Paul Kelly released a mighty box set in 2010. It consisted of his book How to Make Gravy, and an 8CD set of live recordings from 2004 to 2010, titled The A to Z Recordings. I'm pretty sure that Rhones gave it to me for Christmas later that year. Nearly fifteen years later, and I've finally finished reading the book, and listening to the CDs.
It was quite the journey. The CDs include 105 songs culled from his A-Z concerts. He would usually perform four gigs at one place, playing songs in alphabetical order, with each night tackling a different part of the alphabet. We went saw one of those shows at the Quarry Amphitheatre in November, 2008. It was the second night, which encompassed F-L, I think. We picked that night in the hope of getting
As it was an unseasonably cool November night, with a high chance of rain, Rhones and I donned ponchos, as did many other audience members. Good thing too, because the rain did fall on a few occasions. During their rendition of I Can't Believe We Were Married, Paul changed the last word from wed to wet, empathising with the audience getting rained on:
"I can't believe we were married/That we...were...wet"
It was a highlight of the night, a nice moment of an artist and their crowd bonding. If the setlist of that gig was similar to the tracklisting of the Night Two CDs of The A to Z Recordings, then they kicked off with The Foggy Fields of France. I can't remember if that was the opening song or not, but they definitely did perform it, and it was the first time I had heard the song. I took an instant liking to the track, which I would learn was on the Stolen Apples album. Like the second Night Two CD (disc four), I'm pretty sure the night ended with Leaps and Bounds, a song I have a love-hate relationship with. It's a great melody, with some iconic lyrics, but what does it mean? I go leaps and bounds? What? You remember? Remember leaping and bounding? Yeah, I don't get it.
Getting back to this box set, which I would have in my possession about two years later, I made the decision to read the book while I listened to the CDs. The 576 page tome offers up a chapter for each song on the CDs, with two extra parts for Treaty and This Land is Mine,which PK felt he couldn't capture live in the same spirit as the others. I either forgot the fact, or didn't realise that he had a hand in the Yothu Yindi classic. The chapter devoted to the song talks about how he befriended the band and how they played together in Arnhem Land with the hope of writing new music for their next album, which would become Tribal Voice. Getting Treaty right seemed to be an arduous task, and the late band leader Mandawuy Yunupingu wanted another Aussie music legend to have a hand in its creation, and so sought a meeting with Midnight Oil's Peter Garrett. It's a fascinating read, and Paul also describes how the song transformed into a bigger monster following the release of dance remixes. It's a shame that there's no live recording of it included, but that was probably the right decision to make.
So, each song on the CDs has its own story or anecdote or a random list of musings attached to it, after the lyrics. I made the decision the read the book as I listened to the music. Sometimes the length of the song married up with the reading time of the accompanying chapter, and sometimes it didn't. There are some lengthy moments where the song in question only gets partly referenced. A good example of this is the text for Won't You Come Around?, one my favourite songs from the excellent Ways and Means album from 2004. Instead of being a retrospective look at the writing of the track, PK includes a fairly detailed set of diary entries from his tour in the US the year before. In one of those entries, he mentions the band soundchecking with a song that would eventually become Won't You Come Around?, a tune which came to him on one of his walks. It barely gets a paragraph or two, with pages and pages of entries outlining his journey across the country. I guess it's all about context. While the whole chapter isn't wholly about the song, it is still a fascinating read. Different cities inspire different sides of Paul, and how he chooses to document his time passing through changes with his mood, or with the city.
