Hi, I'm Konrad Marshall and from the Sydney Morning Herald and The Age.

Welcome to Good Weekend Talks, a magazine for your ears, featuring in-depth conversations with fascinating people from sport and politics, science and culture, business and beyond.

Every week, you can download new episodes in which top journalists from across our newsrooms talk to compelling people about the definitive stories of the day.

In this episode, we speak to Joe Camilleri, the singer, songwriter and sax man is perhaps best known as the one constant in Australian rootsy blues rock band The Black Sorrows, a group that was born more than 40 years ago.

Camilleri, who is now 77, had a musical life before that, of course, which means he's been noodling and recording and touring for more than six decades.

He has five children to three different women, and at last count has created, I think, 51 albums, although maybe that's 52 if you count his latest, The Quintessential Black Sorrows, which is being released on October 24th.

It's a double album of remastered hits from the legendary frontman and his ever evolving Aussie band.

Camilleri has been kind enough to take a break within their current national tour, and, driven down from his home in the Macedon Ranges more than an hour outside of Melbourne, to join us in the studio for a chat about life, love and music.

Welcome, Joe.

Good morning.

Thanks for coming down and fighting the traffic on the on the Calder Highway.

So I want to start by taking you back to 1984.

That was the year that Carl Lewis started the Los Angeles Olympics.

The Karate Kid and The Terminator were box office smash hits.

Dancing in the dark, Footloose and Careless Whisper topped the charts, and closer to home Advance Australia Fair became our national anthem.

We got the first ever $1 coin and a little band called The Black Sorrows was born.

Tell us about how that came to pass.

Well, just by accident.

You know, I'm an accidental musician.

Really?

I never plan anything.

I was, uh, I just finished with a band called Jo Jo Zep and the Falcons, which was a famous band.

And I just had a hit.

And you were Jo Jo Zep.

I was Jo Jo Zep.

Yeah.

And, um, wonderful band.

And we had seven beautiful years of, uh, being in a band.

Like, it was a one for all.

All for one.

You know, there was no Deb.

There was no nothing like that.

If someone was ill, we just didn't play, you know?

So that was that concept.

And that's how we ran that band, like every other band, I think would have done that.

Um, and I had just made a record in 82, 83 called, um, the Cha record, which, uh, I had two, two hits off that taxi Mary and Walk On By off that album.

And then I realized that, um, I couldn't push this wheelbarrow any further, and I had to either stop my musical career or find something else inside.

What I really love.

And I love jazz, blues, pop music.

Well, those seem a little incongruous.

Uh, it's weird, isn't it?

But of course, in the, uh, in the 60s, they were playing 50s rock and roll.

The British Invasion was playing, and then they sort of migrated to the blues, and they were sort of souping up the blues.

So I got an education in that.

And then there was a sophistication going on around the Melbourne scene where it was there was a lot of jazz being played, uh, as an alternative to the pop music of the day.

And I got heavily involved in that and meeting people that related to that.

And um, by 19 late 1983, I was in a good place, but I didn't have any music in my life.

I just wanted to find something.

And I heard this record called Another Saturday Night, and it really it changed the course for me.

It was a zydeco best of album, and it was pretty much, um, rock and roll from the 50s and 60s put into this, uh, environment, which was zydeco music, which is souped up R&B, really, if you want to call it of the day.

And, uh, I found it very attractive.

I found it really attractive.

And, and the piano accordion and the violin were just perfect horn section for me.

And there was just something organic about it, and it gave me this opportunity to think about something like that.

And I was working, uh, I was working in a cafe making coffees at the Cafe Neon, and the owner said, why don't you play on her?

Why don't you play on a Sunday afternoon?

And, um, if you can gather up a band and I sort of put together a bunch of misfits, a motley crew, and, uh.

And that band was born.

Let's go back much further than that.

Now, you were born in Malta and came here when you were just two.

I believe your family kind of landed in Fitzroy and Carlton before shifting to Port Melbourne for a few years, then North Altona, you're one of ten kids, and there wouldn't have been much at all in that developing western suburb of North Altona back in the day.

Like what did your parents do and and what did they bring you here?

Give us the origin story.

Here's the thing.

I think when you came out, my dad came out in 49 and it was it would have been tough.

It's tough for every migrant any time.

There's no great time.

And, um, he.

