Who needs an Australian entry in Eurovision, when we might already have one?
There’s a lot of excitement today in Australia about our confirmed “wild card” entry in this year’s Eurovision Song Contest.
I actually seriously think much of Europe would vote for Australia out of “sympathy”/”admiration”/”a sense of fun”, and with the large number of expats in Europe (about 1-million), I genuinely think next year’s contest could be held at the Sydney Opera House.
But of course Australia already has an entry (of sorts), participating in Eurovision in the forthcoming fourth heat of Melodifestivalen with the band JTR. They’re up against a lot of competition, but you never know. And if they miss out, they could be the Australian entry. :) Well, the flights would be cheaper from Stockholm than Sydney.
The article below explains they lived in Australia from 2006, because that’s where their step-father comes from. Brissie, to be precise. But they moved back recently.
This item shows at least one of them has picked up an Australian accent, at least
TR är gruppen som slagit igenom stort i Australien. Nu är de redo att ta över Sverige – och Melodifestivalscenen.
JTR består av tre bröder från Alingsås som slog igenom i X-Factor Australien 2013. De slutade på en sjundeplats i tävlingen och slog igenom stort i Australien där tävlingen följdes upp av radioturnéer, albumlansering, miniturné och showcases.
På hemmaplan såg man bland annat killarna i Lotta på Liseberg i somras då de framförde singeln ”Ride”. De var även förband åt The Fooo Conspiracy vid deras show Vertigo i Stockholm och Göteborg. JTR’s första album hette ”Touchdown”.
Trots framgångarna utomlands, ser killarna Sverige och Alingsås som sitt hem. Sedan 2006 har de bott periodvis i Australien eftersom deras styvpappa kommer därifrån.
“I’m not your first customer, am I?”, I said to one of the bar staff at the pub in Lismore. It was 11.45am, and even by my standards that was a little early. But I figured after five weeks lockdown in Lismore, I was doing my bit for the local economy by popping in for a ginger beer. “Oh no”, she said, “We’ve had plenty of customers, already”.
Though the lockdown here hasn’t been anywhere near as severe as in other parts of Australia, and in many parts of the world, there was still a sense of relief/elation as I walked around town this morning. You could feel it too, in the the general vibe of the place. The streets were reasonably busy, there was tai chi in The Quad, and there were also people in the pubs and restaurants.
On the radio this morning, ABC North Coast, Angela Catterns interviewed someone from a nail salon who declared she had taken her first customer at midnight, only minutes/seconds after the lockdown lifted. As I walked around town, I noticed most of the hairdressers were booked out. As you’ll see in the video, my beard is looking very scrappy, to say the least.
Though there’s part of me which feels the lockdown has been lifted too early, there’s also a feeling of elation.
“Hopefully we won’t have some idiot come up from Sydney and force us back into lockdown again”, Pat said to me earlier. “We’ve got plenty of our own idiots up here”, I said to her in reply.
Going to school in about 1978. And yes, that really is curtains combined with venetian blinds. And yes, that's really a Fonzie Mat on my desk.
Half way through tonight’s Swedish class I developed a Homer Simpson-like grand plan to sue the NSW Department of Education. “They’re the reason why I’m finding class difficult tonight”. I concluded, as I struggled with the past participle of some bloody grammar thing. “If they’d taught me grammar properly”, I thought to myself, “I wouldn’t be in this position”.
I’m part of the generation of students in this country who are either too young and too old to have formal learning about grammar except that “verbs are doing words” and “nouns are naming words”.
We were encouraged to “express ourselves” and then fix up the mistakes later. Indeed, I can only recall one occasion when grammar became an issue when it became clear to one of our high school English teachers that no one from one of the particular “feeder schools” had any idea about where to place an apostrophe.
Luckily, I’ve been fairly gifted with language, and have learned a lot through “osmosis”. But it’s in the learning of another language – German in High School and Swedish now – that the lack of formal grammar education becomes evident.
Despite the grammar crisis, it was a reasonably interesting and fun class.
And then from class, we headed straight off to Wednesday night drinks with a special international guest this week, Gustav. I’ll write more about that over the next few days when I’m not so tired and it’s not so close to bedtime.
Today was a beautiful day dedicated to “story-telling,” starting with a session and a reminder about the essence of a good story: it has a clear beginning, middle, and end, following a linear story arc that people intuitively understand.
The session included a fascinating presentation that drew on some groundbreaking work in improv theatre, as referenced in some of Valerie Geller’s publications. The core of a compelling narrative was described as “this happened, and that happened next, and then that happened after, and the result was…” This workshop, led by Valerie Geller herself, was part of a series held at the Australian Film, Television and Radio School (AFTRS).
I first met Valerie when I was a young, up-and-coming broadcaster working in regional radio. At that time, she was brought into the ABC to help its presenters reconnect with their audiences and improve their on-air communication. I’m a fan.
Valerie Geller is an internationally recognized broadcast consultant and author, best known for her theories on effective radio and television communication. Her seminal work, Creating Powerful Radio (1993), has been a foundational text for broadcasters worldwide. This was followed by Beyond Powerful Radio: A Communicator’s Guide to the Internet Age (2006) and The Four Fundamentals of an On-Air Personality (2018). Her latest book, released a few months ago is called Beyond Powerful Radio: An Audio Communicator’s Guide to the Digital World – News, Talk, Information, & Personality for Podcasting & Broadcasting.
Valerie’s core philosophy revolves around the idea that broadcasters must be authentic, emotional, and truthful to build a strong connection with their audience. Her famous catchphrases, “Tell the truth, make it matter, and never be boring,” encapsulate this philosophy.
