I’m a Paul Kelly
girl.
Not the footballer or the noted journalist,
but the songwriting and singing Adelaide born genius.
I’ve go the records,
the tapes, the CD’s the MP3’s and the songbook.
I know how to
make gravy, both the wine and tomato sauce type and the book that told Paul’s
life story through his song choices.
If I was 18 you
might say I was a groupie, but truth be told, what I have lusted after was the
story, the poetry, the imagery, the memories.
All in all, I’m
a fan.
It was Paul
Kelly and the Coloured Girls that I first came across and Adelaide, and From St Kilda
to Kings Cross entered the list of my all time favourite songs. Listening to the latter in Rutherglen last
Saturday evening reminded me of the timelessness of Paul’s lyrics and his capacity
to evoke time and place.
I was often in Oxford Street in those days as I
represented teachers on the NSWTF Council . I would come in each month or so on
a Friday evening flight from up north with my nose pressed against the glass never tiring of how the city shines just
like a postcard. I hadn’t been to Melbourne then, I was a North Coast girl.
But when I started to visit later on, there were the landmarks: St Kilda
Esplanade, Fitzroy Gardens, the MCG – every one of them more than their
physical presence. They held Paul Kelly poetry and history and I came to them
with greater expectations because of that.
I met Paul Kelly once. Not that
he would remember, and given my star struck bumbling conversation, something I
should equally forget. However, I never will.
Here we were in the Coffs Harbour
Hoey Moey – THE place for live music (and everything else you might want to
experience, so I am told). It was the late 80’s. I can’t recall the exact date,
but I have a clear memory of being called
out of the ladies at the end of the show and ushered back stage for Crown lager and canapés
with the band. The friend I had attended the concert with had told the barmaid
I wanted to meet Paul and next thing there I was. Gobsmacked, stuttering, brain
dead and totally lacklustre. No way to make an impression.
However, when you meet someone who
uses words in a way you truly admire, who has seeped securely into your world,
who has helped shape your understanding of it and added an incredible richness
to your experience, you get over the fact that you have behaved like an idiot.
I have all but three of the
albums. I didn’t like the period with Professor Ratbaggery and the only
disappointing performance I ever saw Paul give was with this band in Byron Bay
at the Blues festival. It was just too
self indulgent for my liking.
I have been known to see a
concert one night and then travel hours to see the show the following one
somewhere else because I couldn’t get enough of it.
I loved the Uncle Bills stuff,
the soundtracks to Jindabyne and Lantana. I carry the image of a buggy
driving Kelly in How High the Moon. I’ve
missed the A-Z series of concerts as I just couldn’t get times and locations to
line up. Likewise with the movie doco Stories
of Me. But I’ll get to that sometime.
What is it that makes this all so
addictive?
It’s the stories, the poetry, the
melodies – the fact that he can take the
individual characters and incidents of everyday life and sketch them in such a
way that they are excruciatingly familiar and about ourselves. Rally Round the Drum, Gutless Wonder…there I am again as a
child.
A Day on the Green in Rutherglen
with Neil Finn (supported by Mark Seymour) - I was in heaven.
Paul:
You got my soul
It's such a beautiful feeling.
Thanks Michelle for a fantastic
Christmas present.
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Sometimes our action's all slo-mo
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