S Sorrensen
Newtown. Sunday, 8.45pm
The Town Hall isn’t a town hall, oh no; in Newtown it’s a pub.
In Lismore, the town hall isn’t a town hall either; it’s a city hall, because Lismore, believe it or not, is a city. In fact, despite living in a shack 35 kilometres from Lismore PO in what appears to be deep bush, I am living in the city. (It’s pointless putting the rubbish out though. Or trying to hail a taxi…)
I quite like living in a city. You gotta love the clean air and solitude. Mornings, the traffic is pretty intense, with wallabies streaming past my door to catch the first fingers of sunlight pushing through an ironbark grove onto a small grassy knoll down the hill. (Parking can be a problem for latecomers.) But the coffee at Chez Moi is excellent.
Even though I am a committed city dweller, I’ve gone bush this weekend to the Town Hall on the land of the Cadigal tribe of the Eora people; to Newtown, Sydney.
The Town Hall – which, as I said, is a pub – stands on an ancient Cadigal walking track, now called King Street, which used to lead to Botany Bay – but Parrramatta Road and Broadway sort of buggered that up.
Anyway, I don’t want to go to Botany Bay. I’m happy here in the Newtown’s Town Hall. The Coopers is chilled and vibrates to the band on stage, helping it maintain a healthy head. Mick Daley is doing his country rockin’ thing with a violinist and a pianist, plus guest singer Leah Flanagan.
Seven venues in Newtown and neighbouring Enmore are buzzing tonight. They’re filled with performers donating their time and skills to raising awareness of the threat that inappropriate mining poses to Australian people, wildlife, farms and land.
It’s a dire threat to the nation. I would call it pure evil, if that term hadn’t been already appropriated by government for distraction purposes. The performers are also raising money for Lock The Gate, a national coalition of people who give a damn.
Leah has a beautiful voice. Well, she does have Aboriginal, Irish and Italian blood…
Mick – a man who has been chipping away at the coalface of country rock and environmental justice since before farmlands and the Barrier Reef were considered collateral damage – glances at his violinist.
She reads that look, and, as Leah steps back from the microphone, hunches over her four-stringer to launch a barrage of hot licks which lands with satisfying effect on the grateful audience. Yeeha.
Yep, I feel good (he says, taking another long sip from his frosty glass). I like these people on stage. I appreciate their talent, goodness and commonsense – attributes long missing from government. Most politicians can’t even care about country, let alone play it. This town hall meeting is getting down to business. Artists must lead now; politicians have failed us.
Yep, I feel good.
I’ve just come from the Enmore Theatre, up the road. That fine old theatre, which has been dishing up live entertainment since 1908, is presenting a huge line-up tonight of performers who are rockin’ the gate, and resisting the government’s commitment to land degradation and climate change.
In the wings, while waiting my turn on that venerable stage, I watched the flurry of backstage activity from the men in black, shook hands with artists I had only ever heard or read about, admired an organiser woman controlling everything with smiles, and heard the applause of an audience giving generously.
I had a moment: I realised how much I respect all these people for their contribution; how much I am honoured to be a part of it; and how much I would love a cold beer when I was done.
For four decades The Echo has printed the stories some people loved, some people hated, and some pretended not to read. If you want us to keep telling the truth, the real truth, not the sugar-coated version. We’ll need your support to keep the presses rolling. 
