Blog Post · Folk Music

Poor Robin, Picked Clean

Summary: A largely self-centred complaint about how if the work I have been doing in the folk genre over the past ten years does not warrant a spot on the Australian National Folk Festival Program, then I suggest that the festival has lost its way.

2026 marks ten years of me applying to perform at the Australian National Folk Festival and ten years of form-letter rejections. The fee I request each year is below the cost of my fuel, insurance and food over the weekend.

I have been performing professionally in the folk genre since 2015 and being on the program at several fantastic folk festivals and folk clubs over that time. The folk community in Australia is alive and well, with diverse and strong communities that I have seen at Folk by the Sea (sadly no longer), Bundanoon and our local festival here in Yass (in both the Turning Wave and Yass Irish incarnations).

My first exposure to the National festival was in 2003, when I helped run a promotion stall for a local Chinese Qi Gong group. I noticed that the program was full and diverse and alongside the famous Australian and International folk acts, there were many lesser-known Australian songwriters and performers. The festival was also highly participatory, rather than one with clear lines drawn between the ‘punters’ and ‘money makers’.

Over the past ten years I have published three albums of local history songs in the folk ballad style. To me, this is work that is at the heart of the folk tradition. Some of these songs I have had the pleasure to sing at important related social events, like the Irish Famine Memorial in Sydney and the Irish Embassy in Canberra or songs sung on the occasion of the final Sister of Mercy nuns departing Yass after over 100 years. I have also published collections of Sea Shanties, Old Ballads, Social Justice songs, and in 2025 an album of Henry Lawson poems set to new music. Through these songs I have meet, online and in person, so many people who appreciate and value the place that song holds in storing our collective history.

With over one million listens to these songs on YouTube, Spotify and Bandcamp, I am comfortable that they are reaching my audience; that isn’t what my complaint here is about.

The work I did in 2019 researching folk singer Colin Dryden, and the related album and presentation at the Australian Folklore Network conference, led me to spend several hours in the National Archives listening to audio from the National Folk Festivals that Colin attended in the 1970s. Back then, the festival was a place for keepers of the tradition to come together and share their work, share music, dance and poetry. It wasn’t a commercial venture with a ‘curated for profit’ Program. The festivals I attended in the early 2000s seemed much closer to this ideal than the last two years.

In the 2025 movie Sinners, the Blues standard ‘Pick Poor Robin Clean’, is used as a device to talk about cultural appropriation. The earliest recording of this song, from 1927, is definitely not the origin, and the real subtextual meaning of the words doesn’t seem to be clear (possibly about fleecing a ‘mark’ in gambling). When I hear the words, it feels like a good analogy for how I see the folk tradition in Australia and its relationship to the National Festival. ‘Picked Clean’ for profit is how it feels.

Thanks to the brilliant songwriter Enda Kenny, I felt a lot better about my rejection letter this year. His Facebook post on 23 September 2025:

“I know I’m worth my place and I have worn all the previous rejections because that’s my job. I’ll go on playing full houses in Canberra but I won’t apply again.”

If songwriters of Enda’s calibre are not getting a gig, then I think I’ll follow his lead and just stop applying.

Isa, at the Bohemia blackboard concert (when she should have been playing Budawang or Flute & Fiddle) – 2 March 2026

Let me be clear, I know the cost of insurance has gone up, I know the sponsorship from ACT Government has dropped. However, my requested fee is less than a single weekend ticket, and the Program was far from full across venues. It would cost close to nothing for the committee to offer ‘expenses only’ spots to middle-tier performers.

Maybe with new staff in the committee, the Festival might find a way to steer back to its roots, while remaining affordable (not profitable). In the interim, I will be performing my album of Henry Lawson poems at the fabulous Merry Muse Folk Club in Canberra on Sunday afternoon, 12th April (Canberra Irish Club).

 

 

 

 

Blog Post · My Own Music

Ukraine – Four Years

Last year I wrote a song for a local couple that own a cafe in nearby Binalong. They had made international news when they put a tarif on US drinks in March 2025 in response to Trump and Vance treating Zelensky so badly when he visited the White House. A few weeks later I played a concert at the cafe, and then in February I got to meet the Ukrainian Ambassador to Australia when he visited the cafe. It was a great honor to sing The Red Viburnum in Ukrainian at that event.

