When, What, and a Whole Lot of Whys

WHEN AND WHAT: “In 1986, Midnight Oil was invited to tour central Australian Aboriginal settlements with the legendary Aboriginal group Warumpi Band. They staged concerts, talked with tribal elders and saw European occupation through the eyes of its original inhabitants. This became known as the Blackfella/Whitefella tour. This tour became the creative catalyst for the writing and recording of Midnight Oil’s Diesel and Dust album.” (From The Making of Midnight Oil on YouTube)

WHY DID THE OILS DO THE TOUR? Peter Garrett shared the band’s motivation in the epilogue to Andrew McMillan’s Strict Rules: “Our goal was pretty straightforward: we wanted to discover and better understand the lives of that group of Australia’s first peoples who lived in a remote, nether region that had never featured in our education, a place beyond imagination . . . we were able to enter this world, but at the same time the experience forced us to re-evaluate our country, our way of seeing and how we made music.” A worthy motivation, but it was obvious from the early concerts that they had a lot to learn: “Aboriginal audiences first seemed far from impressed, and journalists did not fail to notice that about two-thirds of the audience left, while the Aboriginal bands touring alongside Midnight Oil had been immensely popular the same night.” [The ensemble Gondwanaland also joined the tour.]  Though the Oils learned to tone down the volume and slow the pace to suit audience tastes, they made a few cultural faux pas along the way and faced accusations of improper cultural appropriation. It is never easy to learn the ways of another culture, but to the Oils’ credit, they never stopped trying. As Rob Hirst described the tour in Pop Matters, “It was a life-changing event for all of us.”

WHY WAS RE-EVALUATION SO IMPORTANT? In Strict Rules, MacMillan wrote about the Australian manifestation of an old horror story that duplicated itself in many countries all over the world during the era of European colonization and beyond.

That the policies of the past 200 years have, and many parts of the country, led to widespread disintegration and outright destruction of languages, families and spiritual and political aspects of the oldest culture in the world is to be deeply regretted.

Those policies have led to the dispossession of people from their land and their countrymen. Babies have been kidnapped and sent to mission stations for a ‘proper’ European upbringing. Young children have been taken away from their parents, taken away on ‘holidays’ from which they never returned, removed from their birthplaces and never told where or who they came from.

McMillan, Andrew. Strict Rules: The Iconic Story of the Tour That Shaped Midnight Oil. Sydney: Hachette Australia, 2016.

WHY DID THIS HAPPEN? “Colonial powers justified their conquests by claiming they had a legal and religious obligation to control the land and culture of Indigenous peoples. Conquering nation-states saw themselves as civilizing ‘barbaric’ or ‘savage’ countries. They argued they were acting in the best interests of those they exploited. Historically, church leaders encouraged and participated in taking over other lands and exploiting labor. They often did this to convert people to Christianity. In the 15th century, Catholic popes laid out a religious justification for colonization. They issued a series of papal bulls now known as the Doctrine of Discovery. It asserted that colonization was necessary to save souls and seize lands for the growth of the Church.” (From National Geographic.)

HEY, WAIT A MINUTE! THE BRITS WEREN’T CATHOLIC, SO WHO GIVES A SHIT ABOUT THE POPE? “Even non-Catholic countries like England found inspiration and justification in the doctrine, Canada’s Truth & Reconciliation Committee noted in its final report in 2015. By combining the idea of Christianity as a ‘civilizing’ force with the concept that Indigenous people ‘simply occupied, rather than owned, the land,’ the committee writes, England, France, and Holland joined Spain and Portugal in a seemingly justified Christian takeover of the New World. Over the years, the doctrine of discovery made its way into U.S. national law. In Johnson v. M’Intosh—an 1823 Supreme Court decision related to a dispute over a parcel of Piankeshaw land in what is now Illinois—the court found that Native Americans had no land rights because of the doctrine. The religion and character of Native Americans, Chief Justice John Marshall wrote, ‘was inferior to Europeans’ superior genius.” (ibid)

In short, it was all about “Gold, God, and Glory.” If several million indigenous people had to die in the process, well, that’s the price of progress. The Christians viewed the death toll caused by the pathogens Europeans brought with them as divine intervention—that god was clearing the land for the Europeans. Such arrogant indifference to human suffering is hardly what one would expect from a superior race.

