Clare Bowditch & The Feeding Set

Tourin'

Wed, 25 Jun 2008 00:00:00 +1000

I am now four-shows into the Winter Secrets tour around Australia.
Thank you, thank you, thank you – so far it has been mind-blowing and soul-restoring. I was incredibly nervous about this tour (about being on my own, completely exposed on stage with new songs, new instruments, new stories) and yet the exceptionally involved audiences at each show have made sure I have come off feeling alive and filled up and brimming over with the enjoyment of being back on stage. Honestly, it has been wonderful. One of the greatest things about these shows have been the random collaborations I’ve been having on stage with the winners of the Winter Secrets Comp – people I’ve never met before that day, getting up there on stage with me, over-whelming us all with their skill and bravery. Viola, melodica, guitar, banjo, and of course voice; this is the landscape so far. And we have all felt the generosity of each audience; people have been joining in with us in ways that have been making Tim and I feel “Wow – we are lucky people”. The other day in Adelaide I completely forgot all the words to “Oranges”. I looked into the audience and saw a girl mouthing the words back to me. I stopped the song and said “Hey, how would you feel about coming up here and singing the song for me while I play guitar?” and to my joy she said “Sure!” And that’s how we met Angela. Wow; what a woman. The other major highlight?

Hot Little Hands in duo form (that’s Tim Harvey from the Feeding Set and his brother James). Standing in the audience in Ballarat on Friday night we overheard one young lady, to much agreeance, “Whoah. I’d go them in a minute”. It wasn’t the most PC of comments, but if you heard HLH on stage, and saw their costumes, you would forgive her. I reckon they might join me on Sunrise tomorrow morning. There’s a whole lot more theatre in this show than we were expecting. See you on the road. Love Clare x

From the pen of CB

Fri, 15 Feb 2008 00:00:00 +1100

I’ve spent the last month on the road with John Butler and the Waifs, performing as part of the Union of Soul Tour. This followed on from the incredible, and frankly life-changing Kev Carmody tribute shows in Sydney. Most of you will know that Kev was the songwriter who penned From Little Things Big Things Grow with Paul Kelly. It’s a song that JBT, the Waifs, the Feeding Set and myself sang together every night of our tour. How incredibly precious it felt to spend the night of our historic 12th February 2008 on stage with all of those good people, accompanied by two remarkable generations of indigenous women, singing From LIttle Things Big Things Grow in Toowoomba with the whole of the Empire Theatre joining in. The Empire Theatre is the kind of place where little old ladies take the time to hand-bake biscuits that they leave in your band-room, with a little sign saying “Thank you, from the Friends of the Empire Theatre”. So much of this world runs on the love of volunteers, and good will. That feels truer than ever this week.

STORIES FROM THE BRINK; Today is the day before we release The Moon Looked On.

Fri, 12 Oct 2007 02:00:00 +1000

G’day there – welcome to the Open Letters section of our new website bubble. It’s been a while.

For those of you who are just joining us for the first time, this is the place where I get to tell stories from the inside; Open Letters. I’ve been writing these letters for about, ah, four or five years; I began them as a way of capturing the events that led up to the release of our first album, Autumn Bone. On Saturday, we’ll be releasing our third album, The Moon Looked On. In between we released What Was Left. A lot has changed for us over these past few years and I’ve tried to capture as much of it here, in writing, as I can. Sometimes, I leave big gaps – this is usually when I get too busy to write. But stick with me – I usually come through with the goods. Although, “goods” is probably not quite the right word; these letters are not neat or packaged. More often, they’re random and all over the shop – unstructured, inconclusive, and waffly. But it’s my website, and I’ll ramble if I want to. If you’re looking for something clean and crisp, you could always try an apple?

So yes, tomorrow we release The Moon Looked On into the world. I wonder what you’ll think of it. In the meantime, here are two stories from Promo Land (the strange other-worldly place a musician must enter before they release an album).

CB x

Margaret Throsby is my Hero

Thu, 11 Oct 2007 02:00:00 +1000

Yesterday was a rather magical day for me; I was interviewed by Margaret Throsby for the first and probably last time. For those of you who don’t know her, Margaret is a great and hugely admired interviewer who has been talking people in to revealing themselves on air for a couple of decades now. And yes, Margie is also the woman who made Holly (“A gift unto the world was born!”). I first fell in love with her voice about seven years ago when I was working on my own in a little jewellery store in the city; we didn’t have very strong radio reception and one of the only stations I could pick up was “Classic FM”. I love her because she has a meticulous interviewing technique, a kind of magic-bag full of tricks that make people speak about their most personal selves very very quickly. I knew this in advance; came in prepared. Regardless, she totally bamboozled me with her charm, and I spent much of the interview thinking ‘Right, did I really just say that?”. Usually her guests are a little older and a little wiser than me. The fact that she invited me to sit with her whilst I am still relatively young and rather confused is one of life’s lovely little mysteries. It was a great pleasure to be able to program some of the classical songs from my childhood (as well as an Emma Tonkin song that I love) and to be able to tell stories about several generations of my dear family. A very special hour for me, and for them too.

CB x

The Nut That Nearly Killed Trent

Wed, 10 Oct 2007 02:00:00 +1000

On Wednesday I found myself at the ABC in Brisbane about to be interviewed by a lovely chap called Richard Fidler. My mate Trent from EMI was taking care of me that day, driving me around. He was a bit peckish. I offered him a nut. One second he looked fine, the next, his eyes had turned red, his face began puffing up, he looked like he was having difficultly breathing, and he said, very calmly, “Oh my God, I’m so embarrassed, but I think I might be having a reaction to that nut I ate!” A full medical emergency ensured.

Here’s the story in Trent’s words, as told to his friends on email (he said it was okay if I put it up here). It was entitled: “The Nut That Nearly Killed Me”.

Thank you to my beautiful friends who have been very concerned since it got out I nearly DIED from eating a Brazilian Nut yesterday (I am not joking).

So what happened… yesterday I was visiting local radio stations with Clare Bowditch and before we visited the ABC we ran into Toowong Village to grab a snack where Clare brought a bag of mixed nuts from a health food shop. When we arrived at the ABC we had a few minutes wait before her interview, so she opened the nuts and offered some to me. I grabbed one which happened to be a Brazilian Nut and ate it. I have eaten nuts all my life, but must admit I cannot recall ever having a Brazilian one before. Almost instantly I could feel my throat feel itchy and weird and within seconds my mouth and tongue felt numb – I knew something wasn’t right so ran into the toilets. I drunk a bucket of water and then looked up at my face in the mirror to find my face looking bright red and my eyes had no whites left in them as they too had turned fully red and blood shot. By this stage the worst feeling of all had kicked in and that was my throat had swollen and I couldn’t breathe. I stumbled out of the toilets where all ABC staff could see me. Poor Clare had to go into the studio for her hour long interview and being the beautiful soul she is didn’t want too, but I made her do it as a ABC staff member would run me to the Medical Centre which thankfully was only next door.

As soon as I entered the medical centre I had nearly passed out and then it was something like out of ER… I was thrown onto a bed and 4 Doctors surrounded me and instantly jabbed two needles into my arm. My body was covered in a bright red rash but thankfully straight after the two jabs I got some relief so I could breathe but not enough and was rolled onto my stomach where another 2 needles were jabbed into my butt. Finally after an hours resting I felt OK again and walked back to the ABC to collect Clare and continue working with her for the day (but she had to drive as I was feeling rather “too” happy after the drugs they had given me). I now have a bag full of medicine which I must take for the rest of the week, and I was very happy to hear from the doctors that I got to them just in time as the next stage I could have gone into was cardiac arrest.

Moral of the story – beware of being allergic to nuts and go buy the lovely Clare Bowditch’s new album called “The Moon Looked On” which is out this Saturday!

“I’ll live to die another day”

Trent

The incredible thing is not just his survival but the fact that he refused to go home and instead insisted on accompanying me around for the rest of the day! Really taking the whole notion of “good work ethic” to a brand new level.

I guest programmed RAGE yesterday – something I’ve always wanted to do. When push comes to shove, it’s hard to narrow down fifty favourites. I ended up choosing lots of friend’s clips and telling personal stories about them. Also, as my way of saying sorry to Trent, I programmed a new clip by his favourite lady, Tori Amos, and told the story of his near-death experience. I’m not sure when it will be showing – if you’re on our mailing list, I’m sure my Boss will let you know.

CB x

This letter has very little to do with music.

Tue, 17 Apr 2007 02:00:00 +1000

Hello.

This letter has very little to do with music. I just wanted to write and say ‘hello’, really. But it’s a pretty long-winded kind of a “hello”, so if you’re in a ‘business-head’ kind of mood, just ignore this now – it will only annoy you. Alternatively, you may want to print this out, and read it to yourself whilst you’re on the loo.

Still with me? Okay – let me tell you a couple of true stories from my true life.

For the past nine years, I’ve been living just north of Melbourne city in a share-house, much of that time with my drummer Marty, and our roadie-girl Asha. This is where we record all of our albums. From the outside, our place looks kind of normal. Step one foot in to our backyard, however, and you’ll notice something strange. We don’t have any fences. Neither do our neighbours, or our neighbour’s neighbours. All in all, there are eight houses in on this little ‘fenceless’ agreement. We share trampolines, clothes-lines, a sand-pit, chickens, a massive mulberry tree, a field of warrigal greens, baby-sitting, and dinner together every Sunday night. So I guess you could call it an informal, inner-city “community” of sorts. All ages, all types. But because it is made up of mostly humans, it is also a perfectly ‘imperfect’ community. For example our neighbours to the west, now, they don’t really like talking to anyone under the age of fifty, which counts us right out. But they never complain about our music either, and we don’t complain about their dogs, so we get along fine. And our neighbour to the south, she went on holiday recently, far far away, and somehow, her burglar alarm was triggered. It went off continuously for three days and three nights. Finally, after the complaints got so bad that the police were arriving with a warrant to enter her house, another neighbour remembered she had a spare key. Stuff like that happens quite a bit.