I wrote another song this week to mark four years of Russian un-provoked aggression, and strong resistance by all the people of Ukraine. In the song I show statistics collected by the Kiel Institute that show just how devastating Trump’s cuts at the start of 2025 were to the Ukrainian people, and their fight for their country.

Trump and Putin both want the people of Ukraine to stop fighting. Whether they do or not has impacts for the whole free world. Slava Ukraini!

 

 

 

Blog Post · Folk Music

The 6th Of January (Yasgur’s Farm)

On the first listens to Amy Grant’s new single, The 6th Of January (Yasgurs Farm), I thought it might be an attempt, somewhat belated, to protest the attack on the US Capitol building in 2021. A logical conclusion given the title of the song and the lack of other significant events on that date in history.

However, after doing a cover, and going back to the Joni Mitchell song, Woodstock (that provides a few of the lines in the song), I’m not so sure.

Amy is singing the words written by Sandy Emory Lawrence, who is hard to track down on the internet, but did win an ASCAP song writing award in 2014.

For those not familiar with Amy Grant, she has sold over 30 million albums and was one of the few Christian Music artists to successfully move to, and make a career in, the secular pop music scene. This release is her first new music to be published in ten years.

During the 80s, Amy’s music was the soundtrack to almost every Pentecostal Christian child’s life. So seeing this song pop up sparked my interest.

Obviously the words are Sandy’s, but Amy chose to sing them, so was this a softly-softly attempt to talk the US down from its Christo-Fascist ledge under the absurd Messianic guidance of Trump? As anyone who has engaged Trump supporters knows, as soon as you take any tone of criticism, they won’t listen further; so it stands to reason that any attempt to reach them through a song would need to come at the problem slantways.

She says maybe it’s the time of year
Or maybe it’s the time of man
60’s playlist and a beer
I’m suddenly 16 again
What’s the future hold in store
What’s it hiding up its sleeve
All that wide-eyed hope
Were we so naive

The first verse of the song lifts directly from the second verse of Joni’s song. Looking back at being 16, drinking beer and having a naive view of the future. In Joni’s words the ‘Time of Man’ probably references the humanistic underpinnings of the 60s revolution that led to Woodstock, but the use of the phrase in this song isn’t so clear. We know the song is looking at Woodstock, with the Yasgur’s Farm (not the first song to be written about the location for the Woodstock concert) referenced in the chorus, but Joni was writing as it happened, this song is 57 years later. It could be that this author is listening to Joni’s song in the present day and thinking about where we have come to, and where we are going.

Verse two muses on the fact that supermarkets play John Lennon’s Imagine, but the instrumental version. This mention of Lennon has already drawn many a hate comment from Christians who clutch their pearls at the thought of imagining a world ‘With no Religion’. What is the reason for putting this in the song? Sandy mentions John Lennon as an inspiration, but there is a subtext here implying that an artist who tries to say something shocking is likely to find that over time their message is diluted down to nothing.

The Chorus:

Where’s the road to Yasgur’s farm
He stares at me with pity and alarm
Says that crowd left here long ago
Scattered all to hell and Harper’s Ferry
On the 6th of January  

The chorus, to me, is one of those pieces of writing where you hum along happily thinking that you know what it is about, because it sounds nice. But when you actually stop and ask what it means, that becomes a little tricky.

Is Sandy saying that the Woodstock crowd went to Hell? And how does it relate to the 6th of January Capitol riot? My initial take was that this song was mourning the fact that we have lost the ideals of the million people that went to Woodstock, the ones who were supposed to create a future of love, freedom and hope. But that reading can’t be supported by the words.

Harper’s Ferry is nowhere near Yasgur’s farm, the use in the song is most likely a reference to John Brown and his raid on the Armory there in 1859. Is John Brown the Capitol rioters, and a prediction that their actions will lead to Civil War as John Brown’s did?

Another reading here is that the children of the flower power revolution generation are exactly the ones that got sucked into Q Anon nonsense and raided the Capitol on January 6th. The crowd left the ideals of Woodstock and raised monsters.

