The Big Issue Australia #668 - Thelma Plum by The Big Issue Australia

Ed.

668 19 AUG 2022

HEARTBREAK HIGH DADS

xx.

and DEL KATHRYN BARTON

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Contents

EDITION

668 28 SMALL SCREENS

Fast Times at Hartley High Millennials rejoice! Heartbreak High, the must-watch high-school TV drama of the 90s, is back and breaking new ground for the Netflix generation.

30 FILM

No Strings Attached Del Kathryn Barton’s debut feature film Blaze is an imaginary and visual tour de force, hinging upon a puppet dragon, whose creation four people toiled over for eight months.

12.

Homecoming Queen by Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen

When Thelma Plum was 17, she couldn’t wait to get out of Brisbane; now 27, there is no place she’d rather be. Except, perhaps, being on tour, which is finally happening again, much to her delight. cover and contents photos by Georgia Wallace

THE REGULARS

04 05 06 08 11 22

Ed’s Letter Meet Your Vendor Streetsheet Hearsay & 20 Questions My Word The Big Picture

27 36 37 38 39 41

Ricky 42 Tastes Like Home Film Reviews 44 Puzzles Small Screen Reviews 45 Crossword Music Reviews Book Reviews Public Service Announcement

46 CLICK

Olivia Newton-John The superstar singer brought joy to the world. From a teenage all-girl band to Eurovision to Grease, we honestly loved her.

Ed’s Letter

by Amy Hetherington Editor @amyhetherington

No Place Like Home

LETTER OF THE FORTNIGHT

here’s nothing quite like that feeling of coming home. To the place you know in your bones, to the people you love and

who love you. It’s how, after six months overseas, and after the kind of turbulent plane landing that sparks spontaneous applause from everyone on board, I found myself happy-crying along to a Qantas children’s choir singing ‘I Still Call Australia Home’. Sitting on the tarmac in Melbourne, I felt cheesy. It had been a long flight. But it was that overwhelming sense of belonging, even relief in the familiar…of coming home. In this edition, we speak to awardwinning singer-songwriter Thelma Plum about her new EP Meanjin, a love letter to her home town of Meanjin/Brisbane, the city she returned to after leaving as a teenager to travel and work and build her career. “Maybe you have to go away and discover some things about

yourself, and then it’s time to come home,” she says. “There’s something comforting in that.” That sense of home pulses through this edition. Writer Tony Kelly returns to a country town after 15 years away, only to discover some things never stay the same. Sophie Quick explores the communal model of co-operative housing. And Gabriele Galemberti’s photo series on fatherhood looks at the relationships that mean home for so many. With this edition, we also farewell contributing editor Anastasia Safioleas, who first came to The Big Issue as deputy editor back in 2003. Like many who work here, she stayed connected to The Ish after leaving the first time in 2007, returning to freelance as a proofreader and music editor for a while. Now she’s leaving again, after six years of being an important part of the editorial team. But, hopefully, no matter how far she roams, she’ll still call Big Issue home.

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The Big Issue Story The Big Issue is an independent, not-for-profit magazine sold on the streets around Australia. It was created as a social enterprise 25 years ago to provide both a voice and a work opportunity for people experiencing homelessness and disadvantage. Your purchase of this magazine has directly benefited the person who sold it to you. Big Issue vendors buy each copy for $4.50 and sell it to you for $9, keeping the profits. But The Big Issue is more than a magazine.

Your Say

I came home feeling particularly hard done by, because of events at work earlier that day. I opened my bag to retrieve my laptop, so I could catch up on emails – and saw Ed#666 of The Big Issue I bought the previous week, but had forgotten about. This discovery alone lifted my spirits, and then I opened to Meet Your Vendor, and saw Rob’s warm smile – you know, the kind where someone smiles with their whole face. From the first sentence, Rob’s article was full of positivity and gratitude. Rob, thank you so much for sharing your story – you have a gift of seeing the glass half full, and in finding happiness in so many things. I do hope the people of NSW buy all your copies of The Big Issue, so you can go on holiday and take that cruise! MONICA OGIERMAN ADELAIDE I SA

Dear Big Issue, I’ve just picked up Ed#664. I love a good play on words and the ‘Elvis Lives’ Streetsheet gave me a good giggle. Thanks David L! JACQUI JOHNSTON GREENSLOPES I QLD

• Our Women’s Subscription Enterprise provides employment and training for women through the sale of magazine subscriptions as well as social procurement work. • The Community Street Soccer Program promotes social inclusion and good health at weekly soccer games at 24 locations around the country. • The Vendor Support Fund will offset the cost price of products for vendors, allowing them to earn a larger margin on their own street sales. • The Big Issue Education workshops provide school, tertiary and corporate groups with insights into homelessness and disadvantage, and provide work opportunities for people experiencing marginalisation. CHECK OUT ALL THE DETAILS AT THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

Monica wins a copy of More Fish, More Veg by Tom Walton. You can check out his recipe for Smoky Whole Eggplant on page 42. We’d also love to hear your thoughts, feedback and suggestions: SUBMISSIONS@BIGISSUE.ORG.AU

YOUR SAY SUBMISSIONS MAY BE EDITED FOR CLARITY AND SPACE.

Meet Your Vendor

Bradley

SELLS THE BIG ISSUE AT CNR SWANSTON AND LITTLE COLLINS STS, MELBOURNE

I was in Melbourne for the first eight or nine years of my life. Then we moved to South Australia. Things didn’t work out between my mum and my dad, so they separated, and both got remarried. I have an older sister, and we’re pretty close. There were a few hiccups in the family, not with my actual dad. I was living with my mum and that… I had to put my safety first, and so ended up going into the welfare system. So from the age of 13 upwards, I’ve virtually been bringing myself up. I went to school until I was about 15, then tried my hand at a couple of different odd jobs and that: deckhand, stablehand, and I used to make a fair bit of money collecting cans and bottles. I decided to come back to Melbourne when I was roughly 16 or 17. I was living with my aunty, and my mum and sister moved over a couple of months after me. I got a job as a stablehand again, then I got other jobs, like asparagus packing, bit of factory work here and there, bit of lawn mowing. I tried to do a TAFE course – that’s how I met my wife. She was going to TAFE, and I met her on the train. But I never actually approached her, because I used to be really, really shy of girls. I found out that she knew my sister and my mum, from church. And my mum turned around and told Katrina how I felt and it just happened from there. Now I’m happily married with a wife and a 15-year-old son. Being a dad is very, very exciting, and keeps you on your toes. But he’s a pretty quiet, good kid. When I was younger, I used to play the violin. My wife, for one of my birthdays, bought me a violin, which I couldn’t tune properly, so I put it away. But I’ve just found someone that’s cheap enough for me to take lessons up again. So yesterday, I had my first lesson. I actually picked it up pretty quick. I love fishing and camping. But being on dialysis three days a week, I haven’t been able to go away for a holiday. I first started dialysis in 1999. I had one kidney transplant that was fine for a while, and then failed. So I ended up back on dialysis in 2014. Now I’m trying to get back on the transplant list again. I’ve been selling The Big Issue since roughly about April last year. My dad Ron sells it in Adelaide. It helps me financially. It helps me feel good about myself – if I sit around home, then I get depressed. It helps me because I’m the type of person if I want something, I hate asking for help, I’d rather work for it, so that way I can say I’ve earnt it. It’s one of the skills I’m trying to teach my son: if you want something, you work and save for it, that way you appreciate it a lot more. But also, The Big Issue gets me out in the community a bit more, and gives me a purpose in life to do something and that. I’m thankful that The Big Issue is around.

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19 AUG 2022

interview by Amy Hetherington photo by James Braund

Streetsheet

Stories, poems and pictures by Big Issue vendors and friends

VENDOR SPOTLIGHT

CRAIG

Winter Is Gone Sick of the cold mornings On your way to work You feel like a jerk But we are past the winter solstice Now the days get longer Now it’s not long until summer Livin’ for the sun And getting a tan With all to worry About COVID-19

Jolly Good Fellow

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recently went away on a holiday to the beach at Inverloch for a week. I loved it. The accommodation was fantastic – it was huge. It had a backyard to lounge around in and a big living room to put the fire on and watch the footy and catch up with my friend and support worker. I also brought along my dog Fellow. Fellow and I went for walks along the beach for an hour at a time, and then we would go into town for the best coffees ever. Also, I tried to get Fellow to go for a swim, but he didn’t want to leave my side. He’s a rescue dog so he likes to stay pretty close to me. It takes two hours to get back to Melbourne from Inverloch, so we split up the trip by going whale watching – not that we spotted any, but it was nice either way. We had a great time and here is a picture of me and Fellow at the beach. CRAIG RIALTO, COLLINS STREET | MELBOURNE

And the environment I’d rather spend my days at the beach And not have to be somebody’s leech DANIEL K WAYMOUTH ST & HUTT ST | ADELAIDE

Ballad of Rock Stars I have written a song called ‘The Ballad of Rock Stars’. I recorded it at the studio at the Ozanam Learning Centre, which is joined to the Matthew Talbot Hostel in Woolloomooloo. I put the song together at a course there called Songbirds. First, an instrumental track was recorded, enabling me to practise my singing to make it sound right when I recorded it properly at the studio. I am having some difficulty getting it released to the public, but it will be called ‘The Ballad of Rock Stars’ by Peter Jolie, which is my pen-name. Part of the lyrics are about KISS having to cancel their tour to Australia in 2019 because of Paul Stanley being sick, but it didn’t stop the remaining members from coming to Australia to play in a boat to entertain sharks. It also includes the instrumental version and a song called ‘Rhino’, which I think sounds a bit like Ace Frehley of

KISS. And I’m inviting him to record a cover of it when he records his next album. PETER D PARRAMATTA | SYDNEY

Yes Chef! On Wednesday, while I was working my pitch, a couple approached me. The man said, “My wife sent me over” and instantly I realised I recognised him. We had a great chat and as a former chef myself, it was really exciting to meet Matt Moran! PASQUALE STRAND ARCADE, GEORGE STREET | SYDNEY

Market Forces I’ve been working at the Preston Markets for a few months, on a Wednesday and Thursday. The atmosphere is incredible, and the people I’ve met are smiling and happy – and some shout me a coffee. The people are like one big family. I do my shopping there. You can get beautiful bread and nice organic vegies. The mandarins are

really juicy at the moment, but my favourites are the nashis. All the best with the COVID humming around – keep safe. And, most importantly, keep yourself happy. LIONEL PRESTON MARKETS & YOUNG & JACKSON | MELBOURNE

Goodwood, Blackwood I work at Goodwood and Blackwood every Saturday and Sunday. I meet new customers and all that – some are nice, some are not so nice. I love working for The Big Issue, I like making new friends. That’s my favourite. The workers and vendors are nice. I like working as a vendor because it gets me out of the house, helps me save up for a holiday or something. Goodwood is not that far from me, and Blackwood is not that far from me either, so I don’t have to travel far. I have a dog and I am saving up in case something happens to her. ANGELICA BLACKWOOD, GOODWOOD & MITCHAM | ADELAIDE

I’m Back! I’m really enjoying being back on pitch after having a year off to focus on being a mum to my two young children. As a single mum it’s been hard to get time to get back into working, but now I have day care it helps set up a routine. I’m really looking forward to building up my business as a Big Issue vendor and hopefully have my profile featured in an upcoming magazine. Being out on sidewalks, greeting passers‑by, talking to customers and building rapport with everyone has really boosted my confidence.

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ALL VENDOR CONTRIBUTORS TO STREETSHEET ARE PAID FOR THEIR WORK.

19 AUG 2022

ROCHELLE NORTHBRIDGE | PERTH

Hearsay

Andrew Weldon Cartoonist

Before AC/DC, before INXS, before Silverchair, before Tame Impala there was The Seekers and this diminutive woman kicked the door down for all of us.

Daniel Johns on the passing of Judith Durham, lead singer of The Seekers, at 79. Her singular soprano voice propelled the folk-pop band to become the first Australian group to achieve global success in the 1960s, with sales of 50 million singles and albums worldwide.

“Even ticket stubs are going through the roof these days. If you find a little ticket stub for a Beatles concert you went to, you’re looking at least £200.” Stephen Bailey, manager of the Beatles Shop in Mathew Street, Liverpool, on the lucrative market for Beatles memorabilia. John Lennon’s old toilet, for example, recently fetched £10,000 (AU$17,300)! The seller is now flush. THE GUARDIAN I UK

“I should have probably known I was not long for the game when my nickname was The Orchid, because according to my teammates I needed absolutely perfect conditions to thrive.” Comedian Sam Pang on why his promising but brief AFL career with Collingwood U-19s was rooted before it barely began. THE HERALD-SUN I AU

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THE AUSTRALIAN I AU

“I got a lot of play being a MILF and I got a lot of sexual action from American Pie.” Actor Jennifer Coolidge on the unexpected benefits of playing Stifler’s Mom.

