Slow Art: Sounds of the Valley

Sally and I had the privilege of being part of Bleach* Festival this year, performing for the project ‘Slow Art: Sounds of the Valley’, and I wanted to write something as an addendum to our performance as well as share a few images.

This project is an evolution of the ‘Acoustic Life of Sheds’ concept and this year it was set in Tallebudgera Valley where the artists each undertook a week-long residency to create a 30 minute concert of new material inspired by that place. The other artists involved were Erik Griswold, Bree van Reyk and Christine Johnston (although sadly Christine didn’t end up performing). The performance was originally intended to take place at several locations around a private property but in the end it happened in the grounds of the Tallebudgera Valley Community Centre. Our vantage point across to Erik’s pianos is pictured below.

I have lived in various parts of the valley for most of my time on the Gold Coast and as I began to reflect on my relationship to that place, I realised more and more landmark moments in my life were connected to it. For me, these landmarks are primarily relating to the work - songs written, records released - but also homes, friends, loves. There was certainly lots to write about and I am excited that we got a couple of keeper songs out of this project.

Before I ever released any music I lived in a cottage very close to where we performed, and that was where I began to crystallise an artistic identity. It was leaky and termite-eaten, supposedly built by an Austrian man for his daughter. There were hearts in the balustrade and on part of the ceiling a folk-art mural of a person in a carriage with hearts on the wheels. I used to sit on my verandah and look across at this octagonal building that sits high on the opposing hillside. Someone later told me it’s a meditation room that is part of the healing sanctuary out there. This little heart-filled home made it into one of our songs for Slow Art.

Back in that time I was very interested in lo-fi recording so I planned to record my own music at home. I made an EP that I recorded on a 4-track tape machine whilst laying in bed in that cottage which is still up on Soundcloud. Around the same time I also recorded the first version of ‘White Hotel’ and I made a video to accompany it, all in the valley (it is by far my most-viewed video on YouTube.)

My brother and sister also had a place in the valley and it was a blurry photo of the foggy ridgeline near their house that provided the cover image for my first album ‘Heartwood’. The album was re-released later with a different cover but below is the original. I had already been thinking a lot about the story of this album before starting work on ‘Slow Art’ as this year is the tenth anniversary of its release and also marks the long-awaited expiry of the label’s exploitation clause - meaning I can make my own physical copies again instead of having to purchase them from the label (who haven’t had stock in many years).

I would often drive to the end of the road and go sit in the creek. The valley really opens up out the back and sometimes if the moon was full I would turn out my headlights and drive by moonlight, or just pull over and enjoy the stillness. I had a few friends that lived on Araluen Road so I spent many fun times there. The waterhole at the bottom of the road is a favourite thinking place so I titled one of our songs ‘Going to Araluen’.

Another favourite spot is the park on Syndicate Road. It is filled with tall Casuarinas and the creek is shallow and rocky so the water makes a beautiful sound as it flows by. Something about those trees makes that place seem like a portal to another world. We wrote two instrumental pieces for the Casuarinas, inspired by the melody of “Gari Gynda Narmi” a traditional welcome and farewell song of this region. My special guitar from GB Guitars is bound in Casuarina so it was fitting to end our performance on that instrument. Sally also collected some branches and played her kit with them.

Pictured below (barely visible), tucked up in the bush behind the Hideaway Cafe is this cabin I lived in when I was writing for “Lifeblood”. It was a pretty turbulent time but this place was a sanctuary for a moment and I wrote a heap of songs there. There’s no insulation in the roof so it was a sweaty, humid summer and the dams nearby ensure a ready supply of mosquitos to fly in your open doors and windows. It reminded me a lot of where I grew up and when we came to write a song about it I decided to draw inspiration from New Orleans - Dr. John and Jon Cleary especially. We ended up with a rollicking piano blues called “Behind the Hideaway” which will certainly find its way into a live set soon.

I was too transfixed to capture any of Bree’s performance but she created a kind of hanging xylophone from pieces of collected timber as well as moving through the crowd with wood chimes and bells (which sounded like cicadas). I’m excited to learn more about Bree as she has worked with some people I greatly admire.

The penultimate moment of the performance was Erik Griswold’s performance on prepared pianos which eventually burst into flames. I will end with a couple of images of that and say thank you for reading this far and thank you to Bleach* for allowing me this trip down memory lane and inspiring some new songs - it was a joy.