wanted.
DB: Are you familiar with the film Inside Llewyn Davis, the Coen Brothers, the artistic life of a folk singer and how the manager goes “I’m not hearing lots of money here”.
AW: Yes, Tom Petty says that in one of his songs, “I don’t hear a single here.” And that’s what they always say. And in a way it was great to be in a big record company but it was great to have an independent release as well, because it meant Europe opened out to me. If you’re in a big company your record goes to Polygram Germany or Warner’s Germany and they’ve also got Madonna’s record coming out, so you might get some good reviews but all the time is taken up by Madonna’s record.
DB: I’m conscious I asked for 10 minutes and 10 minutes are up and there’s other people here who’d love to speak to you but I have to talk about the transition to Australia. You tell that story in Another Sunny Day, arriving in Melbourne. Have you got over that sense of wonder about Another Sunny Day? I don’t mean the weather, I mean the culture.
AW: Yes and no. It’s very deep and rich and different. And people forget the smells are different in the morning when the sun comes up and the light. And the birds! I live in the hills outside Melbourne, I don’t live in the city.
DB: Do you have a national identity these days? Do you call yourself Irish or Australian?
AW: I always think I’m Irish. I’ve never really thought I’m Australian. Maybe because where I’m from is so much to do with my work. But yeah…pause.. being Australian is, I don’t really feel it, to tell you the truth.
DB: Are you an Australian citizen?
AW: Yes, it used to be much easier and it was cheaper! But for my son, who’s grown up here that’s a big deal. Rather than Belfast, which was an easy decision to make.
DB: Have you seen the film Belfast?
AW: No, I’m waiting to see the film with him (his son).
DB: I won’t talk about it then, I won’t spoil it.
AW (American accent) “no spoilers”
DB: Andy, what I loved about the podcast (This Podcast is Only Temporary), was understanding the creative process and the deep dive into all the things that go on in making an album. One of the things I loved was this song you had to do in under three minutes. Because that’s a creative limit that’s going to force you down a particular way. You obviously teach music –
AW: Yeah. Especially in the pandemic. Online music is great. It’s wonderful to spread your music all over the world but the only thing left to make money was performing and when that disappeared that left (teaching). What was good is that these courses started in America and then in England and I taught singer/songwriters for WOMAD all over the world and there was a degree course in Melbourne that asked me if I would lecture for them and that got me through COVID.
DB: You’re a good explainer.
AW: Thank you. As a musician or a writer, it’s a cliche but yeah you want to give back and you want to be a mentor because the music business needs to (find mentors) and give people this amazing support.
DB: Two final questions. One, this garden is only temporary, is that because of the goat or something else?
AW: Yes, Amy (the goat). I’ve got a friend up the road who lends out Amy. Whenever she’s finished one garden she’s goes to another. It’s so funny, this garden is only temporary because I didn’t know of Amy’s existence when I called it that.
DB: So it wasn’t the goat?
AW: No, this garden is only temporary because this Earth is only (trails off)…
DB: I had a feeling it was deeper than the goat. (laughs)
AW: When you think what is the worth of me singing these love songs and stories about my life on records, okay then you zoom out and think, and the world’s spinning round, and then you zoom out further and there’s the sun is that big and the planet is this big. That’s what the cover is. In the end you think it is worth it because that’s what art is and what telling a story is and that’s beautiful. It’s temporary and it’s going to go but you’ve got to do what you can before it goes.
DB: Now COVID’s over, are you going to do more touring?
AW: I want to. It’s really slow, Derek. It’s not like (clicks fingers) and suddenly it goes on. I went back to the UK at Christmas to do shows and because of the new variety of COVID, they all cancelled. I hope to do Australia bit by bit this year and maybe all of UK/Ireland at the start of next year. But who knows? I did the podcast, because so much goes into a record. I couldn’t do that about every record but I could about this one because this one’s got these layers some of them are spontaneous.
DB: What about the last one Time is a Buffalo in the Art of War (pointing to his t-shirt which has the name of the album on it).
AW: It was interesting. It was more spontaneous, it was more jammy. And the words – I could talk about the words for a long time – but not the writing and recording of the record. I knew something really big was going to happen but I thought it was Brexit – but it turned out to be COVID! And the war, because time is a buffalo, and this war at the moment, time is the only thing that will heal it.
DB: How is that a buffalo?
AW: The buffalo moves very slowly. (Pause) And eventually it’s very strong and time will heal war but it takes a long time.
DB: Andy, thanks for taking the time to talk to me. It’s been a pleasure.
Woolly Days 