“The man said: ‘Only one in a thousand people get to be a pilot.’ Which is actually bullshit, terrible advice! But there were about 800 people in the school. I thought ‘There’s no way that’s going to be me.’ So I just said, ‘Right, I’ll be a pop star.’” Singer Gary Numan on how a school careers counsellor’s terrible advice still encouraged him to reach for the sky.

“Humans evolved living in caves, and to caves we might return when we live on the Moon.” David Paige, a planetary scientist at UCLA, on a recent discovery that the Moon’s underground caves keep a constant temperature of 17 °C – ideal conditions for potential human habitation under the lunar surface.

THE IRISH TIMES I IR

“If food waste were a country, it would be the third-largest emitter of greenhouse gases globally, after the US and China.” Michelle Grujin, vice-president at Capgemini Invent, on the 931 million tonnes of food waste generated globally each year – 61 per cent of that in the home. The good news? The pandemic has made us more conscious of what we’re throwing out.

“Well, when it’s cocktail hour, cognitive bias seem (sic) to find plenty to enjoy... Beware of it. According to contemporary cosmology, no object related to Spanish charcuterie exists anywhere else other than on Earth.” Étienne Klein, a celebrated French physicist, apologises after he tweeted an image of what he claimed to be a photo of a distant star taken by the James Webb Space Telescope. The snag? It was really a slice of chorizo!

“On its face, making a toy Molotov cocktail is an absurd idea. And I kind of enjoyed the twist of turning that into medical supplies for refugees.” Toymaker Joe Trupia on raising US$145,000 for Ukraine by selling a LEGO-based figurine of President Volodymyr Zelenskyy at $100 a pop. Tiny LEGO Molotov cocktails with the Ukrainian flag sold just as fast, at $20.

NT NEWS I AU

CNN I US

NPR I US

SMITHSONIAN MAGAZINE I US

VARIETY I US

“I’m a peacock at the highest level and I’m having the time of my life.” Actor Jason Momoa on living his best life, playing “eccentric” characters on screen. GQ I US

20 Questions by Rachael Wallace

01 Who is the recently elected

president of the Philippines? 02 Which popular card game was

invented by American barber Merle Robbins in 1971? 03 Where is Australia’s only alpine

gondola? 04 Who performed three historic shows

at Knebworth, England, in August 2003? 05 Can you name two of the four new

sports added to the program at the 2020 Summer Olympic Games in Tokyo? 06 Who died at 12305 Fifth Helena

Drive in 1962? 07 Who was coach of this year’s

Queensland State of Origin side? 08 What is the collective noun for a

group of zebras?

“Even when we’re not surfing competitively, if we just go to the beach and we’re hanging out and he takes his surfboard to the water and he’ll bark on the waves, people just love it…” Jeffrey Niebor on his labrador Charlie, who was swell pleased to take part in the World Dog Surfing Championship in California ABC I AU

THE GUARDIAN I UK

when the September 11 attacks occurred? 10 Who uttered the famous quote

“That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind”? 11 Jessica Stenson won a gold medal

for Australia in which sport at the 2022 Commonwealth Games? 12 In the Australian animated series

Bluey, what’s the name of Bluey’s younger sister?

“People interested in creating economic connectedness should equally focus on getting people with different incomes to interact.” Johannes Stroebel, an NYU finance professor, on a study that shows the key to reducing poverty: have more rich friends. Cross-class relationships are key to fostering income mobility.

13 Who wrote bestselling 2018 novel

THE NEW YORK TIMES I US

17 Who is the Greek god of wine?

Where the Crawdads Sing? 14 Which Australian recently won

golf’s oldest major, officially known as the Open Championship, held at St Andrews, Scotland? 15 Who won this year’s Miles Franklin

Literary Award for their novel Bodies of Light? 16 What is the capital of Slovenia? 18 How many continents does the

“I was two months’ pregnant when I won the Australian Open in 2017. But I’m turning 41 this month, and something’s got to give’” Tennis champion Serena Williams announcing her retirement.

equator pass through? 19 Which nation has more pyramids:

Egypt or Sudan? 20 According to a new Petbarn study,

what is the most popular breed of dog in Australia?

VOGUE I US

FREQUENTLY OVERHEAR TANTALISING TIDBITS? DON’T WASTE THEM ON YOUR FRIENDS SHARE THEM WITH THE WORLD AT SUBMISSIONS@BIGISSUE.ORG.AU

ANSWERS ON PAGE 44

19 AUG 2022

THE AGE I AUS

“It’s easier to walk my dogs with this fan.” Mami Kumamoto, mother of a miniature poodle named Purin and a terrier called Moco, on a new trend in Japan that cools hot dogs: portable fans. The small battery-operated fans are attached to a breathable mesh outfit to cool down the pup.

09 Who was prime minister of Australia

“When I play I don’t think I’m 49 “Dad, what’s years old. When I Brexit?” finish [matches] “No-one knows I know my age mate. It’s a mystery.” though” Young boy tries to come to Australian table grips with international affairs. tennis champion Dad nimbly shuts down all Jian Fang Lay lines of inquiry. Overheard by Chris on the Lilydale train. on winning silver in the women’s doubles at the Commonwealth Games in Birmingham. She hasn’t ruled out representing the green and gold for her seventh Olympics, in Paris in 2024. EAR2GROUND

My Word

by Eleanor Limprecht @theneedtoread

Where There’s Smoke…

We camped that night at the Top Springs Roadhouse at the intersection of the Buchanan and Buntine Highways. There was gravel and dirt for tents and a basic concrete amenities block. We drank schooners in the roadhouse with dozens of Northern Territory police, where the news played photographs of two pale British tourists – Joanne Lees and Peter Falconio. Falconio was missing after being attacked by a man who had stopped beside their van on the side of the Stuart Highway, less than 24 hours ago. In our tent, it was hard to fall asleep. There were more police in that one roadhouse than we had seen the entire trip, but every footfall on gravel, every small sound in the night made me jump. I thought of Joanne Lees, hiding in the dark by the side of the highway, cable ties cutting into her wrists. She was like me, an outsider, a young woman in an unfamiliar country. It was an apt introduction to Australia: beautiful and vast but steeped in brutality. Joanne Lees went back to the UK hounded by conspiracy theories. Eventually though, they convicted a man – Bradley John Murdoch – of her boyfriend’s murder. His DNA was found on Lee’s T-shirt. Peter Falconio has never been found. Australia is easy to disappear in, to reinvent yourself and start anew. I moved here the following year and became something I had never been at home: a writer. I married Simon and learned to live with huntsmen in my house and to avoid long grass where snakes hide. We still camp sometimes, and I still wake at the smallest sound. The fear is in my heart, beating in my wrists. I won’t sleep again until dawn. Now I can’t forget the danger – imagined or real. Eleanor Limprecht is the author of four novels, most recently The Coast. She also writes short fiction, essays and lectures in creative writing at UTS.

19 AUG 2022

grew up camping with my family. We had a 30-kilo canvas tent and flannel-lined sleeping bags, which smelled like campfire smoke and the musty garage where they lived most of the year. I always woke in the night to scrabbling sounds: a racoon or possibly a black bear sniffing around. But it was easy to fall back asleep and forget the danger – imagined or real. At 24, I flew into Sydney’s winter from a humid Virginia July. I was visiting the Australian I’d fallen in love with in Italy, and we planned a month of driving across the country and camping. Simon borrowed his sister’s Subaru station wagon and left her his Falcon ute. He drilled and screwed a sheet of plywood to the Subaru roof racks so we could sleep beneath the stars and away from the spiders and snakes at night. It seemed crazy; I couldn’t wait. Driving west, we camped outside Griffith, we camped on the Murray River, at Telowie Gorge and near Coober Pedy. At night we slept on the ply, the stars so packed they were just smeared light. A highway patrol pulled us over outside of Coober Pedy. “The hell’s on your roof?” he asked. “A sheet of ply, we’ve been sleeping on it.” “You might want to tighten the screws,” he said. “Heard you coming a kay away. She’s got a fair whistle on her.” Simon agreed and the officer let us go, but he was prescient. On a stretch of empty highway that evening there was a shuddering rip and a crash. We pulled over. The ply was gone, taking the roof racks with her. We had a tent for backup, which we camped in near the swallowing shadows of Uluru. We walked around the perimeter of the rock early in the morning, before the heat of the midday sun. We camped outside of Alice Springs on the side of the Stuart Highway, falling asleep in our tent to the sound of road trains rushing past. We visited the Devil’s Marbles and ended up in a roadblock that afternoon driving through Tennant Creek. The roads were empty most of the time, but here was a line of cars, two dozen police cars, tactical vans. We got out and chatted to others; no-one knew what was happening “G’day,” the police officer said, when we reached the front of the roadblock. “Where you lot headed?” “Kununurra,” Simon answered. “Where’d ya come from?”

“Sydney. And this one’s from America.” “Welcome to Orstraylia.” The cop raised his sunnies off his face onto his forehead. I’d begun to notice how men of a certain age in Australia had a squint; permanent wrinkles from a lifetime of looking across vast distances. “You been camping?” Simon nodded. The officer shook his head. “Not anymore, mate. We’ve got a murder suspect on the loose. Armed and dangerous. You’ll spend tonight at a roadhouse.” He told us the one. “There’s a bunch of coppers there, you’ll be right.”

A camping trip sees Eleanor Limprecht encounter Australia’s most dangerous.

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PHOTOS BY GEORGIA WALLACE

HOMECOMING

QUEEN

The pandemic brought gigging to an end, but now Thelma Plum has been writing new songs, renewing her love of Brisbane and playing with Paul Kelly. She is about to hit the road again – and couldn’t be happier. by Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen

Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen is a Vietnamese Australian writer and critic based in Naarm/Melbourne. Her work has appeared widely in both media and literary publications.

19 AUG 2022

here’s something alluring about one’s home town from the vantage point of adulthood. So many books, films and songs speak of the desire to grow up, escape and discover the big, wide world beyond your backyard, but there’s another common thread: after living away from home, perhaps years later, you’ll feel it – the yearning, an inexorable pull drawing you back somehow. When you return, you’ll see it bathed in a new, wondrous light, and you’ll know that the feeling could only come with distance and the wisdom of growing older. So it is for Thelma Plum, whose new EP, Meanjin, is a love letter to Brisbane – the title is the traditional Turrbal name for the city. The 27-year-old Gamilaraay singer‑songwriter spent her childhood split between Brisbane and the small New South Wales rural town of Delungra, where her grandparents lived; she eventually moved away on her own at the age of 19. Plum lived in Melbourne, Sydney and overseas, travelling and working and building her dream career, visiting Brisbane from time to time. But a year before the world shut down due to COVID, she made the move back to live there permanently, rediscovering herself and an old, new world in the process. “When I finished school when I was 17, I was so young and I was so excited about my life and I was like, ‘I can’t wait to leave this town’, but now I’m so happy here… I just had this longing for it I can’t even describe,” she says, a beaming smile evident in her tone. “Maybe you have to go away and discover some things about yourself, and then it’s time to come home. There’s something comforting about that.” Plum was in London working on the follow-up to her award-winning 2019 debut album Better in Blak when the pandemic hit and she was forced to return to Australia. She became one of the first public figures in the country to be diagnosed with the virus in March 2020, and spent a protracted period in recovery after developing long COVID. Despite the difficult circumstances in what she describes as a “fever dream”, the musician sees this time of rest as a silver lining. “It was the

