When did you first encounter Michael Gow’s iconic play,Away?
I first read Away in high school. At the time it didn’t make much of an impact on me. I think analysing the play through the limited lens of ‘themes’ and ‘discourses’ all in preparation for some dreaded essay distracted me from its heart. I read it again some years later in drama school and found myself really moved by it.
How accessible is the period setting to Australians in 2017?
Michael wrote the play in the 1980s. So even from its first inception it was looking back on another era, which can possibly feel like a commentary on the 1960s. But its content is all very prevalent today. Classism, xenophobia and gender expectations are still part of our nation’s conversation. But at the core of Away’s story are three sets of parents desperately trying to protect their children from the sadness that life can inflict, and all in different stages of letting go of what they can’t control. This is absolutely a story that stands the test of time.
What can you tell us about the character you play, Tom?
Matt Lutton has directed this production of Away to be seen through the eyes of Tom, a young actor on the losing end of his long fight with cancer. As he grapples to work out what is now important to him and what is achievable in the time he has left, Tom takes on a Puck-like existence, invisibly observing the people around him, dipping in and out of the action. What Tom experiences, imagines and dreams all becomes part of the character’s realities.
What else will keep you busy for the year ahead?
Away will keep me busy until the end of May, which is a great start to the year. Beyond that, I have a few things in the works that will hopefully come to fruition. A lazy holiday somewhere is definitely within my sights too.
Away runs Saturday February 18 – Saturday March 25 atDrama Theatre, Sydney Opera House.
In partnership with Grill Mates and Stubb's BBQ Sauce.
There’s something unmistakably raw about William Crighton. It’s there in his voice—deep, cracked, like bark peeling from a eucalypt—and in the stories he tells, steeped in red dirt, rolling hills, and river ghosts. But beyond the music, there’s another side to Crighton that’s just as grounded in the Australian bush: cooking.
To him, the fire pit and the fretboard aren’t all that different. “I approach music similar to how I approach cooking ,” he says, “which is, I don't know too much, and going back to that childhood curiosity and wonder.”
Bush Songs and Backyard Smoke
Crighton’s music is often shaped by time spent in nature—walking through scrubland, sitting by creeks, or staring into campfire flames. His songs are rooted in place, and so is his food. He’s not about complicated recipes or kitchen gadgets; his ideal cooking set-up is a cast iron grill over coals, a sharp knife, and the open sky.
“There’s something about the bush that strips things back to what matters,” he says. “It’s the same with cooking. When you’re out there, it’s just you, the fire, and whatever you’ve got on hand. That’s where the magic is.”
And while Crighton’s approach is humble, it’s far from bland. A believer in bold, honest flavour, he’s quick to call out two essentials in his campfire toolkit: Grill Mates seasoning and Stubb’s BBQ Sauce.
“I’m not a chef, but I know what tastes good,” he laughs. “Grill Mates have that smoky hit that just works with anything—lamb chops, kangaroo, even a grilled zucchini. And Stubb’s? That stuff’s got soul.”
Smoke and Soul
For Crighton, cooking is more than just survival—it’s ceremony. Whether he’s on tour or out bush with his family, there’s a rhythm to it. Gather wood. Light the fire. Let it burn down. Season the meat. Cook it slow. Sit, talk, eat, listen. It’s the same process as writing a song, he says. “You don’t rush it. You let it build. You taste as you go.”
That sense of time, patience, and presence defines both his music and his meals. There’s no room for distractions when you're working with fire and feeling your way through a song. It’s tactile. Sensory. Honest.
“A little bit of not knowing, that's where the best s*** comes,” he says. “Too much heat, too much spice, too many words—it’ll burn out or fall flat. But when you hit it just right? It’s unforgettable.”
Music, Meat, and Meaning
Ask Crighton about the perfect cook-up, and he won’t talk about sous-vide machines or reverse searing. He’ll talk about standing barefoot in the dust, his guitar nearby, kids running around, a bit of Stubb’s soaking into a thick ribeye as the sun drops low.
It’s not just about what’s on the plate—it’s who you’re sharing it with, what the day’s been like, what you’re listening to Will tells us. "Food and music are both about creating a moment. That’s the stuff people remember.”
As his songs continue to resonate around the world, from the stages of Nashville to the paddocks of New South Wales, William Crighton remains committed to that core philosophy: stay grounded, keep it simple, and always cook with heart.
Because whether he’s crafting a haunting verse or searing a steak, Crighton knows—the good stuff happens when you let the fire do its thing.
In partnership with Grill Mates and Stubb's BBQ Sauce.
There’s something unmistakably raw about William Crighton. It’s there in his voice—deep, cracked, like bark peeling from a eucalypt—and in the stories he tells, steeped in red dirt, rolling hills, and river ghosts. But beyond the music, there’s another side to Crighton that’s just as grounded in the Australian bush: cooking.
To him, the fire pit and the fretboard aren’t all that different. “I approach music similar to how I approach cooking ,” he says, “which is, I don't know too much, and going back to that childhood curiosity and wonder.”
Bush Songs and Backyard Smoke
Crighton’s music is often shaped by time spent in nature—walking through scrubland, sitting by creeks, or staring into campfire flames. His songs are rooted in place, and so is his food. He’s not about complicated recipes or kitchen gadgets; his ideal cooking set-up is a cast iron grill over coals, a sharp knife, and the open sky.
“There’s something about the bush that strips things back to what matters,” he says. “It’s the same with cooking. When you’re out there, it’s just you, the fire, and whatever you’ve got on hand. That’s where the magic is.”
And while Crighton’s approach is humble, it’s far from bland. A believer in bold, honest flavour, he’s quick to call out two essentials in his campfire toolkit: Grill Mates seasoning and Stubb’s BBQ Sauce.
“I’m not a chef, but I know what tastes good,” he laughs. “Grill Mates have that smoky hit that just works with anything—lamb chops, kangaroo, even a grilled zucchini. And Stubb’s? That stuff’s got soul.”
Smoke and Soul
For Crighton, cooking is more than just survival—it’s ceremony. Whether he’s on tour or out bush with his family, there’s a rhythm to it. Gather wood. Light the fire. Let it burn down. Season the meat. Cook it slow. Sit, talk, eat, listen. It’s the same process as writing a song, he says. “You don’t rush it. You let it build. You taste as you go.”
That sense of time, patience, and presence defines both his music and his meals. There’s no room for distractions when you're working with fire and feeling your way through a song. It’s tactile. Sensory. Honest.
“A little bit of not knowing, that's where the best s*** comes,” he says. “Too much heat, too much spice, too many words—it’ll burn out or fall flat. But when you hit it just right? It’s unforgettable.”
Music, Meat, and Meaning
Ask Crighton about the perfect cook-up, and he won’t talk about sous-vide machines or reverse searing. He’ll talk about standing barefoot in the dust, his guitar nearby, kids running around, a bit of Stubb’s soaking into a thick ribeye as the sun drops low.
It’s not just about what’s on the plate—it’s who you’re sharing it with, what the day’s been like, what you’re listening to Will tells us. "Food and music are both about creating a moment. That’s the stuff people remember.”
As his songs continue to resonate around the world, from the stages of Nashville to the paddocks of New South Wales, William Crighton remains committed to that core philosophy: stay grounded, keep it simple, and always cook with heart.
Because whether he’s crafting a haunting verse or searing a steak, Crighton knows—the good stuff happens when you let the fire do its thing.