And we’re driving home and the radio plays
What’s goin’ on? Marvin Gaye
Is it right on red or left on MLK
I look ahead and realize we’ve lost our way

The bridge at least provides the clear statement that we have collectively lost our way. And the previous line poses a left or right choice, but the options are unclear. The Marvin Gaye song isn’t just referenced to make the rhyme, that song is a plea from the Woodstock hippies asking to be listened to and not beaten. If the choices are Martin Luther King or Red (Communism), neither of those map to the choice currently facing the US. That choice is the rules based order and the power of congress and the court to hold a President to account, versus a dictatorship where young women are shot in the face for talking back to men, and both the media and the administration lie about it.

In conclusion, I don’t know what this song means, or if it was ever intended to have a meaning. Did Amy and Sandy just know that putting ‘6th January’ in the title would spark some discussion?

Blog Post · My Own Music

A Summer Harvest Revisited

The re-release of my first album on 1st January 2026 will mark ten years of writing, recording and performing songs and making albums. While I have made up songs since I was three, 2015 was the first time I started performing songs in public professionally and 2016 was the first time I put songs I had written and recorded together on an album, which to my surprise, some people bought.

It has been an eventful ten years, with around 30 albums published, many café, music festival and market performances and new friendships formed across the world.

For this re-release, I have re-recorded the original songs that appeared on the album, ‘A Summer Harvest’, and a few that I have updated. For this re-release I decided not just to re-record, but to swap out the covers/traditional songs for new songs written around the same themes. A little of the background for each track included below:

 

Everything is Going to be Okay

2025 has been a year of difficult things, with people lost, US institutions like generosity, respect and integrity trampled by the Trump administration, and the horror of war in Palestine and Ukraine brought to our screens in a way never before experienced. I wrote this song to encourage myself to keep looking at the positive, however dark the horizon might seem.

Trees of our Town

I live in a beautiful town in Australia, where the first European settlers here in 1821 began planting the trees of their homeland. I wrote this after walking through the town, as my wife and I frequently do, to celebrate the Pines, London Plane, Ash, Field Elm, Beech, Willow and Poplar trees that grow here, despite the vast distance from their homelands.

A Summer Harvest

I wrote this song as a title track for the new album, reflecting the title of the original album published ten years ago. I’m fortunate enough to have the land to grow fruit trees and vegetables. While this song is an allegory for life, it is also about the joy that comes with tending to things that grow and enjoying the produce.

Giants

Bob Brown is a giant in the Australian conservation movement. This song was written after watching the documentary of the same name, covering Bob’s career fighting for the environment and inspiring so many others.

Three Trees

Soon after writing my song about the trees in Yass, there was a move by the local council to cut down some of the trees in the street to make way for powerlines that had been installed many years after the trees were planted. The situation showed clear disregard for the trees, with convenience and cost savings coming before any value placed on the lives of the trees. Thanks mostly to the efforts by a local, Susan, the Council backed down (but not until significant damage was done to the trees).

Ode to the Potato

To make sure that no one gets the impression that I take my songwriting too seriously, here is a fun song about potatoes. While the Tolkien estate does not allow musical adaptation of his work, hopefully songs about potatoes loosely connected to Samwise Gamgee will escape any scrutiny.

Hoofbeats on the Green

This song was on the original album, written for a true story that happened to one of my great-great uncles in Ireland. He was appropriately named ‘Horsefall Jackson’ by the family.

Running in Circles

The Melbourne Cup is a famous horse race in Australia. Quite often horses die in the race. This song was written after one such incident.

At the Window

The eldest of the children that I originally wrote this song for are now in their twenties. The challenge for every parent when they realise how little of their children’s life they will get to be part of is a shared one.

Twisting the Rope

One of my favourite songs is the version of this in Irish Gaelic, as sung by Micheal 0’Domhnaill. The song is called Casadh an tSugain and this is my attempt at an English version.

Fix the Barton Highway

On the album ten years ago, I recorded a song after sitting in traffic on the Barton Highway for an hour after another serious accident. This song is an update to the problem that is still claiming lives and not much closer to being addressed by the State or Federal government.

Please Let Me In

The issue of treatment of refugees remains a problem in Australia and globally, even after this song was first published ten years ago. This specific song was written in relation to the murder of Iranian asylum seeker Reza Barati, at the Manus Island Regional Processing Centre in 2014.

