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10 Volume 1
August 2006
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Joe Geia:
PH: Ian Dury and the Blockheads. JG: That when I felt, "I'm a professional musician". PH: So how old were you then? JG: 25 roughly. PH: What made you want to join that band? JG: I saw their little movie on one of the ABC programs called "Wrong side of the road". There were two bands, No Fixed Address and Us Mob. And they made this little movie about boys coming out of a boys home, you know, and forming bands. I was on Palm Island at that time and when I saw the clip I said, "I'm in the wrong place here. I should go down there and put my feelers out down in Adelaide." PH: So were you doing a bit of music up at Palm Island? Were you playing didg? JG: Nah, I was doing a lot of song-writing… PH: Writing words and music? JG: Writing words, strumming the guitar, structuring songs. A lot of my songs then was about the strike that my father led on Palm Island from rations to wages. I wrote a song called Uncle Willy […] because Uncle Willy was one of the other leaders that helped dad with the strike, Out of all those people who led the strike, Uncle Willy was the only one who wrote a sort of booklet about it. And it was about being under the act, the Torres Strait Islander and Aboriginal Act that was enforced by the Queensland government. They could move people around anywhere they wanted, you know, from reserve to reserve. Anyway, I didn't want to bitch about the political thing, I just wrote about Uncle Willy and his book. I thought that little song would support that booklet that he wrote. PH: So you come from a family of people who've been active in the whole area of putting music and politics together? JG: My father [Albert Geia] stood up for a lot of people's
rights. I think because our family is half Aboriginal, half Torres Strait
Islander, so there was lots of things where Aborigines would come and
ask dad to do something because he could sort of get into the Torres Strait
areas. He was like the old crow on the fence, you know? And he could jump
on either side. He had that respect for both Torres Strait Islander and
Aborigines. Politically, he was a good contact for them. PH: It's funny how history changes things, isn't it? JG: Yeah, I'm talking about 1952. I started writing songs and also I had ideas of …being a host to tourism and things like that. I thought music would be a good remedy to get that message out in a subtle way, not a really hard politcial… PH: A way that people could come at. JG: Yeah. And that was my whole idea of writing songs. PH: Did you grow up in a musical environment or did you just teach yourself? JG: My Dad was a musician. PH: A working musician or casual? JG: Casual. He was a conductor of the Palm Island Brass band. One time I think it was the Queen Mother came to Australia in about '54 or something like that, and they got the Palm Island Brass Band to perform for her in Townsville. PH: And he conducted? JG: Yeah. That was one of his big gigs, to play all this military music for the Queen Mother, the Royal visit to Queensland. PH: Did you learn to read music or did you just do it by ear? JG: Yeah I just did it by ear. PH: How long did No Fixed Address go for? JG: I think I was in it about two and a half years. That's when they was losing their original guitarist – I think he wanted to sort of pull up for a while. And the band just sort of pulled up from Premier Artists then – they were our agent – the Patcholis, Mick [Patcholi] was managing us as well. There were a few disagreements come between the band and…so he let us go then.
