This is the audio file wrapped up in a bit of Overheard FM nonsense. The full written version will be here on Monday 17 October 2016 at midday AEST, 10pm Sunday Kentucky, US and 3am Monday UK time.
To tell the story of Harry Manx would take several lifetimes, and hopefully a progression of life-forms over those lives to tell the story, because the story is so mesmerising and complex that we would not be very present and in the moment of most of those lives and that could put the telling of the tale at risk as we would not be making gradual and continuous improvement as…
I believe the expression you’re looking for is, “Ain’t nobody got time for dat!”
Harry Manx has already begun his 2016 Australian tour which will take him from Sydney down to Victoria (where he is on stage tonight, Friday 23 September in Frankston) then around to Queensland, South Australia, Perth and up to Broome and Darwin, ending in the beautiful, lovely, gorgeous, I-may-be-a-little-hereditarily-biased New South Wales locales of Katoomba.
Ah, Katoomba. If there’s a more intimate, special venue than Clarendon Guest House, I want it stuffed, mounted, and hung above my fireplace – or I at least want an invite to your venue that can safely kick the Clarendon into a cocked hat. Or any poultry millinery for that matter.
And finally wrapping it all up at Club Saffire in Merimbula.
So it’s a very eclectic path Harry treads, and look, I’d draw you a picture if I had a free hand, but imagine a much-twisted paper clip that’s been sitting on your desk all day on a slow Friday when you’ve been watching the clock since 9:36am – now you’re in the ballpark.
OR picture a moose that somehow wandered into your yard, found your sippin’ liquor in the shed, and is now making a bedraggled, loquacious and somewhat winding stagger back to the forest by a circuitous route, two-thirds of it sideways. You got it!
I’d previously spoken with Harry twice in 2012 in completely different settings: one as we sat on plastic chairs out back of the National Folk Festival, and later that year on the phone, with me staying back after work in a very staid conservative wage slave job in Canberry City, Australian Capital Territory, not too far away from being released back into the wild, and on my way out into the big wide wonderful artistic world (via another two years of bad decisions!).
Just for the tape and the relevant authorities, this article is this morning:
- being put together on a laptop so old that it expresses currency in pounds, shillings and pence,
- is sitting on top of eight paperbacks, including some Stieg Larsson, M.J. Arlidge, S.J. Bolton, and I’ll have to update the others later as the spines are facing inwards and I daren’t dislodge them for fear of sending my coffee with Worcestershire Sauce all over the Axminster.
Correction: it’s an American Staffordshire.
Oh, and the whole shebang is sitting on top of the ironing board.
Apart from a mourning suit (no, not a wedding, a real one for real mourning last month – RIP mum), this is as much action as the ironing board is getting in my six week residency in very sunny Capalaba, SE Queensland.
Ironing: see earlier comment about what we got time for or not. It’s only for formal wear and your Reg Grundys if you’re fully expecting a special friend over for a sleepover.
Well, this is fun, however, I feel we’re forgetting something.
Harry Manx. Oops!
Yesterday being Thor’s Day 22 September in the year of Oh Laud! 2016, I spoke with Harry as he reclined in Melbourne and I was declined in Capalaba. (My pay went in late and the local Capalaba Boulangerie does not give credit, smiles or decaffe coffee.)
Lean in at the start, dear listener, because we have a little technical issue with Harry’s microphone just to start with. I have a lovely man in Essex (not that way; he’s devilishly handsome but his wife is more qualified to say that, and either way, I don’t swing that side of the boundary rope – not that there’s anything wrong with that).
My lovely friend in radio in Essex is helping me out with sound compression physics and wave harmonics, and we will replace the sound file when time and currency fluctuations and phases of the moon permit.
Gwenevieve! Roll tape!!
For all of Harry’s dates, you’ll have to visit his orchard on Vancouver Island.
Do dates live in orchards? I went to speed-dating on Orchard Road once, but that hardly counts.
For all of Harry’s tour dates on his Australian tour in September to October 2016, see/hear, see here: http://harrymanx.com/tour/
And ever since plotting to speak with Harry earlier this week, this wonderfulness has been bouncing around inside the beanie.
I think we’re done. See yourself out, eh? I need a cup of Maple Syrup and poutine tea then a little lie down…
Not yet. Here’s that 2012 interview I reference in the above interview:
“I had to let it go…”