This suburban jungle was dreamt up long before I was born, back when property was cheap and young friends could afford to buy houses, one next to the other. It’s name – “Compost” – started out as a joke, and somehow stuck. I guess it refers to the fact that the original, granola-loving inhabitants (some of whom still live here) were really at the forefront of the ‘permaculture’ sustainable-living movement. And solar-panels, water-tanks, bush foods, recycling, all that sexy stuff – they’ve been on to it for about three decades now. Bloody inspiring actually. I wonder why more people don’t live like this.

Also, ten weeks ago, these two new guys moved in. Their names are Oscar and Elijah. They don’t have any teeth, and all they drink is home-made milk. That’s right – they’re our baby boy twins! We made our very own Feeding Set! More about this in a moment.

Probably the reason I’m telling you about my house today is because, after living here for a third of my life, I’m finally moving out. I don’t really want to, but the landlord can’t find anywhere else affordable to live, what with the current rental/housing crisis here in Melbourne, so it’s off a little further North we go. The other reason I mention it is just to bring up the topic of alternative living situations. How do you live?

Having twins move in to our house has absolutely blown our minds, in a good way. It is extremely full on, yet absolutely delightful. I hope this explains why I haven’t written for such a long time. I would really like to tell you about their birth – it’s a pretty good story actually. Attempting to give birth naturally to twins in the Australian ‘hospital-system’ is pretty funny. And surprisingly political. But possible. Perhaps I’ll leave that story for a future open-letter.

Speaking of politics, you may be surprised to hear that in the week after my smart-arse ARIA acceptance speech, I got a call from Premier Steve Bracks’ people inviting me to Parliament House for a cup of tea with the man. It turns out Bracksie was looking for a few suggestions about how to spend the four or five (I think we talked him up to six?) million bucks he’d already set aside for the promotion of music and musicians in Victoria. Sweeeet! The “Victoria Rocks” funding-program looks set to take over from the “Music for the Future” funding-program (the one which allowed us to record both ‘Autumn Bone’ and ‘What Was Left’). My hope is that a good chunk of the money will be available to musicians of all ages, for the purposes of recording, distribution and national touring, amongst other things. It’s an exciting possibility, but it’s early days yet. We’re having another discussion about it with Arts Victoria later this week. I’ll fill you in when I hear more. Feel free to send me any suggestions/comments to – about.music.funding@hotmail.com This email address will be open for one month only, shutting down on May 14th 2007. Please let me know what you think, and I’ll try and pass it on. I might also add some of your comments to the Open Letters section of www.clarebowditch.com
People keep asking me when I’m going to return to work. It’s a funny question in a way, because when you’re working on something like ‘music’, you of course never really ‘leave’ at all. But to answer the question more directly, we’re not planning to hit the road until August at the earliest. Yep, I’m taking this “break” thing pretty seriously. So seriously, in fact, that I actually declined Dirty Three’s kind invitation to go and play at All Tomorrow’s Parties, which they’re curating, in the U.K. It would have been bloody incredible – I would have got to meet many of my musical heroes there. But I’m just not ready to put the twins on a long-haul flight just yet. We’re sending Marty to be the family representative (he will be playing drums with Art of Fighting, who’ve just released their third stunning album, Runways. And just for the record, I was a fan of AOF long before I started dating their drummer.)

As for the new Feeding Set album, Marty officially recommenced a couple of weeks ago, and I will be rejoining him in the studio in May. He’s become a little obsessed with it, to be honest; this looks to be his most experimental production feat yet. Some of you have written to me over the years asking me the ins and outs of how we record our albums. This month, J. Walker interviewed Marty about just this very thing, and you can find a pretty long article on the subject in this month’s Audio Technology magazine. It’s Marty’s first “Feature”. He enjoyed being a model for a day.

Truth be told, we kind of miss touring – Libby, Marty, Warren, Tim, Danny and myself talk about you often. Libby suggested everyone come over and we get a Tarago and just drive around the block a few times together, just to take the edge off the “longing”. It won’t be long though – we’re in the process of booking venues as I write. I have a feeling this is going to be a very wonderful tour.

In the meantime, I’m spending lots of time hanging out on the couch, quite often with Libby. As you may have read on our website, she gave birth to the Divine Miss Bea in a massive blue bakers-bowl at home late last year. Another great birth story. But I’ll let her tell it (maybe from stage, next time someone breaks a string or something…) Far out she’s a legend.

So is Kev Carmody. How many of you have heard the tribute album that’s just been released for him? It’s called ‘Cannot Buy My Soul”, and it’s full of bloody great songs. A whole life-time of them, in fact. It includes our version of Kev’s ‘Blood Red Rose’, as well as tracks from The Drones and Missy Higgins and Glenn Richards and Fanning and Butler so on and so on… Paul Kelly was the man behind the idea, and for those of you who don’t know Kev, prepare for a treat.

I have to break the news to you that one of our favourite bands, Sodastream, split up a couple of weeks ago. We’ve shared lots of stages with them over the years. Pete and Karl, thank you for dedicating a decade of your life to bring us all your extraordinary songs.

Good then.

Clare x o

PS Are any of you having trouble getting added to our Myspace page? If yes, could you please let us know? For those of you yet to join, it’s www.myspace.com/clarebowditch – it’s where all the cool kids (and, increasingly, spam-like-advertisers) hang.

Holy Crap, I think we just won an aria...

Sun, 01 Oct 2006 02:00:00 +1000

Holy Crap!

On Sunday afternoon, I was on the bed in Libby’s hotel room eating a hamburger, as you do. Eating a hamburger and watching our new friend Yolanda put lipstick on Hayley. And then out of the blue, Yol turned around and said “I’ve got a good feeling about today. I think it’s going to be a kismet kind of day”.

And so it was, because that night, we won our very first, very unexpected ARIA Award under the “Best Female – What Was Left” category! We’ve had a lot of things to celebrate lately, but this was as unexpected as finding out you’re carrying identical twins (which, strangely, I am…) Just unbelievable!!!

Four days later, we’re still in a fair bit of “happy-shock” – it feels to us like the Gods went crazy for a day, and it just happened to be the day we were waiting in line to shake their hand.

You know by now how much I love a yarn – let me run you through the lead up.

We’d been looking forward to the last weekend in October for some time. Not only were we to play our final show (LEGS 11) before taking our recording/birthing sabattical, but we were also celebrating Libby, Marty and Danny’s birthdays. Our plan was to make it a killer of a dirty-weekend (“SHANDIES ALL AROUND, MY FRIENDS!”), and top it off on Sunday night with the attending of the ARIA Awards, where we’d been nominated for the first time.

As Libby and I always say, “It’s not every day you’re pregnant and trying to walk gracefully down the red carpet” (?!?) Luckily, with a little help from Ilka White (she made my beautiful necklace) Akira (he provided the dress) Augusta Zeeng (she pieced us together) and K-mart (they made our undies), Libby and I waddled along just fine. Warren, Tim, Marty and the Lunatics were looking super-sharp as always. The sun was shining, no-one really knew who we were, and all of us were feeling in “fine-form”. In fact, I think we may have even been strutting – a little like the opening intro from Fat Albert – “We’re gonna sing a song for yoooooooooou”.

More than anything, I was looking forward to singing “Watch Over Me” with Bernard Fanwa and Kasey Chambers; although I was also, admittedly, crapping myself. As anyone who’s been following us since our first “Roy and HG” television appearance in 2003 will know (details can be found in open letter below), I get a little scared in the face of television cameras. But despite the cameras, there’s few things more satisfying than singing a three-part harmony with people who know their stuff – an ocean of voices, guitar, along with Bedge on violin, and Matt on double bass – what could be better? What also helped centre the experience (which was kind of acutely stressful – in the two minutes before “show-time”, I went from standing calmly backstage cooing over the latest beautiful Wolfmother baby, into the arms of a woman holding a clip-board screaming “QUICK QUICK QUICK”, straight to Kasey’s side for a five-second interview with Jacki O and then “bang” out on stage in front of 10,000 people) was remembering why the song was released in the first place, which was to help raise funds for Youngcare, which is one of those incredible “fill-the-gap” charities that helps out where no-one else is helping out. Singing that song with those chaps felt bloody amazing.

Once it was over, I pottered back down the hallway to find myself a drink. Not just a drink, but also a birds-eye-view – to be honest, I was trying to sneak a peek at Peter Garret, who was sitting behind us on the “Midnight Oil” table. I was a kid in the 80’s, so memories of Midnight Oil wallpaper the insides of my memory, and I wanted to see if my memory served me well. I thought I might even get gutsy enough to go up and say hello. But then I noticed he was talking to someone who looked a lot like James Packer, and I lost my nerve and concentrated on finding myself a repeat of that flat lemon squash I’d so enjoyed before dinner.

At some stage I must have started dawdling because before my eyes appeared the furrowed brow of Chowdo saying “Woman, they’re about to announce Best Female! You’re supposed to sit down!” So I did. (I pretty much do what Libby tells me – she’s always right). Can I just say that as much as they love me, up until this point, no one actually thought I would win this award. Except one friend of mine called Stephen, who I now owe a case of ShafferHausser. The main thrill was being nominated alongside “Holly Throsby – Under the Town”, whose albums accompany us on all of our tours. But I’ve been writing songs for over a decade and these songs have never been picked up by commercial radio, most Australians have never heard of us, and even my own blessed manager (and dear friend) took me aside on the day and said “Mate, I love you, and I know how hard you’ve worked, and I think you deserve to win this award, but you’re not going to win it. I mean, I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t really work that way…”

And then they said that the winner was “Clare Bowditch”!

