Neil Murray is one of the quiet achievers of Australian music.

He may have picked up a gong for writing the Song of the Year (conferred by APRA, the body that administers songwriting royalties), but the laconic singer, songwriter, author and jack of all trades is taking the excitement in his stride. "I'm not much of a one for awards," says Murray in his outback drawl. "It's very satisfying to be voted best by a group of your peers - even if the song is about ten years old. My life hasn't changed dramatically, put it that way," he chuckles. "There's no money raining from the sky."

Murray's music career spans well over a decade. He came to prominence as founder of Aboriginal rockers the Warumpi Band (the only white member of the outfit). Since the band's mid-80s heyday, Murray has released two solo albums, written a novel - Sing For Me Countryman - and collaborated with some of the biggest names in Australian music.

His songs have been recorded by a number of artists, but it was Christine Anu's recognition of Murray's work (particularly My Island Home, which appears on her debut album) which brought his work to a wider audience.

On Murray's latest solo release Dust, Anu has returned the favour, contributing backing vocals alongside Archie Roach, members of Tiddas, and noted Australian musicians such as Chris Abrahams, David Bridie and Midnight Oil's Jim Moginie. "The people who worked on the album weren't picked because they're well known," says Murray. "They were basically just some people I know and whose work I admire. There was no master plan. I just kept writing songs until I had enough material for an album - and then I went into the studio and put it down."

Neil Murray is currently doing the rounds of the Australian live circuit - but admits it can be difficult finding a suitable venue, or an appreciative audience, for his keenly crafted and often haunting observations of Australian life. "Like a lot of people I went through years of trying to play my music in pubs, but to be honest, that's a little bit like banging your head against a wall because my songs just aren't suited to entertaining that kind of crowd. It's hard to be intimate, to achieve those really special moments when people are yelling out for more beer - so I've been leaning more towards folk festivals and things like that. You can perform solo with just an acoustic guitar in that kind of setting, and people will listen. I'd like to do a similar run with a full band, but it's incredibly expensive to do well."

Murray sighs, perhaps recalling the days when the Warumpi Band played every pub, club, outback settlement and truck stop that would have them across the length and breadth of Australia. "These days I'm competing against a new generation of young bands who are happy to accept $100 a night for the privilege of playing. When you're trying to play good musicians and pay your bills, it can be a hard thing to go up against."