Tim Rogers from You Am I, taken at the Gaelic Club, Sydney on Friday 29th October 2004.

Had a scratch only you could itch
underneath the Glebe Point Bridge

Purple Sneakers, You Am I (from Hi Fi Way)

Surely these are two of the most fantastic opening lines to a song. Purple Sneakers appeared on one of the (if not THE) best Australian rock albums of the 90s, Hi Fi Way by You Am I (http://www.youami.net); their second album (1994), following the remarkable Sound As Ever. Recorded at Geene Street Studios in New York, produced by Lee Ronaldo (Sonic Youth) and mixed by Ronaldo and Jon Auer (The Posies) following their support slot for Soundgarden (http://web.stargate.net/soundgarden/) across the US (after being ‘found’ by them at the Big Day Out), it hit the Australian music scene with a thump. It spawned the singles Cathy’s Clown, Jewels and Bullets, and aforementioned Purple Sneakers. The Sydney band sold out six shows at the Metro Theatre (Sydney) in a row – the only band to ever do so to date.

As a Juice magazine review said at the time:

The cause behind them is the near (just for the record, "Gray" is simply good) comprehensive brilliance in conception and execution of this album. Put simply, Hi Fi Way sets a new benchmark in Australian music. 5/5

The songs hark back to lead singer Tim Roger’s childhood, and dwell on the daily grind of life and growing up in Sydney. They rock, they strum, they strut, they take hold of the foot and make it tap, tap, tap. The track Applecross Wing Commander is about pretending to be an airplane as a 9 year old (in the Perth suburb Applecross), and the tracks She Digs Her, Minor Byrd and Punkarella are inspired by people around him. Purple Sneakers was released as a single in June 1995 and reached number 24 in the 1995 Triple J Hottest 100. The song was inspired by the school-yard taunts Tim suffered after he wore purple sneakers (a twelfth birthday present from his father) to school. It also touches on the over-use of drugs to keep inattentive children at bay.

The Glebe Point Bridge, permanently swung open to allow shipping to pass through.

But, as with many of the tracks, the lyrics capture the heart of the listener, and take them on a reminisce. The Glebe Point Bridge, now decommissioned, squats insignificantly below the huge ANZAC (Glebe Island Bridge) that feeds traffic from the west into the heart of Sydney. But before 1997, the little four-lane swing bridge was an archaic (and infuriating at peak hour) reminder of a time past, when Sydney was about cans of KB lager, Fords and Holdens, and when we could play cricket on the street in bare feet and ride our BMX bikes off into the distance.

Find this song on your music-swapping programme. Listen. Love it. Then buy it.

Purple Sneakers

Had a scratch only you could itch
Underneath the Glebe Point Bridge
And now every boy in a knitted vest
Has got some precedent
So we took a personality pill
And something red to swill
And now every fire has gone out
in every heart that wanted to kill
Let's call it a day

Every thought that once had a sound
We'll have to hide 'til no one is around
'cause there ain't no room in the city today
For explanations that you just can't say
Found out what shame can mean
In purple sneakers and grey jeans
And every walked to a school that once made sense
Sure felt like an accident
Let's call it a day

For every trouble you found
There's a drink to lose it and drown
But do you need somebody, to feel somebody?

Every day that once had a sound
We'll have to hide 'til no one is in town
I don't hate I just feel better
When no one else is around
So we'll take a personality pill
And something red to swill
And now every fire has gone out
in every heart that wanted to kill
Let's call it a day

For every trouble you found
There's a drink to lose it and drown
But do you need somebody, to feel somebody?

You can shave a million ways
To make damn sure that the twelve in you stays
But do you need somebody, to feel somebody?

Why the name? Fromlittlethings.blogger.com?

From little things big things grow.

This is true.

It’s not just a clever reference to my aspirations for this blog, it’s also the title of a beautiful song about a beautiful moment in Australian history. In this sense, it hybridises my hopes for this blog with music (the theme of the site) and politics (a passion of mine), which often impinges on (and sometimes appropriates) the lyrics of great songs.

As you’ll hear. Because this site will discuss songs, albums, gigs and music in general that I love and enjoy. What they mean. What I think they mean. What they mean to me. Where they fit into music. In general, this will be about alternative music, and in many cases, Australian. The main driver for establishing this site is that I’m moving to America and worry that I’ll lose touch with new Australian alternative music. I also associate things strongly with the music I’m listening to, and always have. So Sydney will be appearing a lot through the songs I tap about occasionally.

And so to the song. From little things big things grow (Comedy, 1995) performed by Paul Kelly, and co-written with indigenous musician Kev Carmody (with didgeridoo at the end performed by actor and personality Ernie Dingo). Paul Kelly (www.paulkelly.com.au) put his mark on the Australian songwriting scene with the release of the classic Australian song From St Kilda to Kings Cross – a story of his travel from the gritty side of Melbourne to its partner in Sydney. He has had a string of hits in Australia since 1984 (Before Too Long, Dumb Things, Bradman, To Her Door), and is, in my opinion, a brilliant singer-songwriter and has the rare ability to capture the essence of that which is Australian. There is little romanticism though, he is honest and does not pretend that life is easy; he exposes the difficult underbelly of society (http://www.abc.net.au/enoughrope/stories/s1147867.htm).

The story-telling them runs strong through Kelly’s songs, and the lyrics to From little things big things grow (http://www.paulkelly.com.au/lyrics/from-little-things.html) are no exception.

But this story is special, and the guitar melodic.

Gather round people let me tell you're a story
An eight year long story of power and pride
British Lord Vestey and Vincent Lingiari
Were opposite men on opposite sides

Indeed they were. In 1966 (the year indigenous Australians were recognized as legal citizens, counted in the census, and allowed to vote for the first time) Vincent Lingiari led his tribe on a strike on a large cattle station in the Northern Territory, demanding pay, decent work conditions, and that the Gurindji tribe have their land returned. Over eight years, their struggle gained momentum and support through across Australia, and a cry for human rights through the Union movement.

In 1972 a Labor Government was elected in Australia and it was Prime Minister Gough Whitlam (http://whitlam.alp.org.au/bio.html and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gough_Whitlam).

Eight years went by, eight long years of waiting
Till one day a tall stranger appeared in the land
And he came with lawyers and he came with great ceremony
And through Vincent's fingers poured a handful of sand

bringing the strike to an end and restoring ownership of the land to it's traditional owners. Gough Whitlam's words at the 1975 ceremony were "Vincent Lingiari, I solemnly hand to you these deeds as proof, in Australian law, that these lands belong to the Gurindji people and I put into your hands part of the earth itself as a sign that this land will be the possession of you and your children forever." Whitlam was a leader of rare vision and clarity, who changed the face of Australia for the ordinary person.

Paul Kelly will be visited again here for sure; much more needs to be discussed; albums and discographies plugged. That is for another time. For now, it is important to showcase the song behind the web address. A song about a man who decided enough was enough a paved the way for indigenous land claims in Australia, and the man who responded and gave them the first indication that Australians could care.

That was the story of Vincent Lingairri
But this is the story of something much more
How power and privilege cannot move a people
Who know where they stand and stand in the law

From little things big things grow
From little things big things grow
From little things big things grow
From little things big things grow