What happened next, I still don’t know. Except for a short snippet on the plane on the way home, I still haven’t seen any of the footage from the night. All I can tell you is that I’ve never been more stunned in my life, that the looks of emotion on Marty, Libby, Warren, Tim, and Danny’s faces were unforgettable, and that some part of me just wanted to get up on stage before they announced they’d made a mistake…

And that to his credit, Steve “Bracksie” Bracks is said to be considering re-instating a version of the Music For the Future Funding Program for the musicians of Victoria. I’ll let you know how this ends upt…

And that I really should have thanked my brother in law TIM ROBINSON for giving me my start in music, and my Mum, Dad, Asha, Anna Lisa James, my whole family, Red Raku especially JP and DD, Al and Clare, Bernard for inviting me to sing with him, my friends at Compost especially Griffin, Jessica Neath, Kat Macleod, Resolution Media, and all the good musicians who have taken me under their wing or toured with us over the years…

LAST DAY OF WINTER 2006 (and more sausage talk).

Thu, 31 Aug 2006 02:00:00 +1000

Well, it looks like our much-touted move to Berlin is going to have to wait for another year or two, because low and behold, Marty knocked me up again. WHOOHOO! (I blame it on all that European sausage, as mentioned in the last open letter). We’ve just finished a “good times” 21-date tour all across Australia – our first completely national completely sold-out tour – and it feels like exactly the right time to be getting off the road and just bunkering down at home-quarters to begin the recording of album number three (which you’ll hear in Autumn or Winter 2007, when our little baby shows his/her first signs of wanting to get on the road with us). Just by the way, I apologise to anyone in the audience (or from Dan Kelly and the Alpha males) who may have witnessed me sleeping (or throwing up) side of stage before a show this last tour – morning sickness and rock and roll look so similar from the outside, you know?

I’m sitting at my desk, papers and cups strewn before me. It’s 10pm on a Thursday night. I’ve just finished lodging my APRA form for 2006 (that’s the royalty form many Australian musicians fill out each year detailing every one of their songs and performances for the year; my first cheque in 1998 came to a total of $2.37). Today is the cut off date – I’ve left it to the last minute, as is usual when it comes to paperwork. Other things, no, but paper work, yes. It turns out I played 69 shows last year. 69 – what a lucky number!

Now I’m sitting here on my chair with my belly sticking out thinking back to all the people we’ve met and played with this year -Paul Kelly and the Stormwater Boys, Dan Kelly and the Alpha Males, Art of Fighting, Glenn Richards, Missy Higgins, Lior, Bernard Fanning, Andrew Morris, Jackie Marshall, the BROAD girls, James Blunt…and all the festivals we’ve played, like Meredith, Splendour, Groovin the Moo, St Jeromes Festival, Womadelaide, Queenscliff, Perry Sand Hills, shows by Wolfmother and Airborne and Miriam Makeba, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Josh Pyke, the Herd, Vasco Era, Jess Macavoy, Bob Evans, Sarah Blasko, Holly Throsby, The Drones…and a thousand more. If only they were all here in this room right now; what a shindig that would be. Who would bring out their instrument first? Who would pash who? Who would smash who? Who would get things stuck up their nose? Who would be the first to throw our television out the window? Who would put on the kettle at the end of the night to make cups of tea?

Marty’s just brought me my second cup of Caro this hour. Heady stuff people, heady heady stuff. All that chicory root…he thinks it may be affecting my mind. The two of us finally entered the studio today to start laying down new sounding things. My voice seems to have lowered quite a bit, as is one of the side effects of pregnancy. I sound rather like a sex-line telephone operator. Which could explain why we spent the first half of the day recording and the second half of the day lying in bed “talking” about what we were going to record next. What a life! Clearly, it’s still early days, otherwise I wouldn’t be feeling so playful and confident about the beast. Because if past experience is any guide (and this will be the fifth album Marty and I have recorded together), at some stage throughout this recording process, the internal shit will hit the fan. It has to – it’s part of the push. Or maybe not…maybe this time will be different. Maybe this time we’ll find our hearts of Zen…or maybe not…

What can I tell you about the new work at this stage? Just that it has a lot of energy behind it, that it’s new and crazy, and that we’ll use this recording as another chance to continue our life-long experiment in sound recording. Not that we’ll be rivalling Stockhausen or following our Musique Concrete attraction just yet…. nothing quite so alienating. Quite the opposite actually.

We went to see this year’s BROAD Festival last week – Deborah Conway, Mia Dyson, Ella Hooper, Kate Miller-Heidke and Michelle Schneider. These BROAD shows are just bloody fantastic, both for the audience and for the performers – they must be the coolest camp-fire sing-alongs in the country. Another brilliant performance – long live BROAD. When is some ingenious bastard going to get BLOKE up and running?

Clare x

A Little Note from Clare in Germany…

Wed, 05 Apr 2006 02:00:00 +1000

Oh Please – no more sausage. Today I had sausage for breakfast, sausage for lunch, then our whole rider was just beer and sausage…

This is Germany, land of the sausage. They also have delicious cheese, and fine bicycles, and lots of babes. Could say the same for Holland, where we just came from. Holland is also where my Mother came from, so we’ve really been living the high life. It’s good to be under the wings of my three hundred Dutch relatives. They sure know how to do things right.

There is so much I love about the Dutch. One of the things I love most is my Oma, who is 96 and living in her own little apartment next to other elderly people in the heart of Amsterdam. She smells like heaven and is just totally UNbelievable with her independence and good health and kindness. I actually can’t get over her; she is like a forty year old. She is the mother of eleven children. I heard once from my friend Sally that for every child a woman has, her body rejuvenates itself by seven years. This seems to be the case with my Oma.

Tonight we are in Dresden, tomorrow Berlin. It’s day seven of a three week tour of Europe with one of my very favourite Australian bands, Art of Fighting. So far, it’s been great fun; we’re having lots of laughs and meeting odd and interesting people. We’re performing most nights, but taking it fairly easily during the days; just travelling a few hours in the van, etc etc. It’s actually fairly constant work, but we have Asha here to carry our gear, so that helps. Also, we get fed by every single venue we play at, which is something new. Nothing to complain about, except that I feel I may have eaten too much and Peggy and I both think our hotel room smells a little bit like sausage. For those of you who haven’t met Peggy, she’s the brilliant and beautiful bass player from Art of Fighting. The band are trying out all sorts of new songs at the moment, and I’m lucky tonight because my accommodation is right below where they’re playing so I can hear every thing song. Asha is snoozing in the port-a-cot beside me, sleeping off a days worth of sausage. It is fantastic to have finally found a wireless internet connection, and to be able to put this little update on the site.

I played Ollie’s Fender tonight (Ollie is the AOF front-man). It’s the first time I’ve played an entire show on electric. How incredible to be able to just noodle for 45 minutes and for every noodle to sound like a song! Brilliant! Why didn’t I do this sooner? My generally theory with touring overseas is that it’s rare opportunity to try things that you might totally fuck up (such as playing with an electric guitar and pedals for the first time) without fear of looking like a loser in front of your friends.

Marty wants us to move to Berlin. He has been talking about it for five years, this “six months in Berlin” that he thinks we should have. Well, tomorrow I see it for the first time. Wonder whether I’ll agree with him on this one.

I’m sorry it’s been so long in-between letters. We released What Was Left and I have been pretty much touring ever since, first our own shows, then with Bernard Fanning-head, then with Deborah Conway and all the incredible BROAD ladies, then again with ourselves, then after much ado, Marty and I finally got totally and utterly married (which so far has been the most unexpectedly liberating experience of my life, much like motherhood…not that I’m pretending in any way that either of these things are simple…but I digress) then some more day on the Greens with Paul Kelly and Lior and Missy Higgins, rah rah rah. SO ANYWAYS, I owe you a few letters! I haven’t even put my “Story of Tori” letter up yet, and I promised that about a year ago! Forgive me. I’ll get on to it some time this year…

Muchos Amore,

CB x

One Sentence Story: I'm the Fire Starter.

Fri, 05 Aug 2005 02:00:00 +1000

My one-sentence story this month is of touring with Paul Kelly, and his top crew, and how on the last night of our tour together we all headed back to the hotel for a few shandies, and wrote impromptu ‘I Love The Crew’ songs for Davros and Shannon and Rob until 3am, and how when I finally stumbled back to my youth-hostel and had a very hot sobering shower at 4am, the steam from said shower set off a faulty and violently loud fire-alarm, resulting in a total-hostel-evacuation, and before I knew it I was shivering on the street with forty smoking Germans watching fire-trucks roll up, wondering what the f—k was going on and whether this was somehow all my fault, which it most certainly was.

Until next time,
CB

The Cycle of Independence

Thu, 04 Aug 2005 02:00:00 +1000

A couple of months ago, we finished recording our forthcoming second album ‘What Was Left’. As with Autumn Bone, the album was recorded on analogue-tape here at home with Martin W Brown at the helm, thanks to the kind assistance of Arts Victoria. We were all ready and set to release it ourselves, when lo and behold, John O’Donnell from EMI Australia saddled up and offered us our ultimate licensing deal. He said something like “You make the music, and we’ll release it” and we said “Sounds pretty good”. And yet it meant relinquishing a part of our long-cherished independence, which Marty and Danny and I have been a little bit proud of over the years. So anyways, I wrote this as an ode to my independence, and as an explanation of what led us to this point of unknown territory.

Independence; it’s been one of my stronger traits, ever since dot.

Independence. It is Christmas day, I am three and standing on my grandmother’s concrete, succulent-covered porch refusing to wear the plastic beaded necklace she’s just given me. It is big and baubley, it smells funny and I just don’t like it. I tell her she can’t make me wear it! and cry, and make long whiney sounds. Bad behaviour. My grandmother loves me, but as far as she’s concerned, I’ve been spoilt. Rotten. She’s probably right. My Dutch mother, however, thinks differently.

Independence. My mother’s take on things is that I’m upfront, forthright, outspoken and independent, as is she, as are my sisters, and her sisters, and her mother. I’m only three, but I take this on board. I know she is proud of my independence. She is talking to me, and trying to tell me that it’s better to be kind than to be right. Eventually, when everyone stops looking, I put on the necklace. It’s actually quite nice.