Blog Post

So Long and Thanks for all the Filk Leslie

I made a post on the PaganMusic Reddit a day or two after Leslie Fish passed, just saying this:

      I know Leslie was mostly a Filk musician, but her pagan repertoire is fabulous. I spent some time singing her songs in memory.

The post was deleted by the moderators within a day with this:

      Your post or comment has been removed because you have broken the rule, No Folkish or Far-right Rhetoric, Content, or Associations.

I made a second post on r/PaganMusic after the lovely Zoom Filk Circle that Aya Katz hosted on Friday 5 December, but as I expect that may also be removed, I’m posting my thoughts here.

One particular user, Kolfianna, made comments on both posts, this from the second one:

      “Gross, she was a hateful transphobic who supported Trump”

I want to respond here, because it will persist, but will also post my response on Reddit.

Leslie was born in 1944, she visited Woody Guthrie while he could still communicate and played the song she had written for him (as recorded in John Greenway’s 1966 essay, Woody Guthrie: The Man, the land, the Understanding). Leslie got to meet Phil Ochs at the end of his fame, and the beginning of hers. I know this because I was fortunate enough to spend three hours swapping Rudyard Kipling settings with Leslie (hosted by Aya Katz) in 2024, and I also spent many tens of hours listening to the conversation between Leslie and Katrina Joyner during the week that Katrina spent recording Leslie in 2023 doing tunes from her Filk Book before they were lost completely.

In her younger years, Leslie was part of the workers movement, and sung at many I.W.W. events. Leslie sung the classics from the Labour songbook, and from Guthrie’s repertoire, but also wrote her own songs in support of workers, in support of Social Justice, in support of the Feminist cause (as it was in the 60s and 70s). Leslie cared strongly about people, about their causes, about what was done to them by the system (be it Church, Government or any other manipulative Ideology).

As shared on the Zoom Memorial event, Leslie was a part of the beginnings of the Pagan movement on the West Coast of the USA in the 1980s and recorded Isaac Bonewits’ anthem for the rise of Paganism. Her chants and songs are still used in ritual circles today. In my interactions with Leslie on Pagan topics, I found her very knowledgeable and I feel that she knew better than many the real power of song. If the owners of the Off Centaur label had headlined Leslie’s pagan music, her career may have followed a very different path.

I am not going to use this post to write apologetics for Leslie’s stance on Transgenderism, you can read her views here. I can say that I have read them all, and I don’t believe that Leslie warranted the ‘Raging/Hateful/*Expletive* Transphobe’ label that seems to get posted within hours of her name appearing anywhere on social media. I also know that Leslie was an agitator, a ‘shit-stirrer’ as we say here in Australia. And she loved an argument, and (I suspect) would often take and defend a position that she knew would engage/enrage whoever her audience happened to be. Whether she held these views for real, we will now never know.

However, what I know of reading Leslie’s work, listening to those who spoke about her at the memorial, and hearing her interactions with people, I do not believe that she willed harm on any but a handful of people (for reasons related to business, rather than belief). And that her posts and views reflected 81 years on a planet which has experienced many shattering shifts of ideology in that span of time.

I know communities are grappling with art from people who did real physical harm to children. Leslie is not in that category, and does not warrant the response that I have seen.

I’m not even going to bother talking about guns and Trump, those problems exist in enough of the USA voting population too make it a fare scarier problem than one (actually peaceful) anarchist with a handgun.

Finishing this post with a song that Douglas Davidson sang in the filk circle that followed the published part of the Zoom memorial. I think the subject matter is very appropriate to the stone throwing that has been happening.

 

Blog Post · Poetry

Red Rock Lane – Henry Lawson

Henry Lawson
Henry Lawson, by Lionel Lindsay

I have started work on an album (now finished here) of Henry Lawson poems set to music, focusing on Henry’s songs of rebellion. Henry was the eldest son of a Norwegian miner, born in Grenfell in outback New South Wales on 17 June 1867. While Henry’s mother, Louisa, was an intellectual that mostly likely gave Henry his early exposure to books, she came from poverty and married young.