The number of years varies depending on the source, but Aboriginal Australians have inhabited the land for 40,000-85,000 years—the oldest continuous culture on Earth. According to Evolve Communities, “Before European colonisation, Indigenous people lived in small groups that were part of larger cultural groups within specific territorial boundaries. These small family groups had rules and kinship systems for socialising; they had responsibilities and roles related to education, law, resource management, and spiritual development. Also, they had ceremonies, languages, traditions, and customs, as well as an extensive mastery of their surroundings. Indigenous cultures were incredibly well-developed and strong. Additionally, Indigenous people were self-sufficient, and their children were protected and nurtured.”

That doesn’t sound like an inferior culture to me. Essentially, the indigenous people were victims of greed, fantasies of superiority, and a fundamental flaw in the human race. Peter Garrett spotted the flaw in the Cooinda chapter of Strict Rules: “Some of the things we see with Aboriginal people we might find a bit difficult to understand, [but] that’s just our own cultural values.” Humans have a very hard time understanding cultures that are not their own, and when they firmly believe their culture is superior, they ignore the proverb “When in Rome, do as the Romans do” and cling to an ethnocentric lens. The everyday version of this behavior involves spending most of their vacation time bitching about people who don’t speak their language, don’t serve their food, and don’t behave like the people back home. In the worst-case scenario, they do what the colonizing Europeans did and either eradicate the “inferior” race, force them to follow the invader’s cultural norms, or condemn them to slavery. The brutal colonial manifestation of ethnocentrism was not limited to white people (all you have to do is Google “non-white colonizers” for proof of that assertion), and sometimes white people did awful things to other white people, as in the British conquest of Ireland.

Though the Oils cover other issues in Diesel and Dust, the main thrust of the album involved encouraging their fellow countrypersons to overcome their cultural blind spots, recognize the wrongs inflicted on the Aboriginal people, and engage in reconciliation. That was a pretty big ask, for “Rome wasn’t built in a day,” but the Oils held no fantasies of overnight change or even a warm welcome from the listening audience. Jim Moginie told Matt Okie of Identity Theory, “There was a sense of hopelessness about the issue at the time. It felt like screaming into a fog of indifference. When the album was ready to be released, we were prepared to be shouted down by every closet racist in the country. The issue of Aboriginal dispossession had been effectively ignored up to that point.”

Let’s see how it all played out.

*****

All tracks written by Peter Garrett, Rob Hirst, and Jim Moginie, except where noted,

“Beds Are Burning”: Producer Wayne Lively arranged the iconic opening passage and was justifiably proud of his work.

“There’s good reason to believe that a really great intro can significantly help with song recognition, as well as pulling people into the song from the start. To that end, in ‘Beds Are Burning’, we start with three power chord shots: E, G, A. Simple and effective and part of the song from the beginning. Some people have said to me they think it had some orchestral sample added to it, but it is simply the band hitting the chords, with [Australian band] the Hunters & Collectors’ horns added on top . . . That is followed with the crescendo of two reverse delays and reverse reverb. These were printed with the tape machine running backwards.”

The power chord shots sound like a call to arms, while the reverse crescendos sound windy and gritty—as if we are being transported to the Australian outback. The arrangement shifts to chugging bass and drums set to a single chord (E major), and after two bars, Garrett sets the stage by painting a picture of part of the harsh Aboriginal landscape:

Out where the river broke
The bloodwood and the desert oak
Holden wrecks and boiling diesels
Steam at forty-five degrees

“Holden wrecks” are automobile graveyards crammed with old Holden automobiles (an Australian subsidiary of GM, now defunct). For those of you who live in the few backward countries that are still using the Fahrenheit scale (the United States, Belize, Palau, the Bahamas, and the Cayman Islands), 45 degrees Celsius translates to 113 F, so we can say that in this case, the F means “Fucking hot.”

In the next two verses, the chord progression changes to a simple E-D-A-E pattern as Rob Hirst adds vocal harmonies to the mix. For the most part, the pair makes their case in everyday language and in a matter-of-fact tone to improve the chances that the average listener will absorb the message without getting defensive. The Oils change their approach for the all-important closing line, the one likely to stir the most controversy. The Oils highlight the line in three ways: the chord pattern introduces an unexpected change to F#, Hirst’s harmonies disappear, and Garrett’s tone falls somewhere between conspiratorial and psst!

