Scenes From A Mexican Restaurant in Baulkham Hills in 2001
On Politics, Apathy & Men In Suits
My first curiosity about politics was stirred by noticing toilet paper emblazoned with the word ‘Fraser’ in an array of our family friend’s houses when I was a little kid. What did it mean? Malcolm Fraser was our prime minister I was told. The idea of somebody being so awful that people wanted to wipe their bums with his name seemed really brutal and way beyond my comprehension. I determined that politics was just about men in suits and had nothing to do with me and pretty much stuck to my guns on that until the idea that this incredibly eloquent Black man named Barack Obama might become President of the United States piqued my interest again.
I watched Ray Argall’s wonderful time capsule documentary Midnight Oil 1984, while I was hurtling back to Australia from LA in 2020. It’s a remarkable portrait of a political rock band at their peak, touring and performing incendiary shows every night, with a lead singer who is simultaneously cranking up a career in politics by day, enlightening and engaging and exciting a whole new generation of young people into caring about the future and I was struck with a sense of nostalgic sadness at my own total lack of political engagement during this period, when I was a self interested fourteen year old vaguely aware of other people my age fighting against injustice and protesting environmental disasters and ‘no nukes’ but so entrenched in the idea that politics had nothing to do with me and I could never have an impact on any political decisions that I paid it no mind. Witnessing Midnight Oil firing up and educating their young audiences from the perspective of an adult was emotional, seeing how those kids were taught to believe that they could make a difference, that fighting for the right thing was important and valid. That they mattered. I thought it was amusing at the time to declare I was a member of the Apathy party and when voting time came around, I ticked the box for the Marijuana Party cos I thought it was hilarious.
My dad Peter and I were performing at Jiminez, a Mexican family restaurant in Baulkham Hills the night the Liberal Prime Minister John Howard (note for my American friends: in Australia, Liberal means Republican. I know it’s confusing. The colours are swapped round too, blue for Liberal, red for Labour (which is what we call Democrats) was reelected for an unimaginable third term on Saturday 10 November 2001 (and would go on to be elected for a fourth). I was actually hired as Peter’s roadie/driver/backing singer (he doesn’t drive, the venue was an hour away from home and he had hurt his back) but he always let me sing a few songs, work on my jazz standards repertoire, which quite honestly was a bit beyond my abilities but I think I pulled off with a certain charm. It was quite a scene at Jiminez. A Mexican restaurant with not a single person of Mexican descent working there, that would be seething with families from 6 - 9.30pm every Friday and Saturday night. Before they were seated, they would come and hang in the lounge bar, where Peter entertained on the grand piano. He had taken over from another ‘pianist’, actually Peter’s former roadie, who could only play pretty basic piano but had incredibly managed to hide the fact that he was mainly faking it for the money by using midi files. The rort had got too exhausting so he passed the gig on to Peter. It was mainly run by Italians, definitely Alberto the maitre’d was, who would get slightly tipsy by the end of the night and beg Peter to play ‘Volare’ so he could tearily sing it. So the bar would be swarmed by people for various periods of time and then empty out for a bit while people ate and then fill up again as they poured back in for a post meal drink and live musical entertainment. It was the kind of gig where you really earned your money. There was an older woman I rather adored named Claire, who lived across the road and would turn up before we even started at 6, in a cocktail dress and huge 70s dark glasses and large costume jewellery, park herself at the grand piano and chain smoke and drink herself into an acceptable whisky stupor by 9.30pm at which point she’d mumble something and peel herself away and disappear home, weaving her way through the crowd. She just loved listening to Peter play and had a real appreciation of fine music. She reminds me a lot of this song by Hailey Whitters with its sentimental down home dive bar wisdom.
Anyway the Liberal party and John Howard were well hated by those of us outsiders in the arts or weirdo communities who weren’t part of the great house owning or aspirational home owners at the expense of all else gang and the feeling was definitely mutual. We felt despised by the Howard government and its seemed impossible that he could get back in for a third term. We were so hopeful that night for change and a future we could maybe feel a part of. But when a resounding roar filled those cavernous dining halls filled with fake Mexican paraphernalia and the steaming hot crowded Jiminez bar as John Howard won yet again it was a strange and disquieting feeling to realise we were among the enemy, the only people in the whole joint that felt like crawling under the piano and killing ourselves. And it was our job to entertain them while they celebrated and back slapped and high-fived the reelection of this ‘ordinary Aussie’ loving, culture hating leader.
Howard’s government created the conditions whereby Australian actors fled the cultural wasteland of Australia in droves for Hollywood in a desperate hope of creating a sustainable career. His main electoral promise with a cultural element was to establish a new museum. He sounded a death knell for the arts. Peter pounded the piano with a certain splendid seething fury emanating from his fingertips and I kept the Southern Comfort and cokes coming in between songs to get him through it and we just kept looking at each other in absolute horror at their unseeing, laughing faces as they leered their drunken requests at us until they all crawled home and we silently wound leads and packed up microphones and crumpled ourselves back into the car and drove home in depressed, exhausted silence.
Peter took great delight in performing Randy Newman’s Political Science to the uncaring audience that night. It felt highly appropriate.
Anyway that restaurant is long gone now and in its place is another family restaurant, Italian themed, that boasts such traditional delicacies as the ‘Spagizza’ and the ‘Peri Peri Chicken Pizza’. Love of culture prevails.
Like the rest of the nation, I hardly dared hope for a result in our elections last night that would see us gain a leader of the country who seems like a decent person and even cares about the arts. Much to the mutual relief of all the people I know, Anthony Albanese was elected and those supercilious, patronising, smirky, dangerous ones were resoundingly booted out across the nation. Anthony’s favourite band is Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds (as discussed on Jeremy Dylan’s My Favourite Album podcast) and he’s been known to DJ, programme Rage and turn up to many a local gig or art gallery. Last year he made a great , funny playlist to remind people to protect their health during the peak of Covid featuring Courtney Barnett’s ‘Nobody Really Cares If You Don’t Go To The Party’ amongst other gems. Now I know being a great leader requires a lot more than a love of great music but I do feel a real sense of hope and light and energy and that the people of Australia have collectively spoken and demanded more, more kindness, sensible-ness, vision, climate action, protection, respect, compassion. I’m excited that our new government support the Uluru Statement From The Heart and a national anti-corruption commission. I hope that the Greens and the highly impressive teal independents can help force them to do better on climate action too. I’m grateful to finally feel that I’m part of the community that is represented and has an impact on the leadership of our country and not so sidelined and voiceless.
Now if we could just get Alice Coltrane for US president everything would be all right with the world. Happy days y’all.
You write beautifully, Lo.