We’re finally (officially) back on the road this week. Got a new van, almost identical to the cow-capitulator, courtesy all our remarkable pals who put in and earned a motza for us at the respective Melbourne, Canberra and Byron Bay benefit shows.
Dave Ramsey won’t be joining us, he’s still convalescing up in the Mountains – and his gal Bec is having their baby any day now. Good luck kids.
Grunter however, played with us last Thursday in Brisbane, supporting Johnny Casino and The Secrets and despite hobbling up the venue’s stairs at the speed of a Chillingham cucaracha he ripped it up - you’d never know his left leg was made of lego.
First show’s at The Tote on Thursday 4th with old mates Tonchi and Spargo – haven’t played here since early days. Johnny Kendall is planning to invade the pitch with his fiddle. North to the Sand Bar at Mildura on the 5th, then out to Pinnaroo in SA, and back down to Koroit on the 7th.
A busy week in Melbs – 3CR on the morning of the 10th, playing The Rainbow that night. Hank Denfield, aka Den Hanrahan is joining us this week with his usual reckless steel assault and a coupla solo spots.
Thursday 11th we’re on at the Greyhound, plus a PBS spot in the arvo. The Pub at Bendigo on the 12th, St Andrews Pub on the 13th, and Transport at Federation Square on the 14th.
After that we make our ways home to play the Lismore Show on the 18th and 19th.
On the 25th I’m doing a show at the Rails in Byron entitled – Mick Daley and Friends – basically the usual suspects roped in to play along with a few pissed locals.
Then the 26th we’re back at the Nimbin Hotel – always an interesting experience.
Our foray into Canada has proved to be a bloody good idea. We’ve pretty much sorted a really sound tour over there for two months from June next year. Country rock and roll goes global – at last.

I’m currently in Toronto, Canada, courtesy of my generous and far-seeing management, to oversee the organisation of next year’s proposed national tour of the moose and maple leaf loving, ice-hockey-obsessed, America’s own Kiwis commonwealth.
It’s a lovely elegant city, as relaxed and convivial as Melbourne, with a stack of great ilttle bars and pubs, many of which seem to be small-scale venues.

I’m travelling in the wake of great Australian acts who have done well over here, the likes of Weddings Parties Anything, The Waifs, John Butler and more recently the Kill Devil Hills, Carolyna Loveless, Dale Willis et al.

There seems to be a fairly well recognised adage that Australian’s are similar in character to Canadians, as opposed to United States Americans, and although the latest breed of Howard-voting ockers, who slavishly adopt US customs and politics, appear to give the lie to this convenient fiction, Canadians do seem to be a lot more brash, open and honest than their overly polite, demonstrative and brazenly patriotic second cousins, once removed.

In its brief, yet reputedly glorious summer, Canada hosts a festival season that is the envy of the world for its multitudinious styles, ethnicities and gorgeous locations all the way across the geographically diverse terrain.

Last night we went to see Madviolet, the female duo who we recently supported along the Australian East coast at a venue called the Rivoli. It was decidedly a more polite kind of establishment, aimed at highbrow, gentle folksy types.

Next door at the Horseshoe Tavern, a country rock act was ripping it up in decidedly more abandoned fashion, so here we perched at the bar and soaked in the democratic, swearin’ and cussin’, beer swillin’ tattooed and multiply-pierced rock vibe.

It seemed much more our speed.

And I’m told that like our domestic cattle, which delight in flinging themselves into the path of oncoming vehicles, the native moose is equally fond of grazing on lethal roadside areas and dreamily wandering across the tarmac to nibble at elegant random morsels of green.

And being possessed of gigantic bodies on top of long spindly legs, they can, if struck by a reckless vehicle, then at such an inconvenient height be precipitated directly through your windscreen and into the vehicle with catastrophic results.

Makes cow-catching in the Territory seem a harmless occupation.

The Re-mains are back in action this weekend with a run down the coast to Maitland to play that most prodigious of country rock and roll venues, the Grand Junction Hotel, Friday night. All guns will be blazing as we’re joined on stage by The Red Hot Poker Dots, straight off the plane from the US of A, where they’re in training as terror suspects.