The time has come
To say fair’s fair
To pay the rent
To pay our share

The time has come
A fact’s a fact
It belongs to them
Let’s give it back 

Sometimes a whisper carries more impact than a shout, and I heartily approve of that bit of reverse highlighting—and in the context of the arrangement, the toning down made the chorus all the more powerful. Garrett’s whispering is followed almost immediately by the power chord shots of the intro, which in turn leads us to the chorus with its bright, assertive, and deeply felt vocals set to an Em-C-G/Em/C/D pattern:

How can we dance when our earth is turning?
How do we sleep while our beds are burning?
How can we dance when our earth is turning?
How do we sleep while our beds are burning?
The time has come to say “Fair’s fair”
To pay the rent now, to pay our share

It was a bit of a surprise to find that many lyric sites omitted an explanation of the song’s title. Geez, people, do your fucking research! Rob Hirst explained how he stumbled across the phrase and what it meant to him in a piece on The Daily Telegraph (Australia):

“The chorus of ‘Beds Are Burning,’ the lines, were inspired by a presentation at an exhibition by Australian sound and lighting artist Dennis Del Favero in 1983,” he said. On the walls he had all these photos, recordings and projections that had all these phrases from the (Italian) partisans that were resisting Mussolini … one of the messages from one of the partisans said ‘How can we sleep while our beds are burning’, in Italian. [“Come possiamo dormire mentre i nostri letti sono in fiamme?”‘] I took that away and I thought the displacement of Italians by Mussolini in some ways represents other groups around the world that have had the rug pulled out from under them, like the original Australians.”

Multiple interpretations are floating out there on the web, but I only found one to my liking. Songlyrics.com opined that “The metaphor suggests that it is unjust for privileged people to rest or enjoy life comfortably while an injustice—the destruction and theft of Indigenous homes—is actively happening.” One of the more inventive interpretations argued that the phrase referred to the inability to get a good night’s sleep when a country is in crisis and you spend your nights tossing and turning in anxiety over what might happen next.

If that’s the case, beds are burning all over the United States, where the rug has been pulled out for just about everyone except the billionaires, Christian Nationalists, the macho men, and the racists.

After a brief interlude featuring a clever and deliberate sonic collapse via Glad Reed’s trombone, the Oils take us back to the desert, where the sun continues to burn.

Four wheels scare the cockatoos
From Kintore, east to Yuendemu
The Western Desert lives and breathes
In forty-five degrees

The rest of the song alternates between “the time has come” bridges and the chorus, creating a wonderful sing-along for the like-minded protestors in the audience. The Oils made one significant change in the lyrics that raised the stakes. In the last go-round of “the time has come” bridge, instead of “Let’s give it back,” they sing, “We’re gonna give it back!” I would imagine that in a live performance, the crowd would have responded to that change with a rush of blessed adrenaline. After a lovely fade featuring the horn section, the song ends with the opening shots followed by a reprise of Glad Reed’s musical implosion.

Andrew Mueller of The Guardian opined that “‘Beds are Burning’ is arguably the most resonantly subversive artistic gesture ever made by Australians.” The subversive aspect of the song became even more apparent when the Oils chose to perform the song at the closing ceremony of the 2000 Sydney Olympics without permission from the International Olympic Committee. From Songfacts:

Midnight Oil performed this in front of a worldwide audience of billions (including Prime Minister John Howard, who has claimed it as his favorite Midnight Oil song) at the closing ceremony of the 2000 Sydney Olympics. The whole band were dressed in black, with the words “sorry” printed conspicuously on their clothes. This was a reference to the Prime Minister’s refusal to apologize, on behalf of Australia, to the Aboriginal Australians for the way they have been treated over the last 200 years.

The apology came eight years later, after Labour took over.

As it turns out, “Beds Are Burning” raised consciousness all over the world, reaching #1 in Canada (a country dealing with similar issues), New Zealand and South Africa, and the top ten in France, the Netherlands, the U.K., and Belgium (a country with a horrid history of abusing indigenous people in the Congo). The response surprised and delighted Peter Garrett: “In retrospect, it was the song we were born to record. It’s got all the bits to make it work, strong rhythms, good melody and the lyrics had some punch, while being very Aussie,” he explained. “It took a while to stick. It’s incredible how much it still gets played around the place. Who would have thought an Aboriginal land rights song would travel that far?” (Songfacts, ibid)

“Beds Are Burning” is one of those “there’s still hope for the human race” experiences, and I hope we have more of those in the immediate future.

