Kelly Vision

One of Australia's greatest songwriters, Paul Kelly says what he means - sparsely.

As a student at the Christian Brothers School in Adelaide, in the 1960s and 1970s, Paul Kelly never did get great marks at English. His problem was words. He simply didn't write enough of them.

Twenty-five years on and not much has changed.

From his legion of fans; to the music critics; to the academics. Everyone, it seems, is waiting on Kelly's words. (Hell, even journalists who have crossed his path have been known to ring back after an interview, pleading for a few extra quotes.)

Kelly is one of this nation's greatest songwriters - maybe even the greatest, depending on whom you believe. But it's not only the music critics singing his praises. So powerful and evocative are his words, that English language professors even rave about them (after a book of his lyrics was published by Angus & Robertson in 1993, one Newcastle academic called him "one of our finest poets"). Singer-songwriter ... musician ... poet ... Kelly - who has been kicking around the Australian music scene for more than 15 years - is nonplussed by the plaudits. "It's very nice," he says of the reviews. "I don't mind being called a poet. I'm happy."

At the time of this interview, Kelly was about to hit the road again. His latest album Paul Kelly Live at The Continental and The Esplanade was released recently and a national concert tour planned to promote it (the tour finishes early this month).

The album is Kelly's 12th. So he knows the score. Publicity is important. That means talking about himself, his music, his life. Despite a reputation to the contrary he is forthcoming in conversation. Not in as many words as others, but considered and generous, none the less.

The new album does not include any new songs among the 14 tracks, but plenty of reinventions of the old ones. Perennial favorites such as To Her Door and Careless are recited, as well as sung.

Kelly says he chose songs that were different versions to what was already on record. "That tends to happen with a lot of the older songs is that they change over the years or I have to find new ways to play them otherwise I'd get too bored."

So, should his fans interpret the new versions in any particular way? What does it say about where KelIy is up to in his life? "I don't think it's anything as grand as that," he says, sounding vaguely amused by the thought. "Most recordings are a snapshot of a particular time. You know, we do live takes from time to time and I thought these ones were sounding really good probably because the band was at the end of a long tour and was playing well."

The latest tour is Iargely a promotional vehicle for the album. Kelly does two types of tours these days: one through the pubs and outdoor venues where he earned his stripes as a singer-songwriter; and another through theatres (\where this latest tour is based). The latter is for his older and younger fans who won't - or can't - go to the pubs.

Touring is a way of life for Kelly. He's been doing it so long. His favorite venues are the outdoor ones in Western Australia, and anywhere he's not been for a while. "I like playing the capital cities but I do that a lot. Every time we go out to the country or north, the Northern Territory, or the north-west, it's really enjoyable because, again, we don't do it every year. Just coming down the New South Wales coast is one of my favorite runs because of the chance to go surfing."

Strange, that someone described in such glowing literary terms should still be working so hard. But such is the lot of the working musician, especially in Australia, where the size of the population makes survival a year-to-year affair (and that's if you're lucky).

It took Kelly until he was 30 (nine years after penning his first song) to make a living from music. And despite his local fame he relies on his popularity in other countries (the US mainly, but Europe too, where he went for the first time last year) to keep him and his family above the poverty line. "I have to do both (the Australian and American music scenes) just to make a living," he says. "The big difference between Australia and America is really the economies of scale."

In America, artists like Kelly. who are not classified "mainstream", make good money simply because there is the population base to support them. "In many ways there are less commercial pressures in America than Australia," Kelly says. "Artists like Neil Young or Lou Reed or Iggy Pop. They've all got good careers but they never have to worry if a radio station is playing their records, or not. There's always enough people to buy their records." Kelly is becoming better known in the US where he spent nine months living and working in 1992. Allan Pepper. a co-owner of the Bottom Line club in Manhattan - which has featured such acts as Bruce Springsteen, Miles Davis, Lou Reed and Elvis Costello (just to name a few) - says Kelly pulls a decent crowd when he plays there.

"Those people who come to see him know that they're seeing something special. And I believe - in their hearts -that one day he'll mean in New York what he means in any city in Australia.

