Nut It Out - instrumental

Shine - instrumental

Ah, ’87. The peak of the Golden Years, before the stocks crashed, before the boats came, before the sun set. Everyone in the band danced with a sweet lady named greed, but no one but me was ever brave enough to look her in the eyes, take for a ‘round of the Tango and put her to bed. But she woke up. And I was still asleep. I guess what I’m saying is I played the stock market then the stock market played me. Left me on the side of road like a half-stoned Dante tripping my way towards the 3rd circle. Hell. That’s a good word for it. I was never one for family, had a few flings, but nothing stable. When it all fell apart, I only had two things to worry about my state of mind and getting some cold hard cash back in my hot little hands. That’s where Bondi came into it, and that’s where I met her. 

I came back to Sydney from the City of Angels after I lost it all. Thought I’d crash with my folks for a few weeks. I don’t screw around, and they weren’t surprised when I was back up on my feet in a few weeks. I was working at the Commonwealth - dealing out hot cheques, sweet loans and crisp lifestyles. I’m a natural with money. “Bring him anything with lungs and he’ll turn it into a $50 note”, my uncle used to say. 

Took about a year. ’88 it was, when I bought a hot new pad at Bondi Beach - the heart of Australia. It was bloody brilliant - office at the junction, sand and sky down the road, and after a little while, I had me a lassie just up the hill. It started slow, but like a Sunbeam Kettle things were hot n’ cooking in no time. These were the days of my life. Up at 6am, a surf, a quick feed, down to the job and out by 5 - after that the night was mine - so was Ashley. 

Blonde hair, blue eyes - My dream girl. We got together up North of Bondi Beach and broke up down South - in every sense of the word. 

I wrote this song about her. A week after we broke up. I still miss her. I fucking miss her so much. 

Fucking hell Steve. 

I’ve got to go. Clean this up a bit. 

Sorry.
lyrics
this morning i took my coffee 
with an extra an extra shot 
can’t even start to think how i 
got where i got 
i didn’t care if i was torn 
limb from limb 
but i knew that i needed the water 
i had to swim 

but if it’s no strain on you 
then it’s no strain on me 
i don’t know what to do 
but i know that i miss you 

sometimes i cry 
as i do up my tie 
it’s a beautiful lie 
in this life that i lead 
can’t get what i need 
tormented by thoughts of you and i 
in the sweetest circle of hell called bondi 

a fistful of dollars 
and a headful of steam 
i’m a straight talking suit 
and i say what i mean 
i can’t recall the last time 
i went downtown 
but i knew being far from the beach 
would only bring me down 

but if it’s no strain on you 
then it’s no strain on me 
i don’t know what to do 
but i know that i miss 

sometimes i cry 
as i do up my tie 
it’s a beautiful lie 
in this life that i lead 
can’t get what i need 
tormented by thoughts of you and i 
in the sweetest circle of hell called bondi

No Strain

“TJ, we’re in the shit. We had it in the bag, but they’ve let the cat out. He’s got ten years behind him and an army of reactionary brainthugs. It was all going to be so simple. What we wanted was a fair shake, an australia for us. We were tearing down the iron Curtin, the Menzies Frenzy. It’s all fucking too much. I was fresh out of Queensland, you can relate. We didn’t know our arses from our elbows. Is that the expression? Fuck me, we were young. We were so damn young. What we need is a final push, one last effort before we keel over and cark it. Talk to your people. Talk to the people.” 
Kevin Rudd, on Voicemail to TJ Cheen, 30 October, 2007
lyrics
do you remember? 
all the children swimming in the ocean 
down around the north of Australia 
‘cause they had nowhere else to go 

do you remember? 
all the people 
left out of a job 
by so called work choices 
they didn’t have the choice to work at all 

that’s the shit that we grew up with 
that’s the shit that we grew up with 
that’s the shit that we grew up with 
that’s the shit that we threw up with 
whoa-oh whoa-oh 