“Put Down That Weapon”: We leave the outback behind for a few moments to allow the Oils to pick up where they left off in 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 and Red Sails in the Sunset, reminding listeners in the Reagan era of the imminent threat of nuclear armageddon. By this time in August 1987, Ronnie had met Gorbachev twice and failed to reach a deal . . . hence this scathing verse that happens to be the loudest in the song:

They keep talking about it
They keep talking about it
They keep talking, they keep talking about
Talking about it

I would like to believe that Chief of Staff Howard Baker picked up a copy of Diesel and Dust, listened to this song, dashed into the Oval Office and said, “Excuse me, Mr. President, but the Midnight Oils say all you and Gorby are doing amounts to yak, yak, yak.” Stunned by the news, Ronnie gets on the hotline and passes the message on to Gorby (who gasps in horror), and a mere four months after the album’s release, they sign the historic Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces (INF) Treaty.

I chose to share that fantasy to remind you that protest songs rarely achieve immediate results, whether you’re talking about nuclear disarmament or indigenous rights. A protest song is one of those tiny ripples of hope, and it takes time and a whole lot of effort for those ripples to come together and produce meaningful change. Patience and persistence don’t always win the day, but that’s no reason for songwriters to stop raising their voices in protest against inequity, war, the presence of nuclear armaments, and corrupt, cruel leaders.

Except for that passion-loaded verse and the choruses, Garrett’s semi-whispered vocals combine with Moginie’s synthesizers to create an eerie, creepy mood.  The initial focus is on the presence of nuclear-carrying submarines and ships and the possibility of either an attack or a disastrous accident:

Under the waterline
No place to retire
To another time
The eyes of the world now turn
And if we think about it
And if we talk about it
And if the skies go dark with rain
Can you tell me does our freedom remain?

Above the waterline
Point the finger, yeah point the bone
It’s the harbor towns
That the gray metal ships call home
And if we think about it
And if we talk about it
And if the sea goes boiling black
Can you tell me what you’ll do about that?

Put down that weapon or we’ll all be gone
You can’t hide nowhere with the torchlight on
And it happens to be an emergency
Some things aren’t meant to be, some things don’t come for free

Nuclear proliferation is a tough nut to crack because politicians believe that holding on to nukes makes their country safer. They cling to that belief because they assume that no leader in their right mind would trigger MAD (mutual assured destruction). The Oils call bullshit on that silly notion:

Put down that weapon or we’ll all be gone
You must be crazy if you think you’re strong
‘Cause it happens to be an emergency
Some things aren’t meant to be and some things don’t come for free

While it is true that we have significantly reduced the number of nuclear warheads from a Cold War high of around 70,000 to 12,1837 (icanw.org), we need to finish the job and get rid of them all. You never know what a nutcake like Kim Jong Un might do, and North Korea’s measly fifty warheads would still kill millions of people. I deeply appreciate the Oils’ efforts to keep up the pressure on those muddle-headed leaders.

“Dreamworld”: No, this song is not about the complex, living mythology of indigenous Australians known as the Dreaming, and it’s not about Australia’s largest theme park (Dreamworld), located on the Gold Coast of Queensland. “Dreamworld” is about the destruction of cherished cultural landmarks and abuse of natural settings—much like Ray Davies’ preservation theme. Reducing revered places to rubble and eliminating green spaces where people loved to take a stroll exacts an emotional toll, evoking feelings close to mourning. In “Come Dancing,” Ray remembered the pain he and his sister felt when they demolished her favorite dance hall.

They put a parking lot on a piece of land
Where the supermarket used to stand
Before that they put up a bowling alley
On the site that used to be the local palais
That’s where the big bands used to come and play
My sister went there on a Saturday . . .

The day they knocked down the palais
My sister stood and cried
The day they knocked down the palais
Part of my childhood died, just died

In a similar vein, “Dreamland” was inspired by the loss of one of Peter Garrett’s favorite venues:

Peter remembers Cloudland as being one of the best venues of the ’70s and ’80s era, saying: “It was the most wonderful, wonderful rock venue. Amongst the best in the country at the time.” For him, Cloudland’s transformation from dance hall to rock stadium was a natural enough process: “I used to think that when we played there we were in a sense the inheritors of the earlier musical traditions… and this was just the ’70s and ’80s version of the same thing. Yes, it was louder, yes, it was more physical but Cloudland managed to handle it very well.”