Independence. I don’t like my teachers talking down to me. I quickly develop a reputation, which I soon tire of keeping up, and by year nine, I’m ready to go. My sisters know it’s true. My oldest one convinces my parents that I’d do better in a ‘free-school’, where I can set my own rules. My mother eventually concedes, but demands that I continue to pray the rosary, or else. She tells me that the Madonna, the Virgin Mother, (Mary, as she is plainly known, Mum) is a powerful woman. She says it was no accident Christ was born of a woman. I consider saying ‘Mum, is this about birth-control?’ but decide to keep my fool mouth shut, lest she change her mind.

Independence. Now, at this ‘free-school’, I have more of it than I know how to handle. But after a few months of calling my teachers by their first name, it dawns on me that adults really are just people, that their opinions are really just opinions, that no-one has all the answers, and that I will have to work it out for myself. Shit. I start my first band, a four-piece a Capella group called ‘Aidenfolk’. Our first and final gig is at 3pm on a Tuesday, one of the highlights of Kew Music Festival’s ‘Garden’ program. It is raining, and the only person in the audience is the organiser. Aidenfolk sing no more – we cite creative differences, and I start singing back-ups in my brother-in-law’s pub-rock band instead. I go to school during the week, work at the surf shop on Friday nights, and play gigs on Saturday nights. My Dad is proud of my independence. My mum is worried.

Independence. I have been proud of my independence too. My musical independence particularly, although it’s a bit of a joke really, because you never do these things on your own at all; they are collaborations of the highest order. Yet, I’ve been extremely, childishly proud of making my own music and releasing that music without the help of big money or influence. It’s hard work, anyone will tell you, but it’s satisfying. And I’ve enjoyed being a small part of a big movement, a very broad umbrella-group that is open to all, regardless of sexuality or saleability or trend or genre or appearance or knowledge. This is what the cyber-space revolution has given us; diversity, and independence. I, for one, am grateful. Independence; there was a small window, in 2003, just before we released Autumn Bone, just after I’d first become a mother, when I would have dearly loved to be anything except yet another “struggling independent artist”. I was tired, tired, tired; the last thing I wanted was to release an album on my own. I wanted me a licensing deal people! And a good one! With full creative control! We sent Autumn Bone around to lots of places, and as the story often goes, no-one much was interested. So we thought, fuck ‘em. Libby and Al lent us some money and we got a grant and we got a distributor and we went ahead and released a single on our own, called ‘Human Being’. Marty and I personally hand-stamped every one of them and decorated them with spray-glue and yellow Tibetan paper. Almost immediately, our local street-press (Inpress, Beat, Leader) started talking us up, lord bless ‘em. Community radio stations RRR and PBS got behind us too, by playing our music and championing what we were doing. It was the greatest feeling ever! They did the same with out next single, called ‘Monday Comes’, and this time Triple J and the ABC got on board as well. Funnily enough, the phone started ringing, and the offers of interest started trickling in. Managers, Publishers, Record-companies, agents; the usual round of suspects. Lots of meetings, and lots of talking. To be honest, I don’t remember much. To be honest, I don’t remember much. I was too busy struggling in awkward ‘We’re in a board room/corporate space right now and you don’t know me but I’m a new mother and I’m just getting the hang of this whole ‘breastfeeding’ thing so please excuse me as I craftily whip out my boozie and feed this screaming child’ poses. Luckily, Marty was taking it all in, and before long it became pretty clear that there was nothing much there to tempt us – no doubt they felt the same way! We just very much wanted to do it our way, and yet we were still an unproven entity, with no bargaining power, and my breasts were leaking all over the place. Who wanted the risk? In the end we decided to stick with our independence for as long as we could. After all, we had a good distributor, MGM; what more did you need? Ah so young, so foolish!

Independence. In the art world, independence has its advantages. It means you can tell the truth, and you can risk it all, because there’s nothing much to lose. And if you’re half-good, you also get superb support and backing from your community, which counts for just about everything. Over on this side, people do actually want to give you a chance. In the art world, however, independence also has its disadvantages. It means you have to learn to deal with the frustration of being routinely or systematically ignored by people bigger than you, of being bullied, under-paid, of having to beg and barter favours, of relying on the kindness and generosity of friends or funding-bodies, and spending vast amounts of time and energy thinking of ways to repay these favours, of living in a state of ongoing poverty, of not being able to pay your staff enough, or your rent on time, of not having a wage, or any benefits, or any security, or any insurance. It’s a cliché but it’s true; it is almost impossible for Australian artists to make a living out of their music without the backing of a rich uncle, or an enormous on-going grant, or a record-company. In fact, even with these things, it is still hard to make a living in the art world here in Australia, as a large proportion of my friends and neighbours will attest. Independence. As Vicki from the Waifs once told me herself, independence isn’t for everyone. It has it’s limitations. So do I. I discover this half-way through a support-tour late in 2004. This will be my sixth national tour in as many months. Due to very limited finances, I travel on my own, flying from Melbourne to a sports oval in Queensland to play a single forty-minute set. When I arrive, the organiser tells me to cut it down to thirty minutes. Then the tour-manager tells me he forgot to book me a hotel room, and that I’ll have to make other arrangements. Which would be easier to arrange if only I weren’t out of credit on my pre-paid mobile, and stuck in the middle of an isolated sports oval! But I’m too humiliated to say anything, and I’m kind of scared that if I open my mouth, I’ll start weeping, in an ugly, open-mouthed way. Not pretty. So I just clamp down and play the best set I can. I’d give it about a three out of ten. Afterwards I wander down to a Chai tent at the back of the oval and pull up a cushion. I am an overtired, unresolved, nervous wreck of a woman. A truly incredible thunder-storm cracks open the sky in front of me. In my tired state I realise something; I am never ever going to ‘break’ the way Ani diFranco or The Waifs or John Butler broke, by touring three-hundred nights a year for ten years in a row. It would just make me too miserable, and worse, it would turn my two-year old into a poet before her time. Right now, I just want to go home, hang up my performing hat, and write songs for Emmylou Harris. But then I chuckle to myself because here I am, a mother, with a whole night to myself. Why the hell am I complaining? Marty calls, tells me that Asha is fast asleep, and that they’ve had a good day, and that all is well. Father of the Year he is. I end up crashing at a friend’s house, and on the plane home, I resolve to find a brand new way of doing things, one that suits my motherhood and my social temperament a little more. I’m always making this resolve; just ask Libby, good listener that she is. Anyway, I go home and write another album, for myself, and not for Emmylou. That one will come later.

Independence. Flash forward to 2005. Of course, the touring does not stop; it intensifies. We spend the whole of summer doing festivals and touring ‘Day on the Green’ wineries with Pete Murray, Missy Higgins, Tim Rogers and yes, The Waifs. This time, however, I get to take the family and the band with me. As you can imagine, we have a ball. They feed us, ply us with good wine, and treat us like royalty; I could do this three hundred nights a year, no questions asked! This is a goddam walk in the park!!! We spend the rest of summer back at ground zero, recording, releasing, and touring our new single ‘Divorcee by 23’. Our friends from Resolution Media make us a yet another film-clip, gratis. Libby and I head up to Sydney for our launch at the Hopetoun, and it sells out, which is quite special considering I played this same venue only a year ago to an audience of three and a half. Not sure how or why but Mr Johnny O’D from EMI comes along to the show, likes what he hears, and phone calls follow. My long-suffering manager Danny tells me he thinks some kind of ‘offer’ is imminent. Call me cynical, but I’m waiting to be convinced. Danny sounds excited though; he’s probably had enough of being our manager, booker, publicist, counsellor, and so on. He tells us to make up a wish list of all the things we want and all the things we don’t want. When the offer does finally arrive, it’s bang on the money, which sends me grey with joy. We can’t actually believe it! I wade my way through a few sleepless nights. I’m excited alright, but I’m also worried about disappointing the good people who have championed us in our independence. I don’t know why I get so stuck on this; I create this whole crazy little fantasy where we get black-listed from RRR and shunned by our local Leader paper as ‘traitors!!!’ I talk it through with my friends, family, and peers, who all tell me to stop being such a bloody dickhead and sign the fricking deal! They tell me no-one will give a shit whether we’re distributing through MGM or through EMI – that people will in fact be happy for us. And after all, it’s only a licensing agreement; it won’t actually change the way we write or record or produce our music. It just means that when it comes time to release said music, we’ll be working with a much bigger, more experienced team. So we happily sign the deal, pop the Deutz, and realise that, if nothing else, this marks the beginning of a new chapter. Every new album does, even when it begins with nearly the same French- horn note that the last album ended on (one of Martin W Brown’s little master-strokes…)

Independence. My two-year old Asha is sitting in the seat of a Safeway shopping trolley, grumpily trying to knock my hands from the steering bar, telling me she wants to do it herself. I am annoyed! I try explaining the logistics of it; baby, you are inside a cart, you are small, the cart is big, you won’t be able to get very far unless you let me help you. But she insists, in a loud and fearful way. People start looking. I back off. We sit, stationary for a little while, as she fiddles about with the locking device. Eventually she works out that if she humps back and forth hard enough, the trolley does actually move. Not very far, but it still moves. I am impressed, albeit slightly concerned; what if the darn thing tips over? I stand close. After a fantastic solo effort, she says ‘Mum, can you help me?’, so I do. I am proud of her independence.

CB x

Paul Hester, and Places to Go When You're Sad

Thu, 31 Mar 2005 02:00:00 +1000

I miss you Paul Hester. I only met you once, so I have no great claim to grieve you. But many of us here in Melbourne feel the same – we wish you hadn’t suffered, and that we did not now suffer in your absence. Such is the irony and horror of suicide.

Being human is no easy gig. One theory, though, is that sadness and grief are human rites of passage, ones that we all must take. At the time they feel un-sufferable, fearful, and dangerous, but along with love, these are our most human of emotions; these are the feelings that can lead us to know what we’re really about. Which is no small journey. Thankfully, a number of authors have written on the topic. Worth a peek is Thomas Moore’s ‘Dark Nights of the Soul’, a book about the soulful (albeit difficult) aspects of sadness, melancholy, and depression. There is also Beyond Blue, Australia’s National Depression Initiative, who we recently played a benefit show for; their website is www.beyondblue.org.au. And then there’s the Centre for Grief Education in Melbourne, who can be accessed via www.grief.org.au. They offer clear information and low-cost counselling to those who are grieving, and they can probably direct you to other helpful resources in your state or territory. Sorry to harp on about it, but it’s too important, and there’s no point having a website unless you actually say something practical every now and then.