Other chapters similarly have little to do with the song, but remain interesting insights into the man, or offer up nuggets of history. My empathy for First Nations people's struggle with January 26th and white colonisation in recent years can be attributed to the chapter discussing his song Jandamarra/Pigeon. Jandamarra was an indigenous man from the Kimberley region of WA, and led armed uprisings against the colonist white settlers in the late 1800s. The chapter begins with Paul talking about the history he was taught at school focusing on white settlers or explorers, like Burke and Wills, for instance. Massacres of the First Nations people, and the battles between black and white Australians, were conveniently overlooked for inclusion of the curriculum for young students. As such, the toll that was taken on the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people by the colonists has been considerably downplayed or ignored as the years have passed. This song tells of Jandamarra's plight, cleverly retold from the perspective of Officer O'Malley, who was charged with finding him. To say this chapter was eye-opening for me is an understatement. It planted a seed that has since left me uncomfortable about celebrating Australia Day on January 26th.
Another chapter I really enjoyed, was the brief one about one of my favourite Paul Kelly songs, Don't Start Me Talking. A keen plunderer of great artists, the title and opening line of that track was taken directly from Elvis Costello's classic Oliver's Army. The chapter ends with a paragraph on how he believes that opening lines can be so important in grabbing the attention of the listener. We are the left with a list of songs and a list of opening lines, and told to match them up. If we get stuck, there is answer page at the back of the book. There are a few chapters that employ this look-at-the-answers-to-learn-more technique. Although I thoroughly enjoyed reading this, I kinda wish that I had done it in a shorter period of time. I struggle to remember some parts of the book, but I've allowed myself to listen to the songs as much as I like now.
Other chapters similarly have little to do with the song, but remain interesting insights into the man, or offer up nuggets of history. My empathy for First Nations people's struggle with January 26th and white colonisation in recent years can be attributed to the chapter discussing his song Jandamarra/Pigeon. Jandamarra was an indigenous man from the Kimberley region of WA, and led armed uprisings against the colonist white settlers in the late 1800s. The chapter begins with Paul talking about the history he was taught at school focusing on white settlers or explorers, like Burke and Wills, for instance. Massacres of the First Nations people, and the battles between black and white Australians, were conveniently overlooked for inclusion of the curriculum for young students. As such, the toll that was taken on the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people by the colonists has been considerably downplayed or ignored as the years have passed. This song tells of Jandamarra's plight, cleverly retold from the perspective of Officer O'Malley, who was charged with finding him. To say this chapter was eye-opening for me is an understatement. It planted a seed that has since left me uncomfortable about celebrating Australia Day on January 26th.
Another chapter I really enjoyed, was the brief one about one of my favourite Paul Kelly songs, Don't Start Me Talking. A keen plunderer of great artists, the title and opening line of that track was taken directly from Elvis Costello's classic Oliver's Army. The chapter ends with a paragraph on how he believes that opening lines can be so important in grabbing the attention of the listener. We are the left with a list of songs and a list of opening lines, and told to match them up. If we get stuck, there is answer page at the back of the book. There are a few chapters that employ this look-at-the-answers-to-learn-more technique. Although I thoroughly enjoyed reading this, I kinda wish that I had done it in a shorter period of time. I struggle to remember some parts of the book, but I've allowed myself to listen to the songs as much as I like now.
In fact, when Rhones signed me up to the Paul Kelly Record Club a few years back, I left my copy of Selections from The A to Z Recordings double vinyl sealed. I wasn't going to listen to it, until I had finished reading and listening. As I write this, on ANZAC Day, I have taken the set out of its plastic wrap and am currently enjoying PK sing They Thought I Was Asleep. However autobiographical the song feels, he confesses in the book that it was a work of fiction.
In the years since this set was released, Kelly has issued a good handful of albums, with 2012's Spring and Fall, and 2017's Life Is Fine ranking with the best records he has given us. While I haven't spun it a lot, last year's Fever Longing Still (album No.29, if you're keeping score) had some great tracks as well. It notably featured the first full band studio recording of Taught By Experts, which appeared on his solo Live, May 1992 offering. I wonder if he would ever consider another A to Z tour/box set that would look at his recent work? Be hard to ignore his classics, particular for fans, but maybe a new integration or something could be on the cards. A lot happens in fifteen years. You can only hope. Be careful what you wish for, as one of his songs says.
No comments:
Post a Comment