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first time in 10 years that I had sat still, and I definitely started to focus on the things that really matter to me, which are my friends and my family,” she says. Now living close to where she grew up, Plum often walks past the places she frequented at various stages of her life: schools, hangout spots with friends. After taking time off to relax and recover, she started writing songs again while sitting on her balcony, reaching back into her memories to conjure people, places and the Brisbane of her youth. Before she knew it, she had six thematically linked songs. She hadn’t set out to write a concept EP or, really, an EP at all – the London sessions were for a full-length album, now on the backburner – but it came out naturally through the contemplation and stillness of being back where she belonged. “My dad tells me that I’m a very nostalgic person – I don’t even really know what that means, but he told me that in the car not that long ago when I was visiting them,” she says. “I’m always reminiscing and thinking about things that have happened in my life.” The EP’s cover places a photograph of Plum as a young girl wearing a very early 2000s outfit – surf brand tank top, denim skirt over denim jeans – against a pastel illustration of the Queenslander-style commission house where the musician spent some of her childhood. “My mum made it so beautiful,” she remembers fondly of the home. That house is also the setting for the Regina Spektor-flavoured track ‘Baby Blue Bicycle’, which paints a vivid picture of a childhood spent with close neighbours, familiar local sights and wide-eyed hopes and dreams. Creating a musical memory map of Brisbane, Plum drops references on Meanjin to local spots that hold personal importance to her, such as a favourite bar where she’s gone on dates, and the city’s towering landmark. “When I was a kid I just loved the Skyneedle – I thought it was just so cool, and I loved when my mum would drive past it,” she says. “Having those references is one of my favourite things… It makes me very happy.” Musically, the EP builds on Plum’s knack for melody and pop sensibilities, while also reflecting her evolving tastes. Lead single ‘Backseat of My Mind’ is a propulsive track that Plum described upon its release as a “nostalgic-feeling driving song”. There are hints of influences from bands such as Crowded House on tracks like ‘When It Rains It Pours’, with its blend of jangly indie and pop. Indeed, the music the songwriter listened to during this time is reflected in the sound of the EP, when two women songwriters were on particularly high rotation. “I was listening to a lot of Phoebe Bridgers during this time – I love her, just everything about her is incredible and amazing. She can do no wrong,” the musician gushes of the

Grammy nominated musician. “I’ve also been listening to a lot of Shania Twain for the production references.” Prior to this EP, Plum’s last release was a cover of Powderfinger’s ‘These Days’ in 2020. She’s a big fan of the fellow Brisbanites and so is her mum, having introduced her to them as a child – so it was particularly special for her to record some of her new music at frontman Bernard Fanning’s studio, and another piece of the Brisbane puzzle. “Brissie’s where it’s at,” Plum says proudly, before laughing. “I swear I’m not being paid by Tourism Queensland!” Meanjin is a change of pace from Better in Blak, which dealt with overarching themes of racism and misogyny, from the excoriating ‘Woke Blokes’, in which Plum took down performative men in the music industry, to the title track – a fearless and proud statement of identity in the face of opposition. It’s not to say the activism has died out or that the musician is no longer passionate about these important social causes – a glimpse at her social media pages will immediately prove otherwise – but there’s a much more relaxed feeling to this collection. It’s a breath out, a respite. “I said what I needed to say about all of those things,” she says now. “[Meanjin is] big nostalgia vibes, no bad vibes – good vibes only.” Better in Blak single ‘Homecoming Queen’ tackled the lack of representation of First Nations people in the media, and the way that it made the singer feel growing up: “I remember looking at magazines/I never saw anyone quite like me,” Plum sang. So it’s both fitting and completely delightful that in recent times she’s made strides in the fashion industry, becoming who she wanted to see as a child – and being that person for the children of today. This year, the musician has modelled for brands including Witchery and The Iconic – the former to spread awareness of ovarian cancer – and participated in Australian Fashion Week. In April, she was the cover star of the first issue of the recently relaunched InStyle Australia. “I’ve always liked fashion – when I was little I loved making my own outfits and putting pieces together,” she says. “I’ve always loved that world, but I didn’t really have the ‘in’ and I knew nothing about the fashion world. I’ve felt a bit of impostor syndrome, but I love getting dolled up and I love being around creative people. I definitely hope I can do more of that sort of stuff, and it’s also been really fun to do some of that work when I couldn’t do my own work and perform, so I’m lucky.” Fortunately, performance is also back on the cards after a long couple of years of constant cancellations, uncertainty and personal disappointment (“I love playing live, I love singing live, I love seeing people in the crowd – I just love it. So it was hard,” the singer says). And she’s back with a bang: in June, Plum supported Paul Kelly for a string of shows at the Sydney Opera House’s

Northern Boardwalk as a part of Vivid Live. Though one of the shows was cancelled due to strong winds, the songwriter counts it as a career highlight. “After not playing that many shows, they were the best shows – I couldn’t even believe what was happening,” she says. “I was looking at the Opera House and seeing the harbour behind me and the bridge, and knowing that Paul’s band was watching from side of stage.” It’s a nice moment of synchronicity, too, or things coming full circle the way they often do. Plum is a lifelong fan of Kelly’s, having first seen him perform with Murri singer-songwriter Kev Carmody when she was nine years old. Fast forward to Better in Blak, when she collaborated with Kelly and another famous Paul, one McCartney from a little band called The Beatles. He wrote a guitar line on the album’s closing track ‘Made for You’ after overhearing the song during a visit to the New York studio where Plum was recording. And now, after performing at the country’s most recognisable venue with her childhood hero, she’s heading out on the road for her own tour later this month, to share her love for her home town in the way she knows best. It seems things have a way of working out: some strange karmic force making sure that everything ends up in its right place, and everyone makes their way home eventually. MEANJIN IS OUT NOW. THE TOUR BEGINS 25 AUGUST.

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Maybe you have to go away and discover some things about yourself, and then it’s time to come home. There’s something comforting about that.

Our House For many, finding stable affordable housing is fast becoming an impossible dream. Could the innovative housing option known as co-housing be the solution? by Sophie Quick

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Sophie Quick is a Melbourne-based writer.

“OUR BACKYARD’S REALLY BIG”

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ost people have lived in communal that people bump into each other naturally as part of arrangements of one form or another moving around during the day. It’s designed to facilitate throughout most of the history of our species. interaction and community.” It’s a relatively recent thing for people to organise Just as community is key, so too is affordability. themselves into totally separate households, with no The Co-housing Co-op is geared towards people on low shared facilities or responsibilities at all. Not all people incomes. New applicants for the Co-housing Co-op must or cultures have embraced this way of living, of course, be eligible for public housing. but it’s hard to escape in most parts of Australia. As “My own story of housing stress, episodic the national housing crisis deepens, though, and many homelessness, coming from some experiences that people struggle with unaffordable, insecure housing, weren’t great – I’m not the only one here with that there’s a growing interest in finding new ways (or story,” Seaborn says. reimagining old ways) to pool resources, share space “Co-housing” and “co-operative” are two words and live in communities. that describe housing models, but they mean quite Linda Seaborn is all for it. She’s been living in South different things. “Co-housing” describes a village-style Hobart at a place called the Co-housing Co-operative for housing development design. “Co-operative” refers 22 years. “Moving here changed my life,” she says. to business structure and ownership. A co-operative The Co-housing Co-op exists on a three-hectare structure means the site is owned and run by its property in the Mount resident members. Wellington foothills. There As the name suggests, are 12 small, self-contained Seaborn’s place in South Hobart houses on the site – ranging is both of those things. Setting from two-bedroom houses it up, securing the land and to five‑bedroom houses – finally getting the houses built clustered around a shared was possible because of a unique common house. alchemy of various government “Each house has its own funding schemes in the 90s and kitchen, but the common house an especially motivated group is a place where we can all eat of people. It took about seven THERE ARE 12 HOMES ON THE CO-OP SITE IN SOUTH HOBART together,” Seaborn explains. “It gruelling years and many setbacks. has a bigger kitchen and a dining Perhaps that’s why housing room… There’s a shared laundry, models like it are still uncommon. a shared office and a guest flat But Seaborn says it was worth there, too.” it. When she looks back at the The houses were built earliest days at the Co-housing around 20 years ago. Seaborn Co‑op, she remembers both the was one of the driving forces relief and the exhilaration. behind the establishment of the “There were lots of happy Co‑housing Co-op, as well as people, lots of kids… It was like a one of its original residents. She holiday camp, nobody wanted to go CO-HOUSING IS BASED ON was looking for housing security anywhere, we were all so amazed THE IDEA OF A VILLAGE and community. She wanted that we’d managed to do this.” more control over her living Even after 20 years, Seaborn’s situation, too. excitement about the place has not entirely worn off. “I was a single mum, so my daughter was 13 when “The bottom part [of the site] is zoned rural so the we moved in, I think. Before we came here, we lived houses are all close together. That’s also a co-housing in private market rental housing. It was insecure, feature – you maximise the shared non-housing space,” unaffordable. Some of the housing I lived in was she enthuses. “Our backyard’s really big. It slopes down pretty rubbish.” onto a creek and it joins onto the Mount Wellington Park Co-housing is a form of housing design and and walking trails. It’s amazing! I want more people to development that originated in Denmark in the 60s. be able to live like this.” Co-housing developments are based on the idea of a It’s clear that more people want to live like this. village, typically with residents living in small private Louise Crabtree-Hayes is an Associate Professor at homes that surround a common house and some shared the University of Western Sydney, whose research is facilities. The Co-housing Co-op in South Hobart was focused on housing innovation in Australia. She says built with these principles in mind, Seaborn says. there’s growing interest among Australians in finding “There’s a carpark on the outside [of the site] so new ways to live more affordably and sustainably. it’s pedestrian friendly and child-safe… The idea of “Firstly, we have persistent problems with how ‘happenstance’ is part of the design, so that’s the idea unaffordable and unstable a lot of housing is. Then there

LINDA SEABORN

understanding of the different possibilities of housing in Australia, among governments, among developers, among lenders and among regular people trying to figure out how, and where, they want to live. “How do we get different models to become common and doable and a lot more familiar?” asks Crabtree-Hayes. “Nobody kind of knows what they are from an institutional point of view, so you go [with a housing proposal] to a bank or council and they say: ‘It sounds good but what on earth is it?’ So we need to try to build that familiarity so that the housing system is more used to doing different things.” Crabtree-Hayes says there are so many benefits to co‑operative housing models and increased resident voice. “You tend to get better housing outcomes because… it’s not about building to maximise profit and then exiting the situation. It’s being built for longevity and by people who are going to live there. They’re not going to build something that they don’t want to wear the cost of maintaining.” Living in a place that has both a co-operative structure and a co-housing design has cost-of-living and sustainability benefits beyond the housing itself, Linda Seaborn says. “For our common meals, we all chuck in $5 and take turns

Co-housing is a housing design concept based around the idea of a village. Typically, a number of small private houses are built around one central common house with shared facilities. A housing co-operative is a non-profit legal structure formed for the purpose of housing its members. Decisions about the property or properties are made by members of the co-op. A Community Land Trust (CLT) is a not-for-profit legal entity where members collectively own land. Typically, CLTs have a much wider member base than housing co-ops. The idea of CLTs is to take the shared land off the property market so it can be used for the shared benefit of the broad CLT membership – for affordable housing and/or for schools, childcare, community agencies and small businesses. An intentional community is a residential community formed around ideas of teamwork and collectivity. Usually, the members hold common social or political beliefs, often around sustainable living.

cooking so that’s – really affordable food. We run a little co-op within the co-op for food – so we bulk buy food and that’s cheaper. Plus, you don’t have to own your own washing machine, lawnmower or whipper snipper – lots of tools are collectively owned.” Since moving into the Co-housing Co-op, Seaborn has raised her daughter, transitioned to full-time work and earned two post-graduate qualifications. She believes she might have been trapped in low-paid jobs without the stability offered by the co-op. “It’s such a common story here,” she says. “It’s almost everybody’s story, in terms of study. When you’re in a distressed housing situation, you’re not secure enough to be able to study. You can’t concentrate!” That’s not to mention the skills people gain through running a co-operative association, from grant-writing and community consultation to administration and practical trade skills. Seaborn herself is a perfect example of this. Today, she’s a senior policy officer at the Business Council of Co‑operatives and Mutuals, Australia’s national peak body for co‑operatives. “I’ve managed to build a career around what we’re doing!” she laughs. “It’s not for everyone, but I want to make sure people know about different models. What’s really cool is that when it’s a co-op, the people who live in the housing, control the housing.”

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Before we came here, we lived in private market rental housing. It was insecure, unaffordable. Some of the housing I lived in was pretty rubbish.

