Jeff Lang

The passion of his playing and the commitment to each song was a revelation, and though I’ve since had the fortune to catch him playing solo gigs in enclosed venues, I feel that witnessing the ‘disturbed folk’ muso in full festival mode is ideal. Lucky, then, that The Gum Ball Festival is fast approaching. After a year’s break, the Hunter Valley cavalcade returns, and Lang is ready to showcase that unique atmosphere only a festival can bring.

“The general appeal of a festival like this is that the event itself is the headliner,” Lang says. “There isn’t that hierarchical feel. Obviously you’ll have certain artists playing the main stage with thousands of people, but even still, it doesn’t feel [as though] someone playing one of the smaller stages … is treated any lesser. It feels like the event is its own draw. There are several festivals like that now. Woodford, Port Ferry, Gum Ball – you know it’s going to be quality. They have this real aura. They’re a world [unto] themselves. I think that’s a nice feeling to be part of as a performer, and something about that gets into the air. You know that everyone is there because they love hearing live performance. You’re not just distracting people from their drink,” he laughs.

For those unfamiliar with Lang, it’s hard to point out an individual song that might represent what makes him just so compelling. He comes from a tradition of writing which includes folks like Archie Roach and Paul Kelly – artists who are storytellers as much as they are musicians. An example might be ‘The House Carpenter’, a song that is not Lang’s own – as far as anyone can tell, its lineage stretches back over 400 years – but captures his blend of musicianship and story perfectly.

“I have been influenced by people like Richard Thompson: this stellar musician who could easily just be a guitar player in a band on his own, but is also this incredibly moving singer storyteller who is up there with anyone that you care to mention. It doesn’t necessarily feel to me that they have to be separate things, and there are a few of those musicians around.

“In my own music, I find the songwriting side to be the most interesting part. Can you find something to say in a song that feels compelling, that feels like it’s worth saying? But then, I’m a player as well, so I like to have fun with that. Some songs have more room to expand. Something like ‘The House Carpenter’, which is a traditional Scottish folk song, I play my own way, but it doesn’t change a great deal night to night. It’s more about delivering that story. I don’t need to do much in the way of improvising. It’s already all there.”

Lang has been plying his trade for almost 25 years now, and seems to be in a state of near-constant touring. He has become one of the most respected voices in national folk and blues, though when asked if he considers himself a particularly “Australian” musician, he is thoughtful.

“Well, sort of. Probably because there are people who have influenced me that are very Australian in their content. Someone like Don Walker. He’s interesting to me, being in a band like Cold Chisel, who have all these hits that are part of the … landscape now. But people don’t necessarily know that Don wrote them – it’s just that iconic band. ‘Khe Sanh’ is like a modern folk song, and yet he can still be considered underrated. Then there are people like Paul Kelly, Matt Taylor from Chain, Gareth Liddiard. [They’re] great writers and powerful performers who write from an Australian point of view in a very interesting way, without it being mawkish or forced. It’s not that Hallmark card-style of Australiana songwriting. So part of me does feel like an Australian performer, because I do really admire the work of people like that.”

Most encouragingly, Lang remains a writer who is still happy to be honing his craft these many years later. Between his solo work, and collaborations with the likes of Indian-fusion act Maru Tarang, he is striving to stay fresh and doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to hang up his hat any time soon.

“I’d much rather stay surprised by writing. It’s not like a whole song will always arrive in your lap fully formed – though please, that would be great. But the more it comes close to that, [the more] it’s like you’re getting to hear it first. You’re [just] discovering the song: you can be surprised by it. It’s much more fun to just write as much as possible and find out later what it is.

“I generally find it kind of irritating to read back,” he goes on. “It’s too much being back inside my own head, and I’m already in there all the time. Whatever you’ve cobbled together from years of writing songs, you’ve got certain technical aspects you can always draw on to get something over the line. Sometimes you’ve got to turn the tap on to get the brown water out of the way before the clear stuff comes through. I don’t mind writing a crap song if it clears the way for something decent.”