M A N D Y N O LA N ’S
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Getting Back on the Horse When I was five I got a pony for Christmas. For a kid growing up in domestic violence and alcoholism, darkness and fear were far more familiar than joy and safety. Even the teddy I left out to greet Santa the previous year was found Christmas morning dismembered in the front yard in a display of furry carnage that confirmed the world was not a good place. Santa murdered my teddy. There wasn’t a lot of magic in my early childhood. So the morning I woke to the sight of a brown-and-white pony tied to our front gate stands out as this moment of wonder. Maybe the world wasn’t all bad. Patches was the pony every girl wanted. Unfortunately, Patches was hell bent on trying to kill me, an angry pony who hated children. It was clear that my father had intercepted the truck that was taking Patches to the knackers. Although Patches tried numerous times to bite me, bolted regularly, took me under branches, or just stood still and didn’t move, I loved him. Sure, I had an alcoholic father. Sure, he punched holes in the walls, drove cars off bridges, and hit my mum. I was a weird girl from an embarrassing family BUT I had a
ENTERTAINMENT pony. The next year when my father died Patches was sold. My mother wasn’t a horsey person and now she was a widow with two small children so understandably Patches had to go. I get the feeling Patches was relieved. The pony had been my dad’s attempt at restorative justice in the relationship with his small, damaged daughter. Now he was gone so the work of angry pony was done. My love of horses continued though, and in the absence of a real one, I drew them repetitively. By age eight I had perfected the arch of a horse’s neck, the soft brown heavily lashed eyes, the flared nostrils, the lustrous fringe and mane. I rode the mop around the backyard and pretended it was a wild brumby. I read Black Beauty. I still wanted a horse, but I knew we couldn’t afford one. At age nine I made friends with a girl who had horses. She had a farm. So I went there every weekend and pretended her horses were mine. We rode bareback on misty mornings through dewy paddocks to check fences or drop feed or look for cows that might be calving. Sometimes we had to put our small arms deep inside the cow to find the hoofs and pull out the calf. I don’t think we even washed our hands before breakfast. We rode into the bush in the morning and came back at sunset. We followed winding tracks; sometimes we made our own by pushing into unbroken scrub. We never wore shoes or helmets. We didn’t take water because we’d cup our hands and drink from a creek. We didn’t wear sunscreen. We didn’t take snake bandages, although where we rode was full of king browns and taipans and we’d see them pretty regularly. You’d know one was close because the horse would bolt. Nothing makes you stay on more effectively then the thought of being dumped in
a paddock with a snake. I never gave my children the freedom I had. Children just seemed to take risks without knowing it even was a risk. Like most of the kids I knew, I was fearless. I loved to gallop full pelt. I never fell off. My friend’s parents had given her many adult farm responsibilities so she and I spent our weekends moving cattle with old men, helping them dip and muster, and roll cigarettes. I loved it. By about 13 or 14 we were no longer such good friends – my love of horses had been replaced by a curiosity about books and later boys. Until the other day it had been decades since I’d sat on a horse – unless you count when I was pissed outside a newsagent when I put $1 in the rocking pony and jumped on. I fell off that one. It had been a long time since I had a throbbing live animal between my legs for over two hours. I was terrified. As a kid the fact it was dangerous had never occurred to me. It felt so natural and exciting. But now as a nervous neurotic adult I realised I could die. I’m not used to not being in control. Trusting in the universe. We just walked the horses up the beach. I could feel the power of the animal I was riding. Part of me wondered if I still had it in me to give her a nudge and move at least to a canter. Of course I didn’t. I’m 51 and risk averse and I was actually worried that after two hours in the saddle I wouldn’t be able to walk. I had reason to worry. I couldn’t. There are muscles in your arse that only a horse can find. I think I’m addicted again. Maybe that barefoot girl with the wind in her hair isn’t so far away after all. (Thanks to Shanti at The Ranch for my fabulous Beach Ride! I’ll be back! When I can walk!)