One of the poems I have recorded is a comparison between the well-to-do Macleay Street and the ‘Red Light’ district of Red Rock Lane in Sydney. My recording of the poem here.

The poem first appeared The Bulletin in January 1907, on page 40.

After his young wife filed for divorce on the grounds of mistreatment and abandonment in 1903, Henry was often in Jail or Prison as a result of drunkenness and failure to pay child support. It is likely that this poem, and the stories in the related book ‘The Rising of the Court’ published in 1914, are at least somewhat autobiographical.

I read The Rising of the Court because I couldn’t find any references to a real Red Rock Lane in Sydney, while Macleay street is still a real place. Henry suggests that one in every four houses on Red Rock Lane is a brothel. There are a few candidate places that were known to host brothels around Darlinghurst in Sydney.

The rise of the two famous female underworld figures, Tilly Devine and Kate Leigh, had not yet happened when Lawson wrote this poem, though they do seem likely candidates for the One-Eyed Kate, and Cock-Eyed Sal rival roles in the short story.

At some point during the course of the assumed protagonist’s stay in the jail, an un-named girl starts singing a snippet from the American hymn ‘Jesus of Nazareth Passeth By’, written by Emma Frances Riggs Campbell around 1864. In a touching vignette, the woman who had been previously swearing like a sailor sings the responding chorus to the hymn.

Was Jane Johnson a real name? There certainly was a person of that name fined by Central for indecent behaviour in 1892. How did Henry come to hear this hymn and include it in his story? It seems to have been picked up by American revivalists when they toured England in the 1870s, but it isn’t clear how it came to Australia, or at least found its way into Henry’s mind.

The take-away from the Macleay Street poem, for me, is that Henry would rather venture with the souls of Red Rock Lane because of their kindness, and this sentiment is reflected in the way that he writes of the Red Rock Lane folks in the jail and before the judge.

Blog Post

Play On!

It has been a busy few weeks for music. On 6th March I played a charity event in Binalong supporting Ukraine, the 8th March was my 5th time opening Questfest at The Baso in Canberra with an acoustic set and on 17th March I played at the Canberra Irish Club for St. Patrick’s day.

Credit: Pullen Focus

I am fairly slack at properly tagging my YouTube uploads, so after going back through the songs I wrote this FAWM and a few I have written since, it seems I have 300 original songs in my playlist.

Of course 300 is just a number, but it feels like an achievement of some sort, and this number doesn’t include the 115 additional parodies written over the past 10 years or songs where I have set someone else’s poetry or lyrics to music.

These songs have connected me to the local history and recent happenings in the town where I live, and some have been sung by others at protest rally’s in the US. Many of the songs are just a way to process the strange world we exist in. Thanks to Interfilk, I had the chance to sing some of my original songs to an audience in Ohio in 2023 at OVFF, and that fabulous experience is even more precious given the hellscape currently unfolding there.

Writing and singing songs is something I love to do, it is good for the soul and provides some comfort in the face of all the small and big horror that we face. Not all my songs make it onto albums, but I am very grateful to the many people who have listened to and purchased the music that has made it onto Bandcamp. Play on!

 

 

 

 

Ballad Analysis · Blog Post · Folk Music

Ben Hall and the Streets of Forbes

Ben Hall

Martyn Wyndham-Read sung this song on his 1966 album Australian Songs. Here is a recent YouTube recording. Martin Carthy recorded the song in 1968 and indicates that he learned it from Trevor Lucas (of Fairport Convention).

Trevor left Australia for the UK in 1964, and most likely took this song with him.  Danny Spooner also made this fabulous recording in 1974.

Several of the folk revival recordings indicate that the song may have been written by Ben Hall’s brother-in-law, John McGuire. There is also mention that John Manifold may have been involved in the collection of the song.  Here are the lyrics as sung in most versions (variance in brackets):

 

Come all of you Lachlan men and a sorrowful tale I’ll tell,

Concerning of a bushranger (hero bold) who through misfortune fell.

His name it was Ben Hall, a man of good renown,

Who was hunted from his homestead and like a dog shot down.

 

For three years he roamed the roads, and he showed the traps some fun,

A thousand pounds was on his head with Gilbert and John Dunn.