Yours Sincerely,
Clare

Art and the Secret Self

Thu, 17 Mar 2005 03:00:00 +1100

Joining a band didn’t stop it, leaving my strict Catholic school for a liberal alternative one didn’t either, nor did acing VCE, or getting a licence. Getting a car didn’t impede it, falling in love didn’t freeze it, moving out on my own didn’t end it, travelling the country didn’t prevent it, nor did travelling the world. Completing Creative Arts at my favourite schools both here and overseas didn’t stop it, getting skinny and fat and skinny and normal didn’t break it’s back, leaving the Call Centre for the Touring Life didn’t conclude it, finding brilliant and divine friends didn’t stop it, switching parties didn’t cure it, switching boyfriends didn’t make it cease, nor did writing and recording my albums, getting schmashed, starting a business, or getting grants. Finding the man of my dreams didn’t make it all vanish, and neither completely did motherhood (!), auntie-hood or engagement. Reviews only made it more tricky, as did attention, as did touring with famous people who also hadn’t found any way to stop it. Getting a manager and getting an audience, well that helped, but it wasn’t the cure. My guess is that money, buying a house, getting married and retiring in Port Douglas won’t plug it up either.

I’m talking about pain, basic human pain, and most particularly about plain old grief, the experience of which paints the backdrop to my second album, which you’ll hear in full in a few months time. This wasn’t an intentional exploration, nor a purposeful dedication to a morose topic, it was just what presented itself when I finally got it into my phat noggin that life, as wonderful as it is, is still hard, regardless of it’s blessings, and that it’s here, in the midst of this here present moment, that life is at it’s most interesting, and that the only thing I have to fix is my ridiculous preoccupation with finding an ongoing easy place of ‘no pain’. It’s an intermittent realisation, but right now I’ve got it. To be honest, I’ve never been happier with my sadness. And the album? Despite the odd pool of melancholic fancy, it’s surprisingly upbeat actually… Now that’s out of the way, let’s get on with the letter. It’s a little late, and I’m feeling a little honest – I’m not sure what’s gonna come out.

Last month we produced the first single (Divorcee by 23) from our forthcoming second album, as well as took part in half-a-dozen larger shows with larger acts (the Day on the Green shows with The P. M., The Waifs/Missy Higgins and Tim Rogers (what a man)). Subsequently, I was interviewed a dozen or so times. Mostly, I enjoyed these little chats. One, however, I really enjoyed, mainly because the journalist, a female from an arts-based magazine here in Melbourne, kind of gave a rats. Not that the others hadn’t, but she was just willing to ‘go there’, and I liked it. It was the first time I’d been able to discuss (albeit briefly) the fact that the forthcoming album, yet to be entitled, is actually a work partly prompted by human grief, and my experiences of grief, in all it’s complexity and humour (am I pushing it by saying ‘humour’? You know what I mean…). I really enjoyed the way that she would A. ask a question and B. leave room for an answer, instead of immediately switching topics or rolling incongruously into the next question. Actually, it’s usually me who does this. Jssst can’t stand the pregnant pause! Whatever – I admired her, because as the years roll on, it must be hard for journalists to stay interested like that, just as it’s hard for subjects to keep answering questions in light of new and current insights. Not that I could have that conversation with everyone; that wouldn’t work either. It would be too much. But at the end of this particular conversation, we were both relived to tell each other that we’d had a good time. I still don’t know if she can write, but I guess we just got along. The whole thing got me thinking.

Because often at the conclusion of an interview, when I say “Thanks very much” and the journalist says “Thanks very much” and the phone goes dead, or they get up and leave, I just feel weird, as though I’ve been invited to a dinner party, been asked a question, answered it as earnestly or as honestly as I could, and then heard someone briskly say “Dessert anyone?” The alternative is to tell the same sure-win story for the seventy-fifth time, which I often do as well. But it makes me feel like a bit of a chump.

Either way, at the end of interviews, I’m sometimes overwhelmed by an awkward, lonesome silence. It’s very rarely the interviewers fault either. It’s really just a feeling, one that I think they call ‘feeling vulnerable’, although I can’t be sure. Whatever it is, it’s akin to lots of other things. Like for example if you’ve had this philosopher boyfriend who’s been asking you to ‘open up’ to him, to reveal your full self, to talk of your shadows, and you’ve been holding off, because you’re scared that perhaps, underneath it all, you’re really just ‘too much’, or that they won’t understand. And then eventually, you are persuaded, you take a chance, you begin to reveal something of your inner-landscape, and just as you get to the part where you never knew if your step-father really loved you, he starts looking at the clock and says “Y’know Honey, I’m really glad we had this little chat, but The Simpsons (or ‘The Game’) is starting and do you think we could talk about this again later?”

This hasn’t ever really happened to me (ahem); it’s just one of those fears I carry around, a common one that has me sometimes wondering “Is this bad timing? Does anyone know what I mean by this? Is it even worth saying? Will this person think I’m a fweak? Shouldn’t I just say something easy?” As though I’m scared to say anything because I’m afraid I’ll sound like I’m talking from half-formed idea of myself and the world (which I am). Such fears are probably fairly par-for-the-course for most ‘creatives’ or slightly-public-living-people. Either that or I’m just a recovering ‘emotional illiterate’. And it can take a while to get a grasp on a language, as my beautiful Greek-Only Speaking ‘she’s been-here-for-fifty-years’ neighbour will attest. Yet I yearn to be fluent.
It all comes back to politics mate.

I’ll tell you why – because it’s my firm belief that the most affecting artists and politicians are those who have the audacity to believe that what they personally think and feel and do may actually have a broader resonance, may actually sit right with people they’ve never met. Sure, you have to be prepared to go the distance with them, but I figure that interesting politicians and artists often speak of that which what is uncomfortable or pertinent or unclear or neglected or misunderstood or unpopular, and do so beautifully, as though they’re not only letting you have it, they’ve also just slipped the finest piece of dark chocolate into your mouth whilst you weren’t looking. It’s a good mix. It inspires.

Personally, I’m not there yet. I’m still far too preoccupied with being liked and enjoyed, which could be what’s behind my existential struggle to “Say Something Funny ” when I’m being interviewed, and why I often prefer to tell half-true stories about famous people, such as “…and then there’s always Tim Rogers, he who be hung like a donkey, or so Shane O’Mara tells us!” or “Yah, yah, and then Paris said ‘What the HELL are we going to talk to these people about!!!” and I said ‘Oh Paris, you’re so funny‘” or “Bert Newton DOES have a wonderful, face…a little rrrround, true, but goddam wonderful” and so on.

But I’m tired, and Marty’s touring, and Asha just came out from her bedroom wearing nothing but a lycra sun-hat and telling me it’s time to go to the beach (it’s 10pm). I’m going to bed. I guess all I really wanted to say was this; in my Personal and very Limited Experience, I find other people’s art most interesting when I know they’re telling something of their secret selves. This happens in both fiction and non-fiction.

I’m glad to be back writing and I’m looking forward to spilling more of these thoughts upon you as the year plays itself out. Feel free to write back.

Yours,
Clare Bowditch

The Songwriters' Life: it's early days yet.

Tue, 02 Nov 2004 03:00:00 +1100

Once, on a Tuesday in 1999, two-thirds the way through his class lecture at Melbourne University, local poet Grant Caldwell told us his secret to life. “There are only two rules” he said. “One – there are no rules. Two – always maintain the right to contradict yourself”. I often think of his words just before I write you one of these Open Letters. Consider this my disclaimer, I suppose.

It seems three months have passed since I last wrote. How can this be? Humble apologies – just been so darn busy. A common malady – you’re probably in the same state. What’s been a hhhhappening? Us? Well, we threw a massive surprise party for core Feeding Set man Marty on Wednesday here in Melbourne – it was a ridiculous success, Marty froze like a little lamb cornered, and I promise never to do such a thing again. Jeez it was funny. He’s been working incredibly diligently on pre-production for our new album next year – we thought he deserved a little surprise. Then on Friday night, the Feeding Set wound up our forth National Tour in six months with a stripped-back show in Wollongong supporting Mick Thomas and his gang of rowdies. Lovely folk, great shows, beautiful tour, and if you took the time to make it to one of our shows, we thank you. We had truly generous audiences, who gave us lots of space and quiet to play in, especially the little intimate one in Adelaide, and the bigger ones in Fremantle and Sydney. It was also a pleasure to play with the likes of the Yearlings (oh so good!), Jess Macavoy (look out people!), Anthony Atkinson and Mick Thomas (whoaaah!!!), Boat People (too good, too good) Freya Hanley (what a love) and Benedict Moleta (your songs are total heart-crackers, all of them) and the list goes on. Thank you.

There are no words to describe how freakin’ tired I felt when I stepped off the plan on Saturday, however. A kind’ve “Did someone slip valium in my tea?” tired. Turns out I was getting the dreaded lurgy – a nasty little ear/chest infection that helps partly explain why I acquired momentary vertigo at our ‘last minute el-cheapo’ twentieth-floor hotel room on Friday night. Oh Doctor! The past forty-eight hours have been absolute bliss though; just lying in bed, fully ‘pyjamad’, being spoon-fed home made free-range ye-olde-style chicken soup by my loved ones. This is rock and roll at its’ most crochet’d fringe.