Malta was war torn, and, um, he decided to come here.

They were British subjects.

And we had he would have had an opportunity to go to Britain, uh, South Africa or, you know, all these different places, Canada.

And he chose Australia and, uh, and then we came out in 1950, my mom and four kids, I don't know how she did it, because it would have been it would have been at least a 6 to 2 months voyage.

Yeah.

And I was two and Frank was four.

Phyllis was five and Mary Ann was one.

So she dealt with that by herself.

I don't know how you'd manage that, you know.

But mind you, there were other people in the same boat doing exactly the same thing, literally.

And, uh, my dad, like a lot of migrants and a lot of just hard working people, uh, were doing two jobs.

He would work as a baker, uh, at night and then, uh, you know, doing that job and then work, um, in a metal shop during the day.

So it was, you know, 16 hour days.

Yeah.

And that's how you got ahead.

And, um, it was a really happy environment, you know, and the other the, uh, all the other children were born here, and, um, we moved from, um, being in one room in Fitzroy to having, you know, a two bedroom home in, in, in Port Melbourne and then, then the, the big dream where, um, North Altona, where they would knock down all the trees and flatten everything.

It was like living.

It was.

It was like living on the moon, really.

It was strange.

And there was, um.

You would have to walk, uh, either catch the bus from Newport, um, or walk it.

And it was maybe, you know, well, it felt like a lifetime if you walked it.

And that was our that was our time.

And we got, you know, we played with whatever we had.

We didn't have much, but we had a lot of love.

And I think that was joyous.

And there was a lot of music.

Music is a healer.

And, um, there was a lot of music in our house, you know, we loved the radio and, and, um, we loved all those things.

And there was it there was nothing that we couldn't do.

Um, we were what my mum and dad obviously wanted to do was to give their kids a better life.

You left school at 13 years old and ended up, uh, to start with, in a factory job, I believe, on the polishing line.

Polishing cutlery.

Why did you leave school?

Like, were you a bad boy or just disengaged or.

Well, all of those things.

I mean, I didn't, you know, I don't want to go down this hole, but I didn't know what racism was, though.

We never had that word.

No one heard that word.

And, you know, I was getting pummeled on a, um, on a weekly basis, let's say.

You know, there were there was there was a lot of there was pretty much like it is today.

There's always a lot of anger about someone taking your job or someone doing something or someone not giving you the opportunity because you didn't want it, well, blah, blah, blah.

Um, and I felt that it wasn't for me and I thought I could contribute.

I thought I could contribute to my family and get a job, and, uh, And, um, you know, the money wasn't, uh.

I didn't even know what money really was.

So I would give my mum most of the money.

And, uh, if I could buy a pair of jeans every now and then, I'd feel pretty good, you know?

Uh, or, um, or clothes from the time, you know.

So.

And I didn't feel it was that important to me at that time.

I didn't think about it enough.

Now, I kind of the thing that I did for my kids is made sure they had a the best thing I could do was give them the best education they can have, and then they can they can make up their own minds about what they need to do.

But if they got the knowledge to do something to turn left instead of turning right, um, and use their brain.

It's, uh, it's it's a beautiful thing to have in your life.

So, um.

And I got my education on the street.

Really?

Uh, and I didn't go from one job to another.

I just kind of fell into things that I liked and and was always with people that were attractive to me, um, from the point of view that I would learn something.

And, um, so I got that's how I kind of got to learn who I am.

You were thrown up on stage literally into your first band experience with the trolleys, and I'm gonna I'm gonna rip through this.

Please rip through.

Stuff.

So after that came the King Bees, the Adderley Smith Blues Band, the Pelaco brothers.

But Jo Jo Zep and the Falcons, as you mentioned before, is where things really kind of took off for you.

I read this great anecdote that you had relayed to someone about your time with the band when you were getting some airplay in the US, um, getting a few tour dates.

Um, and there was one of those was at the Oakland Coliseum in 1980.

Journey.

Black Sabbath and Cheap Trick were the headliners.

And you were on first.

What happened?

We were on actually second.

Okay.

But, um, it was a very Spinal Tap moment, really.

So we get to San Francisco, and one of the guitars doesn't make it, so we got.

And so it was a bad omen already.

Okay.

Right.

So, uh, the Les Paul didn't make didn't make the trip from wherever we were the night before.