Model Housing

are people’s concerns about the impact of their homes and their lifestyles on the environment – the energy expenditure and water usage and those sorts of things. And also there are people wanting to live in community. That doesn’t necessarily mean a commune – an everything’s shared kind of scenario – but there is an uptick in people saying, ‘Well how can we have our own space but also have community?’” The problem, as Crabtree-Hayes sees it, is that Australia’s housing system is dysfunctional. It’s locked into three rigid sectors: private ownership; private rental; and social housing – without much capacity for creative, affordable combinations in either housing design or ownership. “We know the private rental sector is not viable for a lot of people as a long-term housing option as it currently operates. It’s just been geared up all wrong for that,” she says. “So people are looking at things like co-operatives, community land trusts and other ways to try to get a stronger resident voice into design and governance.” But there’s a lot of work to be done first – to broaden

In the Swim Tony Kelly returns to the country town he once called home, to find things have changed – including the temperature of the water. by Tony Kelly with special thanks to Rebecca Lister

Tony Kelly is a semi-regular contributor to The Big Issue and is the co-author of Growing Pineapples in the Outback with his wife, Rebecca Lister.

illustration by Luci Everett

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t was a smaller field than usual – 10 all up. But that’s COVID for you. Pre-pandemic, the Lake Daylesford Classic, “Australia’s highest uninsured open water swim”, as the organisers like to call it, was attracting 100 plus and growing. This time it was a more informal affair with no starting whistle, timekeepers or prizes. Regardless, we all left as a group to complete the 1.2 kilometre course. Without effort I found myself at the head of the pack. Greg, who first introduced me to open-water distance swimming 15 years ago, was three or four strokes behind my right shoulder, and the pack three or four behind him. Off to my left I could see Tim swinging out wide towards the edge. Tim, who competed in the Munich Olympics with the Canadian swim team, is a beautiful swimmer. Every stroke effortlessly propelled him forward. My wife Rebecca and I returned to Daylesford nearly 12 months ago, 15 years since we last lived here. Like others, with remote working the new norm, we could keep our city jobs while living in the country. We landed back in town at the start of yet another state-wide lockdown and then endured a cold and wet winter as the town closed in on itself. When we lived here before we had school-age kids, Beck hosted drama classes and established a theatre company. I ran for public office, was on school council and worked at the community health centre. This time we eked out an existence working from home, looking out at the rain and fog. And on our rare forays downtown we’d scurry into the shops, masks on and eyes down, barely engaging with anybody. All was familiar yet alien.

I was surprised to find I was still in the lead when I reached the pier that marks the end of the first leg of the course. I was also surprised at how warm the water was. The first year I swam the Lake Daylesford Classic I did it in a wetsuit and came out shivering. So much so I won the “cold water swimmer” award. Set at 650 metres above sea level, Daylesford is a cold town. School swimming carnivals are more exercises in hypothermia management than displays of swimming talent, with blue-lipped kids wrapped in blankets huddling in groups, while parents dash to the shops for emergency supplies of chips and hot chocolate. But this summer was different, the heat had been consistent and enduring and often Rebecca and I would meet Greg and Tim and other regular swimmers Al and Sam for late afternoon swims, these sometimes bleeding into picnics as the evenings grew long and soft. Tentatively we were finding our place again in the town. Small towns are clannish with layers of connections going back generations; after a 15-year absence, we doubted at times that we would be able to make our way back in. After our initial joy and excitement of moving back, there were times when Rebecca and I would look at each other, alone again on Friday night, and ask if we’d made a terrible mistake. With a barely perceptible nod Greg signals the start of the second leg. Again, without effort I find myself in the lead. Breathing bilaterally on every third stroke,

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The town has changed; there are more luxury cars prowling the streets, and the explosion of spa retreat short-stay accommodation has forced younger, low‑income residents out into the surrounding countryside. There appears to be less cultural and political activity in town. Our friends are older; many have started the slide to retirement, some are already there. Some are frailer, touched by death and illness, and their worlds are narrowing. It’s easy to conclude that the vibrancy of the town we knew 20 years ago has been lost. As the leaves turn and fall to the ground marking the descent into winter, there is no escaping we too have changed. We are older, and death and ageing have not left us alone. What we once wanted from – and brought to – this town has also changed. What that will be this time, only time will tell. What we do know is that next month marks the one-year anniversary of our return and we’re going to throw a party. Call it a housewarming, a return to town, an emerging from lockdown party. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is I have new story to tell – about the time I swam the Lake Daylesford Classic and beat an Olympian.

I first look to my left and again I see Tim swinging out wide effortlessly backstroking close to the shore. To my right the lake, undisturbed by wind, is smooth and sparkling in the morning light. I’m arrested by the beauty. We pull up at the second pier for another breather. Tim, with his soft Canadian accent and warm smile, quietly checks in on everyone. We joke that he could swim the lake twice in the time it takes the rest of us to do it once. As the chatter dies down Greg again gives the nod, and we move off as a group for the final leg. Rounding the boathouse, I find myself still out in front. I’ve lost sight of Tim, no doubt he is off backstroking out wide or looping back to check on his flock. I glance over my left shoulder and see Greg’s orange cap bobbing up and down three to four metres behind me, the others farther behind. Ahead is the beach and the finish line. I have visions of Calling All Angels, the play Rebecca put on at that spot one summer years ago. It was a grand whole-of-community affair with actors coming across the water in boats, fire twirlers and a house band. I drop my head and reach forward in full stretch, easily slipping back into a steady cadence, pivoting my body left and right with each stroke.

series by Gabriele Galimberti

The Big Picture

Dear Dads Photographer Gabriele Galimberti captures that special relationship between fathers and children around the world. by Alan Attwood

Alan Attwood is a former editor of The Big Issue.

Sunday ritual: The photographer and his father out on Lake Trasimeno, Italy.

FOR MORE, VISIT GABRIELEGALIMBERTI.COM.

19 AUG 2021

ragments from a weekend. In a newspaper article, musician Ben Harper recalls his father, who left his family: “I spent my entire childhood needing his love. And he kept that close.” A friend mourns the death of her dad, in his early nineties: “He was my greatest urger-on, fan and critic in my professional life.” Late at night, I revisit an early Gene Hackman movie, I Never Sang for My Father (1970), which starts with a quote from screenwriter Robert Anderson: “Death ends a life, but it does not end a relationship. It struggles on in the survivor’s mind towards some resolution, which it may never find.” Fathers are universal: absent fathers, attentive fathers, distant fathers. Gabriele Galimberti, who describes himself as “an Italian photographer who frequently lives on airplanes”, remembers his father’s hand on his shoulder on a Sunday morning, shaking him awake: “Gabri, wake up! It’s six o’clock. We’re going fishing.” He was eight at the time. The little fishing boat out on Lake Trasimeno became their Sunday routine. My own father died in 2005. But he’s still around: in the music he played; the books he read and annotated; handyman hints he passed on (never hang a door without first resting it on a piece of plywood). The peripatetic Galimberti decided to make “the relationships between fathers and their children” the focus of a project. He explains: “Wherever I am in the world, when I meet a father I ask him to tell me about a special moment he has spent with his children and, when I can, I photograph them together.” As he has done with projects on happiness, toys and grandmothers in their kitchens, he roams far and wide: Italy, Costa Rica, India, Japan, Germany. Fathers fish, go cycling, sing songs, share books. All projects are personal, but this one especially so. “Almost everyone around me has become a parent over the last few years,” Galimberti says. “A couple of friends and I are the only ones in our group who still don’t have kids of our own. I began to observe how the others were raising their children. I watch them playing together, hear the arguments and the kids’ complaints at mealtimes or at bedtime… Just maybe, all of these things are making me start to want to be a father.” His friends with their children. All the fathers he has met around the world. His own childhood memories... These are all part of the mix. He has blended photography, his past and his own future. Perhaps, he concedes, “I’m preparing myself for my moment, if it ever arrives.” For what it’s worth, Gabri – go for it. Don’t wait too long. Fathers can become grandfathers. You get to see your own kids become parents. And who knows? They may invite you in for books or songs or old movies. Maybe even some early-morning fishing.

Michael Chamorro Suarez spends mornings with his four kids, before working in his restaurant, the first pizzeria in Cahuita, Costa Rica, every night.

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Tirupati Polga and daughter Yashika spend time together at the temple of Lord Hanuman in Mumbai, India. They also share a love of running.

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Every day Paolo Woods takes his children to school, up in the hills surrounding Florence, Italy. They sing and listen to music on the 15km ride.

Jiounelca loves playing in the water with her dad Jhonny Labossière. They live near the river in Maniche, a small village in the south of Haiti.

“I love reading books to my children every night,” says father-of-three Alessandro Kolo at home in Berlin, Germany. “It is a magical moment.”

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In Tokyo, Japan, accountant Takeshi and his daughters “love to sing at the top of our lungs and pretend we’re rock stars”.

by Ricky French @frenchricky

PHOTO BY JAMES BRAUND

here used to be a saying in the media – if it bleeds, it leads. I’m sure there’s still a market for plasma-based news, but these days it seems you can’t turn on the television (do people still do that?) or click on a link from social media (more likely) without reading another story about how long the queues are at airports. Editors, readers – everyone seems to love these stories. Quick, get to the airport and interview a family waiting in line. Send a camera crew, stat! “Ladies and gentlemen, we interrupt your broadcast for some breaking queue news.” But I don’t make these decisions. Being a semi-frequent flyer, I have some experience with airports, and can confirm there are often queues. I’m old enough to remember when we couldn’t remember what the queues used to be like. I have a faint memory of standing in line at Sydney Airport as a kid in the 1980s, my hair neatly combed and my shirt tucked into my pants. Those were the days when you actually got dressed up to fly – before they let anyone fly by making the tickets cheap. Today the tickets are no longer cheap but everyone still flies and everyone looks like they’ve just gotten out of bed, often because they have. I was at the airport at 4.50am last week. The line to check in was quite long, but I didn’t think to call my editor with the scoop. I stood and shuffled forward and eventually checked in. That was it. Actually, it wasn’t it. There was also the security line. Editors would have really hated this line because there was almost no line. Clearly everyone was either standing in line checking in or standing in line waiting for a coffee. But just because there was no line doesn’t mean I breezed through security. Those scanning machines have always been my nemesis. Years ago I would play music overseas and take guitar effects pedals in my carry-on luggage, because they were heavy, and back

then airports only weighed your check-in baggage, not carry-on. Not only are effects pedals heavy, but they also have strange knobs and dials, and numbers counting down to from five to zero. Some have a switch that looks uncannily like a cartoon detonation button. I’ve lost count of the number of times a security worker rummaged through my bag, pulled out my Digitech PDS 1002 two-second digital delay pedal, regarded it with suspicious bewilderment and said, “Just what the hell is this?” Or words to that effect. I would sigh and explain (again) that it was a Digitech PDS 1002 two-second digital delay pedal and that it was the secret to my lush, creamy tone. It was like I was on infinite repeat (a setting the pedal actually has, coincidently). These days they weigh your carry-on luggage, so I was forced to give up my rock star dreams, but security lines have found new ways to hold me up. Last week I was pulled aside after setting off that new, futuristic body-scanning machine. The guy consulted the screen and asked me if I was wearing a watch. It was a strange question because I was wearing a T-shirt and anyone could clearly see I was wearing a watch. It was strapped to my wrist and looked just like a watch. “I beg your pardon?” I replied. “Are you wearing a watch?” he repeated. I joined him in staring at the offending object on my wrist. He was clearly reciting from a script. “Is that a trick question?” I asked. He gave an exasperated look, waved his security wand and said, “Just go through.” I arrived at my gate in time to see hundreds of people queuing for $5.50 coffees, haemorrhaging money like it was going out of fashion. If it bleeds it leads has never rung so true.

Ricky is a writer and musician, who knows his p’s from his q’s.

19 AUG 2022

Cue the Queue

Being a semifrequent flyer, I have some experience with airports, and can confirm there are often queues.

Ricky

Heartbreak High

Small Screens A new generation of students returns for a fresh take on ground-breaking Australian series Heartbreak High.

