Recently I flew back to Australia for a week. I had a few things that I wanted to sort out down under and, once I got the invite to play at an event, I decided to organise a trip around that. Melbourne and Queensland, both homes at some point to me, both under different circumstances and contexts, both probably not to be lived in again.
I think about where my parents live in Queensland, where I ostensibly grew up. Ostensibly in the sense that it was the most stable location in my childhood but we never lived there long enough to go to school (aside from one occasion precipitated by a political emergency in Indonesia). Melbourne I actively lived in, on two occasions, but aside from a large group of friends in the city, I don’t have a strong connection to the place.
I was reminded how different the two are, with Melbourne’s vibe more dirty, hipster, edgy – somewhere I have grown to like to be. Queensland as a state is basically agreed as being Australia’s Florida, a touch less psychotic but every bit as full of cookie-cutter McMansions, retirees looking for a place in the sun, and occasionally, the kind of politics you thought had died out at least a quarter of a century ago.
The town I ‘grew up’ in has changed a lot over the years. It used to be the kind of place where you’d visit your friends apropos of nothing, their floor covered in sand with feral dogs and children running around. Surf shack lifestyle, basically. A sleepy town, not a lot to do other than surf and ride around on your bike, but there was a strong sense of community there. Some combination of coronavirus, tax incentives, and beautiful scenery saw many of those families slowly replaced with Australia’s wealthy. Walls and security cameras in one of the safest towns in the country. Normal behaviour.
As a result I’ve experienced something that feels like watching someone die in slow-motion over a decade or so. As a kid, and even into my teens and early twenties, I would have died for that town. I wanted to end my days there and have my ashes scattered off the cliffs into the sea. I thought it was paradise.Things are different now. It could just be growing older and world-weary, but returning now in my thirties feels more like arriving at the front gates of a beautiful theme park designed to trigger my nostalgia but missing the mark. People change, places change, nothing is new.
Melbourne, on the other hand, is comfortable. Spending time there feels like I am actually living a real life, not one that is designed to be as beautiful as possible. There are real people from all walks of life there, some struggling, others ambitious, more again trying hard to project a specific image out to the world. “We’re basically the Berlin of the south” – you’re not and nor should you aspire to that. The antipodean chip on the shoulder; we’re relevant! We’re cool! We matter! borne out of being located at the arse end of the planet, far away from anything that’s ever happened, happening, or going to happen.
All that said, I like the city though. If some all powerful deity could simply pluck it up and set it down somewhere in Europe I would probably settle down for life. I know how to operate there – generally the attitude is lackadaisical, people dress and act however they want and are accepted for it. It’s refreshing. I can cosplay as whatever I want on any given day and I know that no one would bat an eyelid. Somehow it doesn’t feel like home, though. Maybe it’s just my being a transplant to the city, but it feels deeper than that. Spending a childhood in the tropical east coast, the south of the country feels windy, cold and far away. Barren somehow.
When thought of in the abstract, I can’t help but come to these conclusions, but I think the key is getting out of your head. In the moment I am bored, comfortable, relaxed, thoughtful, nervous, drunk, exhausted, insecure and so on. I made new friends and caught up with old. I spent time with my parents; increasingly important as time grinds ever forward. I got to play with their lovely new dog Indra. She likes me. That’s good. (RIP Stumpy)
It is not everything! 