A recent long weekend excursion to outback Queensland saw the genesis of some interesting ideas and possibilities. But first, the story of Cunnamulla:

Following an urge to travel west, myself and and a companion adventurer set out for Cunnamulla looking to explore. Cunnamulla of recent years has been the focus of mixed attention and a famous independent film (see here and here and here). Having seen the film in 2000, and having already seen similar towns in outback NSW, I was curious to see if the negative myth held up, or indeed that Cunnamulla was like any other outback Australia town with it's fair share of problems and endearing character. To add to this, before we set out on the road trip we were advised by friends and colleagues here on the east coast and city that Cunnamulla was a "no no", boring, hostile, and as uninviting as the rest of the outback. All the more reason to go.

The long distance road trip was full of the usual delights of the changing epic landscape, to the dramas of avoiding animals around dusk. We were weary travellers by the time we rolled into the night-time of Cunnamulla, looking to find a spot at the caravan park. We met some nice helpful park owners that said the park was full because of a golf tournament! They helpfully advised that we go to the Warrego Hotel (one of the two pubs in town) to see if we could get a room, also stating that the food was great there and Mick was the chef). The Warrego was a classic outback pub, full of male dominated Aussie drinking noise. The bar tender awkwardly fixes us a room, not entirely fussy about the bookkeeping aspect. We ask about food. We're told to try Mick's amazing cooking. Checking the menu it didn't looking that encouraging for vegetarian requirements, so we decided to have a look around town to see what alternative grub could be acquired.

The town is small, so around the corner we found all the shops and a racket of kids going on. Kids out at night usually makes people think of danger, and here or the city I would agree. But the source of the excitement was a "youth function" on at a cafe. I got a little harmless jovial banter regarding my height, but nothing malicious at all. The friendly owners let us know the shop is shut for food, but we can try the take-out or the servo down the road. Take-out was no-go grease-o-rama, so we tried the servo. Servo was much the same and we were starting to get vocal about how hungry we were and that we needed decent food! Fortunately, after suggesting fish (?), the servo people were quick to point out that we should try Mick at The Warrego as he was a chef with reputation. Feeling the finality of the situation we resolved to take the warm advice and challenge this Mick character to something vegetable that wasn't listed on the menu.

The poor confused aforementioned bar tender said that Mick was busy with a large order but could take requests. We ask for vegetables, preferably with some taste or curry added - at this point we would have been thankful for anything. We got a confused look, but this meal was ultra cheap. Offered a free cup of tea we sat down and allowed some warmth to heal our weariness. A reasonable wait yielded an amazing surprise! What wondrous food! This was simply one of the best meals I've ever had in my life, not only from the surprise and anticipation, but also from the sheer tasty combo of eggplant, olive oil, herbs, spices, veg, and importantly tarragon. While gorging on this treat, the man himself, Mick, came out to see if we liked his cooking. We lumped praise.

Mick starting chatting to us about our trip, Cunnamulla, and his time in recently owning The Warrego and trying to improve it. He said many things to dispel 'the negative myth', and in particular ongoing effort to bring the community together move beyond issues of race. Then the conversation turned to music. I asked does Cunnamulla get much in the way of live music? "Only the didjerido..." Not even live country music? "Not since Slim passed away - he used to come out here regularly..." Mick went on to explain they courted a particular popular country singer who was passing through, but declined the invitation due to lacking the 'requisite' $900+ demanded of The Warrego to 'cover costs'. So they get no live music.

He probably guessed by the way we looked odd that we were serious music people ourselves. I told him roughly what I do and he found it interesting. I told him it's been a long vague idea of mine to come out to places like Cunnamulla and play live. He said the community would really support that and 'give it a go', also offering The Warrego, of course, as a base. Nice.

Later on this sparked a whole train of creative thought. How to do something like that? What approach would suit balancing the intension of entertainment and consciousness expansion? Clearly there is a mission to interrupt these people with new sounds that the never thought possible. But also it is important to provide, altruistically, a positive event to genuine warm friendly people who miss out on such experience. Counter issues naturally weigh into this: equipment management and care; the unpredictable nightmares of alcohol; best turning the travel distance into an efficient operation; and so on. The positives are many, including doing something much more 'Australian' than worrying about placating the over-saturated short attention-spans of the globalised masses of the East Coast and cities.

Given other current dramas, plans and the need to properly plan such live music projects, any excursion west of such a nature isn't likely to happen quickly. But, Cunnamulla, as well as other outback towns such as Wyandra, Charleville and Roma, left us with a strong positive and lasting impression. The people out there are much less pretentious, down to earth, and less selfish than their eastern cousins. People have central Australia all wrong and I'm reminded of the words by Midnight Oil: "In every home a Big Mac, and no one goes out back, that's that." ...Despite my obvious personality difference to that culture I felt at home out there. Taking soundscapes, arcing, or even my own art-pop songs out there to play live is now a cemented goal. Go west.

Oh, and by the way, we didn't find the Cunnamulla Feller:

Cunnamulla Feller - Slim Dusty
---
Now I'm a scrubber runner and a breaker too,
I live on damper and wallaby stew.
I've got a big cattle dog with a stag hound cross,
I never saw the scrubber we couldn't toss.

'Cause I'm the feller from Cunnamulla,
yes, I'm the Cunnamulla feller.

Now, once when I was drovin' on the cattle trails,
I met a little girl, her name was Ada Vale.
I said marry me, Ada, and I'll be the feller,
and we'll settle down in Augathella.

I'll be the feller, at Augathella,
yes, I'll be the Augathella, feller.

Oh well, she said her daddy's name was Charlie Ville,
she had a lot of kiddies and a lot of bills.
So I grabbed my horse that was nice and handy,
and I never stopped 'til I reached Dirranbandi.

I was the dandy, at Dirranbandi,
yes, I was the Dirranbandi dandy.

Now in my moleskin trousers and my Williams boots,
aboard an outlaw as he leaves the shoots,
in my gooseneck spurs I rig their fiery hides,
and the girls all shoutin' around the ringside.

Oh he's the feller from Cunnamulla,
yes, he's the Cunnamulla feller. Last time now !

Now, I've done a little fightin' in the western bars,
done a little lovin' 'neath the moon and stars.
I wear bright clothes and shirts full of colour,
and the girls know me as that certain feller.

Yes, he's the feller from Cunnamulla, yes, he's the Cunnamulla feller.
Oh, he's the Cunnamulla feller, yes, he's the Cunnamella feller.
---

---