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by Tiia Kelly @tiiakel

Tiia Kelly is a writer and editor living in Naarm/Melbourne.

omething about Heartbreak High’s public school feels distinctly Australian. “It’s the look of the toilets, the look of the bubblers,” says lead actor Ayesha Madon. For co-star Chloé Hayden, it’s the flourishes of Eshay culture and the symbols that characterise local graffiti. Even a brief shot of ibis gathering in a schoolyard feels intentional. In this reimagined take on the 90s television classic, the lived-in grit takes on a stylish, heightened essence. “I think that’s going to be really cool for young Australians, to see their lives romanticised in that way,” Madon says. Madon and Hayden, alongside James Majoos, form the core trio of this new generation of Hartley High teens, bringing Heartbreak’s legacy to a young audience. “I’m gonna be fully candid,” Madon says regarding the original, “I had no idea what it was.” But for those who followed the show at its cultural peak, there’s a sense of exhilaration surrounding its impending return on Netflix. When Majoos got the part, their older sisters “immediately started crying”. Created by Michael Jenkins and Ben Gannon, the hugely popular original broadcast the complex lives of Australian teens internationally in a way rarely done

PHOTOS BY LISA TOMASETTI/NETFLIX

Fast Times at Hartley High

ACTOR CHLOÉ HAYDEN

This required countless conversations with as many young people as possible, ensuring the writing felt “fresh and truthful”. It was the cast, for instance, who advised Chapman on the apt slang term for condom (“dommy” not “franger”). A series of workshops were set up with teens from different areas, allowing Chapman to glean insights into the unabashedly Australian method of “undercutting moments of huge pathos” with dark humour. Chapman also chatted with her teenaged sister, who shared details of an “Incest Map” that charted the various hook-ups between students at her high school, illustrating the angsty and close-knit nature of teen relationships. “I was like, ‘Send it to me right now!’” she laughs. The Incest Map discovery shaped the series. Heartbreak’s pilot introduces us to cool girl Amerie (Madon) and her best friend Harper (Asher Yasbincek), whose own glorious version of the map, hidden in an abandoned stairwell, is discovered by the school. Harper lets Amerie take the fall, leaving the latter to descend the social ladder into the arms of fellow outcasts Quinni (Hayden) and Darren (Majoos). The map provided a rich storytelling landscape for Chapman: “Yes, it was filthy, but they were showing who they had connected to and who they’d had these moments with. A story that I really wanted to tell was what happens when those connections break.” Yet from the ashes of one friendship group grows another. Much like their characters, Madon, Hayden and Majoos are clearly enamoured with one another, effusively praising their castmates. The three were pre‑cast, meaning their roles hadn’t been fully

fleshed out when they signed on. This let the writers collaborate with the performers, particularly regarding neurodivergent character Quinni. Hayden is a rare instance of an actor who is on the autism spectrum portraying a character on the autism spectrum – the first in Australia to co-lead a series. In development, the writers regularly discussed Quinni’s arc with Hayden: “We were like, okay, we need her to actually have a diagnosis and to talk about it and to have it be part of who she is,” the actor recalls. “I would just be sitting in my bedroom, reading these scripts… sobbing my heart out. I can’t even tell you how much that [representation] would have helped me.” “We’ve got these three minorities leading an Australian show, which is something that I’ve never seen before,” Majoos says. Then, with some nerves about the show’s release: “It’s so confronting seeing yourself when you’ve never really seen yourself in the media before.” Though the 90s Heartbreak High was praised for its exploration of multiculturalism and migrant stories, the reimagining ensured its writers’ room reflected the diversity on screen, which for the first time includes First Nations characters. Almost 30 years since the original’s debut, part of representing contemporary Australia meant acknowledging its myriad intersections. “What does Australia look like now?” Heaton asks. “What’s the make-up of our country? What are the ideas that have evolved since then?” The hope is that the series will, once again, bring Australia to the world. “We’re slightly chuffed that it might have to have subtitles in the US,” Heaton jokes. HEARTBREAK HIGH STREAMS ON NETFLIX 14 SEPTEMBER.

19 AUG 2022

We’re slightly chuffed that it might have to have subtitles in the US.

MEET THE NEW KIDS: AYESHA MADON, JAMES MAJOOS AND CHLOÉ HAYDEN

before – or since – with clear empathy. It provided a goldmine of young Aussie talent, launching the careers of Ada Nicodemou (Katerina) and Callan Mulvey (Drazic), as well as Alex Dimitriades, star of the 1993 movie The Heartbreak Kid, from which Heartbreak High is a spin-off. For producer Carly Heaton, the reimagining feels like fate. “We were all obsessed with the show as teenagers,” Heaton says. “[It looked] like us and all of our friends. It was brash, it was loud, it was noisy. “We liked bringing up all this new talent,” she adds, noting the absence of a true “vehicle” for today’s young creatives. Enter Hannah Caroll Chapman, who cut her teeth on shows like The Heights and Home and Away. As creator and head writer, Chapman was keen to emulate the boldness and local specificity of its predecessor. Yet the intention, they both stress, was to offer today’s youth the same self-recognition they’d both found in the original.

Del Kathryn Barton

Film

No Strings Attached

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

The feature debut by Archibald Prize winner Del Kathryn Barton is an intense portrait of girlhood and trauma, featuring a giant dragon puppet. by Aimee Knight @siraimeeknight

Aimee Knight is The Big Issue’s film editor. She’s writing a book about Jim Henson’s cultural legacy.

BLAZE IS IN CINEMAS 25 AUGUST.

19 AUG 2022

literally occupying the young actor’s head. “I think working with a child and puppet really helped with the alchemy and believability of that,” she says. “Although Blaze/Julia has to go to some very tough places – especially in navigating the ‘real’ world, for want of a better word – there was such genuine delight and joy in her interaction with Zephie.” The director also pays due credit to the five puppeteers (one for the tail, one for the head, three for the wings) who brought “a whole level of choreography and understanding of the puppet’s kinetic limitations”. “The best puppeteers are really not present,” says Barton, “so I think they go very under-acknowledged. I’ve been asked about the film at length, and I’ve spoken too rarely about what they do for the visual and emotional dynamics.” From Mr Squiggle to Hey Hey It’s Saturday, puppets in this country have existed almost solely on the small screen, in either children’s edutainment or cheap variety schtick. By contract, Blaze emulates European and Asian puppet traditions, infused with solemnity and sincerity, and appreciated by all ages. Barton also cites the SpanishMexican dark fantasy film Pan’s Labyrinth (2006), set during the aftermath of the Spanish Civil War, as a tonal and formal touchstone. She prefers auteur-driven filmmaking that is more experimental, abstract and informed by art history than that of Hollywood, where movies are business ventures, not artistic endeavours. “What my studio practice brings to my film craft is such a privilege in that way,” says Barton. “I don’t have to play by the rules.” She is often “shocked and disappointed” that contemporary films are not more visually radical – an issue owing, in her opinion, to unambitious screenwriting. “I believe very passionately in the idea of serious play,” she says. “That’s something, as adults, we don’t often get to do. It’s not really a concept that’s celebrated in, you know, these very corporate environments where most adults end up spending their lives.” Blaze harnesses magic realism to nudge grown-ups away from wizened incredulity into the wonder world of a preteen girl. Yet Barton hesitates to say that accepting Zephyr as a real, live being requires a “suspension of disbelief”. That term feels too anthropocentric. She distrusts “this thing we have as human beings – the ego – that says everything exists in relationship to us. “I think language becomes inadequate in these sorts of inquiries,” she says. “And it should, because these things are more about energy and consciousness. They speak, I think, to the mystery of life – that inanimate objects are, in fact, not inanimate.” If the body can store trauma’s aftershocks in its synapses and fibres, can material objects receive memory infusions, too? “As an absolute idealist, I one hundred per cent feel that,” says Barton. “For me, the most important message in the film is the healing capacity of the imaginary world. On one level, you are absolutely projecting an inner life force on a so-called ‘inanimate’ object. What it reflects back can be extraordinarily powerful, life-changing and cathartic.”

PHOTO BY DANIEL BOUD

t was an absurdly ambitious proposition, you know, for my first feature film,” says visual artist and filmmaker Del Kathryn Barton. “A child lead and a giant puppet,” she reflects, with wry self-awareness. The feat sounds even more courageous and, perhaps, surprising in light of her film’s confronting premise: after witnessing a harrowing act of violence, an introverted 12-year-old retreats into a fantasy land of traumatised dysphoria. There, her imaginary friend Zephyr – a four‑metre shimmering dragon – helps her express her latent fear, confusion and rage. Featuring Yael Stone (Orange Is the New Black), Simon Baker (The Mentalist) and old-soul child star Julia Savage (Mr Inbetween) in the title role, Blaze is both a coming-ofage and rape-revenge (or, maybe, rape-justice) tale; one that metabolises unspeakable human horrors through a magic realist lens. Part Alice in Wonderland, part Promising Young Woman, it’s a sensory tidal wave with a strong social justice undertow, juxtaposing the mundane grey and beige of courtrooms and hospitals with the rainbow fantasia of a child’s imagination. Blaze takes as its launch pad Barton’s five-panel painting sing blood-wings sing (2017), a polymer interpretation of the Peter, Paul and Mary song ‘Puff the Magic Dragon’. To create Zephyr, the Sydney-based artist and three assistants worked for eight months on the dragon’s skin – a kaleidoscopic biome of silk, sequins, beads, feathers and Swarovski crystals – while puppet builders finessed its mechanics. “To find practitioners to collaborate with who still have those skills was incredibly important,” says Barton. Given this was her first feature, though, it was also vital that her distinctive stamp marked every frame. “I really wanted the hand stitching and material integrity of the fabrics [to be seen] in camera,” she says. “That quality, for me, has so much truth.” Before directing Blaze (which she co-wrote with Huna Amweero), Barton had made two short films: The Nightingale and the Rose (2015), based on Oscar Wilde’s fable of love and sacrifice, and Red (2017), starring Cate Blanchett as the personification of a female redback. “One of the joys of extending my ouvre into film craft are those aesthetic skills you don’t always see on screen,” she says. While her painting and textile practices shaped the film’s bold style, Barton also had to translate those static storytelling modes into the mobile language of motion pictures. She cites the influence of surrealist Czech filmmaker Jan Švankmajer, whose 1988 feature debut Alice blends live-action footage and stopmotion animation in much the same way as Blaze. To foment dramatic energy and intrigue, Zephyr’s form – a soft sculptural work of art unto itself – is revealed slowly, obliquely, almost akin to a monster in a horror film. Except the monsters in Blaze are all too human, with Zephyr serving as the girl’s empathetic protector. Landing this relationship required its own curious solution. “It was very important to me that Julia was able to own the emotions asked of her, in her own way, in her own time,” says Barton. They arrived at a “reasonably unconventional” method, with Barton directing Savage through an earpiece,

Jesswar

Music

The Long and Short of It

by David James Young

David James Young is a freelance music journalist and podcaster working on unceded Dharawal land.

PHOTO BY JADE D’AMICO

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

Brisbane-based rapper Jesswar has never felt more confident or assured in their sound, as documented in a bold, succinct new mixtape – made, in part, with people they haven’t even met.

trying something new. I didn’t want to add another verse and chorus just for the sake of making it longer. I think it’s cool, because then you can listen to the whole project over and over again.” Indeed, even beyond the brisk runtime, there’s also plenty of reasons to return to the mixtape at maximum volume. Whether it’s the sexy and triumphant club bangers ‘Bad Like RiRi’ and ‘Throw It in the Air’, or the menacing ‘Caramel Bars’ and ‘Antisocial’, there is an incredibly versatile showcase of Jesswar’s strengths on offer here. The multitudes that Life’s Short contain are wholly reflective of the multitudes contained within Jesswar. “I wanted to write over lots of different sub‑genres – any sound that caught my attention,” says Jesswar. “I was keen to push myself in a different direction with this project, which was so exciting – you’re sitting there, thinking I could do this, I could do that. It was such a fulfilling experience to make a project like this. “I wanted to make shit that made me happy and made me want to dance. On bad days, when I feel angry, there’s still some songs for that too.

LIFE’S SHORT, LIVE BIG IS OUT 23 SEPTEMBER.

19 AUG 2022

I wanted to make shit that made me happy and made me want to dance.

