Albo’s Top Ten Australian Songs – and Problematic Punditry

In response to a request from Triple J – who are soon to commence a countdown of the top 100 Australian songs of all time – Prime Minister, Anthony Albanese supplied his own top ten. Quite a brave and generous act, really, given the extent to which his list was surely to be scrutinised in all manner of frustrating ways.

For the record, here is his list:

The Angels – Am I Ever Gonna See Your Face Again

Cold Chisel – Flame Trees

The Fauves – Dogs are the Best People

The Go-Betweens – Cattle and Can

You Am I – Purple Sneakers

Hunters & Collectors – Throw Your Arms Around Me

The Triffids – Wide Open Road

Spiderbait – Buy Me a Pony

Midnight Oil – Beds Are Burning

Paul Kelly – How to Make Gravy

No bones about it, that’s a good list. If you know your Aussie music, there’s nothing here that should come as a shock, though in the inclusion of a cut from The Fauves might surprise a few – but surely in a good way.

Lists like this are very personal. There’s honestly no such thing as bad list unless you’re responding with the perspective of a musical snob. And when it comes to omissions, there will always be some tough ones. As Albo said himself, cutting his selection down to just ten songs was tough. Anyone who knows anything about Albo knows that he’s a serious music fan. In fact, as I’ve said many times, I met him in the foyer of RAC Arena after a Midnight Oil gig. At look at that pic, would you? The Celibate Fucking Rifles!

It's because of things like this that I found the article written by Andrew Stafford in response to Albo’s list such a frustrating read. I wasn’t as pissed off by it as few mates were, but I could certainly understand their reaction. For a start, it’s not a well-written article, primarily, I think, because it doesn’t know what it’s trying to say. Always a good idea to have this pinned down before you start writing. As a result, Stafford zigs from point to point, without ever zagging to any kind of meaningful observation. I’m going to spend a bit of time scrutinising this article for two reasons: firstly, it needs criticism, and secondly, it’ll serve as a useful platform from which I can outline some thoughts of my own; not so much about Albo’s list but the logistics of coming up with one at all.

Firstly, Stafford implies that Albo’s move through life from public housing to ‘the owner of multiple homes’ somehow has relevance when considering his list. That’s rubbish. What point is Stafford trying to make? That Albo might have written his list to appeal to those who identify with his working class roots, whilst in private he’s gone full Keating and whiles away his time listening to Mahler’s 7^th Symphony?

Music is classless. People can listen to whatever they want from whatever societal position they’re in. To suggest otherwise is to not only subscribe to an elitist and exclusivist mindset but to push it onto others. To stick with Keating for a moment, let’s not forget that he was working class, too. And he once managed a rock band. (The Ramrods, for the curious.) But he loved classical music, art, and antiques. Which was his right. Our musical and artistic passions speak of who we are, but they do not define us. Given we have no reason to believe Albanese chose his list according to any criteria other than his personal tastes, Stafford ought to stop being so silly.

Instead, though, he gets sillier. He starts to reflect on the list's (lack of) gendered or racial diversity.

This is where things really started to irk.

No one – whether they be pauper or Prime Minister – deserves to have their list of personal joys scrutinised from this sort of perspective. Let’s remember, despite the fact Albanese is Prime Minister, he offered a personal list; it did not come with the Nation’s Coat of Arms emblazoned atop it. If it did, perhaps he’d have chosen his songs with an eye to political correctness. Frankly, I can’t imagine a more pointless list. Being seen to be inclusive is just that; an exercise in public relations.

Albo might be a white bloke in his 60s as Stafford notes, but here’s the thing. He’s allowed to be! Would people of other races or genders cop this kind of criticism? Anyone going to tell Pat Dodson that his list is a bit too ‘black’? Or Penny Wong that hers features too many women (and lesbian women at that)? I mean seriously. If Pat’s list was entirely compromised of Indigenous Artists, I’d welcome it. I certainly wouldn’t ponder the omissions in racial terms. In fact, I’d probably think about the many, many brilliant songs by Indigenous Australians that he’d inevitably excluded.

And that kind of scrutiny is fun, if done in the right spirit. If I’m with a mate and we’re putting together – for the hundredth time – our top 10 Beatles or Oils tunes, poking one another about pointed omissions is all part of the fun. But if I derided someone for their choices – a someone I don’t know or someone I do know but who is neither a Beatlemaniac or Powderworker (the Oils equivalent) – I’m really just being a bit of a wanker.

And this is where Stafford’s article’s faults really come into focus. He’s trying to hedge his bets. He wants to imply that Albo’s list’s lack of diverse inclusions might be problem, before half-apologetically noting that his own list might have a similarly narrowed focus within the grand musical scheme of Australian music. In truth, the only thing he should be apologising for is his stupid bloody article.

Anyway. Picking a list like this is seriously bloody tough. I’ve been thinking about how I’d compile my own. To me, there’s three key criteria: the ‘favourite’ bit, and the ‘Australian’ bit (which is actually two bits).

The first one’s easy; I either love it or I don’t. Recognising the song’s quality or importance does not of itself warrant inclusion unless the song resonates deeply with me.

The second is tricky. Not only do I need to love the song, it needs to speak to my sense of what it means to be Australian. I am fully aware that what it means to be Australian differs greatly from person to person, so in suggesting that a song is more Australian than another is down to how I live and breathe my Australian identity. All I can say is that I know it when I feel it.

And finally, I need to be comfortable that the artist behind the song is actually Australian. That’s harder than one might think. Crowded House are out, for example. Even though we want to claim them, and two of their original members were Aussies, the Father of the House was – and remains – a Kiwi. The Bee Gees? Nope. They didn’t live here long enough. AC/DC? Yeah, they’re in, providing I limit myself to the Bon Scott era. Yes, the Young boys were born in Scotland, but Angus was here by the time he was seven, and he’s lived here ever since. Bon? Freo boy, through and through. Highway to Hell is the Canning Hwy. Case closed.

So, now that I’ve set some parameters, I’m gonna have to put my money where my mouth is. Over the next ten days, I’ll be posting a song a day, counting down to my number one Australian song. It’s going to hurt, and naturally, I’ll write about each one.

So, if you’re interested, do yerself a favour, and keep an eye out. This is going to take some work.