I think we might have been in Boston the night before, because we'd just be flying every day somewhere or every second day.

And, uh, we're on with the bands that you mentioned.

Plus, uh, another band called Molly Hackett and Molly Hackett had one hit, but they had a lot of hair.

Uh, it was very important to mention that because there was a lot of hair and we're doing two shows that night.

We were doing, uh, we were doing a club show as well as this show, and we're on pretty early.

And Bill Graham was the, um, it was it was called On the Green, similar to, um, down the green.

I think it might have been called day on the green.

Uh, I still got the t shirt.

I think every child I've had has worn that t shirt.

Uh, because we're right on the just just above Molly Hackett.

And, um, we came out and we were just badly matched.

You know, the whole idea.

You're playing us now, you're playing all of a sudden to 10,000 people, 15, you know, and it's not their cup of tea, you know, journey and cheap trick of flight coming in on helicopters.

They had a circus backstage.

Uh, I think Jeff Burson's got the the name Jojo Zeb branded in wood in our.

They had, uh, all kinds of different acts going on.

It it was bigger at the back, in a weird way.

Everyone was kind of, uh, enjoying everyone else's company.

But we got on there and we started playing, uh, hit and run or something, one of those sort of songs.

And they just it was like we were we were from Mars compared.

So.

And what they would do in America is that they would have, um, you know, bags full of urine or whatever, and they just tomatoes, eggs.

And if they didn't like, if they didn't like what they were hearing, they'd be throwing these, um, missiles at you.

And one hit the bass player in the head.

And, um, it was funny, really, but, um, but not for me at the time.

And, of course, I'm the leader.

Uh, I'm the singer.

So, you know, all folks are going to be on me.

I thought I could calm everybody down by saying, you know, if your parents knew how lame you were, they would have killed you in your sleep.

And then that turned into something I've never seen before, because everything they had for every band they didn't like, uh, was was directed at us.

I didn't save any of their idols or anyone else.

Anything for anyone else.

Uh, but, you know, um, and I then, uh, then there was an uproar and then I said, is it any wonder you lost the Vietnam War?

And that was.

Because you can't even shoot straight.

Yeah.

Well, and then, uh, I get hit with a coin, you know, right in the middle of my head, and I.

I can't quite remember for a few seconds what happened then.

Then Bill Graham comes out.

This is the.

We're only five minutes into the set right now.

This is the longest 30 minutes that you would, uh, want to be involved in, uh, with five minutes, he comes out and says, this is a great band from Australia, give him a go.

And I don't think the booing stopped for 25.

We did our set.

We just rocked away and and um, went through it.

It was it was heartbreaking for me when we uh, when we got off stage and the roar for the next band, whoever it was, was incredible.

So we did them a favor.

Um, and, and then we had to play this next gig.

And the really beautiful thing was the house was full, uh, which was great.

And we're playing once again, live to air somewhere in America, you know, and they have these great call signs, you know, so they'd have Ray Charles singing Georgia because it's going to Georgia and they'll have, uh, Chuck Berry doing Memphis, Tennessee.

They're doing all these kind of wonderful calls.

And then they and then we come on and and and do our set and uh, but um, the singer from Germany turns up and apologises to, to the band for the behaviour of, of the afternoon.

And I thought that was.

And he was such a beautiful person and wonderful singer and I thought, what a, you know, what a trip that was just as an overall thing.

Lost the guitar.

Some dignity, some shame, some bit of everything happened that day.

Let's fast forward to your Black Sorrows days, particularly the the late 1980s.

Um.

Jason Steger, a former books editor at The Age, wrote a great piece.

Um, after having lunch with you one day, it was recalling A kind of a summer in 1987, and this memory from a gig that you played at the Prince Bandroom in Saint Kilda.

It was a hot night.

The band had built up this powerful head of steam, and he wrote.

It was the type of gig you remember for the music and the ambiance of the evening.

One of those occasions that sends you out dancing into the night looking for more.

You couldn't ignore the energy Camilleri expended.

He gave the show all he had.

But then he's that sort of bloke.

Are you still that sort of bloke?

I'd like to think I am, you know.

Mind you, there's a bit.

There's a bit more dust on me these days.

But here's, here's, here's the joy of it is.

It brings me joy.

And if something gives you joy, you pass that on you.