Some days, I’m feeling really sexy; feeling good about myself. Other days, I’ll just be cruising around in the car. There’s songs for that, as well. It was like, if I don’t put this out because I’m too self-conscious, then what’s the point of making music? Life’s short. You just got to put it out there.” Jesswar enlisted a slew of collaborators to complete Life’s Short – including Gold Coast artist DVNA, Texan rapper Erica Banks and producers Rory Peckham and Brandon Jonak. In circumstances owing to both the advent of technology and the ongoing pandemic, Jesswar has not actually met many of their collaborators in person yet. “So much of this was done just through emails and going back and forth over the phone,” they say. “It’s cool, right? A great collaboration, when it comes down to it, is all about this: the energy, the compatibility and the trust. I feel like if you can creatively find people that are compatible, even if you’re not in the same room, and you have creative trust, I get really excited by that. Someone brings this to the table, and you bring that to the table, and it’s all in how you glue them together. For so many years, I was making music just by myself, and I actually still do a lot of it like that. It excites me to collaborate – when someone’s on your wavelength and you’re not even in the same room. It’s just so exciting.” One thing people should know about Jesswar is that they’re representing – not just in the old-school hip-hop sense, but also on behalf of their personal identity. They’re a proudly queer, non‑binary artist, as well as proudly of Pacific Islander heritage. As much as they appreciate getting invited to perform at LGBTQ-oriented festivals and appear on similarly themed playlists, the rapper knows there’s more to it – and they’re ready to kick the door down. “I feel like we’re definitely changing as a society, and we’re growing as a music community,” they say. “I always try to keep my values at heart, and always try to move with kindness. That’s something that I had to really teach myself as an adult, to be proud of the person that I am walking down the street every day. It’s been a battle, to unconditionally love yourself. “I always try to represent hard... It’s important to share resources with people that come from my community, that would kill stages that I was on. If I can do that, just in my practice, then that could eventuate to things becoming different. If there’s more of us, that’s just the cherry on top.”

ife’s Short, Live Big – the new mixtape from Brisbane-based Pasifika rapper Jesswar – does a lot. It cements the artist as one of the most formidable MCs in the country, it showcases their artistic versatility, and it makes good on the brimming potential shown in their early work. Really, the only thing Life’s Short doesn’t do is waste time – only two tracks on the project sneak past the three-minute mark, with most running closer to two. There is not a skerrick of fat on the bone here – and for Jesswar, that’s an exciting prospect. “I just sat down in my room with my laptop and my mic, got the beats from the producers I work with and just laid the songs down,” Jesswar explains. “I was writing them as I was recording the vocals. I noticed a few songs ran kind of short, but I was like, fuck it – I like this. I didn’t want to force writing anything more.” It was this approach, Jesswar reasons, that gave the mixtape its own edge and its own identity – not to mention a whole new degree of replay value. “I think it’s a really cool new way of structure for writing music,” they say. “I wasn’t shy about

JP Pomare

Books

Dead Wrong

by Bec Kavanagh @beckavanagh

Bec Kavanagh is a writer, literary critic and academic whose research focuses on the representation of female bodies in literature. She is the schools manager at the Wheeler Centre.

PHOTO BY LEAH JING MCINTOSH

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

In writer JP Pomare’s latest crime thriller, the harsh truths behind privilege and power in a small town are laid bare.

resist the idea that people are coming to crime fiction [just] for entertainment, and that we shouldn’t be imbuing the work with the worldview and issues we are concerned with,” says JP Pomare the morning after the launch of his new book, The Wrong Woman. We’re both up early for our Zoom call, our domestic lives unfolding behind us on screen. Pomare, who grew up in New Zealand but now divides his time between Melbourne and the regional town of Clunes, is particularly concerned with issues of class and capitalism, exploring the ways that his characters respond to pressure within the heightened tensions of the literary crime novel. That’s not to say that his work isn’t entertaining. Call Me Evie, Pomare’s bestselling 2019 debut, was a tense page-turner in which 17-year-old Evie struggles against a domineering captor, and fights to reclaim her own memories of the traumatic events that led her to him. His follow-up In the Clearing, a claustrophobic suspense novel inspired by the cult The Family, is currently being adapted for screen. The Wrong Woman, his fifth novel, is equally gripping. A tense psychological thriller, it exploits the genre’s potential to expose the harsh truths of

The Wrong Woman returns to Pomare’s familiar small-town dynamic, but it has crossed continents. Rather than the Antipodean settings of his previous works, he chose an American location for the particulars of US academia and law enforcement. “I find the power and structure of the sheriff so bizarre and interesting,” says Pomare. “I wanted to capture that kind of dynamic in a police force, where they all think they know who did it and are just going to make it stick.” Reid’s relationship with the police, and with police brutality, is a point of tension in the novel. As someone resented by the bulk of local law enforcement, his position as the outsider offers insight into both the inner workings of the police, and the lengths to which they’ll go to protect their own. As the story unfolds, the toxic masculinity of several characters is laid bare – the local professor with a fixation on younger women, the cover-ups of local police brutality, the undertone of male violence in the community. “I wanted to write about how masculinity is to be the protector and to shoulder all this responsibility and take it on yourself and go ‘I’m going to sort this out,’” says Pomare, who builds

the suspense as he agitates male and female stereotypes, villains and victims alike throughout the novel. Reid’s narrative is balanced by alternate chapters from the point of view of Eshana, the professor’s critically injured wife. She reveals the events leading up to the crash, and drip feeds her husband’s secrets into the story. Her chapters are written in first person, and this female perspective is something that Pomare takes great care to write. “You just really can’t get it wrong,” he says. “You just have to get it right.” So, does he? The popularity of Pomare’s work seems to suggest that he does. Certainly, the complex motivations and rage that he brings to the page feel authentic, and so do his books’ keen observations about the way women’s lives are shaped by male arbitrations of justice. “With my daughter, I often think what’s school going to be like? What’s our relationship with tech going to be like? What can we be doing now to protect the next generation because it’s getting harder and harder.” THE WRONG WOMAN IS OUT NOW.

privilege and power that prop up systems of law enforcement and education. The story follows Vince Reid, a policemanturned-PI, as he returns to his home town of Manson to investigate a car accident that has left a local professor dead and his wife in a critical condition. While looking into an insurance claim, Reid’s investigation soon reveals connections to the high-profile disappearance of the local sheriff’s daughter, and another woman. As Reid digs deeper, he discovers disturbing connections that implicate the professor in both missing person cases. Like his earlier novels, The Wong Woman reveals Pomare’s own thematic obsession with surveillance and exposure. “I’ve found it’s always been our relationship with tech that seems to come to the forefront,” says the author, who here turns his attention to the seedy online world of Sugar Daddies and the transactional nature of women’s bodies. “I was seeing a concerning trend with how we open our lives up to our friends, but inadvertently to the world, and the potential for personal disaster on a scale you would never imagine – you know, you can be bullied by a million people in a day.”

19 AUG 2022

I was seeing a concerning trend with how we open our lives up to our friends, but inadvertently to the world…

Film Reviews

Aimee Knight Film Editor @siraimeeknight

aving followed the career of Adelaide filmmaker Sophie Hyde for 15 years (partly because she’s a deeply humanist director, and partly because – full disclosure – I was a set dresser on her 2010 short Elephantiasis), I was delighted to see glowing reports of her latest, Good Luck to You, Leo Grande, after it played at Sundance, Berlin and Tribeca festivals. The modern comedy of manners stars Emma Thompson as highly strung, pent‑up, flinty widow Nancy, who hires suave sex worker Leo (Peaky Blinders’ Daryl McCormack) to teach her the intimate things her late husband wouldn’t. As in Hyde’s first feature 52 Tuesdays (2013), the director again uses the passage of time as a formal template, with title cards marking Nancy and Leo’s appointments. In contrast to that debut, which offered weekly snippets into the transformation of a queer family over one year, …Leo Grande keeps its frisson bottled to just four meetings in one location – a hotel room where its two leads build tension and chemistry over long, intriguing scenes. With a script by actor/comedian Katy Brand, there’s careful emphasis on dialogue, character and backstory, as Nancy and Leo strip their outer layers, shedding their shame, fear and judgement along with their costumes. Both actors bring tenderness and relatability to this tale of vulnerability’s labour. More My Dinner With Andre than American Gigolo, it’s a delightfully progressive commentary on sex work, social norms and consent. In cinemas now. AK

GRANDE DAME EMMA THOMPSON AND DARYL MCCORMACK

HIT THE ROAD 

In this debut feature by Iranian filmmaker Panah Panahi, a family – comprising a mother (Pantea Panahiha) and father (Hasan Majuni), their pensive 20-year-old son (Amin Simiar) and his hyperactive kid brother (Rayan Sarlak), plus an ailing dog – embark on a road trip both mundane and mysterious. As they traverse the countryside, the plentiful rest stops, in-car banter and encounters with locals may evoke those of any long-distance family trip. When the destination and purpose of their travel become clearer, the journey takes on far greater emotional and political implications. The film shifts effortlessly between different moods, extinguishing moments of joy with tears and defusing tragedy with comedy, poetic tenderness and occasional drifts into fantasy. Panahi is the son of celebrated auteur Jafar Panahi (The White Balloon, The Circle, Taxi), whose influence can be felt throughout. With this great, endlessly surprising road movie, he lives up to his family name and takes it in a bold new direction. KENTA MCGRATH GIRL AT THE WINDOW

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

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From her bedroom window, Amy (Ella Newton, Harrow) observes the suspicious late-night behaviours of her male neighbour. When a classmate is declared missing, Amy suspects he may be responsible – a hunch complicated by his budding relationship with her mum (Radha Mitchell). This Australian thriller is coloured by past suffering: a community recovering from an unsolved killing spree, as well as the protagonist’s recent loss of her father. As Amy’s paranoia grows, her past is weaponised by people who imply that nightmares and guilt have warped her perception. But with no internal life beyond trauma flashbacks, she’s scarcely more than a vessel for cheap pathos. Despite a capable cast, Girl at the Window takes little pleasure in its own mystery. There’s no hum of suspense, and no gratification in Amy’s voyeuristic detective work, just red herrings and rote plot progression. By the time a choppily edited villain monologue arrives, laden with flimsy call-backs, we’re left with only a handful of tropes and not much to chew on. TIIA KELLY

TUESDAY CLUB 

As Karin (Marie Richardson) cycles along Gothenburg’s sunlit cobblestone paths, director Annika Appelin sets the tone for her picturesque film. Sweden is captured at its autumnal best, and food is accorded a sensuality through close-up shots of crisp-bottomed gyoza and panko-crumbed prawns. But relationships foreground Tuesday Club – namely the staid marriage of Karin and Sten (Björn Kjellman), and the devotion of Karin’s best friend Pia (Sussie Eriksson). After a comical unveiling of a marital transgression, Karin finds a new lease on life and joins a cooking course with Pia and a blast from her past, Monika (Carina M Johansson). Surrounded by a motley crew of cooks, Karin discovers sparks with celebrity chef Henrik (Peter Stormare), forcing her to re-evaluate everything about her life. In the vein of films like How to Please a Woman, where older mothers find meaning through a vocation and the kinship of other women, Tuesday Club is warm, funny and, though predictable at times, always entertaining. SONIA NAIR

Small Screen Reviews

Claire Cao Small Screens Editor @clairexinwen

THE SANDMAN  | NETFLIX

TALES OF THE WALKING DEAD

 | APPLE TV+

 | AMC+

This dark comedy, a remake of the Belgian series Clan, follows the Garveys – a group of Irish sisters brought together by the mysterious death of their brother-in-law, John-Paul (Claes Bang). It’s soon apparent that all the sisters had good reason to want him dead – and so begins a less dour, equally gripping take on Big Little Lies. The series brilliantly captures tense familial dynamics. Playing the Garvey sisters, Sharon Horgan, Eva Birthistle, Sarah Greene and Eve Hewson all excel at believable sibling banter. AnneMarie Duff (Sex Education) is fantastically sympathetic as Ursula, the Garvey who married John-Paul, and Bad Sisters viscerally illustrates the struggle of seeing a loved one in an abusive relationship and being unable to save them. Bang plays John-Paul as equal parts insidiously manipulative and outright threatening, creating a reprehensible character who will have you rooting for his death in minutes. The extent of his evil may at times seem over the top, but the stellar cast and compelling narrative makes it easy to suspend your disbelief. IVANA BREHAS

As the world’s biggest zombie sensation reaches its conclusion, AMC showrunners ask their audience...who’s ready for more? After 12 years, it’s safe to assume viewers have had their fill. Tales of the Walking Dead joins the epidemic of spin-offs dogging the streaming landscape and does little more than leave a bad taste. The six-part anthology series is pseudo-episodic, lighter in tone than its predecessor and lighter in acting prowess too. Terry Crews (Brooklyn Nine-Nine) and Parker Posey (Lost in Space) top the billing, followed by other semi-recognisable faces giving mostly forgettable performances. Each entry jumps around the world and timeline of The Walking Dead universe – following bickering insurance agents attempting to escape the infection one episode, and a David Attenborough-esque researcher documenting zombie behaviour the next. It’s as if the creative team believe it was the world that made the original series so popular and not the quality of its characters. These hollow, trivial chapters are a clear sign some tales should be left untold. BRUCE KOUSSABA

rom MasterChef to Chef’s Table, almost everyone has a favourite cooking show. Whether you’re looking for domestic comfort, gorgeous plating or high-octane anxiety, kitchens are a naturally cinematic atmosphere that are oddly uncommon in the realm of scripted drama shows. Attempts have been made with melodramatic entries such as Sweetbitter, but no cooking drama has been truly definitive. That is, until this year’s The Bear. The stunning eight-part series follows Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto (Jeremy Allen White, Shameless), a Michelin-starred chef who is catapulted back to his native Chicago after his older brother’s suicide. Taking over his family’s sandwich shop, Carmy is determined to transform the shabby local staple into the next big thing, with the help of talented rookie sous chef Sydney (a breakout Ayo Edebiri). White is magnetic as this troubled Bourdain type, but the series sets itself apart with its precise, hyper-specific writing, which taps into the delicate threads between the grieving staff and their community. Carmy and Sydney try to subvert the culture of abuse they inherited from high-class restaurants, often failing in human and darkly humorous ways. And there’s plenty of adrenaline: kitchen fires, mounting debt and hair-raising screaming matches that put Gordon Ramsay to shame. Head over to Disney+ on 31 August to experience across-the-board stunning performances, and a bravura penultimate episode that will raise your blood pressure to unprecedented heights. CC

