From the Deep South of Lismore come a band bent on recreating musical history from the early 20th century. Black Train play ‘old timey’ string band music and although they perform their own interpretations of the old songs, the music is kept true to its origins out of respect for the musical tradition.
The music is suited to many sorts of people gatherings, from good old fashioned country hall shindigs to weddings
from art gallery do’s to chicken shows.
But the band also pay attention to other important details, including dress style
and facial hair
and know as much about braces, hat care, instrument construction and ‘old timey’ fashion as they do about the music.
a cookie tin banjo
Black Train have been also been known to trespass in railyards, and tinker with the trains
A Day Out With Black Train
One Sunday Black Train played at a shopping mall and an extraordinary thing happened. People began to abandon their shopping trolly’s. Families wandered out of shops, rubbing their eyes, as if emerging from a long daze. People started to gather, and then began to dance in the food court. Women and men, children and grannies, all began to tap their heels on the hard plastic floor. Old ladies danced with security guards, optometrists swung on the arms of shopping centre managers, and children ceased their tantrums.
And when the songs had been sung, and the people returned to their homes, it was said that they all began to make the most out of the little that they had. They began baking their own bread, sewing their own clothes, tilling their own soil, distilling their own liquor and raising their own chickens in the backyard coop. They took up instruments and turned off their televisions. They stopped wanting and started living.
Inspiration for 'Songs From the True Vine'
One of the worst things I ever had to do was for a land owner in W.A. He wanted an old timber homestead pulled down to build a tennis court on the site. Not far up on the hill stood the ‘desirable’ 1970’s cream brick Spanish ranch style house of the present owner.
There was an ancient rose bush growing at the base of the old homestead chimney. It hadn’t been pruned for decades, and the trunk was about as thick as a man’s waist. It had grown, over time, into a giant swirl, kind of wrapping itself around the homestead, it’s elongated canes covered in thousands of tiny white roses.
We were young and in need of money, so we went ahead and demolished the homestead and cut down the rose vine, even though at the time I knew there was something very special about the house and vine. There was a silence, a presence and the white roses glowed in the sunlight, covered with bees.
Today it occurred to me that the music of Black Train is like that vine, that was planted so long ago and is still here, and we are singing the songs for those voices, and homesteads long gone. We are standing on that site, hat in hand, listening to the lonesome sound of the wind as it blows across the land. Kim McLean, July 2005.
photos of trains on this page used with many thanks to Tony Allison and ecoDigitography
