Are You Famous?

There probably aren’t many singer/songwriters out there who could stage a show over four nights where they perform their material, going through the alphabet, A-Z. Fortunately, Paul Kelly calls Melbourne home, so for the last three years or so, he’s been doing this series of shows in the gorgeous Spiegeltent in the Arts Centre forecourt. I’ve been lucky enough to see him several times – on his own, as well as with The Boon Companions and more recently, The Stormwater Boys. What I will never quite fathom is how he’s able to tell stories with such ease, humility and sincerity. No matter how many times I see him perform, I don’t think I’ll ever tire of listening to him. For someone who seems so reticent and shy, Paul Kelly is one of few people who can hold a crowd spellbound when it’s just him and his guitar on stage. This evening’s show (S-Z), on a balmy summer evening was no exception.


As I said, Paul can hold his own on stage just fine, but this evening he was joined by nephew Dan, who helped out on guitar and provided some beautiful harmonies and falsettos. Generally not that verbose, Paul provided some explanations of how certain songs originated, such as the wry “Young Lovers” which was started when Dan was living with him and his family when he (Dan) first moved to Melbourne. And the idea for “The Oldest Story In The Book” apparently came from a billboard advertising the Fernwood chain of gyms. Probably the funniest anecdote came when Paul was introducing “To Her Door”, re-told in an endearing, slightly self-conscious way that only he could. He was in a cab and the taxi driver recognised him but couldn’t quite place where he knew him from, which led to an exchange going something like this:

“Are you famous?”
“Um, I write songs and make records and play live sometimes.”
“Are you on TV?”
“Um, sometimes.”
“Ooh, I know you, you sing that song about ‘out the door’ …. oh yeah, and the one about ‘they got married early’….”

Apparently the driver scored a tip for his troubles.

Amongst many high points were “Under The Sun” (such a treat to hear this one, since it’s such an old song now), the wise “You Can’t Take It With You” (a big thank you to the punter who yelled it out as a request), “They Thought I Was Asleep” (which no matter how many times I hear it, still leaves me with a sense of unease), and “You’re So Fine”. Early on in the evening, Paul also told of how “Sweet Guy” was written from a woman’s perspective and even though he initially felt quite strange singing it in public, he’s since learnt to sing it “like a woman”. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but the song now makes a lot more sense to me than it did before (!). A nice change of pace was provided by the lovely Ukeladies, who did a brilliant version of “Xanadu”.

I don’t know what it is, but from the way he writes, Paul Kelly seems to me like such a wise old sage. Hence, it’s probably because of this that I seem to draw a great sense of comfort and reassurance from his shows. When you go see him, it’s not about a grandiose production or guitar noodling, but simply about the stories he has to tell.