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dolorosa_12And so another Gravy Day has rolled around, and there's a strong sense of deja vu: again people are apart when they were expecting to be together, and again the world is facing down the prospect of another year in which griefs, triumphs, and rituals both religious and secular must be experience separated from many of the people who give our lives meaning. Paul Kelly's gorgeous, poignant, bittersweet Christmas song — sung from the perspective of a man in prison, reminiscing about and yearning for the typical chaotic, messy, loving Australian secular Christmas with his family — resonates again this year in ways that cut to the heart.
I've long felt that Paul Kelly is basically Australia's uncrowned poet laureate. He has a way of getting to the emotional core of things, telling stories in his songs which are deeply felt but never cloying, simple but never simplistic.
The version released this year made me break down in howling tears in my kitchen — a welcome catharsis.
Last year's version, which I can only find embedded on Facebook, brought together multiple Australian singers and musicians via Zoom, each recording their segment in videos which pointed to — with their myriad Indigenous nations and post-colonisation cities/towns noted in text — a shared emotion stretching across the length of the land.
The song is one rare instance where earnest sentimentality works as intended, and the result is deeply human and sincere. It resonates in these pandemic times, of course, but it has long resonated with me as an immigrant, and it speaks to other parts of my experience, too — my awareness that those childhood Christmases at my maternal grandparents' place are long out of reach, a moment in space and time to which we cannot return. And it gestures at human flaws and frailty, and our capacity for compassion and welcome and shelter. Goodness, the song sings, is not perfection, and the antidote to cruelty is not a cold and stark purity, but rather warmth, and fragility, and showing love through food and chaotic conversation.
I have a tradition of listening to this song on Gravy Day, and usually Kelly's TED Talk in which he explains the creative process behind writing the song (embedded below). I allow myself to feel the full force of grief at missing my family, at the weight of living my life across oceans and borders.
It speaks to me, every year, and I hope it speaks to you.
Hello Dan, it's Joe here, I hope you're keeping well
It's the 21st of December, and now they're ringing the last bells
If I get good behaviour, I'll be out of here by July
Won't you kiss my kids on Christmas Day
Please don't let 'em cry for me
I guess the brothers are driving down from Queensland
And Stella's flying in from the coast
They say it's gonna be a hundred degrees, even more maybe
But that won't stop the roast
Who's gonna make the gravy now?
I bet it won't taste the same
Just add flour, salt, a little red wine
And don't forget a dollop of tomato sauce for sweetness and that extra tang
And give my love to Angus and to Frank and Dolly
Tell 'em all I'm sorry I screwed up this time
And look after Rita, I'll be thinking of her early Christmas morning
When I'm standing in line
I hear Mary's got a new boyfriend, I hope he can hold his own
Do you remember the last one?
What was his name again?
Just a little too much cologne
And Roger, you know I'm even gonna miss Roger
'Cause there's sure as hell no one in here I want to fight
Oh praise the Baby Jesus, have a Merry Christmas
I'm really gonna miss it, all the treasure and the trash
And later in the evening, I can just imagine
You'll put on Junior Murvin and push the tables back
And you'll dance with Rita, I know you really like her
Just don't hold her too close
Oh brother please don't stab me in the back
I didn't mean to say that, it's just my mind it plays up
Multiplies each matter, turns imagination into fact
You know I love her badly, she's the one to save me
I'm gonna make some gravy, I'm gonna taste the fat
Tell her that I'm sorry, yeah I love her badly
Tell 'em all I'm sorry
And kiss the sleepy children for me
You know one of these days, I'll be making gravy
I'll be making plenty, I'm gonna pay 'em all back
I've long felt that Paul Kelly is basically Australia's uncrowned poet laureate. He has a way of getting to the emotional core of things, telling stories in his songs which are deeply felt but never cloying, simple but never simplistic.
The version released this year made me break down in howling tears in my kitchen — a welcome catharsis.
Last year's version, which I can only find embedded on Facebook, brought together multiple Australian singers and musicians via Zoom, each recording their segment in videos which pointed to — with their myriad Indigenous nations and post-colonisation cities/towns noted in text — a shared emotion stretching across the length of the land.
The song is one rare instance where earnest sentimentality works as intended, and the result is deeply human and sincere. It resonates in these pandemic times, of course, but it has long resonated with me as an immigrant, and it speaks to other parts of my experience, too — my awareness that those childhood Christmases at my maternal grandparents' place are long out of reach, a moment in space and time to which we cannot return. And it gestures at human flaws and frailty, and our capacity for compassion and welcome and shelter. Goodness, the song sings, is not perfection, and the antidote to cruelty is not a cold and stark purity, but rather warmth, and fragility, and showing love through food and chaotic conversation.
I have a tradition of listening to this song on Gravy Day, and usually Kelly's TED Talk in which he explains the creative process behind writing the song (embedded below). I allow myself to feel the full force of grief at missing my family, at the weight of living my life across oceans and borders.
It speaks to me, every year, and I hope it speaks to you.
Hello Dan, it's Joe here, I hope you're keeping well
It's the 21st of December, and now they're ringing the last bells
If I get good behaviour, I'll be out of here by July
Won't you kiss my kids on Christmas Day
Please don't let 'em cry for me
I guess the brothers are driving down from Queensland
And Stella's flying in from the coast
They say it's gonna be a hundred degrees, even more maybe
But that won't stop the roast
Who's gonna make the gravy now?
I bet it won't taste the same
Just add flour, salt, a little red wine
And don't forget a dollop of tomato sauce for sweetness and that extra tang
And give my love to Angus and to Frank and Dolly
Tell 'em all I'm sorry I screwed up this time
And look after Rita, I'll be thinking of her early Christmas morning
When I'm standing in line
I hear Mary's got a new boyfriend, I hope he can hold his own
Do you remember the last one?
What was his name again?
Just a little too much cologne
And Roger, you know I'm even gonna miss Roger
'Cause there's sure as hell no one in here I want to fight
Oh praise the Baby Jesus, have a Merry Christmas
I'm really gonna miss it, all the treasure and the trash
And later in the evening, I can just imagine
You'll put on Junior Murvin and push the tables back
And you'll dance with Rita, I know you really like her
Just don't hold her too close
Oh brother please don't stab me in the back
I didn't mean to say that, it's just my mind it plays up
Multiplies each matter, turns imagination into fact
You know I love her badly, she's the one to save me
I'm gonna make some gravy, I'm gonna taste the fat
Tell her that I'm sorry, yeah I love her badly
Tell 'em all I'm sorry
And kiss the sleepy children for me
You know one of these days, I'll be making gravy
I'll be making plenty, I'm gonna pay 'em all back
no subject
Date: 2021-12-21 10:30 pm (UTC)Right there with you, petal. ♥
no subject
Date: 2021-12-22 01:50 pm (UTC)