When did your
relationship with music start?
Probably at birth [laughs]. I’ve always had a relationship
with music, but in a more semi-professional capacity, as young as thirteen I
was performing live in venues, so it’s been a while.
It sounds like your
household was full of music?
Yes, it was, and I actually have a famous aunt who is one of
Australia’s greatest opera-singing exports. So I was surrounded by music and
every opportunity I got, basically, to get up and sing at family barbecue or whatever
it was, I would take that opportunity.
When you were
performing at thirteen was that just singing or were you playing an instrument?
I was playing keyboards – don’t ask me how I was doing that
because I really had no formal training other than the music lessons that you
take at school. I joined an all-boy band. We were an eight-piece band and I was
the token female singer. I got pushed to the side a little bit – it was a bit
of an apprenticeship for me, being in an all-boy band at that age, I really had
to learn to hold my own. I would be more or less designated lines in songs to
sing, as opposed to songs. But it was a great foundation and the guys were
writing their own original material, so it was a wonderful experience to learn
about songwriting and to have the joy of performing an original song to an
audience, even at that age, which was such a thrill.
At what age did you
feel your apprenticeship was over?
[Laughs] I’m not sure that it is over. I think I’m learning
all the time about my singing and my songwriting and my style, and where my
passion lies. It should be that way – I think we should always be learning and
growing and moving within the music.
Then I’ll switch and
say once you finished with that band – you had opera in your family, you were
in this band: how did you start to arrive at your individual style?
The opera singing was never my thing, but when you’re
growing up as a little girl and listening to family members talking about Great
Aunt Yvonne and what she’s doing, and she’d won scholarships and all this
stuff, singing on the stages in France and London – it was pretty exciting. But
my parents were pretty humble in their style of music. Dad was really into
American country at the time – the ’70s Creedence, swamp rock and Glenn Campbell
and Johnny Cash. Mum was more of a rock chick – she was into Status Quo and
other bands. We had the old LP player in the lounge room and we would get it
cranking up. My taste in music has always been in that country/blues/folk
arena. It’s just what’s always drawn me in: the singer-songwriter telling a
story. But I’ve dabbled in all kinds – I’ve had affairs with all genres, I
promise you [laughs].
And when you love
music, it’s like when you love books: you’ll read everything and you’ll listen
to everything because all music is great and interesting. Often with singers I
wonder if it’s a question of finding the genre that suits your voice best.
I think that’s true. So I didn’t really start my own
songwriting career until my late twenties. I played in duos and did lots and
lots of weddings, things like that. People were always asking me to sing. And
that was lovely. But it wasn’t until I had my second child that this new
reservoir of creativity seemed to open up, and I just thought, You know what? I can actually do this myself.
I’d been performing other people’s songs for yonks and just felt it was time
that I started to back myself a little bit. I was always very big on poetry –
I’d write a lot of poetry – so the lyrics were always swimming around in my
head, but putting it to music was something new. It’s been about two decades
that I’ve been writing my own material and performing it live, culminating in
this third album.
And what a great
album it is. Just on that opening up of creativity: sometimes I wonder if
artists feel like they finally have permission to do something, or they haven’t
given themselves permission to do something – because, as you said, there was
always poetry in your mind, and it’s interesting that it was at that point in
your life that not only was there a creative uprising but you also gave
yourself permission to do it.
Yes, and I think the other thing is motherhood, for me. It
did open up a whole lot of material that really related to my own childhood and
my own parenting, and there was a whole lot of stuff that I wanted to write
about. I think it was a life stage, a change in my life, and the songwriting
came with it.
Was there any sense
that now there was a new generation it was almost your role to be a storyteller
to that next generation?
Yes, I think so, and there’s two songs on two of my albums
that I’ve almost written as a legacy to my children, with the intention that
perhaps one day, many years from now when I’m fertiliser in the ground, that
they’ll be listening to those songs with their children and their
grandchildren. I think that’s really true. It’s nice to think that you can pass
things along in generations. I don’t think there’s enough of that these days.
And often people
don’t think to ask, or don’t think to tell, or don’t think they can tell. But
stories are fundamental to all cultures, so it’s important to do it.
Absolutely. I’m a big believer in that. There’s likely to be
another couple of albums of storytelling yet.
When did you start
writing for Six String Heart?
I often say that this, that I’m always songwriting [laughs].
On any given day there’s some idea swimming around in my head that either I’ve
just received from being prompted by something I’ve seen, heard or experienced,
or it’s something that’s been sitting there for a couple of months and I keep
going back to it. But I feel like I’m always songwriting so there’s never a
starting point. I guess some contracted artists who are given a time frame and
told, ‘You need to have an album ready for us by this time’, they probably work
quite differently to me. I have the freedom as an independent artist to write
what I want to write and when I feel like it. I guess the realisation [for this
album] was probably twelve months ago when I started my crowdfunding campaign;
[it] was, ‘I have enough songs now to put this album together and I really want
to go through with it.’ It was also around the time that my brother was
diagnosed with cancer so that gave me an added incentive to deliver the album
as a tribute to him. So there was a couple of life events that really pushed
this forward for me, gave it a lot more momentum. There were a lot of reasons
to make this album and it was really a personal healing process for me to get
this out there. I needed to share it with the world and that was healing for
me, to express myself in that way, and also for my other family members.
