Midnight Oil. Their name, their presence permeates the fabric of Australia like no other band. They are definitive, monumental, and spoken about with a kind of reverence and respect that defies our nation's penchant for tall-poppy mockery. Of course, they have their critics; those who decry their 'do-gooder' mentality, their 'holier-than-thou self-righteousness', but those voices are more of a plaintive, self-pitying cry from the sidelines reeking more of envy and insecurity than anything resembling insight. They tower over all other bands as a performing force, affirmed by every artist who's ever seen them live, or worse, had the ball-retracting prospect of having to share a stage with them, such is the kinetic ferocity of their performances and the virtually bottomless sack of incredible songs they've created.
For better or worse, their time as touring act is now in its final stretch, and as much as this sinks the heart and quivers the lip of their global legions of ardent devotees, the decision to call for last orders speaks with the kind of integrity that they've shown for their entire career. No phoned-in performances, no pension-funding renditions of the greatest hits. They are going to go out with a bang, and as likely as not, play many of the songs from RESIST, their first proper new album in almost two decades.
RESIST has been anxiously anticipated by fans since their decision to regroup for The Great Circle Tour of 2017. The appetite for new music from beloved bands is always strong, but two decades is a long time, and many a band have sullied an otherwise jewel-studded catalogue with a pitiable footnote. Fortunately, this is Midnight Oil. If this were cricket and the SCG, there's a smashed window in the parking lot, because the band have hit this one out of the park. Clearly, the time has not yet come.
The first thing to note about the album is its production. It's huge. Twenty years have added a lot to the possibilities of recorded sound, and this feels like hearing the band in super high definition for the first time. Whilst I find it stunning, others might take a while to get used to it. The clarity is something to behold, as is the sense of both space and intimacy. The band are right in your ear, the impact immediate.
The other most striking feature of the album is the quality of Peter Garrett's voice. Garrett's long been reticent to the point of being apologetic about his pipes' lack of traditional virtues. I've long thought he's been wrong about this, but now, the evidence is incontrovertible. He's always been a great, great frontman, but now, he genuinely has the voice of a great, great singer. The timbre of his voice has softened and rounded, but when the song demands it, as it does in 'Nobody's Child' he can still reach incredible heights of power and range. In fact, on the aforementioned song, the vocal attack in the song's latter stages is nothing short of extraordinary. As a younger man he had incredible fire and intensity, but he couldn't do this. Nor could he sing with the phrasal nuance he uses on 'We Resist' or in the measured vibrato in parts of 'Rising Seas'. The incisive lyrical intonations haven't changed, but they now shine through with true artistry.
Though it's fair to say that the album possesses a somewhat reflective tone, it would be a mistake to see this quality as its dominant trait. If anything, it's one of the more unequivocally assertive Oils albums, and certainly its most lyrically direct. This isn't just a collection of songs, it's a cohesive statement aimed not just at the people of Australia, but the people of the world. Yes, the Australian perspective remains proudly undiminished, but the messages are not designed to stop at our borders. This is an album for humanity, designed to ripple around our big blue sphere.
It's bittersweet listening to an album that so prominently features the dear, departed Bones Hillman. Though he was their third bassist, he arguably did more to define their sound than any other. Not only did he continue the tradition of his predecessors by adding a deep power to the band's sound in lockstep with the mighty Robert Hirst's drumming, but he also added a vocal dimension to their harmonies that became indispensable. Without Hillman, the band's oeuvre from Blue Sky Mining onwards would have sounded markedly different, and there's every chance songs like 'One Country' wouldn't exist at all. Here, his bass is strong and assured, combining with Hirst's drumming to produce a slightly more groove-centric sound. Rather than playing ahead of beat - which gives the Oils their on-stage gallop - he plays on the beat here, and at times, even just behind it. It gives Hillman a bit more space to fill, and he fills it with an assured panache. He's always been a far more musical player than many have realised, favouring subtle variations in bassline over the kind of indelible bass riff that seems to pour out of Andrew 'Bear' James and Peter Gifford. Here, it's his vocal presence on the terrific 'Lost at Sea' that moves most.
The Oils sound has long been characterised by the virtually Siamese twinning of Martin Rotsey's and Jim Moginie's guitars. They possess the ability to play with a synchronicity that more resembles double-tracking than the work of two separate people. It is here in abundance, along with their incredible ability to play off one another as well as with each other. The wistful chiming guitars on 'Tarkine' is as beautiful as anything they've ever done, and the descending arpeggios in 'Rising Seas' a heart-lifting expression of their shared passion for that Rickenbacker ring made famous by Roger McGuinn. And when they want to crunch and snarl, as they do on 'Nobody's Child' and the first third of the epic 'Barka-Darling River' - virtually a song in itself that could have come from Species Deceases (yes, it's that good) - they are formidable. Take note, young players, this is how it's done.