This lying in bed thing, it gives a woman time to think. Nothing revolutionary, nothing too radical, just flipping up a few new beads to add to my old string of theories about what it is to be a music-maker, what the value of the craft is, and how one can sustain oneself creatively whilst also trying to make a living out of the thing you love. I think about this a lot because I have struggled so hard with it and I see so many of my students and friends doing the same thing. I avoided the ‘music business’ for most of my life in fear of losing my muse. These are the sorts of thoughts that remind me to keep one eye on the rhythm beyond the everyday working rhythm of “Now I write song, now I record song, now I release song, now I pack bag, now I get on plane, now I play show, now I write song, now I record song, now I release song, now I pack bag, etc…”

I’m remembering that I first became a song-writer because nothing in life moved me more deeply than music, and that to be able to make music from out of my very own self still makes me incredibly satisfied. It is one of my rarest pleasures, one that needs to be so carefully tended because it has a tendency to evaporate every time life gets too busy, or every time I begin worrying about how little money we’re making (sorry – this thought is the independent artists sorry bedfellow. It’s so boring!). My touring life (loud, busy), and my writing life (very very quiet) are in almost direct opposition to each other. I guess because this is my first year of doing both, I’m still working it all out. I could tour all the time, but I would probably write horribly leaky songs. Or I could write good enough songs, but you’d never get a chance hear them, because they’d be trapped on tape in my grandmother’s (imaginary) shed along with all the others.

Please don’t get me wrong here though – these are by no means complaints, simply passing thoughts. I’m just trying to work out what to call these seasons and how it is that all of this hard work and heart work fits together in the end. We are a country of working songwriters and everyday I meet other people, really hard working people who share these same questions – I write about them here mainly because I think these things worthy of discussion. Go ahead and email me on this if you like, and if I get a chance I’ll post some of your comments on this site. I’m doing another national tour with Xavier Rudd in November so it may take a little while. Please title your email ‘The Songwriters’ Life’.

Gillian Welch and David Rawlings are coming to town soon. Me and my gang are all a little overexcited, to say the least. I got tickets early, picked up a couple extra, and have never had so many people calling me to ask if I have any left. Just for the record, they’re all gone. Sorry, okay? Anyway, the pair have something really beautiful to say on the topic of making music in the song ‘Everything is Free’ when Gillian sings about the choices her life has asked her to make. I’m not even gonna write the lines here, because much of their beauty is tied up in the way she sings it. It’s a song from her ‘Time the Revelator’ album.

Lines like hers, sung the way she sings them, remind me of the reason I started writing songs, and that to live the life of a songwriter is to live a deep and gorgeous and curious life. (I feel motherhood offers the same trilogy, by the way, but that’s a whole other letter.) And if we have to rent for the rest of our lives and continue to ‘make friends with grains’, we’ll no doubt do it.

Thanks for sticking with me in my moment of cogitation,
Clare x

PS – If you can, spare a thought for Elliot Smith this month on the first anniversary of his death

Songwriter Crushes.

Sat, 03 Jul 2004 02:00:00 +1000

Ah yes, the old “Songwriter Crush”…do you know what I’m talking about here? I first heard this ‘state’ described in the year 2000 by a Vancouver-based singer/songwriter called Bruce. Perched atop of a long bar-stool, his bright red hair sparking under the stage-lights, Bruce began a monologue something along the lines of “You know people, whenever I’m in the audience listening to a singer-songwriter and they play me a beautiful song, I fall immediately and madly in love with them. I’m hoping the same rule will apply towards me for y’all tonight, he he he”. Bruce played his next song, a low and beautiful one, and although he’s not my usual type, I must confess that something strangely akin to a crush began a-stirring inside of me. It wasn’t until Bruce later walked off-stage and started talking like a normal person that the crush evaporated, sure as dew. It almost always does, which is why it’s good to get your CD’s signed.

Sometimes ‘songwriter-crushes’ feel so powerful that it becomes hard to judge exactly which part of the crush needs to be left in the room where the song was played, and which part of it should be carried over into the real world. I noticed this in action when I supported Cat Power in Sydney recently. After the show, I ducked out into the Seymour Theatre foyer to say goodnight to some friends, and on my way back to Chan’s dressing-room I became aware that a flock of young boys and girls were shadowing my every move, hoping that I would somehow lead them back to Chan’s ‘den’. It was that classic “Am I being followed?” scenario where you feel something whacky going on behind you so you turn around and someone whisper “Act normal!” or “Hide!”, but it’s too late. Well this group of kids were sitting there pretending to inspect the carpet and the walls and I said to them “What are you guys doing?” and they’re like “Well, um, nothing much…” until someone honest says “We are in love with Cat Power”. Very funny, and I can totally relate because I did exactly the same think with Jeff Buckley when I was a teenager (circa 1995-ish). My “songwriter crush” for him “climaxed” during a very brief meeting backstage at the Enmore Theatre where he said “Hello” and I got so excited that I let out some sort of “squeek” sound. God help me, I had it bad. Anyway, these kids were really friendly and they did eventually get to meet Chan (she very generously invited all thirty of them back into our dressing-room, and shared a box of soft-drinks with them) and let’s just hope for their sakes that they made less of a dick of themselves than I did.

What is it about the ‘songwriter crush’ that is so compelling? Why do voices and instruments seem to make people fall in love, and feel things that are so hard to articulate? Why is it so strong? So fleeting? And when you’re falling in love with a song or a songwriter, what are you really falling in love with? Why do we make the mistake of thinking that simply because someone is a good performer, they will also be an exciting person, a good listener, a shit-hot lover? What are we judging them on? And why am I asking so many questions?

Since becoming a full-time singer-songwriter myself, I no longer have the luxury of projecting perfection onto people who can sing or play a good song. As the saying goes, they really are just like you and me – fascinating, talented, annoying, ace, and only human. Regardless of this insight I am still rather prone to falling into ‘songwriter crushes’ whenever I hear a songwriter perform a beautiful song. And I must confess here that most of our friends are songwriters, so things can get a little embarrassing from time to time. In fact, “me Marty” and I had a little chat about this recently (he gets it as bad as me: sorry Anthony Atkinson and Richard Easton) and we both agreed that in the end, songwriter crushes (much like dreams) have no regard whatsoever for morals or social norms or gender. They are what they are, and so be it. If you let them, they will take your imagination on walkabout for a song or two, and then it’s up to you to be good to yourself and lead yourself back home again afterwards. They remind us of how deeply we can feel, and then they give us a place to feel it. In the end, the memories of these crushes and the places they lead us become stories for the telling, and that’s something that an audience always seems to appreciate. I gotta say though, if you really want to do yourself a favour, don’t go falling for some flighty singer-songwriter type (and I know the rest of the band would agree with me here): go find yourself a good solid drummer.

That’s the stuff.
Clare

PS – Feel free to email us your “songwriter crush” stories to info@clarebowditch.com
Here are some of your responses …with thanks
(PS – Some names and or identifying details have been changed to protect the honest)

‘Clare, thoroughly enjoyed your rave on songwriter crushes. My first (a long time ago) was in grade 5. Jeff Buckley, definitely. even to the extent of sending him an aerogram. Hopefully your rave might cure me of my two years’ or more crush on a certain singer … whom you guys supported last year. So why am I emailing at 1.48am? The graveyard shift, working … good luck with the gigs.’

‘… so songwriter crushes … far too many … to most of which I overreact and (go see) a bunch of shows before I realise that all their songs are about someone else that they have a huge crush on … kinda embarrassing really.’

‘Hey Clare, I know exactly what you mean. Songwriters can be so dreamy, especially when they write and (sic) emotional song. It’s probably what makes live performances even more special. Often enough I make a dick out of myself, either shouting out something or whatever. You only hope that no one’s looking at you. But anywho. I was just wondering if the Friday July 30- Prince Of Wales gig wouldn’t happen to allow under-ages in? And if it doesn’t, if you could sneek me in? I’ve been dying to see you play but there’s either something on or it’s an over-ages. If you get me in I swear I won’t drink, seriously. Please get me in.’

‘Ya nailed it, babe. I used to think I was weird for being drawn that way by beautiful songs & wonderful people. Now I know I ‘m weird…..but non-toxic and safe for children. Loved the ‘nice solid drummer’ line.’

‘What a beautiful open letter! So enjoyed reading about those crushes. I have a songwriter crush on Glen of Augie, just fall in love with him every time I hear one of his songs…So lovely to be led down the path and what a beautiful analogy of walking yourself home.’

‘Hi Clare!. My first songwriter crush was the Suzanne Vega tour of 1993. A friend and I at the 11th hour decide to get whatever tickets were available to her concert that night and we managed to get rafter tickets that weren’t to bad. Anyway we were fully hooked for all of the concert she just had this knack for writing very clever lyrics to very intricate guitaring which just blows me away. Anyhow not drag on I decided to my friend that we should somehow sneak back stage. Now I don’t know how the hell we pulled this off but somehow we followed some people without really knowing where we were going and then suddenly we were back stage. A few minutes went by where we just stood still and tried not to look too conspicuous cause a couple of people before us got thrown out for being where they weren’t suppose to be which really were us but we were lucky, and then she came out. Anyway while being in total awe of my idol I became dumb struck I swear my jaw was open and nothing came out which was probably a good thing because in those moments the last thing you want to do is say something stupid. So instead I waved to her which she acknowledge and waved back and completely made my evening, then the very following day I saw her walk out of the Hilton hotel where apparently she stayed. I’d just bought her new album 99.9 Fahrenheit which I should have gotten her to sign but me getting awe struck again I just stood there and waved at her which she saw and remembered from the night before and waved back.’

Da Wintrrr

Wed, 02 Jun 2004 02:00:00 +1000

We’re only two days in and already I’m moping ‘Sweet Llllord save me from this winter!’. It’s a well-documented fact that although I adore winter’s book-ends (autumn and spring), I’ve never really been very good friends with winter. It’s always such a ridiculously emotional season and sometimes I’m not really sure what to do to escape the feeling that I wish I was a bear. Also, I am not. Must be about time I dedicated myself to discovering a better way through it, because all going as planned, I’ve got quite a few ahead of me yet.