JG: I ended up living in Anglesea. I had a lady friend named Jackie McCoy. She helped me organise my music and sent me on the road. PH: Playing solo or with a band? JG: I had a band put together with the McKenna brothers
– it was called Prince Nia and the Slaves of Sin. Des McKenna [drummer],
Chris Coin [on sax], some boys from the Swinging Sidewalks… JG: Yeah. I used to go down to Prince Patrick's a lot… PH: You were still playing didg and percussion? JG: No, I started singing then. I just knew a few R&B
songs like Sam Cooke, something like that. I'd get up with Swinging Sidewalks
and do a guest feature. Royal Derby was one of our home base resident
pubs. PH: The album was named after the song Yillull? JG: Yeah. John Megson's studio at Warrenwood, called
Fast Forward…actually when we were recording, [John] Farnham bought
it. We had to pull up for one day just so he could do his business. PH: That's quite a big festival. JG: That's held by the Kuku Yelangi people. And then from there, that was in 1988, that's the only thing I've done really. And somehow, that's just sort of stayed there. You know, over the years it's been played a lot… PH: It's become a classic. JG: Yeah. And with that album we only made cassettes and vinyl. So I'm thinking of renewing it, bringing it out on CD…I [still] get a lot of queries about if I still have any of it left. PH: So when did you start thinking about the process for the new album? JG: '98 or '97. The reason why I thought I'd be ready to do another one was…between '88 and '98 I also went overseas to Ireland and Italy – one album, one song, gave me those invitations. The boys from [Radio Nationals] Music Deli did a little interview and there was an Italian guy, related to an Italian politician in Milan, who lived in Ingham [Queensland], where I was born. He heard my didgeridoo playing, and he knew I had an album so he [wrote] this letter inviting aboriginal artists to this ethnic festival in Italy. When he heard the interview he thought, "This guy should actually go over." And he sent me the letter through the ABC. I got the letter and followed it up. And the Italian government paid for my way over there and back. PH: Was that a good festival? JG: Yeah. I got a lot of other gigs out of it. I went south from Milan right down to Amalfi and Minori, to the Mediterranean. I knew some people from Wild Pumpkins at Midnight, a little Tassie band, they were over there at the time. I […] did some shows with them in Germany and Holland, makin' tracks over there. PH: And were you still writing new songs during this period? JG: Yeah. Some of the new ones on the latest recording that I've got…"Give me a Mercedes" was written on a German autobahn –they would zoom past us at 160, till one of the guys, Dan Tuffy from Wild Pumpkins at Midnight, said, "You see them cars there?" he says. "They actually make the body, the framework of that out of silicon which come from your mother's land – a big silicon mine up in Queensland." And I thought,"Oh well, I'm not going to see that silicon again so I might as well see if I can make a trade with them, to give me a Mercedes." The sense of humour came out of it, and I thought, "Hey that's good." PH: Did you write any other songs for the album that came from those overseas experiences? JG: Another one, "Rain" and "Good to see you" – they were written over there. PH: Is there a theme that comes through on this CD for you? JG: There's a lot of love songs there. And I hope that
this album goes out to our domestic violence and things like that. Yeah,
I've had a broken heart but sometime to sort of cover it up or take away
that feeling and frustration I write a song about it, you know, or something
like that.
PH: So for you, writing a song is like a creative way of dealing with those feelings. JG: Yeah. If someone out there really knows what the lyrics is about, you have them coming up after the gig and saying, "That's a great song, that explains me through and through, from head to toe." That's the best feedback I can ever get from someone who wishes to commit suicide three months ago but they hear that their story is in this song and so it gives them second thought about something. PH: So are there any other songs on the album that have a particular story for you? JG: The album name is "Nunga, Koori and Murri Love". Koori covers the people of Tasmania, Victoria and New South Wales. Nungas come from South Australia, they use that word. Murri, they use that word up in Queensland. So Nunga Koori and Murri love is…sometimes we get politically a title that we are violent, that we just hate whites, that we've turned into black racists ourselves. But that song says that eh, we can love someone too. Don't expect us to eat bandicoot three meals a day – we drink Coca-Cola too you know, we're as urban as… PH: You are doing your subtle thing of putting the other point of view forward? JG: Yeah. I'm not stamping my hand on the table. I just pick up a pen and put the words on paper, you know. I feel that that is a really good way to do it. It's worked for me anyway. I've only done one album and it's sort of done a lot of justice for an individual grass roots indigenous like me. PH: Do you have a hope for what can happen with this CD? JG: In the industry I'm sure that there's a catalog
of Aboriginal musicians, and it's one of the smallest boxes in the record
company or in the record shop. It's so small that you don't see it sometimes.