do you remember? 
how they mined the blue sky 
so it had no tears left to rain 
they wouldn’t stop til all the rivers ran dry 

do you remember? 
how our calls for justice 
rang loose on deaf ears 
as thousands starved 
on the march from darwin to hope 

there’s a picture 
of a smiling little boy 
on a mantlepiece 
on the main street of lismore 
not a care in his eyes 

how could he know 
that darkness lived 
seven hours away 
in old kirribilli 
i’ll tell you, cause that boy 
he was me 

that’s the shit that we grew up with 
that’s the shit that we grew up with 
that’s the shit that we grew up with 
that’s the shit that we threw up with 
whoa-oh whoa-oh 

that’s the shit that we grew up with 
that’s the shit that we grew up with 
that’s the shit that we grew up with 
that’s the shit that we threw up with 
whoa-oh whoa-oh

Coward Era

Everything after the prologue is Denouement. I think Aristotle said that. I called across the sixth wave of the set to the same guy I’d seen for about three weeks every morning out back . “Mate.” It echoed across the salty 6.am. I saw him catch the next wave; the last of the set. I waited for him to paddle back out. A few seconds later I saw him walk up the beach and over the breakwall.
lyrics
i was surfing today, out in manly bay 
as the sun sang and burnt the ground 
i didn’t have much to say 
it’s the australian way 
not to make a sound 
shut your mouth 
and catch the wave 

i’ve got something to say 
it’s the australian way 
i’ve got something to say 
it’s the australian way 
x2 

i bought the telegraph this morning 
a cup of tea and that stops the yawning 
throw the cup in the sink, then i’ll go for a run 
i can’t help but think 
this is australia’s sun 
the sun is australian 

i’ve got something to say 
it’s the australian way 
i’ve got something to say 
it’s the australian way 

it’s been three long years 
but i still barely hold back the tears 
the ref was a fraud, a liar and a cheat 
it was his dud call that got them beat 
he was out of line i told my mate 
he said luke, calm down, have a smoke, you’re years too late 
but i won’t stop til justice is served 
my team didn’t get what they deserved 

i’ve got something to say 
it’s the australian way 
i’ve got something to say 
it’s the australian way



Australian Sun

December 1981. Exams were over, so I had a lot of free time on my hands. I juggled my job at the abattoir and the pile of books I’d found at the garage sale when Carl Jaspers died a few months earlier. Among other things I bought were a ’57 squier strat which lay under my bed until I heard Chonga bashing the drums through my bedroom wall. We started talking and pretty soon were writing songs and rehearsing in the car hold of the Queenslander on Stott Street. I’d just saved up enough to buy a panelbeater second hand, and we used to cart the gear around Lismore playing weddings, parties, anything. “Nut it Out” was recorded just after Christmas; I was on the ropes with Michelle and almost ready to hotfoot down to Sydney. When the stations got hold of the track we started to get a little notice. The boys were keen as I to get out of Lismore after the Staffy farm went under. We took the van down the coastal route and found ourselves without a clue on the mean streets of Tempe.
lyrics
have you forgotten when we took the blanket down to double bay 
kris and johnny had called to tell us that they were getting engaged 
and i looked in your eyes to find you staring back into my face 
but then the winds of fate 
soaked our dreams in local chardonnay 

do you remember going to down to leichardt every friday night 
to watch the boys and let the kids run feral underneath bright lights 
back then it felt as if we were playing for the winning side 
but even better teams can crack under the weight of little lies 

(chorus) 
we can work it out 
we can nut it out x2 

i remember the last time that i thought we might be okay 
sat outside the oval watching boats and talking about the game 
i was a younger man still hungry for the series and for change 
but ive grown up since then and all i want is for things to stay the same 

(chorus) 

is there a better way to say that i’m not ready for the end 
than standing underneath your window with my pockets full of sand 
we can beat this thing into shape just like the bonnet of my van 
we can even nut it out tonight, or leave here just as friends

Southend Rainbows