Peter remembers how he felt when he learned of Cloudland’s demise. “I felt this sick feeling in my stomach when we learnt what had happened. In some ways it was indicative of the Bjelke-Petersen regime—that they actually didn’t draw the connection between the incredible joy and pleasure that it had given so many people, and the incredible importance it played in the Australia’s live music scene and in Brisbane’s live music scene too. You don’t get that many opportunities to play in a place that’s extraordinary and magic like Cloudland was, so it was a real tragedy when it went to the ground.”

The lyrics to “Dreamland” are somewhat opaque, but essentially serve as a warning to listeners that the places they cherish are in danger thanks to rapacious developers determined to replace living history with the artificial pleasures of tacky dreamlands:

Sign says: ‘Honeymoon to Rent’
Cloudland into dreamland turns
The sun comes up and we all learn
Those wheels must turn
Your dreamworld is just about to end
Uh-oh!

In contrast to the troubling lyrics, the music is seriously upbeat and gets my vote for the strongest rocker on the album. Jim Moginie wrote the song’s primary riffs and played the dazzling arpeggios while Martin Rotsey handled the rhythm and textured guitar layers. The rhythm section of Hirst and Peter Gifford keeps this sucker driving (holding back a bit in the “Cloudland” verse), and both provide the background vocals consisting of the words “end” and “fall” in response or in anticipation of Garrett’s use of those words. And best of all, Peter Garrett gives an impassioned performance that reflects the justifiable anger he felt regarding brainless destruction.

“Arctic World” (Garrett, Moginie): In the liner notes for the Apple Music version of Diesel and Dust, Peter Garrett explained what “Arctic World” was all about: “It’s partly a reflection on leadership and people exercising power and how that’s a very cold and quite sterile and hard experience in human life. And it’s about the power and megalomania that sometimes goes with people who have high office, but they don’t bring forward anything that’s good. It’s all about them. But unfortunately, they have the power, and it affects everybody.”

If that explanation doesn’t ring a few bells, these lines from the second verse should shed a bit more light:

I don’t want to breathe that Smithsonian air . . .
I want to meet the President
Of a country without sense
There is nothing that grows in his arctic world

The Oils were obviously referring to Reagan, but “megalomania” and “it’s all about them” certainly apply to another TV star who wormed his way into the Oval Office. In an op-ed featured in Pearls and Irritations, John Lander opens his May 2025 piece on American-Australian relations with the line, “The US is not, and has never been, a reliable ally of Australia,” then closes with, “Australia needs an independent foreign policy with its own MAGA movement—Make America Go Away.” Smart boy!

Some listeners have classified “Arctic World” as a “dud,” but I think they should get their ears checked and expand their expectations. I realize that it isn’t your typical Oils song, but Jim Moginie’s string arrangements and piano are absolutely marvelous, and Livesley’s production is top-notch, creating a mood of regretful resignation that reflects the voting public’s frustration with political leaders who never live up to their promises or the hype.

“Warakurna” (Moginie): More from the songwriter’s interview on Identity Theory:

Warakurna was a blast. It’s close to the WA [Western Australia] border and we drove there after a gig at Docker River. The first thing you see coming in to the town is a piece of space satellite junk that had fallen to earth like something out of Star Wars. Then a hand-painted sign saying “Strict Rules.” Then, a mountain of derelict car bodies. All set against the most beautiful ochre/purple coloured hills you could imagine that felt so weathered and ancient.

It was the second gig of the tour, and was scheduled just the day before. Most of the people had left town for a football match in Yuendumu, but we played anyway on the school verandah. A camel stormed the stage. We camped on a riverbed and heard stories about how the people there had been handed bread with poison on it by the whitefellas. We were getting to know the guys in the Warumpi Band. It was the first time I had heard the term “Europeans” used to describe white people, of which I was one. And I believed it. Because out on that land, with their deep culture and history, it really felt like a country within another country, but somehow swept under the carpet.

Combining a memorable guitar riff with Hirst’s powerful drumming, thumping bass, call-and-response vocals, ambient sounds from the synthesiser and unforgettable lyrics, “Warakurna’ is a mesmerizing piece of music expressing an undying sense of urgency regarding the state of Australia’s indigenous people. From Songlyrics.com: “‘Warakurna’ addresses indigenous land rights and social inequality in Australia, contrasting living conditions between different communities while calling for systemic change.”

