Paul Kelly’s latest album, Fever Longing Still is his 29th studio offering, following a prolific career that began in 1981. Known for his boundless creativity, Kelly emotional music has made him one of Australia's most enduring and beloved songwriters.
Sharp-eyed English majors might know the title of the new LP originates from the opening line of Shakespeare's Sonnet 147.
Kelly's long and successful career has seen him explore a variety of genres and themes, from the landscape and history of Australia to personal stories of love, loss, and social issues. Over the years, he has written about iconic figures like cricketer Don Bradman and outlaw Ned Kelly, as well as events such as the 1966 Wave Hill Station strike in "From Little Things Big Things Grow."
The tune "How to Make Gravy," which tells the story of a prisoner missing Christmas with his family, didn't initially hit upon its release in 1996, but has since become a widely recognized Aussie classic.
With Fever Longing Still, which dropped last winter, new singles like "Houndstooth Dress" and "All Those Smiling Faces," add to Kelly’s extensive catalog of love songs.
Over the years Paul has worked with other artists and experimented with a range of styles, from bluegrass and country to jazz. When he sat down with us he recalled some of his favorite musicians that he both worked with or simply enjoyed.
Neil Finn
About 11 years ago, Neil Finn and I decided to do some concerts together in Australia. We've both come from sort of bigger Irish ancestry families, so we made a band. The band was me, him, Neil's son, Elroy, on drums, my nephew, Dan on guitar. It was like a family band.
It was surprisingly easy. Right from the start the rehearsals were fun, shows were fun. I guess the great pleasure for me was digging into Neil Finn's songs. They sound so effortless when you hear them, but when you dig into the songs, when you have to learn them, it's quite intricate.
I've watched him many times. I've seen Crowded House many times, and he's always unpredictable. He doesn't really have a set thing he's going to say between songs. So he brings that out of me a bit.
Christy Moore
In the late 1980s a friend of mine took me to the Dallas Brooks Concert Hall in Melbourne to go and see Irish singer Christy Moore. I didn't know that much about him. It was a Friday night. A lot of Irish people had had their drinks before the show. They were pretty fired up. Christy Moore walked on stage -- this sort of small man in a sort of not-quite-fitting suit.
Immediately, the crowd started yelling out for songs. And he was cranky, sort of wrestling with that crowd. And he said, "give me a minute. Just give me some time here. I need to get into this."
And then gradually, he shook off his grumpiness. I just watched him over the course of an hour-and-a-half, two hours, just tame that crowd. He honored everything that they wanted, but he did it his own way. So that sticks forever in my mind was one of the one of the greatest concerts I've ever seen.
Allen Toussaint
1988 or 1989 at The Bottom Line in New York, I was asked to take part in a round robin with Jimmy Dale Gilmore, Michelle Shocked, and Allen Toussaint. I was a huge fan of Allen Toussaint. I was nervous, honored. We all met before the show at the sound check.
Allen was this courtly gentleman, very gracious. We got on stage. I was spinning from not having slept all night. Jim said to Allen, "oh, can you just give us a song to finish off the night, that we could all play together?"
And he started, "Everything I Do Gonna Be Funky From Now On," and I'm playing thinking, I can't believe I'm playing harmonica, on "Everything I Do Gonna Be Funky From Now On" with the man who wrote it.
It was just, just beautiful.
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