CATCHING TAYLOR A FEW GOOD WOMEN HELP ÁINE TYRRELL RETURN TO THE SEA! In 2017 Áine Tyrrell returned to her homeland of Ireland to make her latest album Return to the Sea. She packed up her three kids, took fellow musician and producer Mark Stanley and the girl who now calls Australia home visited the places and people in her home country who have helped make her the woman she is today to record her album, not in a studio, but with her feet and her heart firmly in the country of her birth. This is how she tells her stories best. ‘It’s about standing in power, owning your own skin, and making sense of the shared responsibility we have as humans,’ says Tyrrell. Tyrrell travelled by ferry to the Aron Islands, where only Irish is spoken; there are no cars and often no electricity, to record in the front bar of a pub with a bunch of old men. She recorded with her father, folk legend Sean Tyrrell; she recorded with other Irish folk legends, in houses and halls, in churches and lounge rooms across her homeland. She even managed a number one on the Irish charts with her song Don’t Be Left Crying! She then returned to Australia to record Row Back the Levy with fellow Irish woman Cara Robinson – a song full of reflection and patriotism that bridges the divide in a country torn in two. The album is ready to go, and to help her get this extraordinary new work on the road and into the hearts of her adopted country, her colleague and friend Mandy Nolan has stepped up to host a fundraiser – A Few Good Women – to make sure the fiercely independent Tyrrell and her music go as far and wide as they deserves. ‘I have heard Áine’s new album and it’s incredibly powerful, inspiring, and unique,’ says Mandy. ‘Getting an album on the road is a real challenge for independent artists, and for live touring artists like Áine it’s absolutely imperative she play to as many people as she can. As a fellow artist I really want to support the work she’s done. For someone like me getting my work out is easy: I just turn up. But for a touring live musician like Áine it’s a lot more complex. There’s a band to consider, touring schedules, promo… and of course let’s not forget she’s a single mum of three!’ Mandy Nolan will host A FEW GOOD WOMEN at Federal Hall on Sunday 10 December. Featuring Delta Kay and the Bunyarra Dancers, a performance by Mandy Nolan, a conversation with Mandy and Áine, and then a one-hour solo set by Áine previewing some of the work from her new album. With art for auction by Uncle Magpie, Emma Walker, and Mandy Nolan, fabulous raffle prizes, afternoon tea, and a bar! This will be a rocking Sunday summer soirée! 3–6pm for just $30! For tickets go to mandynolan.com.au.
www.echo.net.au/byron-echo Byron Shire Echo archives
Z-STAR TRINITY & HUSSY HICKS After taking the Australian blues scene by storm in 2018 with 100 live shows and festivals, UK frontwoman Zee Gachette returns with her power trio, Z-STAR TRINITY, featuring Beck Flatt (Blues Arcadia) on drums. Setting stages alight with their high-octane blues and raw rock passion, the trio were touted as the highlight of many a festival last winter and return to Lismore City Hall for this amazing show with local legends Hussy Hicks. Saturday 2 Feb at 7.30pm. Tix are $25–35 and available on lismorecityhall.com.au.
Claire Anne Taylor is a unique Australian artist. She is a force of nature… born into her Father’s hands in the family barn in Tasmania’s ancient Tarkine rainforest. Taylor and her five siblings were raised in a quaint bush home, rich with creativity and music. During her childhood, the Taylor barn was home to a family of Tasmanian Devils and some say that Taylor developed her unique, raspy singing style from nights spent listening to the devils growling beneath the floorboards. Her 2016 debut album Elemental was loved and lauded. The new album All the Words is as impressive, if not more. Her poetic story telling has never been more potent than on track two, Pick You Bones, a tale about a bar-room brawl between a man and a woman… guess who wipes the floor with him? Whoops – spoiler! Don’t Miss Claire Anne Taylor with her new band and special guests Ash Bell and Sara Tindley. Celebrate the launch of All the Words, a very welcome addition to our musical heritage. She’s got the kind of voice that sits up on the top shelf with music greats like Joplin, Baez and Winehouse… Saturday 2 Feb at 6.30pm. Tix $20 at mullumexservices.com.au.
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