Ben parted from his comrades, the outlaws did agree

For to give away bushrangin’ and cross the raging sea.

 

Ben went to Goobang Creek and that was his downfall,

For riddled like a sieve was valiant Ben Hall.

’Twas early in the morning all on the fifth of May,

When the seven police surrounded him as in his sleep he lay.

 

Bill Dungan he was chosen for to shoot the outlaw dead.

All the others fired madly as though they were afraid,

Then they rolled (bundled) him in the blanket and strapped him to his prad,

And they led him through the streets of Forbes for to show the prize they had.

 

Thanks to the searchability of the newspaper catalogue, I was able to find this version, published in the Truth, Sydney, in April 1911. It appears to be a printing of part of a larger work called A Wild Colonial Boy by John McGuire. There are manuscripts in the NSW State Library, which indicate that McGuire possibly died before the full book could be published.

 

BEN HALL – HOW HE DIED.

I will now give my readers a true account of Ben Hall and the shooting of him, and a few verses which I now give upon the episode of poor Ben: —

 

Come all you highwaymen, a sorrowful tale I’ll tell,

Concerning of a hero, who through misfortune fell;

His name it was Ben Hall, a chap of great renown,

He was hunted from his station, like a native dog shot down.

 

On the fifth of May, when parting from

His comrades all along the highway,

It was at the Wedding Mountains those three outlaws did agree

Too give up bushranging, and cross the briny sea.

 

Then going to the billabong,

which was his cruel downfall,

And riddled like a sieve was that hero, Ben Hall;

 

It was early in the morning, before the break of day,

The police, they surrounded him as fast asleep he lay.

The tracker, he was chosen to fire the fatal shot,

The rest then they rounded him to secure the prize they got;

 

They threw him on his horse, and strapped him like a swag,

And led him through the streets of Forbes, to show the prize they had.

 

Undoubtably this 1911 song is the origin of the one picked up in the 1960s. I have had a go at singing it here, only needing to shuffle a bit of the ‘Fifth of May’ verse to make it singable.

So the question now, is who messed with the words between 1911 and 1966? John Manifold was born in Australia, but joined the Communist Party while at Cambridge in the UK before WWII. He returned to Australia in 1949 and published a number of books on Australian Folk song. Possibly ironically, one of them was called ‘Who Wrote the Ballads’.

Did John Manifold find the 1911 words in his research and then clean it up a bit and then pass it off as something he heard from a girl in a pub? Or maybe the collection story is true, and it was just the folk process that added some very specific detail about places, names and dates that were missing from the original ballad.

The notes to the publication in the 1976 Bushwackers songbook suggest that naming Billy Dargin (Bill Dugan) might have even led to his death.  This blog gives more background on the facts of the death of Ben Hall as they relate to the ballad, and also repeats the claim that John Meredith heard the song from a girl called Ewell in the back room of a Brisbane pub.

Part of this 1978 biography of John Manifold indicates that he was listening to pub ballads in Brisbane in 1951. This source says that Mrs Ewell was from Bathurst.

 

This part of the additional lines is interesting:

For three years he roamed the roads, and he showed the traps some fun,

A thousand pounds was on his head with Gilbert and John Dunn.

In his blog here, David Lewell fills in the gap by lining Franke Clune to a 1948 version that includes the additional verse above (but without the reference to ‘traps’ (police)). There is also some of the usual excellent discourse on the song and its origins on Mudcat. In that thread, Bob Bolton, points out that some of the ‘added facts’ are actually incorrect, at least in the case of Goobang Creek.

So ultimately no clear answer, except that it is likely that Franke Clune is responsible for the bulk of the ‘polishing’ of John McGuire’s original.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blog Post · Folk Music

That Man in the Gold Lamé Suit (Book Review)

I grew up with Bob Dylan’s born-again Christian albums playing in the house and was vaguely aware of his protest songs. It wasn’t until I embraced folk music as an adult that someone introduced me to Phil Ochs. I was at a winter solstice campfire sing when, after I did some Ewan MacColl and Dubliners songs, local folk singer, Judy Pinder, suggested I look up Phil Ochs.