To me, playing music is an honour.

You know, it really means something to me.

Whether I'm playing to ten people or 10,000 people, it doesn't really matter.

I'm not going to clock in.

I will not do it.

Uh uh, because I'll be doing I'll be doing so much damage to myself, you know, and, uh.

But at 77, you know, things, things are going to break and things are going to become a little bit more elastic, but not from a music point of view.

For me, I still love practicing.

I still like writing songs.

I get joy from that.

I get joy from talking to people.

Um, after the show, there was something that we never used to do.

You never used to sell records or merchandise.

You know, someone would sell it for you, but.

And some people find that difficult.

I find that joyous.

Not because I'm trying to sell you something you don't want.

There's a story, you know, uh, someone's got a story about.

I mean, about you.

I've been playing for 61 years, you know?

Um, there are things that I will never remember.

And there are a lot of things that I'll never forget.

Let's talk for a second about your biggest hit, 1989.

Chained to the wheel.

It was your first gold single on a multi-platinum album.

You'd recruited the bull sisters, Vika and Linda.

And that song really kind of changed the trajectory of the band.

You were.

You were suddenly in Norway one day, and then Paris the next, and then back to Scandinavia the following night, when previously you'd kind of been playing more in cafes and things.

It was like you'd had decades of work and then overnight success, too.

What was that like, that adjustment?

Well, I had already rang the bell with Jo Jo Zep and the Falcons, so I knew I kind of knew the game a little bit, and I wasn't looking for anything in the Black Sorrows.

I was just looking for my own identity.

And, um, I still think I still believe that I had something in the tank.

Something that I can still do.

I didn't know what it was.

So when I say that I'm an accidental musician, it's kind of true.

I'm a music fan.

That's my number one thing.

You know, I will go to readings and go straight to the record section.

Yeah, just go there and have a look at what's going on.

Buy something.

Whether it's something old, something new.

I'm fascinated by it.

I'm, um.

So music fan first.

So the sorrows to me were already successful.

Just the, uh, the.

It's just that there was a certain amount of people had heard it and were involved in it.

And if I can go back a little bit when Sonola was released, I mean, Sonola Was the cafe album?

Yep.

You know, it was basically recorded up to at Avi as a demo for the console, right?

So, and not to do with the music.

We made a record in an afternoon.

Right.

And mind you, there was a road map for all those songs.

But when you get someone, when you get someone, the stature of Elvis Costello falling in love with this record, you know, the Shakespeare of rock in the 70s, 80s 90s and still rolling up, still doing wonderful things.

You have to ask yourself what?

Something's going on here.

You know, why is this music all of a sudden so attractive?

And so I had already.

I felt good about that.

Um, but it wasn't till.

It wasn't till a place in the world, where my co-writer, Nick Smith and I were able to come up with something that related to the ban, and that was the success of the ban.

Um, everything else, then it becomes kind of mechanical because there's a lot of moving parts and a lot of different things.

When I, when me and Nick, uh, wrote, uh, chained to the wheel, I was in Cairns and I had to come back to countdown to do something off the Dear Children album.

Daughters of glory.

And we had a all of a sudden there was something going on.

The band had changed a lot, and we're at the countdown studios and we're banging out this song called chained to the wheel.

We recorded that, uh, for the Hold On to Me album, and what was kind of really interesting was I'm saying, I can't sing this song.

This song is not for me.

This song really needs to have someone else sing it.

Uh, a younger man, perhaps.

Or or and it wasn't till, uh, it wasn't till a couple of weeks after recording it.

And we needed to get a couple of singers, whether they were male or female.

It was.

Uh venetta.

Fields was doing pretty much all the bv's on that album and.

And Shirley and me and Nick.

And so I got, I got the idea of saying, maybe if we make it more of a domestic situation that, uh, may work for me.

It's not really a duet, in a way.

Even though Vika sings a verse, I sing a verse and.

And then we sing the chorus together.

It's kind of a duet, but it It wasn't meant to be that, but it just felt a little bit more domestic.

Uh, from my perspective.

Uh, and then it felt fine to me to sing the song.

So I resang over the van track again with vicar.

No.

What you really need, you can't get enough.

Too many mouths to feed.

Ain't life tough for survival?

And then, uh.

I went overseas, as you said earlier.