And given the context
of it – your brother’s illness and then his death – it’s not at all a maudlin
album. There is joy on it and this sense almost of the universe being unlimited
and a lot of beautiful things in it, which is quite an extraordinary thing
considering what’s happened.
I definitely have that very universal philosophy on life in
general. I don’t see things on shelves or in boxes; I’ve always seen the
big-picture stuff. So it doesn’t really matter what I’m writing about, it
always falls against that backdrop of something bigger, something greater,
something more meaningful sitting behind it. Because for me, that helps me life
my life in a more joyful way.
I guess it also helps
put a death into context. It feels, from the album, very much as if your
relationship with your brother continues – he’s just in a different place.
I didn’t talk about this too much through the songwriting
process but my brother battled mental illness for thirty years and it was a
grieving process that we had to witness for him for most of his life. To be
honest, when he passed there was some relief for me that the struggle was over,
but it also put life in perspective and made me think about just how much we
can take for granted, like having a job, having a partner, having a child.
These are all things my brother was never able to achieve because his mental
illness prevented that. And so it was a relief – it felt like he was being set
free finally, and I wanted to celebrate that in a beautiful way. I think [the
song] ‘Zeppelin’s Playing’ achieves that.
You mentioned being
an independent artist. The calibre of independent productions in Australian
music is extraordinarily high. It’s interesting to contemplate that if you did
have a record label and there was that deadline and there were certain
expectations, what sort of music would come out. But as you said, you can work
on your own timetable – and you can choose your own producer, so how did you
come to choose Matt Fell?
It’s a great story, actually, because it was always my
greatest dream to be able to record my own material. I really didn’t know where
to start back in 2009 when I was my conceiving my debut EP. I happened to be a
big fan of Rick Price’s music – I saw him as an Australian, very authentic
singer-songwriter. I went to lots of his shows and saw him perform, so I
thought, Why not? Let’s contact Rick and
see if he’s available. I guess I don’t let things hold me back in that way
– what’s the worst thing that could happen? They could say no. But he put me
onto Matt Fell because he’s living in Nashville and he said, ‘Unfortunately I’m
not in the country to be able to do it but I can put you onto this guy who’s making
some great records.’ So I contacted Matt and I lived in Helensburgh, which is
in the northern Illawarra [NSW], and it’s sort of a sleepy little coalmining
town nestled on the southern fringe of the Royal National Park, and Matt
travelled all the way out one night and came and met me, and I made him a
cheese platter and we sat there and talked about the album. I was humbled that
somebody cared enough to come all the way to see me and talk to me about my
album. And it remains a very special memory, because since then his career –
he’s just absolutely blossomed. But after Matt produced Tide I just was blown away – it exceeded all my expectations. So
when you have such a wonderful experience, you don’t want it to end, do you?
You’re, like, I reckon I could probably
do this again with enough effort and focus, determination. So I did, in
2010, with Doors and Windows, and
again Matt took me on that journey. For this last album I had considered Shane
Nicholson for production and it just turned out that Shane was extremely busy
with lots of work that year, and I was sitting there thinking, Matt –Shane – Matt – Shane. I wanted
them both and I thought, Why can’t I have
both? So I got Matt to produce and then Shane came and played acoustically
on every track, and then he lent his beautiful vocals to two of my tracks,
which is just like a bucket list thing for me.
And you also have
Glen Hannah playing, and he’s another great producer. The three of them pretty much
could divvy up the entire country music industry these days.
[Laughs] That’s exactly right. But the quality doesn’t come
cheaply, and as an independent artist it requires a lot of effort. People say
to me, ‘How come it’s been so long since your last album?’ and without being
cynical it’s hard to explain to people what goes into resourcing a project like
that and to see it through to where it is now, launched and promoted. It’s a
substantial investment.
Of time and energy,
and also of money. That’s that saying about the three sides of the triangle:
fast, cheap and good. You can have any two at once but not all three.
[Laughs] That’s right. And I guess because I’ve been spoilt
and had the quality of production on my albums previously, I can’t go back. I
just want it to be as good as it can be.
I read in your bio that you work as a family therapist – has that ever
had an impact on your creativity, either negatively or positively?
No, none [laughs]. It’s part of
the fabric of who I am – I’m a songwriter and I’m a family therapist, and the
two go quite nicely together, because one is a fantastic way of learning about
and supporting oneself, through the work I do with others, and then I get to
express that in a creative way through my music. So it’s all the same person,
just different parts.
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