Since then I’ve recorded 37 covers of Phil’s songs (to Dylan’s 34), and recently released a proper album of covers. Phil wrote sharp, insightful, songs, targeting injustice wherever he saw it. He pulled no punches and didn’t hide behind the vague general references and metaphor in Bob’s protest songs.

I knew that Phil’s story was a sad one, and that he killed himself at a young age, struggling with alcohol abuse and depression. I had also read several online and published biographies, including the Michael Schumacher one. But the recent biography by Jim Bowers, That Man in the Gold Lamé Suit: Phil Ochs’s Search for Self, took a different approach to look at Phil.

What follows here is a review of Jim’s book, that I finished reading today. Firstly, the writing is accessible and flows at a good pace, I found myself consistently engaged throughout the whole book, so much so that a few of the chapters prompted some recordings before I had even finished reading the book. This Woody Guthrie song and this imagined conversation between Dylan and Ochs.

Phil’s is not a happy story, but one of insecurity, failed ambition, anger, confusion and ultimately a choice to end his own life. But it is also a story of some of the best topical songwriting of the generation, and some nation-changing activism, and of a person who at his core was kind, altruistic and honest.

Even though some of the activism didn’t bear fruit in Phil’s lifetime, many of the words he spoke then are still applicable to today’s politics. I re-wrote some of the lines from ‘Knock at the Door’ to speak to the crushing of protesters in Hong Kong by the Chinese Communist Party in 2019.

In terms of structure, Jim has used a psychological theory as the basis for seeking to understand Phil. It took me a while to understand the language of ‘self objects’. I didn’t read the Wikipedia primer on this theory before finishing the book, but I probably should have.

From what I understood, the theory puts a framework around the way that children go from having no distinction between self and not-self, to then starting to understand the distinction and begin to generate internal models or copies of external entities to then drive their decision making, and their feelings.  The movie Inside Out from Disney is probably a good primer to this way of thinking about how human internal processes of emotion work.

Just like when watching Inside Out, Jim’s book caused me to re-look at my own childhood and my own psychological state in several confronting ways. When humans find themselves in situations where their internal models consistently don’t behave the same way as the real external objects, it can lead to anxiety, fear, anger and a feeling of dissociation from reality.

Much of what drove Phil’s behaviour is attributed to a mother in a disappointing marriage who was disengaged and difficult to please. Phil also had a father who was damaged from his wartime experience and unable to model the foundational behaviours that grow kids into balanced, resilient, adults. Jim follows Phil’s career as a journey of attempting to be the American hero that a childhood of ‘cinema as parenting proxy’ had generated in him.

I won’t recount the journey here, you should read Jim’s book, as it is a convincing analysis, pieced together through interviews with Phil and those that knew him and analysis of Phil’s lyrics and career choices.

Phil died the year I was born, but I did not realise that he had toured Australia just 4 years earlier.  Phil played the Clancy Auditorium on 10th June 1972, advertised here. Canberra, with Ron Cobb on 8th July. He also played Melbourne, but I couldn’t find a record of where and when. This site has a more complete list of dates and locations and a summary of the performance.

Canberra Show Advertisement – 1973
Sydney Advertisement – 1973

One of the saddest chapters for me was the vision Phil had for his ‘Greatest Hits’ album. A leap from the solo guitarist protest singer to a socialist version of Elvis Presley, gold suit, swagger and rock band. I was very happy that the Phil Ochs album I picked up in Columbus Ohio last year was this one. It was a really good album, but was rejected by his ‘loyal’ fans because it was such a change, and not picked up by the mainstream because he was a leftists folk singer.

I am very happy that Jim has written this book. I can’t say that reading it was enjoyable, it isn’t, for anyone that loves Phil and his work, it is tough going. But it is really valuable to add to the depth of understanding of Phil’s inner world, and what was at the core of his work. Jim’s book scratches beneath the simplistic view that Phil had mental health problems and killed himself, the story is far more nuanced than that, and Phil deserves to be listened to.

Personally, I still wonder about the involvement of the CIA in Phil’s demise. The ‘John Train’ psychotic break of 1975 maps too well to the published MK-ULTRA experiments and the now unsealed knowledge of what was being done to track and control American political activists in the 1960s and 70s. That would have been a whole different book, that maybe Jim Glover will write in the future. I know many dismiss this as Q-Anon hoax, but this is an interesting interview with Jim Glover.