I'd like to run alongside of Hunters and Collectors, run alongside Paul
Kelly, instead of getting them to come and do my song for me. PH: So you'd like to be part of that. JG: I like using traditional words to re-educate the wider Australian audience. PH: Can you give me an example of that? JG: Well "Yillull" is an aboriginal word which could mean "morning" or "singing" and it's a word that actually comes from the same tribe that told Captain Cook about kangaroo. When we say "kangaroo", we say a Kuku Yelangi word. Not many people know that it’s a Kuku Yelangi word. The real pronunciation is "gangaroo" but because we had no alphabet, Joseph Banks wrote it down with a K. That's also in Cook's diary. He also mentions that when he got as far as Daintree Forest and Cape Tribulation, there was different Aboriginal people. When they danced they shook their leg, and he called it the Shake-a-leg tribe. Like when he sailed past Manly, there were these six-foot Aboriginies on the beach – and he said "they look manly"! It's an interesting book, his diary. PH: So you're hoping to get some of these words back into circulation. JG: Or just get Australian people to use them. Use the words more than the sacred instruments, or copy sacred paintings, it's good to use the words. I notice, I've done a lot of coroborees in schools and if it’s a multicultural school, you see Greeks and Italians in groups, then you see the white Australian kids who really have no language or culture, not even an accent. I feel for those kids because they're sort of left out. PH: So you're almost wanting to adopt them in a sort of a way. JG: Well we have to. When my parents were young, the white people adopted them. Turn around and do the same thing. So we can all feel home and feel spiritual about a place, you know. I noticed that when I was in Europe, the first white Australian that I'd meet over there, even though he was from Sydney and we'd never seen each other, it's like he's my long lost cousin. We'd have a lot of things in common, and a lot of things to talk about. We feel like we're in the same family tree when we bump into each other in another country. Got the own language, got the own culture, got the own custom. That's when you feel proud to be Aussie. Playing didgeridoo over there, they're just so close to me, these white Australian people, they become so close to me over there. PH: Someone asked [indigenous activist] Burnum Burnum about how he felt about white churches being on Aboriginal land. He said, "That's OK because the spirituality of the land will change them over time, they'll be absorbed into the spirituality of the land." And you're talking about adopting white people and giving them a cultural background. We're uprooted from a cultural background. JG: Well, I think that's why there's a lot of revolutions and modern wars are only because those countries are fighting for land rights over there. I wonder if those Iraqis know that Australias got a black history. Kossevo and all them – they end up coming over here as refugees, and then they realise there is aboriginal people here… PH: …who are still fighting for their land… JG: You get in a cab with Iraqis, Turks, Lebanese, and they say, "You the owner, you the owner of this country, I don't know why the bloody hell they…" and they carry on. PH: They understand being dispossesed. JG: They understand. This is where we have to, as white Australians who feel that they are born here, for a couple of generations, and indigenous people have to recognise that…that's why I'd like to see Aboriginal languages being taught in school. RM: As a subject that white kids can take… PH: I think there's a lot of interest in that. It's something that I would like have done when I was at school. RM: Me too. JG: Well, there was [only] French and Japanese… PH: What teaching work have you done in schools? JG: I used to do coroboree, explanation of body paint,
didgeridoo explanations, teach the technique of circular breathing, tell
em where the noise comes from, actual drone of the didgeridoo would be
the raspberry noise that you make, and all your calls would be by squealing
on top of that. Especially with bird calls, aboriginal words come from
the sound of the call.