Where does one start? Does one begin with something simple, an obvious admission perhaps that ‘Yes, it’s winter – it’s meant to be cold and grey’. Or perhaps I gotta get all Dutch and make some kind of list detailing all the things that are welcome about winter; gorgeous deep grey skies, the fact that songs come deeper in winter, or that early nights mean lots of time inside doing good things.

I’m not sure what the answer is, but really when it comes down to it, I’m glad I live in Melbourne and not in a place of perpetual summer. Perpetual anything would drive me mad. I’m gonna work on finding a way to rrrespect da significance of da wintrrr (booyakasha). A time of darkness followed by a time of light – makes sense really.

Clare

Ah - home sweet little old home.

Tue, 27 Apr 2004 02:00:00 +1000

We’ve had a wonderful tour, which is nearly at it’s end (just a week of shows in W.A. and then it’s back in the ‘writers room’ to get moving on the new songs). Machine Translations were a hoot to travel with: a good bunch who made the tour a real pleasure. Their new album, Venus Traps Fly, is a wonder: go have a listen if you can (it’s Triple J’s Feature Album this week). And if you can try and keep an ear open for Nick Craft as well: he is Mach Tran’s latest guitarist but also a song-writer/performer in his own right (ex-sidewinder, just to put a face on him) and his band the Zillions have an album coming out soon also. His songs are quite something.

Anyways, it’s really good to be back in Melbourne where the cold is honest and the winter-woolies-industry is hotting up. Ah, we love a good beanie down here.

Beanies are pretty popular in Canada as well, although over there they call beanies ‘tooks’ (pronounce it like you were an owl…‘toooook-toooook’). I’ve always thought there are significant similarities about Vancouver and Melbourne, similarities beyond the fact that that they were both voted ‘most liveable city’ at some point. The similarities feel more emotional than that; Vancouver’s cold is also very honest. It’s a kind of ‘no bones about it, my heart is cold and my ribs are gonna snap’ style of cold. It’s the variety of cold that inspires the kind of songs that inhabit Autumn Bone, much of which was written when I was living through a Canadian autumn/winter a few years back. There’s nothing more lonely than feeling really cold. When this weather sets in, I find myself thinking a lot about people who can’t afford to keep warm, and how the Salvos will be asking for our old blankets pretty soon. Whilst we’re still in memory land, lemmie tell you about the Salvo’s Advertising Campaigns in Vancouver. You know how here we have these ‘Here is a young girl with dirt smeared on her face and nothing but a ragged-earless-eyeless teddy’ type of ads? (I’m always wondering ‘Who is that kid?’) Over in Vancouver, the Salvos make the most of the ‘Op-shops are trendy!’ angle, and their marketing campaign features these eighties-style ‘YAY’ photos, sort of like the latest Jetstar photos where the protagonist (?) is seen to be jumping in the air going ‘FUN! FUN! YAY WHOO-HOO-DIDDLY-DOO’. Fairly different approaches. (Just a small aside: does it piss anyone else off that most op-shops can’t or won’t take or sell electrical goods anymore? I can understand why, but where else is one supposed to purchase a set of hot-curlers, or an old record player, for three-dollars or under?)

There’s nothing like a change of season to lift the lid on my old boxes of memories, and to get me writing new songs. To be frank, I can feel one coming on so I’d better split; wish me luck and the same to you.

My latest shows, our forthcoming tour, and the Wisdom of Rex Hunt.

Wed, 31 Mar 2004 02:00:00 +1000

Here we go, here we go, here we go….

‘Tis the eve of our historically significant Autumn Bells Tour (significant to our personal biographical histories because this is our first ever national tour and all). How are you all? This is going to be a quick little note because we’re rushing to finish all of our packing and I know that if I let myself keep writing as much as I want to, we’ll have little chance of getting on the road at 7am in the morning.

The other day I was stuck at Adelaide airport coming home from a show with the man who is curiously becoming Shannon Noll’s rival on the Australian charts – Mr Pete Murray. He has been fairly unknown until recently and he’s also copped his fair share of kudos and crap for being fairly ruggedly good looking in a flannelette shirt kind’ve way (thanks for having me Pete and crew; it was fun). Anyway, there I was and I turned around and – kiss a fish – there was Mr Rex Hunt. It was the first time I’d seen him in the flesh. He seemed to have this entourage of interested strangers following his every move. I said, y’know, ‘Mate, how to you cope with all these people following you around watching your every move?’ He looked me square in the eye and said ‘Now look, this is why I get paid so much. This is why television pays you so much. But listen here: television makes false heroes of man and that should never be forgotten. They don’t mention how I am as a father or a husband: that’s what counts. And remember this too: money doesn’t make you happy – I can tell you that from experience. I’ve made millions’. Millions huh? I’m thinking, hmm, would be nice to have just one little litty of those said millions! Anyway, we chatted for a while, I told him I was a muso, he said ‘You need a big break, don’t you?’. Pause…was that an offer, I thought? Could my ‘mother’s-charm’ really be working on this, this man of the sea, this kisser of fish, this…hang on, what kind of big break could Rex Hunt possibly offer someone like me? How insane am I? Fairly. I was just about to suggest I write a love-song for a character Barramundi called, ah, Barry, which he could then feature on his show, and how we could make a merchandising fortune out of small “Barry” fish-doll’s, which could then be sold-on to Sea World for ride-related-purposes, when our flight was called and poor Rex Hunt made a dash quicker than I’ve ever seen. Was it something I said? Was it the half-crazed look in my eye? Once again, it was curtains for me and my big break. Next time, Hunt, next time…

To all Paul Dempsey fans: I played a support with him last Friday night and I have to say, I have never ever seen such a loyal bunch of followers in my life. They sang every single word of his songs, they knew every nuance, and it wasn’t just the people at the front, it was the boys in the aisles and the girls up the back. It was truly a mind-boggling thing to watch, and worth a little mention. Jemsy, Jake, if you guys could just learn the words to Ms Unavailability that would be great, thanks…

That wasn’t that short was it? Oh well, just wanted to let you know that we’re all really excited about starting our Autumn Bells tour tomorrow, can’t wait to get on the road with Machine Translations and to play for you. Machine Translations are one of my top five Aussie bands: it’s a great honour to be out there with them.

Lots of lovin’
Clare

How much to share with strangers.

Thu, 04 Mar 2004 03:00:00 +1100

Hi there,
This week I’ve done more interviews than I’ve ever done in my life. One of the recurring questions has been ‘Your open letters are very, um, open. Does this ever worry you?’ Hmm, it didn’t before you brought it up…let me think about that one… It is always hard to know how much to share with strangers, but I guess that’s a risk we all run, every day, and sometimes we do it wisely and sometimes we don’t. It’s a tough-one I reckon. The thing is this though: people, on the whole, are kind’ve interesting. When I let people in on some of my true-stories and struggles, and share something of myself, I find I almost always get twenty-times as much back in return. Clichéd I know. But it’s inspiring and good to read your emails and replies and know that I’m not the only youngish mum who’s struggling to make a living out of the arts. It’s great when people send me suggestions or advice on how they did it, do it, want to do it, and it’s good to hear that people are using our songs to fall in love to or walk themselves to work with or kick-start themselves of a Monday, or reminisce about their families, their home, or get smashed to, or use as the soundtrack to which they smooch their loved-ones of a weekend. I still love hearing about your stories: bring ‘em on.
CB

It's Nearly Autumn Bone

Wed, 18 Feb 2004 03:00:00 +1100

The leaves on our liquid amber tree have begun reddening already. It feels like autumn yet there are still several weeks of summer left.

Autumn Bone is here though, and we’re doing our best to gear up for our ‘Formal Presentation’ on Saturday night at The Corner Hotel. Actually, it’s gonna be more of a shindig than a formal, but I’m packing myself none the less. I’ve been getting a few emails from a few old friends and I’m wondering how much of a class reunion it’s gonna be…anyways, it will be good to see you guys. Yesterday Marty came home from work and asked me if I’d heard the good news; apparently both PBS and Triple J (the ‘National Youth Station’ for those outside Australia) have chosen Autumn Bone as one of their two Feature Albums for next week. I always feel a little confused when things like this happen. And let me just qualify here – when I say ‘things like this’ I’m talking about ‘things that might change things significantly’. It may not sound like such a big deal to most artists but as an independent band with pretty local aspirations we or at least I just didn’t expect this kind of thing to happen. So when it happens and people see it happening, apparently (so they say) it really can change everything.

Except the album itself: this obviously will not change, which is probably for the best – I like it. If I’d thought that many people would be sitting in their living rooms listening to it I probably would have had more trouble writing it, so I’m kind’ve glad I was free to make the album what it is without getting too horribly self-conscious.

I’m excited, and I’m a little overwhelmed, but that’s life and if I let my fears rule, I guess my songs would still be stuck on those cassettes in that box under my bed gathering dust and I’d still be working in a shop selling Nag Champa and lapis lazuli rings.

PS – Does anyone want a beautiful middle-aged tortoise-haired cat called Gemima? Great at catching mice, but a little spooked around small children. She’s a stray, she’s strayed into our life, and now I have to find her a home before Marty sends her to the pound. If you’re interested and in Melbourne, please email us.

Your Other Hand - video online now

Tue, 01 Jul 2008 00:00:00 +1000

Thu, 26 Jun 2008 00:00:00 +1000

BOWDITCH SELLS OUT HER NATIONAL ‘WINTER SECRETS’ TOUR, ANNOUNCES INTERNATIONAL DATES AND A HAS SPECIAL NOTE FOR YOU!

The Clare Bowditch ‘Winter Secrets’ tour featuring Clare in solo mode, performing an intimate evening of songs and stories has proven to be a wonderful formula. Having sold out all her shows last weekend on the opening weekend of the tour and with this weekend’s shows in Wollongong and Sydney also sold out, Clare’s loyal fans are reveling in the new show.

The ‘Winter Secrets’ competition which is enabling lucky winners a rare opportunity to perform live with Clare has been a huge success with hundreds of entries and some very special performances….