To end as I started, Bob Dylan is still making music and I enjoy many of his songs. I just wish that Phil had made it, and they could be trading barbs in song and stage banter well into their 90s.

 

 

 

Ballad Analysis · Blog Post

Murrumbateman Mystery Poet

Photo of Ross Memorial at Goulburn

Murrumbateman is a small village about 20 minutes away from where I live on the road south to Canberra. While I have published three albums of material about the history of the Yass Valley, I haven’t set any of those songs in Murrumbateman.

In an attempt to correct this, I went looking for stories about Murrumbateman in the National Library of Australia’s Trove collection. I found this poem and set it to music.

The poem was published in both the Goulburn Herald / County of Argyle Advertiser on 27 September 1856. However, the poet is un-named and is simply titled “Murrumbateman”.  The full poem is included below:

SPRING.

Yes, Nature once again has laid
Her wintry robes aside,
And once again she is array’d
In Spring’s most winning pride;
She seems no longer old and grey,
But youthful, blooming, fresh, and gay,
As if ’twere only yesterday
This lovely world was made.

See! countless multitudes of flowers
Adorn the verdant hills,
And, big with life-promoting showers,
Behold a thousand rills!
Feel! every breeze is loaded with
Perfume’s delicious, scented breath,
And hark! what music sweet from ‘neath
The rich, green forest thrills.

Blythe, snow-white lambs are scattered o’er
Each valley and each plain;
And all are now preparing for
The shearer’s busy reign:
The master makes his shed all right,
And views his press with vast delight;
The shearer whets his shears so bright,
Till both blades shine again.

The shepherd, too, with anxious care
Attends his fleecing flock,
So that they may in order fair
Yield up their annual coat;
And with well-founded expectation,
The publican makes calculation,
That half of all that’s earned this season
Will be his easy lot.

Oh! how I wish, dear Spring, that thou
Could’st stay with us for ever,
For then all things would smile as now,
And gloom return, oh! never;
But ardent Summer soon, alas!
Will snatch thee to his fierce embrace,
When every youthful charm and grace
Will sicken, fade, and wither.

 

So who is this mystery poet? There are several other poems labelled with this curious ‘Murrumbateman’ label, The Sabbath Day in 1855, Solitude, He is Gone, Australia the Bright! and this poem (Spring) in 1856. Nothing then until a final poem in 1858 called A Dream, where the poet reveals themselves to be from Scotland.

The poem He is Gone likely relates to the death of William Henry Simpson on the 10th of July 1856 in Yass. According to this article on 12 July, William was kicking a fire-ball related to the peace proclamation fireworks (Crimean War) and fell down a bank near the ‘new’ Yass bridge. At the time it seems it was thought he would recover, but his death notice was published on 19 July. In the paper of the 12th, there is also a notice saying that the Scots’ Kirk will not meet on Sunday as the Rev. Mr. Ross  needs to go to Yass to attend to his brother-in-law Mr. Simpson.

Reverends in the Yass Valley have a habit of also being poets (see John O’Brien of Around the Boree Log fame), so it is conceivable that Mr Ross is our nameless author. The full name of Reverend William Ross is given in this January 1856 marriage notice.

A brief summary of the life of Reverend Ross is given in his obituary here from 23 January 1869. It  indicates that William was born in Ross-shire, Scotland in 1815 and may have been an officer in the Royal Navy. Sadly no mention of  a penchant for Poetry.

This source confirms that William Ross was a Freemason and provides some imagery of his grave. The home where William’s wife continued to live after his death, and ran a boarding school is here. This history covers William’s involvement with the building of St Ann’s church in Paterson from 1838-1846.

So William’s connection to the subject of the He is Gone poem is strong evidence that either he, or his wife could well be the author of these poems, but sadly nothing conclusive. Hopefully someone in the region will be able to provide confirmation.

Possibly a red-herring, but this history of the Presbyterians in New South Wales from 1905 suggests there was another Rev. William Ross from South Australia, who was active in Wentworth and returned to Scotland and died in 1899. This Ross is linked to the poet, Dr George Macdonald. This Ross is probably not the one associated with Yass/Goulburn.