'Barka-Darling River' is the first proper multi-part epic the band have recorded since 'Shipyards of New Zealand' in 1984. It's similar in some ways, in that it conveys a sense of loss, of regret, but adds to the mix a kind of defiant acceptance. A call to arms in a state of grace. It's not bitter, but it's bloody annoyed. And given it features lines as cracking as "who left the bag of idiots open?", it even raises a smile. And there are funny, witty lines to be found everywhere throughout the album. To anyone who's spent time savouring the wit and wisdom of Red Sails in the Sunset, this really ought not come as a surprise.
Are there songs that recall other Midnight songs? Yes, and I think that's to be expected. Bands that endure have a sound and identity all their own that becomes as unique as a fingerprint. I for one, clearly hear the main riff of 'At the Time of Writing' as greatly resembling the secondary riff in 'Redneck Wonderland'. Whether these connections are conscious or unconscious doesn’t matter, I don't think, and they are likely to be heard differently by different listeners anyway. In the end, it's really just an issue of whether the songs are good, and they are. Listen to a song like 'Reef'; the lyrics are biting, funny, determined, sung with something closer to Garrett's more traditionally scornful tone, but the tune is just beautiful. That's the Oil way; touch the heart, move the feet, engage the mind.
If the first half of the album rings closer to what might be described as 'classic' Midnight Oil, it's the second that homes the more unexpected jewels. There's nothing quite like 'We Resist' in the Oils canon, even though you could argue that it borrows from 'The Dead Heart', 'Outside World', and 'Tin Legs and Tin Mines' and several others. It's sombre and urgent, bathed in droplets of warm electronica, punctuated with percussive punctation and flourishes of guitar. It's a song that wouldn't have worked with Garrett's less mature voice, either. He could have hit the notes, but I'm not sure he could have sung in a way that gives the listener so much to feel.
The same can be said of 'We Are Not Afraid'. The opening acoustic guitar is distinctly Spanish, with a ghostly post-rock chime offering a subtle counterpoint. Garrett's voice almost sounds like Mark Lanegan's at the very start, before veering off into to something pitched higher, with the lyrics - for once - taking a back seat to the tone of delivery. This is a different kind of Oils song, and strangely, to these ears, the most likely to be a successful single. A fist-pumping anthem it isn't, but it stops you in your tracks. It's a line in the sand, a narrowing of the eye, a lift of the gaze. We are not afraid.
And so, we reach 'The Last Frontier'. And it is this that most reinforces the sense - with it snippets of French and the voice of the great Kamal - that this an album for the planet, and it's just so utterly, completely Oils that it makes the soul sing. This is the band that's been riffing, talking, thinking, shouting, pleading, for more than four decades. That blend of fury, anger, beauty, and hope, mind on the now, heart on the horizon.
A few years back (circa the Great Circle Tour) I recall hearing one of the members of the wonderful band, The Jezabels, note how disappointing it was that Australia's best band is still Midnight Oil. Some took it as a dig at the band, but in truth, it was a dig at all those who've tried and failed to match them. Perhaps the comment was unfair, not to the band but to those who've followed. I'm not sure the Oils can be matched. They are unique, their chemistry an insoluble mystery. Before them, no one had musically attacked and embraced the world around them in the same way, and I'm sincerely doubt anyone will again. It's one of those times in which one is given a choice: sorrow the loss of the irreplicable or savour the gift of irreplaceable.
I'm opting for the latter. I've got one more gig to see. One more chance to watch Rob crash the cymbals and burn the skins. One more chance to watch Martin weave and stare, clipping the wire on his well-worn guitar. One more chance to see Jim command great waves of sound like the captain of the sea itself. One more chance to see Pete flail, stare, connect, ignite, and sing. And it must be said, I'll watch Adam, admire his work, and feel myself missing Bones.
And then they'll be gone. And that's ok. Fifteen albums and infinite memories. They could not have done more. And they'll be around. They won't go gently. Midnight Oil are as iconic as Uluru. I wear them like a coat of arms. I'm not always proud of this bloody country, but the Oils give me pride. And hope. With them I sing, and I become more alive. More human. More Australian.
RESIST is a triumph. Christ, I hope people listen to it, to everything it's got to say. It's up to us now. Let's not be afraid.