Dicko invited me to a concert at the Mooroopna Mechanics Institute. On a Sunday night. To see Slim Dusty. I had heard and rejected Slim and his music.
I asked where she was going and she giggled. Said she didn’t know, didn’t care.
Over the years, while my mother’s faith in Christianity declined, her belief in country music only increased.
Lovett covers a lot of styles, is a wonderful singer-songwriter who draws on the well of folk, blues, country and western swing.
I was led into the song by Dolly's beautiful, beguiling, tender, fragile, wistful and melodious voice.
My friend Gina sends an email with the subject line ‘Resident Rogues’, inviting me to see a swing/country/gypsy music band from the US in a little bar called the Merri Creek Tavern. She tells me a story as we wait to see the band.
The lyrics of Rattlin’ Bones were apocalyptic and disorienting but somehow strangely comforting after our deeply personal experiences of the Black Saturday fires.
We mourn the dead, but if they touched us in some way they never really die.
From the first time I heard Five Feet High And Rising I could relate to it, not that where we lived in the lower Blue Mountains was likely to get flooded. It just somehow touched me.
Mostly, Harry sits in a straight back chair by his bed and stares out the window. His mind replays scenes of earlier times: trips to the lake cabin with the children, and square-dances on Saturday to bluegrass tunes by The Dillards and others.