Uncle Burnin’ Love is also making the foray south to explode on banjo and six string, while ex-Re-main Mick ‘Plugger’ Ward is filling Grunter Bedford’s shoes while he still can’t wear any. Speaking of shifty Kiwi’s, Grunter is recovering apace from his argument with a meat tray, and is currently plotting his return to the fray, reckoned to be in September. Tom ‘Mumbles’ Jones will be staunchly providing the hypnotic basslines.

We’ll be in Sydney Sunday, and may catch up with Dave Ramsey down there, if he can get on his crutches and get down from the mountain where he’s recuperating from our Territorian tumble. We play the Sandringham that arvo from 4-7, and the following Saturday the 18th the Excelsior in Surry Hills. Plugger Ward, erstwhile leader of The Cunce, and sometime ACCADACCA ensemblist, is once again whacking off for us at the Sando, whilst his good mate Dylan will be providing the improvised guitar vregedonomy.

The Excelsior will be another opportunity for Hank Denfield, AKA Den Hanrahan, to demonstrate his CRnR chops, as he’s reprising the role on six-string and steel that he so heroically pulled off in Vic and WA last May. Dwayne Daniel is making the trip up from Canberra, while Mal Finnan, who used to play in the Bush Punk Cowboys with me, will be drumming, after also leading his own band, The Cuban Heels in the
support slot. Denfield will of course open the affair with his usual onslaught of hillbilly doof and downhome dirt-track techno.

In late August I’m joined by Christian Pyle on stage at the Byron
Bowlo amongst other venues, supporting Canadian duo Mad Violet.
They’re a country/folk act who’re over for the Gympie Muster and a
string of shows along the coast.

But meanwhile I can’t express our collective gratitude enough to the mob who pulled off a benefit gig in Canberra on the weekend, helping to pay off our remarkable medical bills. That’s Hank Denfield once again, Bucky and his Rodeo Clowns and Dwayne Daniel’s other band, Randall Blair and The Wedded Bliss. On August 18 Sarah Carroll and Suzannah Espie have wrangled together some of the finest talent in that town for another benefit at the
Retreat. Here’s the line-up;

•  3pm MICK THOMAS
• 4pm CROXTON NEAPOLITAN
• 5pm SUZANNAH ESPIE & SARAH CARROLL
• 6pm THE RE-MAINS’ REVENGE MEAT TRAY RAFFLE, Stackfull feat. Les
• Stacpool & Harold Frith
• 7pm TONCHI MCINTOSH
• 8pm COLLARD GREENS AND GRAVY
• 9.30pm CHRIS WILSON BAND
• 11pm THE DETONATORS

Thanks you lot, you’re tops.

The local show will be on August 30 at The Beach Hotel, starring Acre, Jackie Marshall, Sara Tindley and Jimmy Willing and The Real Gone Hick-Ups as far as I know, but there are supposed to be more acts confirmed. Thanks Stu, Dave, Sara, Christian, Sal and the Beachie for hooking in. We promise The Re-Mains will ride again, as soon as we get those shiftless bludgers out of their beds and back in the (new) van.

It’s dangerous out here in the Northern Territory.

The bullock materialised in the middle of the highway, sauntering brazenly through the twilight like a small elephant. I happened to glance up from my book in the middle back seat, and instantly I knew we were doomed.

The impact was one thing, a mighty explosion that shot glass and debris in deadly showers all over us, but then we were plummetting off the road and into the scrub, a wild ride that ended with another sickening crash, a final shuddering lurch, and silence. We three in the back were unharmed and sprang into action, wrenching Dave’s front passenger door open so he could drag himself out and collapse on the ground - but straightaway we could see his hip was bulging unnaturally and his right leg was pointing in about three directions at once.

But Grunter, who’d been driving, was wedged behind the compressed front end of the van - the brand new roobar having snapped like a sapling, the steering wheel was jammed into his belly.

He was wheezing with pain and shock and demanding that I pull the crumpled dashboard off him - one look told me it was hopeless, but I wrenched and pulled and tried to get him out - to no avail.

Help came swiftly, but it was four hours before an ambulance finally drove them away, back the 140 kms to Tennant Creek, where they’d be airlifted to Alice Springs.

In fact we were lucky - four people died on Territory roads that week, and where we’d crashed into the scrub we missed by a foot on either side great deadly clumps of boulders.

But it ended our 2007 National tour in about 10 seconds, and now we’re in Alice Springs figuring out how to get home. That’s the sweat of country rock and roll.