All of a sudden I'm in Paris and I'm in Norway, and I'm in just getting a deal.

I mean, a lot of this stuff was, um, a lot of this stuff was independent.

I had a deal for Australia for, for, um, uh, CBS, which is now Sony.

And so that became, uh, uh, all of a sudden there was a bit of a, a thing going on in Europe.

So I fly back home.

We were just about to start this tour with the girls, you know, early in there, you know, and, uh, and they were great and they were green, but they were enthusiastic.

We were enthusiastic.

We had a fistful of good songs.

We had something that no one else was doing.

My thing was everybody's up the front.

There's no one in the background, you know?

No one's behind.

Uh, everyone has.

Everyone has value.

It's equal.

And I think that that was a very good move to make, even though I didn't realize it at the time.

But it was a very good move to make.

And all of a sudden, the record does something.

It's doing something.

Probably having a juggernaut like, uh, CBS helped us a lot and we we struggled.

But we get to the gold status.

As I was saying, I fly home and I'm on the I'm in a cab on the way home and the song comes.

On.

The jukebox on the radio.

The guy says, the taxi driver says, this is from this is my song.

This is how I feel.

You know, just.

Taking that, just just.

Taking that line, really.

Whether you knew the song or not.

Um, and it just did something else.

It was, you know, it was a really good song.

We had I thought we had better songs on the record, and I thought, you know, and as the years progressed, I thought we wrote better songs, but that there is something that happens sometimes, and it's just having the right component that makes all the difference.

It's just it's the weirdest thing.

I don't understand.

It.

We.

I haven't counted them individually, but I believe there have been more than 40 people, uh, that you've worked with in the Black Sorrows over the years.

And.

Yeah, probably, you know, uh, you the thing that I didn't want to do is to be tied down by, uh, disgruntled musicians if they've.

If so, I wanted to change the concept and make it as elastic as I can make it.

So you become, uh, and you're, you know.

Yes.

Your footprints there, you know, and you, I bring something, you bring something.

We feel good about that, you know?

And, um, when it's time to go, I haven't said to people you're fired.

Yeah.

You know, the only person I've ever fired is Wilbur Wilde.

And I fired him, like, 300 times, you know?

Uh, he turned up at a gig just last week, you know, and he says, I got my horn, so you better get up.

And it was great, you know?

So, uh, it's all about that, the shifting of what you need to do.

I think you and I, uh, the best thing that I could do for the people that have played in the band is to give them that opportunity to do what they need to do.

Beyond that, of course, you've collaborated with or produced or done session work with probably everyone in Australian music, from Cold Chisel to Paul Kelly, Skyhooks to Icehouse.

Who's the nicest star in Australian music?

Who apart from you, who would who would you just be like that guy or that girl is just salt of the earth?

You wouldn't read about it.

Everybody is is is beautiful.

Really?

I know the sounds diplomatic, but, you know, we're all.

We're all in the same boat trying to do the best we can with what we've got.

Yeah.

You know, so, uh, when someone I remember, uh, if I, if I can just take time out to just talk about, um, uh, Cold Chisel, uh, we were doing we were doing shows where, you know, we're doing 250 shows a year, 300 shows a year.

So you're playing.

You're playing till midnight, and then you're in the studio till 6 a.m..

Yeah.

Right.

So we're going to call me and Willie, get a call.

We've played on the records before.

We get a call to go and, um, uh, go into the studio, and they want us to do.

This is the first album I think, uh, and they wanted some horns, you know, and we're good, good mates, you know, we we see each other down the line.

Um.

doing gigs, blah, blah blah.

And, um, they're struggling with, I think, you know, like we all struggle within the albums anyway, you know, you, you have a purple patch and then there's a down patch.

And so they're, they've got a couple of songs and I think the bass player wrote My Baby and, um, Wilbur, you know, being, uh, as, as big as he was and, and, um, you know, just, you know, like a the big bird that he is, he says, I'll take this, Joe.

You know, I'll take the.

Yeah.

And we're doing the we're doing some other thing.

We're playing horns on something else.

And he says, I'll take the solo.

I said, okay, you take the solo, Willie, I don't care.

You know, it doesn't bother me.

So he does.

He does a solo and, uh, and he's, uh, he pulls off a really good solo and he makes the mistake of saying, no, I can do that better, right?