Here is what Clare has to say:

Please check the current dates of the tour as shows are selling out everywhere, as well as an announcement of a 17 date tour with the one and only Wally de Backer of Gotye Fame across Europe in September. Click here for all dates and details.

Love

Clare’s Lunatics

Competition Closed!

Sun, 01 Jun 2008 00:00:00 +1000

A very big thank you to all of those who applied for the ‘Perform With Clare’ competition. We’re currently going through all of the entries – and the standard is very high – and will be in touch very soon. If you need to contact us in regards to your entry, please use wintersecrets@clarebowditch.com only.

Play live with Clare Bowditch – and win a Gibson guitar!

Tue, 20 May 2008 00:00:00 +1000

The opportunity to play alongside Clare Bowditch just became even more enticing!

The overall national winner of the Winter Secrets competition (as chosen by Clare) will be rewarded with a brand new Gibson J-45 Acoustic Guitar, thanks to Gibson Guitar.

Clare Bowditch is encouraging all upcoming, experienced or inexperienced musicians of any instrument, background or genre to apply for the chance to perform her song “Your Other Hand” LIVE ON STAGE with her, as part of her latest solo national Australian tour, proudly presented by Triple J, YEN, Faster Louder and Lunatic Entertainment.

To be in the running, go to the competitions page (www.clarebowditch.com/competitions) and send Clare your take on her latest single, ‘Your Other Hand’, from album ‘The Moon Looked On’ (instore now).

The finalist in each city of the tour will have the unique opportunity to join Clare on stage to perform her latest single ‘Your Other Hand’. She may also ask you to join her on a traditional sing-along, “From Little Things Big Things Grow” by Kev Carmody and Paul Kelly (lyrics available from Kev Carmody’s website).

Get your entries in early because submissions close FRIDAY MAY 30th.

Winter Secrets Tour 08
June 18 – August 1 2008 – see www.clarebowditch.com/shows for all the details.

NEW SHOW ADDED: The Winter Secrets tour is now going to the Yarra Valley as well for a very special “Stones of the Yarra Valley“ performance on Friday 11 July.

The Winter Secrets Tour 08 is presented by Lunatic Entertainment and supported by Triple J, Yen and FasterLouder.

Clare Bowditch goes solo for a very special 'Winter Secrets Tour'

Wed, 23 Apr 2008 00:00:00 +1000

Touring across the country with a brand new rollicking solo show throughout June and July, the ‘Winter Secrets Tour’ by Clare Bowditch promises intimate evenings of songs, stories and special guests, many of whom she is yet to meet; please see the Competitions page

Armed with guitars, loop pedals and an array of the world’s oddest instruments, these shows are a one off solo experiment that will see Clare performing far and wide across the country.

After an incredible summer of touring with John Butler and festival highlights including Blues and Falls festival with her wonderful band, the Feeding Set; these will be stripped back, straight from the heart, confronting and cheeky shows which will be remembered for marking a bold change in direction for Bowditch.

These will be Clare’s last shows for some time in Australia before she relocates to Berlin to pursue exciting European opportunities including intensive touring and an imminent album release. This tour will do more than keep you warm this winter.

Bowditch is thrilled to have a stripped-back version of her
favourite young act, Hot Little Hands (featuring Tim Harvey
of Feeding Set fame!) with her on the road, bringing their
fun filled rock and roll sound to the country. Expect to hear
tracks from their exciting new album, “Dynamite in B&W” which will be released this May.

Also Sydney, Melbourne and Brisbane shows will feature
very special guest performances by the wonderful Old Man River.

*COMPETITION! *
Clare Bowditch is encouraging all upcoming,
experienced or inexperienced musicians of any
instrument, background or genre to perform with
her as part of her ‘Winter Secrets Tour’. To be in
the running, go to the competitions page and
send Clare your take on her latest single, ‘Your Other
Hand’, from album ‘The Moon Looked On’ (instore now).

The Winter Secrets Tour 08 is presented by Lunatic Entertainment and supported by Triple J, Yen and FasterLouder.

COMPETITION

Tue, 22 Apr 2008 00:00:00 +1000

Here’s your chance; the WINTER SECRETS COMPETITION

Kev Carmody - Cannot Buy My Soul Live at the Wireless

Wed, 26 Mar 2008 00:00:00 +1100

Tune in to Triple J on Monday March 31st at 8pm for a very special recording of the Kev Carmody Tribute Show – Cannot Buy My Soul held during this year’s Sydney Festival.

Listeners can hear the highlights featuring The Herd, Dan Kelly, Missy Higgins, Tex Perkins, The Drones and of course, Clare Bowditch!

Free Songs For You!

Sat, 15 Mar 2008 00:00:00 +1100

To celebrate the release of Clare Bowditch’s new single, “You Look So Good”, the mp3 will be available to download for free from here

You Look So Good - filmclip online now

Sat, 16 Feb 2008 00:00:00 +1100

Clare Bowditch – You Look So Good

New Single - You Look So Good

Fri, 15 Feb 2008 00:00:00 +1100

The single is going to radio today too so please feel free to request it from any of the following and even sign up for the Nova Survey to let them know you like it.

Channel [V]
Triple J

Nova:
Nova 106.9 Brisbane
Nova 96.9 Sydney
Nova 100 Melbourne
Nova 91.9 Adelaide
Nova 93.7 Perth

MTV
Hot30
Rate The Music

Triple M:
(Sydney)
(Melbourne)
(Adelaide)
(Brisbane)

Clare’s national support tour with JBT and the Waifs has been fantastic and extensive, covering huge amounts of ground both with and without the Feeding Set. It’s not over yet either, with a Day on the Green and the Wollongong Botanical Gardens providing stunning backdrops for more exciting shows next month. There are also the Blues and Roots festivals on the East and West Coasts, UNSW O’Week Entertainment and two very special shows in Victoria’s gorgeous Gippsland area. Hop onto the Shows page for all the details.

Peccadilloes is a finalist for the International Songwriting Competition ! Out of 15,000 entries across the whole world, we’re now down to the pointy end of proceedings and the song will be judged by a panel which includes Tom Waits, Robert Smith, Jerry Lee Lewis, Nelly Furtado among others. It’s also up for the ‘People’s Choice’ award, and you can vote now online for Peccadilloes

January News

Mon, 14 Jan 2008 00:00:00 +1100

“Thinking is not to agree or disagree. That is voting.”

So said the poet Robert Frost and so Triple J is giving you 2 more days to agree and disagree with your fellow music lovers before the Hottest 100 voting closes at midnight on Sunday 20 January. Head to the Hottest 100 website to cast your vote – we recommend:

Clare Bowditch & The Feeding Set – When The Lights Went Down

And here are some other randomly selected tracks you may wish to consider including:

Clare Bowditch & The Feeding Set – I Love The Way You Talk
Clare Bowditch & The Feeding Set – Peccadilloes
Clare Bowditch & The Feeding Set – You Looked So Good

In other news, our very exciting tour with John Butler Trio and The
Waifs is almost completely sold out everywhere so if you were
planning to get along to any of those shows, head to our Shows page
for details quick smart!

The last two ‘Lazy Sundays with Clare Bowditch and Libby Chow’
programs on Triple J will go to air from 2pm on the 20th and 27th of this
month, featuring interviews with Billy Bragg, Holly Throsby, Felix Riebl (Cat Empire), Defah and John from Red Raku, Danielle from the JB Seed project, Sally Seltman, author Rachel Power, a song with the kids from Tinpan Orange and a very special singalong with Vincent from Midnight Juggernauts and the Feeding Set. We hope that you will join us in rounding off what has been a fantastic summer of guests, duets and general laid-back – but very interesting – chat.

Clare recently featured on a brilliant 7.30 Report segment about Kev Carmody and the wonderful shows that were performed in his honour as part of Sydney Festival at the start of this month. CB performed in the shows and also appears alongside, Paul Kelly, MIssy Higgins, Tex Perkins and many other in this wonderful program which is currently up online at www.abc.net.au/7.30 and definitely worth a look.
Speaking of the small screen, Clare and the Feeding Set recently shot a very gorgeous, exciting filmclip for their new single – You Look So Good – with the award-winning filmakers Brigittte Jean Allen and Killen Maguire. It will available for your viewing pleasure from the middle of next month. Oh, and CB will be on Spicks And Specks again in the next few months so keep an eye out for that too!

See you soon,
CB and the FS
x

we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet

Tue, 01 Jan 2008 00:00:00 +1100

For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

No idea what it means, but it sounds lovely and seems quite fitting as we bid farewell to an exceptional 07. Clare and everyone here at Feeding Central want to thank you for all the magic you’ve sent out way this year; it’s been a truly remarkable time for us and we feel so lucky to have had you along for the ride. We hope it’s been a wild and wonderful year for you also, and we wish you the very best for 2008.

Now it’s time to start the New Year with those two favourite institutions; a quiet lie-in and a vote in the Triple J Hottest 100 at www.abc.net.au/triplej/hottest100/. Please vote for “When the Lights Went Down; let’s see if we can get it right up there! We’ll be back with a new single in February this year; stay tuned.

2008 is already shaping up to be a magnificent year, with Clare taking part in the incredible Kev Carmody “Cannot Buy My Soul” shows (along with the Drones, Paul Kelly, Missy Higgins, and many others), followed by an exceptional “Union of Soul” tour with John Butler and the Waifs. Also on the cards are a number of “Bare Bones –rare, intimate and stripped back” shows which will feature John, the Waifs and Clare in solo mode, playing their own special songs but also interweaving with each other. All details can be found on our Shows page and tickets can be purchased via www.johnbutlertrio.com
Also, don’t forget that Clare and Libby are hosting their very own Lazy Sundays on Triple J every week at 2pm until the end of Jan, which feature some of Australia’s most interesting creative types, and a “singalong” cover-version at the end of each show!

January 5th
January 12th
January 19th
January 26th

We’ll keep you updated via our website with guests and songs for each week so please stay tuned. There are some lovely people calling in through January.

Also, just in time for summer, our gorgeous Kat MacLeod designed T-shirts are now available from our online Shop.

Happy New Year!