"He's a great songwriter. I love his sense of humor. I think he's got an interesting sense of humor. But I think listening to his songs is like reading wonderful little gems of short stories. When you hear a Paul Kelly song you can almost sit there and close your eyes and see the story unfold in front of you."

KeIly's songs are indeed stories. He takes you into them; explains what he's talking about (drug abuse, separation, pregnancy, whatever); and does so in a distinctly Australian way. He uses direct, local reference points to context his words. The clock oh the Richmond silos, Silver Top taxis and Spencer Street station. All Melbourne icons, but there are many others of Sydney, Adelaide and Queensland.

Kelly says the landmarks just come in to his songs. "A lot of my songs you see them as much as you hear them," he says. "I guess it comes from trying to paint a picture. Setting a song in a particular place wasn't really that conscious but I always liked Chuck Berry songs and they were vivid. They have lot of detail in them that you could see."

Kelly says he writes the other type of songs too. Songs not set in a particular place, where you don't know the character, the age or the sex of the person singing it. "I call them the Buddy Holly songs. Really simple little words. There's not many physical details in the song. You don't know the gender, or the class of the person in the song."

Kelly was born in Adelaide in 1955, the sixth in a family of nine. From an early age he knew the worth of music. His grandparents established the first Italian grand opera company in Australia in the early 1920s. Countess Filippini. his grandmother, was the first woman to conduct symphony orchestras here.

After school he travelled around Australia for a few years. working odd-jobs. He did not pick up a guitar until he was 18 or 19 and did not write his first song until he turned 21.

In 1976 he moved to Melbourne where Paul Kelly and The Dots became a regular fixture on the pub-rock scene (his other groups have been Paul Kelly and the Colored Girls and Paul Kelly and the Messengers).

He flirted with drugs but has long since settled for a different life. He lives with his second wife, Kaarin Fairfax, and their two daughters: Madeleine, 5, and Memphis, 3. in Melbourne. He has a son, Declan, 15, by his first wife, Hilary Brown.

Now considered an industry long-timer, Kelly says he tries to change his style, but is "kind of stuck" with what he is. "A person's style is generally defined by their limitations," he says. "My style has evolved out of the limitations of my voice, the way I play guitar really. I don't know a lot of chords and I tend to work with pretty simple chords. And I'm not a great singer in the sense of when I talk about great soul singers I'm talking about Marvin Gaye or Al Green or people like that. I'm not in that league. So, I write the kind of songs that suit my voice."

Kelly also writes songs with and for singers, something he has done more of in recent years. His collaborations include Treaty, Yothu Yindi's hit single (1991), Someday and Last To Know with Deborah Conway (1992) and Between Two Shores and 99 Years with Vika and Linda Bull (1993).

He also produces material, including the Bull sisters' debut album (simply titled Vika & Linda) and Charcoal Lane, Archie Roach's debut album of 1991.

Kelly says he's often written songs that he thought suited someone else's voice better than his own. But after all the agonising how does he hand over the words? "I send them a tape," he says, half laughing. "I'm really not that precious about it. "It might be hard to write, but once they're written off they go.

"When Renee Geyer did Foggy Highway it wasn't like I had this song I thought was a great song and I had better choose carefully who did it. I actually didn't think much of it. Then she did the music for a television series - The Seven Deadly Sins on the ABC - and when she sang it, then she revealed the song to me. I thought: 'Oh, this song's really good'. She made the song good."

But what happens if it was good to start with? "Then someone else sings a song it gives it another life. Anyone can write a song and sing it themselves. And it's not necessarily a good song because it's been judged by the wrong person. But if you write a song that someone else sings then it has an existence outside yourself"

Much has been written about the source of Kelly's stories. Whether it's the seamier side of life or sad and lonely characters, the lyrics are so personal - so understanding - it is hard to believe they come from someone else's life experiences.

Are any autobiographical? "Not usually," Kelly says. "And even if they start from an autobiographical basis, by the time the songs are written it's changed." Kelly says he gets the stories anywhere he can. "Either from conversations or things you read, or things that happen in your own life, or sometimes from other songs."

But writing them is still hard work, no matter how much people praise his work.