I can do it better.

And, uh, and they say, yeah, okay, well, let's do it.

You know, and, and then it's starting to go downhill, like, you know, like it's just all of a sudden it started to get a little too jazzy.

And I said, oh, I think we've got something there, will you, Joe, do you want to have a crack?

I said, oh, okay.

You know, I'll have a crack.

And, uh, I've heard it a few times now, so I've, I've got it's tattooed.

It's in my brain sort of, you know, I don't know the chords.

I don't know anything, but I can hear the melody and I've always it's always been about melodies for me.

So I, I bang out that solo and, and that's the solo that's on the record apart from one note, which is I said, oh, you're a bit flat on that last note, and I, I every time I hear it, I say it's a little sharp and uh, and, and I went with that.

But look, you know, that was that's how it works sometimes.

Uh, Wilbur would, uh, we were doing?

Uh, escapade.

And we played a couple of things on that, and, uh, there's a fraction too much friction.

I remember that, and it just it just popped out.

Not.

It's not much, you know, but but it becomes a signature thing.

Not necessarily.

The track would have made it regardless of my playing.

Uh, but the parts were good and it was everything contributed, you know.

So it's all it's all about those things.

And I think sometimes you luck in.

Yeah.

Um, uh, doing working with Icehouse, not only did I play, uh, I was the right kind of saxophone player for the times, I think for that particular song.

Um, and then I got to, um, you know, uh, got to tour with them for a year, which was fun.

Um, so, you know, it it was an uncharted course.

Amazing.

You mentioned a second ago, you're all just doing the best with what you've got.

Um, I read that you'd speculated in the past that at one point, Jo Jo Zep and the Falcons might have made $1 million in a year in 1979, but you probably only saw like, 15,000 bucks worth of it.

The music business does sound kind of fraught in that way over the years for various different reasons.

How have you gone?

Have you been able to sort of square things away and make yourself comfortable?

Because some some people have been able to do that and others haven't.

You have to look at it.

Um, you learn if you can learn.

I guess that's when I was 12, 13 years old.

I was learning, I was, you know, I got ripped off.

I learned how not to get ripped off.

I got, uh, I'm in a bit of bother here, you know, I'm.

I could get done over in a big way.

Learn how to avoid that.

I think the music industry was unbridled.

Um, and so, uh, the joy of being on stage or the joy of playing or writing something and having this wonderful wave that we're all surfing is just gorgeous.

You don't think about anything else.

You don't think about, you know?

So those stories are true.

You know, you can go to, uh, Carnaby Street and buy all the clothes you want, but all of a sudden, you know, you're not getting the money that you deserve.

Mm.

Um, it happened with.

I used to love.

Uh, I'm just going to go a little bit left.

I used to love Chess Records.

You know, I used to.

My favourite record label, Chess Records.

Okay.

Um, because it had Chuck Berry on it.

Bo Diddley, Etta James had hundreds of incredible singers.

You know, Muddy Waters, all the people that I loved, you know, all those people got ripped off by the record company.

He would have he would make you sign contracts, you know, give you a bottle of whiskey and didn't turn up for the meeting.

You drink, you know, they do all these kind of nasty things.

Um, it wasn't like that for us.

We just had to learn.

There was a.

I'm not saying that we were ripped off.

We just didn't know how to go about something.

I think the lesson that I learned was, you can get a great lawyer, but if you don't give him directions, you're going to just get the basic concept because they don't know what you want.

You've got to know what you want and you've got to know how to handle it.

As the years rolled on, I think people learned how to do that.

Mhm.

But you lose something else.

You know, if you look at us, a good example for today is Taylor Swift.

She's gone and rerecorded everything because her manager sold her out.

Yeah, yeah.

So, uh, it doesn't stop.

You ended up living in kind in a few years ago.

Almost by chance, I believe you took a drive there with a former partner.

Kind of stumbled across this house you love.

Now, you live in a place where shovels and wheelbarrows and ride on mowers are probably part of your life.

And you regale the neighbors with, um, with saxophone renditions in the morning.

The night.

I can imagine the nights.

Where did you hear that from?

I read, I read that the notes fly through the trees from block to block.

What was the the tree change like moving out to the sticks?

Well, it was incredible.

Really?

Um.

And it still is.

You know, it's magic right now.

It's it's magical.

