Hopetoun Hotel, 18/6/89

By Dallas McMaugh

I should start out by saying that I am under strict instructions from a party of Knox boys to give Neil Murray a good review. Considering that they are the politicians, tax officials and landlords of tomorrow I would be a fool to cross them. So perhaps it's just as well I liked him too.

Set one - the boys from Knox are nothing if not polite, they are ever so careful not to stand in front of me. Neil Murray (ex Warumpi Band) and the Rainmakers (Bill Heckenberg - drums, Alex Hodgson - bass and James Cruikshank, . on loan from the Widdershins and looking distinctly uncomfortable about it, on keyboards and guitar) take to the stage.

Outback rock is how Neil describes the music and maybe it is. I can't come up with a closer description, certainly country influenced, but hard driving with the occasional surprise such as the reggae feel to Falling Down and a smoky ballad. Neil's stage persona is as dry and dusty as an outback highway (well, as I imagine an outback highway, I rarely get past King St). He's worth seeing just for his intros. Most songs are from his album Cool (sic) and Crystal Clear, including Womans Love which is "a bit of a tribute to all the ladies".

Set two - The boys from Knox pull out the sleeve notes from Big Name No Blankes and sing along to My Island Home. They inform me that the Warumpi Band are VERY BIG in Dubbo. Neil backs them up by assuring us that it's still in the Top 10 in Arnhem Land.

Neil describes himself as an "ordinary bloke" who finished his formal education in tertiary institutions and then went outback where he was re-educated amongst Aboriginals. His songs are about spirit and consciousness, solitary journeys of self discovery. He says his "journeys to find Australia have led to him find himself". Part of the appeal of his music is that he taps into an Australia that most of us dream about but can barely envisage. His songs examine this identity and help us to explore our own. The second set includes Secret War, a song of political turmoil in PNG, and Ocean of Regret which is intensely beautiful and unashamedly romantic.

Set 3 and the Rainmakers are whipping up a storm, even James Cruikshank seems to have relaxed (I think I even saw him smile). The boys from Knox (our future) have to leave, (10.00pm curfew) and do so, punching holes in the air to Stand Up and Be Counted, the rest of us are left to stamp our R.S. Williams and holler for more. Which we get.

So what do we have? - a crowd grabbed and shaken out of our usual Sunday apathy, a songwriter of restrained passion, sincerity and commitment, and, oh, yes a party of 10 with hangovers. A pretty good end to a weekend really.

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