But that would be a different blog post.Their father moved to London as a teenager in 1959 and the brothers were born in there. It should create an obligation on us to reflect and innovate. We’ve known how late it was for a long time, and it keeps getting later… Imho, it CAN be too late, and it probably is (that doesn’t give us permission to quit, I think. This question of lateness, of “last chance to save”. Most people seem to need hope, and you can be proud to provide some perhaps? (I disagree, but wtf would I know)Īnd they say it’s late, but you know it’s never too late The consequences that had already happened to other species, to other people’s, hadn’t yet become clear enough on “us.” We hadn’t opened so many hellmouths back then. Yeah, back then you could do that without having to work really hard. The same people he hailed at the beginning, to “come on down the line.” The dream of a congregation for the common good (the dream realised in the video for Blue Sky Mine). Watching out down the street as other people start coming down The “rags to riches” narrative, of (individual) economic prosperity/growth has become a weapon piercing the idea of a public, a common good. I suspect, from the context, that the intention was to say “things can change quickly…Īs rags to riches becomes the public spear You know today’s bushfire is tomorrow’s inferno More difficult dangerous, beautiful journeys (to distant novas) (lovely doubling of “vessels”) Our blood vessels go sailing, galaxies away It’s beautiful too, and is a continuation of the themes of the song itself. We didn’t, so the “or be damned” comes into play…Īnd the storm is breaking now, yes the storm is crashing downĬompare to the end of Blue Sky Mine from the same album – ” in the end the rain comes down…” – rain/weather as redeemer, as cleanser… We needed then, to take concrete (real, hard) steps and win (celebrating with champagne). Tomorrow’s child takes concrete footsteps Economics now (“economic rationalism” – what we used to called neoliberalism, back in the day)Īnd now, yeah, there is nothing left (bar the shouting) The Hawke government was busy trying to convince folks that “Ecologically Sustainable Development” was a thing as this song was being written.Ĭoastline hosed down washed away, economics now there’s nothing leftĬoastlines hosed down…. That key word “development” which from the 80s (earlier too, of course) was a euphemism for planting dismal resorts on wilderness. A defence of the working man’s paradise again and an awareness of the willingness of those brigades to inflict physical violence on anyone who gets in their way (see also Billy Bragg’s The Marching Song of the Covert Battalions.“ Henry Lawson’s poem “ The Lay’Em Out Brigade”, is comment on an infamous incident of the threat of military force against strikers. Our poet Henry Lawson, he named them, the Lay’em Out Brigade Love’s the only engine of survival, as one L. I can break, Over you, but I can’t live without your love I can shake, I can move, but I live can’t without your love (Nothing is safe, but that is the very nature of life.) We can take dangerous journeys to difficult living places, but the hubris of trying may lead us to plummet like Icarus. We can dive into distant amoebas, our wings could melt in the sun The chance of reconciliation? Of shared enterprise in the mythology of Anzac (strong at the time the song was written, stronger since, and now being as challenged because of the Brereton Report.) Though why a blackfella should risk his life for an Empire that has stolen land, murdered, pillaged etc My reading of this (perhaps wrong) is of an Aboriginal serviceman becoming (briefly) a hero during the first world war (the Somme). “skin and the stars embrace” – who can write like this? That’s magical.Ī caveman could a saint become, on a hospital ward on the Somme And though the words didn’t mean it at the time (I think), they now speak to the loss of seasons thanks to climate change – the seasons don’t have rhymes or rhythms anymore, and can’t anchor us, as the tides rise. Take you to the last wild place, skin and the stars they embrace The seasons’ rhymes, they anchor me, against the raging tide I think he means Europe in the 19th century… There’s a “why wouldn’t you come to paradise?” tone to it – Australia the (white) working man’s paradise. The singer beckons you, away from “barren” ground (which might be fertile, but is in the hands of harlots and autocrats. The harlot and the autocrat, are they driving you further down? Won’t you come on down the line, away from barren ground?
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