Uh, the elm trees are just starting to flower.

All, uh, we've had the daffodils.

We've had all that.

You know, uh, uh, winter is breaking and has broken.

It becomes a little bit more joyous.

The the reason I brought the house was because of the tree out in the front of the house.

And, um, I probably, uh, I probably needed to do it.

I always say that.

And it's an incredible, beautiful tree, but there's incredible trees everywhere, um, in that district, and, uh, I needed it.

And, um, I feel good about it.

My neighbors have been wonderful.

I think I got through Covid because I was living there.

I think, um, and people will sometimes don't disturb you, and they'll leave you half a dozen eggs, depending on how well I play the saxophone.

Um, if I start doing Caltrain leaks.

I don't get any eggs.

Now, it isn't all idyllic, though.

I read the the news this winter that nine of your guitars were burgled from your home, including a 1967 Gibson Les Paul and a 75 Fender Strat, along with cutlery, bathroom products, a yellow wheelie bin and a leaf blower.

I know there's a leaf blower right there.

So, you know, talk about, you know, dangerous items.

You know, you if you put the leaf blower on at a certain time and it's not the right time, you get to know it.

Well, forget those latter things.

I'm just wondering, you're still feeling the absence of the the axes that you lost?

I do, but I feel you have to let go.

You can't.

You can't be in grief.

I mean, you can grieve the things.

They're only objects, really.

You know, when and I tried to.

I tried to explain this at the time.

I did a couple of interviews at the time, and I my favorite guitar out of all those was a 1954 switch master Gibson Switch Master.

Now, here's the weird thing.

Um, and and Kerryn Tolhurst sold me that guitar from The Dingoes.

And so that's the guitar that I grieve.

Everything else I bought from shops.

So I don't know who actually owned them.

I do, they were just beautiful objects to have and write songs.

You know, I don't sell anything.

If I write one song on a guitar.

You hold on to it.

I can't let it go because it it it gave me the joy.

Um, and, um, so that was a bit weird, but I think, um, the strange thing about people, people coming into your home and going through your stuff and doing stuff.

The weird thing was, I didn't take my saxophone.

They didn't take my guitar, which is a 1964 Gretsch Country Gentleman, which also has a lot of value but has a lot of value to me as a, you know, it's my main guitar, it's what I play.

So I was really curious about that.

And they would take, um, bathroom products, they took cutlery, they took, uh, puffer jackets.

They took a few microphones.

They took.

It was just kind of a random thing.

They obviously dressed up in clothes because they were on the floor.

And it keeps on giving this thing because you keep finding things that are no longer in your cupboard.

Right, right.

So it's kind of oh, that's missing.

So I felt that, um, I don't think I'll ever get.

I don't think I'll ever see the instruments, but I don't.

I don't, um, worry about that so much.

But I'll tell you what's really nice is, um, the human touch.

Because I had so much goodwill, it made you feel that we're okay.

You know, there are there are great people out there that want to do great things and good things.

Amazing.

One last one.

You're on tour now about to head north, then south and eventually out west.

Yeah, everywhere.

Listeners in New South Wales and Victoria should know that they can get tickets to gigs, uh, in November, everywhere from the Enmore Theatre in Sydney to the Melbourne Recital Centre.

Um, what I, what I was wondering is how you kind of stay energised when you're going from Cowra to Colac and Tamworth to Tweed Heads.

It sounds sort of exhausting and reminds me again of something that I read that I think you wrote or said.

You said, I hope I die on the tour bus.

Well, it's still true.

Well, I don't really want to die on the tour bus anymore.

Uh, but I think you live and breathe it.

If you do that, you know what to do.

You know I don't come for drinks.

I come to play.

Mhm.

And that's my mantra.

And I have to, regardless of the pain that I might be in, you know, and I have my share share of pain.

And I kind of realized that even that gives you patience.

And that's kind of what it's all about, you know.

You've got to live the life you live.

And I'm just happy that I've got this opportunity to do it.

And I will do it, uh, as long as I'm allowed to.

Da Camilleri, thanks very much for coming in.

Pleasure.

That was Black Sorrows frontman Joe Camilleri on the latest Good Weekend talks.

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This episode of Good Weekend Talks is produced by Konrad Marshall, with technical assistance from Cormac Lally and editing from Tim Mummery.

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