19 AUG 2022

BAD SISTERS

THE BEAR FACTS

The thing about long-awaited, fan-fought media is that they’re rarely ever worth the battle. DC got lucky with the success of Zack Snyder’s Justice League (2021), but their latest comic book adaptation, Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman, is proof that there needs to be a moratorium on this stuff. Breaking free from a century-long imprisonment, Morpheus (Tom Sturridge), the king of dreams, sets out on a quest to retrieve his magic tools and restore his kingdom. Sturridge, a yassified troll doll with the squarest jaw you’ve ever seen, plays him stoic, brooding and with little sinister charm – a complement to the show’s flat, dull visual palette. A genuine eyesore, The Sandman loses the comic’s tactile textures and dynamic storytelling within its digital Netflix sheen and belaboured prestige TV narrative. There are glimpses of something interesting in the infrequent high-concept episodes and detours away from Morpheus – David Thewlis gives a hearty performance as one of many antagonists. Otherwise, this is a nadir of an already overstuffed genre. Even hardcore fans ought to think twice. SAMUEL HARRIS

Music Reviews

Isabella Trimboli Music Editor

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

he inimitable Gunditjmara and Bundjalung singer-songwriter Archie Roach has passed away at 66, leaving a legacy of politically charged songwriting and activism. The youngest of seven siblings, Roach was born in central Victoria. When he was four, and living in Framlingham, his mother’s ancestral lands, Roach and two of his sisters were separated from their parents by welfare officers. This experience is interwoven in his most famous song ‘Took the Children Away’, a sombre, galvanising track about the Stolen Generations, where the singer details children being ripped away from their mothers, and the humiliation and injustice that shaped Indigenous lives during this period. The song exemplifies Roach’s writing, the way he crafted inviting and unadorned acoustic ballads, infused with a touch of Hank Williams-style melancholy. Roach’s voice was the perfect vehicle for these gentle yet raw songs – deep, a little craggy, always matter of fact, with no fluff. He learned to play guitar and keyboards during his time living with his foster family, who were Scottish immigrants. His break came when he played ‘Took the Children Away’ at a Bicentenary protest in 1988 in Sydney. The song took on a life of its own, and Roach performed it on radio and TV. One of Paul Kelly’s bandmates saw the performance and invited him to support Kelly in concert, where the song was met with stunned silence and then rapturous applause. A true artist in every sense, he leaves an enormous hole in this country’s musical landscape. IT

FAREWELL ARCHIE

@itrimboli

CAVE WORLD VIAGRA BOYS 

Cave World, the third album by Swedish band Viagra Boys, finds the group making ostentatious claims that they cannot live up to. Self-describing this new album as “post-truth-cow-funk-kraut-wave”, this genre mash can be heard – these genres are mixed into their punk sound – but they’ve overcomplicated what is really just their old sound with a groovier bent. The result is tight, straight-forward dance-punk, which quickly becomes formulaic and repetitive. Written and recorded after Trump’s presidency, Cave World’s lyrics retread concerns hashed out for more than five years now — the absurd conspiracies of the alt-right, deeply tied to Trump’s stint in power. Viagra Boys evoke this with little fresh perspective or depth. Further, Cave World’s troglodyte metaphor of humanity’s de-evolution is a rehash of Devo’s mission statement from the late 1970s, rekindled without any new insight. While Cave World is a competent and pleasant-sounding record, it does feel like a group on autopilot without much of their own truth to spout. ANGUS MCGRATH

NO PHOTOGRAPHS WORKHORSE

CLOSE TO HOME AITCH

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After years as a side player in Adelaide ensembles like Wireheads and Fair Maiden, Harriet Fraser-Barbour takes the reins in Workhorse. She plays almost every instrument on this dreamy, textured debut album, alongside some fiddle from Skye McNicol and pedal steel from Frank Boulden. Inspired by queer westerns and the lingering ballads of Chris Isaak and Mazzy Star, No Photographs applies dust-kicked country twang and scraggly reverb to evoke a sense of place. ‘Rode a River’ marries gothic flair to a lonesome drum machine putter, and ‘Dreamhorse’ circles back to the slow-burn vibes of spaghetti westerns. ‘Mary Maiden’ pays homage to Fair Maiden’s medieval influences. No Photographs plays in part like a portrait of Adelaide’s perennial creative exodus. That’s especially true of ‘Chain’, which sees Fraser-Barbour dream of not just personal change but also a community of peers who stay put rather than disappear over the horizon. DOUG WALLEN

Championed by Triple J, the UK rapper Aitch (Harrison Armstrong) makes a splash with this, his debut album. The Mancunian established himself with 2019’s hit ‘Taste (Make It Shake)’ and a cameo on Stormzy’s Heavy Is the Head. He approaches his LP as a come-up story, consciously repping England’s economically deprived North in hip-hop. Aitch’s default style is conversational – the opener ‘Belgraveroad_1’ is unusually understated for a grime album. But the MC hasn’t lost his trademark laddish cheek (hilariously, he’s a Lynx brand ambassador). The pop-rap single ‘Baby’, produced by Fred Again, trades on 2000s nostalgia for maximal crossover appeal, saucily sampling Ashanti. More inspired is ‘1989’ – Aitch flipping the Stone Roses classic, ‘Fools Gold’. Aitch reveals an affectionate side on ‘My G’ – acoustic-pop featuring the ubiquitous Ed Sheeran. Yet he also brings credible street cuts – plus a club banger worthy of Dizzee Rascal in ‘Fuego’. Aitch has delivered a solid debut with chart ambition and charm. CYCLONE WEHNER

Book Reviews

Clare Millar Books Editor @claresmillar

WITH LOVE FROM WISH & CO MINNIE DARKE

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Marrul is the Yawuru word for “changing wind”. To Inala Cooper – a Yawuru woman writing, dancing and campaigning on Kulin land – the marrul is a powerful force knit from the stories of Elders. The howling wind is a call to continue her ancestors’ fight for sovereignty; its forceful gale suggests that this fight is won only by unsettling the master narrative of colonial Australia. Marrul weaves together personal experience and family history with Cooper’s own theories on reconciliation, justice and sovereignty. Cooper works to name and honour those who fought for the rights we First Nations people enjoy today, while showing how colonial systems continue to bind First Nations people. Marrul is exciting, ambitious and commanding. Cooper’s storytelling and demands for truth, reparation, compensation and redistribution will instil readers with determination. “I am obliged to persevere,” she writes, “to ensure the Marrul – the changing wind – keeps blowing strongly.” LUCY CAROZZA

Tasmanian author Minnie Darke has swapped the weaving narratives and intercepting vignettes of her previous romances (StarCrossed; The Lost Love Song) for a single propulsive story. When Marnie’s gift-giving service muddles parcels intended for a businessman’s wife and mistress, her dreams of upscaling to an heirloom property depend on containing the fallout. But her ambitions collide with her integrity when she falls for the man’s estranged son. Darke’s lucid prose glints with humour and wit, with a knack for succinctly creating character via memorable detail. Protagonists are flawed but relatable and there are no absolute villains. Leona, the “other woman”, retains dignity and grace, and even the most egregious are offered a chance for redemption. In Marnie’s world, there is much gift porn, involving lascivious depictions of shopping, wrapping and ribboning. Crepe paper, bows and paper folds have never seemed so sensual.

OF MARSUPIALS AND MEN ALISTAIR PATON 

Of Marsupials and Men is a mammoth work of non-fiction in which Alistair Paton traces colonial Australia’s fascination for, and confusion about, the country’s unique wildlife, along with the introduction of European creatures. Throughout, competing ideologies of naturalists are examined: at first, that the bizarre creatures found here must be inferior, and that anything on God’s earth must be free for human use, with collectors often being avid shooters. Post-Darwin there was greater appreciation for how Australian mammals had evolved. Paton doesn’t shy away from the racist attitudes of his subjects, many of whom tried to also collect Indigenous people. Birds, snakes and kangaroos abound as Paton follows the successes, failures and quirks of early and current researchers, covering everything from ornithologist John Gould’s team of collectors, to milking taipans to create antivenom. Of Marsupials and Men is a thoroughly researched and lively read that Australian history and nature lovers will no doubt take pleasure in. CLARE MILLAR

COLIN VARNEY

MARRUL: ABORIGINAL IDENTITY & THE FIGHT FOR RIGHTS INALA COOPER

19 AUG 2022

ince being appointed books editor, I’ve been trying to read even more than usual, which has been a challenge. It’s been a while since I listened to any audiobooks, and I’ve again fallen for listening to stories while I go about my day. My latest is Train Lord by Oliver Mol, a memoir told via 15 essays, all while Mol has a 10-month long migraine. It’s so extreme that he’s unable to read or write or use screens, leaving Mol despairing that life will never be the same again. In desperation, Mol becomes a train guard, and slowly begins writing again. It’s a book about pain and healing, how to tell stories and how to live. I have various chronic pain issues myself and found Train Lord to be a surprisingly comforting yet confronting read, all while being quite dryly funny too. In other news, the Melbourne Writers Festival is almost here! Running from 8-11 September, festival events feature more than 250 local and international authors. Promising sessions include ‘This Song We Sing: New Voices in First Nations Poetry’ featuring Dakota Feirer, Declan Fry, Mykaela Saunders and others; ‘Carnage and Kindness’, a discussion on family, love and the mystery of the unknown; Helen Garner and Chloe Hooper on their approaches to non-fiction; ‘The Inconvenient Truths of Climate Fiction’; and ‘Another Australia’, exploring Winnie Dunn’s speculative fiction anthology that reimagines Australia. Plus, there are some limited digital offerings for those who can’t make MWF in person. CM

Public Service Announcement

by Lorin Clarke @lorinimus

I have a small child whose love language is belting his sister when he wants her to play with him. It’s a less than ideal approach and hopefully he will find a different love language before she turns around and launches him into the sun. Not all love languages should be endured, let me make that clear. Another person in my family has a love language that had to be explained to me. I didn’t realise what it was. See, what this person does is provide acts of service as a way of expressing love. To me, this is obtuse and strange. My love language is loudly walking into a room, throwing open my arms, and declaring my extreme adoration in heady expectation of the same back from them. But when someone’s love language is committing acts of service, you might not get that, but you’ll be going about your business and the doorbell will ring and someone will deliver the book you had totally forgotten about but had mentioned once that you wanted to read. Or the smell of coffee will wake you up and you’ll realise there’s a hot cup of it right there next to you. I am coming to terms with this kind of love language. I’ve decided I quite like it. Some of my favourite people do it. Here are some of the acts of service you can provide to people by way of saying I love you: Nice little random text messages.

Giving someone flowers for no reason. Crafting something for someone. (A massive thank you to the Fitzroy Diaries listener who came to an event with a rainbow giraffe she’d made for me while listening to the series during lockdown. Act of service! Amazing!) Old-fashioned mail. Nothing like it. Taking lemons from your own personal lemon tree over to people’s houses. When someone is grieving, wandering over to their place a few weeks or even months later with some tea and biscuits under your arm and saying “I don’t want to impose on you, I just thought I’d drop these off. How are you going?” Then, and this is the important bit, listen to their answer. You don’t have to solve anything. Just listen. Listening is one of my favourite love languages. It’s free and it’s easy and it’s lovely when someone does it for you. Help an older person with technology. I am older than people who help me and younger than people who require the kind of assistance I can provide. If you’re the kind of person who can help out with technology, please know it’s a skill your loved ones appreciate. I was at a talk recently where the speaker grandly introduced a video about to appear on the projector. There was one of those long, tense pauses as we realised that the technology she thought she had a handle on was doing the wrong thing. “Can you hear that? Is that working?” The audience was hoping with all their hearts that this would magically sort itself out. A woman near me half stood up in her chair. “Did you push the button on the side?” she yelled. The presenter pushed the button on the side and the screen leapt into motion. The presenter mouthed “thank you”, and I caught the woman near me winking at her in response. An act of service. Love if ever I saw it. Love can be expressed in lots of ways. Not all of them will suit you. Not all of them are healthy. But gentle, sideways acts of love are sometimes just as rich as a showy declaration.