The song opens with the background singers repeating the words “there is enough,” a phrase that appears now and then throughout the song to express that there is no need for the Aboriginal population to live lives of deprivation—as depicted in the lyrics:

In Redfern as there is in Alice
There is enough
This is not the Buckingham Palace
There is enough

This is the crown land
This is the brown land
This is not our land
Some folks live in water tanks
Some folks live in red brick flats

We are then reminded that the indigenous people of Australia established rules of law long before white people could even conceive of the notion, and in contrast to white law, those rules were based on respect for the land they inhabited.

There is enough
The law is carved in granite
There is enough
It’s been shaped by wind and rain
There is enough
White law could be wrong
There is enough
Black law must be strong

The next verse could be taken as a threat, but I think it’s more of a warning that conflict would harm both whitefellas and blackfellas and must be avoided:

Diesel and dust is what we breathe
This land don’t change and we don’t leave
Some people live, some never die
This land don’t change this land must lie
Some people leave, always return
This land must change or land must burn

The penultimate verse mentions a fellow named Lassiter, and Jim was kind enough to explain who he was and why he’s in the song in the Identity Theory interview:

Harold Lasseter was a whitefella looking for gold. He claimed the Western Desert contained a gold reef of infinite wealth. In the 1930s, he headed out there to find it, but was deep-sixed by the harshness of the environment. He died out there looking. It was a Raiders of The Lost Ark kind of deal, and some people still reckon Lasseter’s reef exists.

The line simply says hypothetically that if he was right, Lasseter posed a threat in terms of: more whites/more disease and alcohol/more pressure to get off their land because of how valuable the ground would be to white people. But back in the 1980s, and [even] now, the threats to Aboriginal people are political in nature: money for education, housing and health still come from our Washington, namely Canberra.

The only solution? GIVE IT BACK!

“The Dead Heart”: Jim Moginie is such a great interviewee that I feel the need to quote him again to place this song in context:

“The ray of hope that sparked us into action was the handing back of Uluru (Ayer’s Rock) by the Labor government to the Mutijulu people, the traditional owners, who then asked us to write a song for the film that was being made about it. We wrote “Beds Are Burning,” “The Dead Heart,” and a track called “We Shall Not Be Released.” They chose “Dead Heart.” They invited us to play there, and then a tour of the Western Desert and the Top End was added.”

Because the role of the narrator in the song is played by Peter Garrett, the Oils faced accusations of white artists co-opting the struggles of minorities. Oh, for fuck’s sake—the Mutijulu people chose the song for the film and invited them to play there! That’s not co-optation—that’s appreciation!

This is pure speculation, but I think there are three reasons why the Mutijulu chose “The Dead Heart.” First, Aboriginal Australians are long-time country music fans, and the song has a folksy feel that would have appealed to them. Second, the main motif in a minor key is presented through guitar and vocal harmonies, creating a sense of togetherness; a secondary motif in a major key is also employed to lighten the mood. Finally, the lyrics hold nothing back when it comes to expressing the thoughts and feelings of the indigenous people regarding the whitefellas and the havoc they wrought on their lives.

We don’t serve your country
Don’t serve your king
Know your custom don’t speak your tongue
White man came took everyone

We don’t serve your country
Don’t serve your king
White man listen to the songs we sing
White man came took everything

Ha! The Oils called out white co-optation! Take that, whiny moaners! The chorus is an attempt to explain to whites their unbreakable bond with the land they inhabited for eons:

We carry in our hearts the true country
And that cannot be stolen
We follow in the steps of our ancestry
And that cannot be broken

As befitting a civilized people, the narrator assures the whites that the people have no desire to take over their territory, that they are fully capable of caring for themselves, and suggests that the two sides engage in healthy dialogue:

We don’t need protection
Don’t need your land
Keep your promise on where we stand
We will listen we’ll understand

After two rounds of the chorus, the singers join with the guitar to repeat the main motif, while Peter moves to an echo-filled background where he identifies the entities that stand in the way of progress toward land reform, ending on a positive note by identifying the undeniable truth about the situation:

Mining companies, pastoral companies
Uranium companies
Collected companies
Got more right than people
Got more say than people

Forty thousand years can make a difference to the state of things
The dead heart lives here

The fade is simply marvelous, featuring repetitions of the motif by the vocalists and the horn section,  a brief appearance by the string section, and tinkly sounds from the synth. The capitalists might bitch all they want, but the song leaves me with the feeling that things will turn out well in the end.