With the CD, just know those three words, Nanga, Koori and Murri, it's easy enough for any Australian to use those words and to know where those words actually come from. Nanga, Koori and Murri covers so many states! Just knowing that is good enough, you know you've taught them something. PH: Who plays on the new album? JG: Lots of people I've bumped into over the years like Shelley Scown, Rebecca Barnard, Bob Sedergreen, Kieren Tollhurst from the Dingoes, Shane Howard help with producing it, Russell Smith from Diana Kiss and Ross Hannaford from Daddy Cool - Cameron Gould who did a lot of drumming for Goanna in recent gigs. He was a contact through Shane Howard. These are people who I've met over the years who've said to me, "You should do another album. You're a great writer." They've even said that Yillull should be an anthem for Australia. Just gets me thinking that I should get off my arse and do another CD. I feel special with those people. They make me feel special. They're just great people and make me feel special. I owe them a lot of respect for that. PH: Some of your songs were used for the recent Commonwealth Games? JG: One of my songs, Yillull was used. Another aboriginal artist from Melbourne, Kutcha Edwards, went round last year doing workshops with all these different schools. And Yillull was one of the songs that he workshopped and it was probably was one of the easiest ones that kids could learn. So they ended up performing it in 2005 for a Save Water thing. And it sounded good. So all the schools got together and wanted to perform it at the Commonwealth Games – not at the opening but on one of the days through the week that it ran. It ended up with 500 kids performing it. I feel good about it. It was all fixed up with APRA as a registered song – I had the copyright. So I just let it go. I had to let it go because I didn't want to contradict myself about teaching aboriginal words, just one song, you know. People know what "yillul" means now, even those kids that actually performed it, that's another aboriginal word to their little list. Slowly slowly, these goals of mine are working out. PH: For the launch, do you have many people from the album playing? JG: It's a smaller band. RM: When was it mixed? JG: The mixing and mastering was done just before Christmas last year. It's been out since then. I only had enough money to make 500 so I've really got to ration it out. PH: Hopefully you'll make enough out of that to make the next lot. JG: Or even renew the first one from '88. PH: Be good to see that reissued. JG: And I just hope launching it here in Melbourne will be good. Only because a lot of the music industry kicks off from here really. If I want to go and see them its only a tram ride instead of… PH: Jumping on a plane… JG: …from Cairns! PH: Is there anything else that you'd like to say? JG: I want to thank people across the board – Shane Howard, Michael Lethel, Thumper Audio, all the musicians involved. We hope that this album also portrays their spiritual support by aboriginal people – they can hear themselves and other people can hear their input as well, you know. Music says a lot, I think, and the people involved there can make a song really beautiful. If they can do that with a song, they probably could do the same to the country as well. From intro to outro, sort of thing. I suppose if we could live like one of those songs, melodically and in harmony, and start up in the right key and end up in the right key. Samples of Joe Geia's work, and the opportunity to buy his new album, are available here.
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Ant power in the USA Morris dances while Universal burns
Heaven reopens in the city of churches Good news for Adelaide musos. One of Adelaide's former major music venues is set to re-open. Heaven has not operated for many months due to the South Australian Licensing Commission's reluctance to grant a liquor licence to former owners (who had alleged connections to bikie gangs). New owners do not appear to have the same problem. The venue will be renamed HQ and word is that live music will be a major part of the club's operation.
StrumAdelaide In more news from the "City of Churches" it seems that the south ozzers will get there very own international guitar festival in 2007. Finger pickin' good...if the organisers pay performers properly - a rarely-observed trait in Oz music festivals.
French President "Jack Shirak" (not his real spelling) is trying to decide whether to approve recent legislation demanding that Apple make iTunes downloads more easily playable on all MP3 players(see "Frogs bite apple" in last issue's "Intelligence"). His other option is to send it back to the parliament for reconsideration. Rolled over by the big Apple? While the French are dithering, the idea has now been taken up by Dutch and Scandinavian governments. Wait to see how long their resolve lasts when the big Apple rolls in.
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JG:
Well it’s a great story really. When they invited me…I
bumped into the band in Adelaide as I was waiting to be a student for
Aboriginal Studies of Music at the Adelaide Uni there. Bart Willoughby,
who was a founding member of no Fixed Address, asked me to come along
as a didg player…he used to play didg and try to drum at the same
time but he couldn't. 
PH: What did you do after No Fixed Address?
Have
to feel sorry for those major record companies. Sales down, attacks from
pirates, the future looking bleak. We recently learned that Universal
Music celebrated the gloomy outlook by paying Doug Morris (CEO & Chairman)
an annual salary of US$18 million. No wonder they can't give artists a
decent deal. No, wait, they never did...