Lorin Clarke is a Melbourne-based writer. The second season of her radio series, The Fitzroy Diaries, is on ABC Radio National and the ABC Listen app now.

e went to a cat shelter a few years back and brought home the most beautiful cat. Gosh he’s lovely…to look at. Then we got him home and I couldn’t help wondering if we’d made a mistake because, well, he bit people. Not hard. Just gently. But when you reach out to pat an animal, being gently bitten is still being bitten. After a while I realised that gentle biting is our cat’s love language. I know, it’s cold comfort, but it’s true. When he wants to express affection, he swipes at you gently, usually snagging a claw in your brand-new knitted jumper. Or he bites you. Gently. Public Service Announcement: there are different ways of expressing love. You might be getting love from someone without knowing it. You might be thinking you can’t provide the right kind of love for someone, when really you can.

19 AUG 2022

Love Lingo

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

Tastes Like Home edited by Anastasia Safioleas

PHOTOS BY ROB PALMER

Tastes Like Home Tom Walton

Smoky Whole Eggplants With Crispy Chickpeas, Olives & Tahini Ingredients Serves 4

Garlicky Whipped Tahini

Crispy Roast Chickpeas 2 x 400g cans chickpeas, rinsed, drained and dried uncovered on a paper towel overnight in the fridge 2 tablespoons olive oil 1 teaspoon ground cumin 1 teaspoon sweet smoked paprika Sea salt flakes and ground black pepper

Method Preheat a barbecue to high and cook the eggplants whole for 15 minutes, turning throughout, until the skins are charred and the eggplants are soft. Alternatively, working in batches, place the whole eggplants over an open gas flame and cook for 10 minutes, turning throughout, until soft. You can also bake them by placing them directly onto the oven racks and cooking at 230°C for 20-25 minutes, until soft (though you won’t get the same smoky flavour). Place the cooked eggplants on a wire rack set over a plate or tray and allow them to drain and cool for a few minutes, then carefully peel off the burnt skin, leaving the eggplants whole and the tops intact, if possible. Carefully transfer them to a serving platter, season with salt and pepper, then drizzle with the olive oil, chilli oil, lemon juice and pomegranate molasses. To make the garlicky whipped tahini, place all the ingredients in a blender with ⅔ cup water and blend into a smooth paste. Adjust the water and lemon juice until you have a silky consistency. Transfer to an airtight container or jar and store in the fridge for up to 1 week. To make the crispy roast chickpeas, preheat the oven to 210°C and line a baking tray with baking paper. Toss the dried chickpeas with the olive oil, spices and a little salt and pepper until well coated. Scatter over the baking tray and roast for 25-30 minutes, until crisp. Set aside to cool. To serve, spoon the garlicky whipped tahini over the eggplants and sprinkle with the za’atar. Top with the olives, crispy roast chickpeas and herbs, and dig in.

Tom says…

was lucky to grow up in the Blue Mountains surrounded by bush and gardens. We had a Lebanese neighbour, Nadeema, who became like my adopted grandmother as my extended family were in England after my parents left in the 70s. My childhood was immersed in Nadeema’s garden and kitchen, so I had an early and close connection to cooking with Middle Eastern flavours as well as the generosity of bringing people together around the table – it became my love language and still is to this day. Some of my fondest memories are of the meals our family would share at her home. There was always an abundance of dishes, passed around so you could make up your own plate. The flavours were simple but bold and exciting. My favourite days were during the warmer months when we would light a little charcoal fire in Nadeema’s backyard and cook eggplants and meat skewers over the coals. It’s a distinct and intoxicating smell, that smokiness. I would spend a lot of time in Nadeema’s kitchen, learning how she did things. It was such an enjoyable time. The flavours and approach to cooking have stuck with me, shaping the way I cook, eat and share the food I love with others. There’s a big focus on vegies, lots of spices, lemons and herbs in my food, and I love to dish things up so everyone can dig in and pass plates around. These eggplants have all the things I love. Cooked and served whole with little interference, with layers of sweet, sour, acid, crunch, creaminess and herbs. Serve them as part of a larger meal with some delicious seafood like a whole roast fish, seared tuna or grilled prawns. MORE FISH, MORE VEG BY TOM WALTON IS OUT NOW.

19 AUG 2022

½ cup hulled tahini Juice of 1 lemon 2 cloves garlic, finely crushed Sea salt flakes and ground black pepper

5 eggplants Sea salt flakes and ground black pepper 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil 2 tablespoons chilli oil Juice of 1 lemo 2 tablespoons pomegranate molasses ⅔ cup garlicky whipped tahini 2 tablespoons za’atar ⅓ cup pitted kalamata olives, roughly chopped 1 cup crispy roast chickpeas Handful dill fronds, roughly chopped Handful mint leaves, roughly chopped

Puzzles

ANSWERS PAGE 45.

By Lingo! by Lee Murray leemurray.id.au JAYWALKER

CLUES 5 letters Amphibious creatures Must (two words) Nose, proboscis Robust, sturdy Urges on

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

6 letters ___ Kutcher, US actor Chewy nutty confection Pursued River in New York State Zero 7 letters Firearm Flabbergast School worksheet 8 letters Fifty times twenty

A U S G O N H D

Sudoku

by websudoku.com

Each column, row and 3 x 3 box must contain all numbers 1 to 9.

4 8 1 7 9 1 4 5 2 7 4 8 1 9 1 3 7

7 2 6

7 7 4 2 1 8 4 9

Puzzle by websudoku.com

Solutions CROSSWORD ACROSS 9 Gene Roddenberry 10 Googols 12 Emailer 13 Federation 14 Nag 15 Prowler 18 Sustain 21 Tee 22 Enterprise 24 Attract 25 Unfurls 28 Christopher Pike

Using all nine letters provided, can you answer these clues? Every answer must include the central letter. Plus, which word uses all nine letters?

by puzzler.com

DOWN 1 Agog 2 Info 3 Arboreal 4 Odessa 5 Genetics 6 Obtain 7 Sri Lanka 8 Hydrogen 11 Offer 15 Pittance 16 Overturn 17 Rotation 19 Sure-fire 20 Ideal 22 Elapse 23 Roughs 26 Raid 27 Stem

Word Builder

As a child, I thought jaywalkers were called that because they don’t go in a straight line, and neither does the letter J. I was wrong, though. It actually starts with a bird. In the 1300s, we first hear about the jay – a noisy, chattering, brightly coloured bird. In Shakespeare’s time (early 1600s), a jay was a person whose chatter is just as pointless: a stupid or silly person. By the early 1900s, jay “ignorant person” had appeared in American English. The first American jay compound, though, was jay driver: “a driver so ignorant that they can’t figure out which side of the road to drive on”. The jaywalker we know today spread after a shop in New York paid an actor to dress up as Santa and shout “jaywalker” at pedestrians!

20 QUESTIONS PAGE 9 1 Bongbong Marcos 2 UNO 3 Thredbo 4 Robbie Williams 5 Skateboarding, surfing, karate and sport climbing 6 Marilyn Monroe 7 Billy Slater 8 A dazzle or a herd 9 John Howard 10 Neil Armstrong 11 Women’s marathon 12 Bingo 13 Delia Owens 14 Cameron Smith 15 Jennifer Down 16 Ljubljana 17 Dionysus 18 Three (South America, Africa, Asia) 19 Sudan 20 Cavoodle

Crossword

by Chris Black

Quick Clues 1

9 Sci-fi creator (4,11) 10 Very large numbers (7) 12 Online correspondent (7) 13 Australia (politically) (10) 14 Bother (3) 15 Person loitering (7) 18 Support (7) 21 Casual item of clothing (3) 22 Ship associated with 9-across (10) 24 Entice (7) 25 Rolls open (7) 28 Star Trek captain played by Anson Mount

ACROSS

(11,4)

DOWN

Cryptic Clues

Solutions

to succeed? (4-4)

20 Model alongside Albo? Not entirely (5) 22 “Doctor, please proceed.” (6) 23 Drafts violent types (6) 26 Plunder artist’s papers (4) 27 Restrict academic disciplines (4)

WORD BUILDER

19 AUG 2022

old weapon (11,4)

beginning (8)

19 Trigger-happy captain’s order is certain

(3)

22 Famous ship to join force (10) 24 Lure wild cat with rat. About time! (7) 25 Opens suspect “fun” web addresses (7) 28 22-across captain cracks short cipher with

5 Toads Has to Snout Tough Goads 6 Ashton Nougat Sought Hudson Nought 7 Shotgun Astound Handout 8 Thousan 9 Staghound

correspondent (7)

13 I often read about alliance (10) 14 Ride horse (3) 15 Spry cows alert without covers for creeper (7) 18 Help US send back Mark (7) 21 Heard gossip from supporter of Tiger Woods?

government (4)

2 6 9 7 1 4 5 8 3

2 Data entertained by protein folding (4) 3 New Labor era leads to living in trees… (8) 4 …as does destroying Ukrainian city (6) 5 9-across’ quirks might be inherited? (8) 6 Secure boat in waves (6) 7 Ran a silk works in South Asia? (3,5) 8 Henry upset with dog’s gas (8) 11 Propose not working with Queen (5) 15 Brad gets topless dance for next to nothing! (8) 16 Capsize plain vessel (8) 17 Revolving system of symbols needs new

5 3 4 2 6 8 7 1 9

10 Reportedly searches for huge numbers (7) 12 At heart, “Great American Novelist” is a

SUDOKU

1 8 7 3 9 5 6 2 4

1 Eager attorney-general starts opposing

7 2 1 9 3 6 8 4 5

DOWN

9 Creator of sci-fi’s problematic “Drone Derby”

Puzzle by websudoku.com

ACROSS

genre (4,11)

1 Very eager (4) 2 Data (4) 3 Living in trees (8) 4 Black Sea port (6) 5 Study of heredity (8) 6 Acquire (6) 7 South Asian country (3,5) 8 Element (8) 11 Put forward (5) 15 Small amount (8) 16 Capsize (8) 17 Spin (8) 19 Certain (4-4) 20 Archetype (5) 22 Go by (6) 23 Hooligans (6) 26 Bust, so to speak (4) 27 Staunch (4)

3 5 8 1 4 2 9 7 6

9 4 6 8 5 7 2 3 1

8 1 5 4 2 9 3 6 7

4 9 2 6 7 3 1 5 8

6 7 3 5 8 1 4 9 2

Click 1974

Olivia Newton-John

words by Michael Epis photo by Getty

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

mazing, isn’t it, how almost any photo of Olivia Newton-John brings a warm inner glow. She could even make a group of English policemen smile and laugh. ONJ is outside the Dome in Brighton, England, where she would soon perform an odd little ditty called ‘Long Live Love’, part music hall singalong, part rousing anthem, in Eurovision 1974 – representing the United Kingdom! Well, it was the country of her birth. Her German Jewish maternal grandfather had fled the Nazis, zigzagging his way to the UK, where he was granted citizenship the day before WWII started. His name was Max Born – yes, a founder of quantum theory, for which he won a Nobel Prize. That’s how Olivia came to be born in Cambridge, where her mother, Irene, had fallen in love with a Welshman, Brinley Newton-John, upon hearing him sing. In 1954, when Olivia was six, the family migrated to Australia, fetching up in Melbourne. She inherited her father’s singing prowess and formed an all-girl band at 14. Still a teen, she became a regular on TV and won a prize – a trip back to the UK. She soon had success, with a Bob Dylan cover, ‘If Not for You’.

Her early efforts were in country music (‘Banks of the Ohio’, ‘Let Me Be There’). Even more oddly, she pipped Loretta Lynn and Dolly Parton to be named the Country Music Association female vocalist of the year in 1974. A backlash ensued as Nashville decried cultural appropriation of its music, which seems to be the only time ONJ ever upset anyone. Nevertheless, she moved to the US, spending much of her life there. All of which is to say that Livvy was a huge star long before Grease catapulted her into mega-stardom in 1978. Xanadu (1980), another musical sensation, quickly followed, then the single ‘Physical’. ONJ racked up record sales of 100 million-plus, making her one of the most successful recording artists ever. But she didn’t win Eurovision – some unknown Swedes called ABBA took home the chocolates. Olivia’s performance is on YouTube: she never sounded more Australian than when singing the line “Good things are comin’ to ya”. One thing’s for sure, if there is an afterlife, for all her humanitarian work, for the joy she spread via her uplifting multi-faceted music, and for the great work done by her Cancer Wellness and Research Centre, good things are coming to Olivia.

18 JUNE 2020