“Whoah” (Garrett, Moginie): Peter’s comments about this song in the Apple Music liner notes made me laugh. “I can’t remember ‘Whoah’ at all. All I know is that the chords were so complicated I couldn’t play it on guitar, and needless to say, I still can’t. But we liked it, and it’s got these transforming musical bits that take you somewhere else altogether, and you get to the end and there’s a massive chant and you sound like Buddhist monks that got lost in the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. I’d be pushing it to summarize that one. It is what it is.”

The chords really aren’t that complicated (except for the verse-ending chord of D#7b9), but the lyrics are a bit of a mess, moving from religion to girls not smiling and hints of an American-Soviet war (kudos to whoever came up with the word “Andropovosphere”). My best guess is that the song is about Cold War malaise, but that’s all I can come up with. I rather like the sound of the monks, though, and I appreciate Peter’s honesty.

“Bullroarer”: “The bullroarer, rhombus, or turndun is an ancient ritual musical instrument and a device historically used for communicating over great distances.” (Wikipedia) The article notes that the instrument was employed by cultures all over the world, but here’s what the article had to say about its use in Australian Aboriginal culture: “Bullroarers have been used in initiation ceremonies and in burials to ward off evil spirits, and for bad tidings. Bullroarers are considered secret men’s business by all or almost all Aboriginal tribal groups, and hence forbidden for women, children, non-initiated men, or outsiders to even hear. Fison and Howitt documented this in “Kamilaroi and Kurnai” (page 198). Anyone caught breaching the imposed secrecy was to be punished by death.”

Fortunately, none of the members of Midnight Oil faced the death penalty, but it seems that some did take offense regarding the Oils’ use of the bullroarer: “When Midnight Oil tried representing Aboriginal sounds in a more researched manner, some Indigenous groups objected to the sound of a bullroarer recorded for the introduction of a song on Diesel and Dust, as they considered it belonged in sacred rituals, not in rock songs.”

That doesn’t quite jive with Peter Garrett’s memories (from the liner notes): “We got permission from the Pintupi people in the Western Desert to use the sound of a recorded bullroarer. A bullroarer’s a communicative instrument/weapon/tool, and its sound is extremely evocative and a sound that people are not altogether familiar with. But it works across the melodies of the song and the way in which the band plays, and the pretty simple 4/4 time we had working to enable it to lift the song somewhere. Great bit of songwriting by Rob in bringing that idea of the sound of an ancient culture into the present.”

Unfortunately for the Oils, there are approximately 250 distinct First Nations in Australia, and the Pintupi could not speak for all of them. Live and learn!

The sound of a bullroarer can vary from a roar to a pulsating hum that changes pitch as it spins. I watched one video where it sounded like a car revving up and another with a light droning sound. The intro begins with the recorded bullroarer, and its placement in other spots in the song is limited and well-executed. The lyrics consist of scenes in the desert, where sudden thunderstorms break the unbearable heat, with a few mentions of the difficulties faced by the underclass. The song is generally upbeat with a steady drive and excellent guitar work. The chorus is quite uplifting, as the singers convey the sense that the sound of the bullroarer is a compass leading one to home, sweet home.

Na, na, na, na
I’ve seen the wild horses
Na, na, na, na
I’ve heard the bullroarers
Na, na, na, na

My apologies to the people who found the Oils’ use of a sacred instrument unacceptable, but this is one of my favorite songs on the album.

“Sell My Soul” (Garrett, Moginie): I need to recuse myself from reviewing this song, in part because it sounds like disco but mostly because I have neither the interest nor the qualifications to dig into Australian politics (I already have enough problems dealing with European politics). Thanks to Wikipedia, I can share my reasons for taking a pass:

“Six months after entering parliament, Garrett was appointed Shadow Parliamentary Secretary for Reconciliation and the Arts. It was reported that he had modified some of his earlier views. He expressed support for the U.S.-Australia alliance, and recanted earlier opposition to the Joint U.S.-Australian Defence Facility at Pine Gap. He also stated that, while he would argue the case for environmentalism inside the Labor Party, he would observe the ultimate decision of the party caucus, including accepting any decision on the “no new uranium mines” policy. Garrett’s change of stance drew criticism from both journalists and Midnight Oil fans, who contrasted Garrett’s former pronouncements on environmental and political issues he had made before joining the Labor Party.”

And I’m sure that some of those critics threw “Sell My Soul” back in his face.

Whenever you join any organization, private or public, you have to make compromises, and in the political world, you can’t get anything done if you’re not willing to compromise. I knew that when I went to work for the EU, and Garrett knew that when he entered the arena. He could have gone with the lone wolf approach, but no one would have listened to him. His best bet was to build relationships of mutual trust with his colleagues and look for opportunities to advance his causes. If your colleagues or superiors pass laws that cross your moral red line, quit and try to find other ways to make a difference.

But if you find a job that doesn’t require you to sell your soul, grab it!

“Sometimes”: The uncompromising Peter Garrett said this about “Sometimes”: “We wanted to write and have a song that was almost like an anthem for activism, for people who care, for people who want to go out and lay their bodies on the line for their country or for the environment, or for an issue or cause. We’re not taking any prisoners. We and many people of our generation felt like we were up against it, ’cause the forces of darkness, the forces of greed, the forces of rampant overdevelopment or weaponizing or trying to make money off other people were forces that we saw that needed to be opposed. And the only way that history could be made good and to get a better world happening was to be in there; we needed to be in the ring. And I think ‘Sometimes’ is that song.”

It’s certainly a rousing call to action with its driving beat and strong, frequently repeated choruses.

Sometimes you’re beaten to the call
Sometimes you’re taken to the wall
But you don’t give in

Sometimes you’re shaken to the core
Sometimes the face is gonna fall
But you don’t give in

And right now, we need a whole lot of people to get into the ring.

“Gunbarrel Highway” (Garrett, Gifford, Hirst, Moginie, Martin Rotsey): The closing song was omitted from the U.S. release because “It is believed that CBS believed that the line ‘shit falls like rain’ was too strong for release in the States.”

Pussies!

The Americans didn’t miss much. In the liner notes, Peter said, “It was a spare, one of those leftover songs. We sometimes have songs that are left over at the end of a Midnight Oil session, and for whatever reason, we’re not sure if they’re finished. And somehow we overlooked this and thought, ‘Nah, it’s not quite ready.’” He added:

Of course, people would know the Gunbarrel Highway. It’s this amazing highway that travels from the bottom of South Australia across Western Australia, and it’s so straight and there are so few trees that you can fire a gun down the highway and not hit anything from one end to the other. It’s got a nice swing to it, and lots of atmospheric imagery, so it actually become the perfect concluder to Diesel and Dust.”

I respectfully disagree. The perfect closer for an album centered around protest would have been “Sometimes.” As for “Gunbarrel Highway,” the guitar work, the drive, and the vocals are solid, but the lyrics don’t quite fit in the overall scheme of things.

*****

When asked about the impact of Diesel and Dust, Jim Moginie replied, “It’s hard to say what effect it had. It certainly affected us. In my life, there feels like a before and after the tour, like life was broken into two segments.”

Diesel and Dust had no immediate impact on the issue of Aboriginal dispossession, but by enlightening their home audience regarding the sad state of affairs in Aboriginal Australia, the Oils deserve some of the credit for returning the land to the original owners. “As at 30 June 2025, 4,421,946 square kilometres of the land mass of Australia and 113,496 square kilometres of the sea country of Australia were subject to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people’s rights or interests.”

A change of that magnitude could have only happened through a combination of awareness, acceptance, and collaboration. The Oils did their part by triggering awareness, but many others deserve credit for the acceptance and collaboration that made progress a reality. Though there is still work to be done (as always), I’d like to send a big THANK YOU TO EVERYONE IN AUSTRALIA WHO HELPED MAKE A DIFFERENCE!

Before I depart, it would be remiss of me to ignore the contributions of the Oils’ fellow travelers, the Warumpi Band. The song that gave the tour its name is not only a solid rocker by a tight band but is also one of the most moving pleas for racial (and religious) harmony. I’ve included both the official video version and the remastered version with higher-quality sound.

Blackfella, Whitefella
It doesn’t matter what your color
As long as you a true fella
As long as you a real fella
All the people of different races
With different lives in different places
It doesn’t matter what your name is
We got to have lots of changes
We need more brothers if we’re to make it
We need more sisters if we’re to save it

Are you the one who’s gonna stand up and be counted?
Are you the one who’s gonna be there when we shout it?
Are you the one who’s always ready with a helping hand?
Are you the one who understands this family plan?

Blackfella, Whitefella, Yellowfella, anyfella
It doesn’t matter what your color
As long as you a true fella
All the people of different races
>With different lives in different places
It doesn’t matter which religion
It’s all the same when the ship is sinking
We need more brothers if we’re to make it
We need more sisters if we’re to save it

Bless you all, and no matter what crazy shit comes your way, DON’T GIVE IN!