She argues that great content isn’t just about facts; it’s about telling a human story that resonates. Valerie emphasizes the importance of using the word “you” to make a story more personal and engaging for the listener, allowing them to imagine themselves in the situation.
This was especially relevant for me as I’ve always wanted to make sure my deeply personal stories about my amputation and disability were something people could relate to, not just a recount of my own experiences. In the last twelve months I’ve been asked to tell the story many times on radio and in person, and I was keen to make sure my story remained interesting,
As Valerie herself puts it, “There are no boring stories, only boring storytellers.”
A powerful tool that Valerie champions in her work is the “Story Spine,” a simple yet effective framework for building a compelling narrative. Originating in improv theatre, this method provides a clear structure that ensures every story has a logical flow. The Story Spine consists of a series of prompts that guide the storyteller, starting with “Once upon a time…” to establish the world and characters, then moving through “Every day…” to show the normal routine. The heart of the story is driven by a trigger event, “But one day…”, followed by the consequences, “Because of that…” and “Because of that…”. The narrative builds to a climax, “Until finally…”, and concludes with a resolution, “And ever since then…”.
Story Spine
By using this framework, broadcasters can quickly and effectively craft a story that is not only coherent but also deeply engaging for the audience. It provides a simple blueprint for turning a collection of facts into a captivating human narrative, proving her point that there are no boring stories, only boring storytellers.
Her workshop today reinforced these principles, stressing that telling a great story is like a muscle that needs to be exercised daily. It was wonderful to see James Valentine and several other colleagues from my ABC career attending the workshop.
Valerie’s influence has been so profound that a week rarely goes by without me applying one of her principles, whether it’s “Tell the truth, make it matter, and never be boring” or the simple power of using “you” in my narrative. The lessons from today weren’t just for my radio career as a presenter or manager; they were for the storytelling I’ve been doing since, whether I’m explaining something to colleagues, friends, or even a child on public transport who asks, “What happened?”
After the workshop, I attended a live presentation of the ABC radio program Conversations at the State Theatre in Sydney. This show is a cornerstone of ABC’s programming and has a rich history.
Having been involved with Conversations over the years, I’ve witnessed its evolution from a program that started as a local show hosted by Richard Fidler on ABC Radio Brisbane to a national phenomenon. The move to be heard in Sydney and across NSW marked a significant step in its growth.
Its format, which features long-form, in-depth interviews with a wide range of guests, has become a benchmark for thoughtful public broadcasting. The show’s success is largely due to its focus on profound, personal storytelling. The program’s history reflects a shift in ABC’s strategy, moving towards more intimate, narrative-driven content to connect with a national audience. The program is broadcast on ABC Local Radio stations across most of Australia, with ABC Radio National carrying it in Victoria.
Conversations at Sydney’s State Theatre
It was a day that continued the theme of great storytelling, and it was fascinating to see hosts Sarah Kanowski and Richard Fidler on stage, sharing their own stories and discussing what makes a narrative powerful and interesting to an audience. It was a wonderful way to spend a late afternoon, reflecting on the art of communication and the history of one of Australia’s most beloved radio programs.
A few months ago I spoke with Angus (Gus) Taylor for The Limb Shift podcast, to launch in October during Amputee Awareness Week in Australia.
In this candid reflection on life, injury, and transformation, Gus—an accomplished rock climber and sustainability professional—shared his journey from a devastating climbing accident to finding deep peace and purpose on the other side of amputation. The conversation reveals a profound shift in perspective, moving from the trauma of losing a limb to the realization that life is not defined by its darkest moments, but rather by how one chooses to learn from them.
While bouldering in Joshua Tree National Park (USA), he attempted a high, difficult move beyond his fatigue level. “I guess I’d been on this cycle of pushing myself in these environments… and so I kind of ended up in this… mental state where I was thinking, well, it’s just a fear block… give it one more go,” he explains. That final attempt resulted in a catastrophic leg injury, followed by three years of painful, unsuccessful surgeries that ultimately failed to save the limb due to osteomyelitis, a bone infection.
The turning point came when his surgeon provided a frank assessment: they could potentially keep the leg, but it would require another three to four years of intensive surgeries, leaving him with a permanently compromised, immobile ankle. When offered the choice of amputation, he didn’t hesitate. “I was just determined to to get life back effectively,” he recalls. Looking back, he views the prosthetic not as a loss, but as a “clear win,” noting, “I walk around completely normally I barely notice, um, that I even I’m missing a leg”.
Finding peace required navigating an intense period of self-reflection. Central to this journey was the mindset he developed through climbing, a sport where failure is constant. Rather than being consumed by the trauma, he focused on small, daily improvements—whether through meditation or writing—to regulate his emotions.
Gus discovered a sense of calm by reframing his narrative, frequently drawing on the wisdom of an old story about a Chinese farmer to illustrate that one cannot know if an event constitutes “good” or “bad” fortune in the scheme of things. “While at the time that could be seen as something that’s really, you know, quite traumatic and objectively bad,” he explained “it probably made me a much, much better version of myself”. By zooming out and accepting that there is no way of knowing the ultimate outcome of any moment, he found he could let go of the need for certainty.
He also emphasizes the importance of being present. “You can very easily just become a victim of comparison,” he notes, warning against comparing one’s current self to a body that “used to be”. Instead, he urges others to accept the now: “This is now. You are now… comparing yourself to a body that that used to be is only something that, uh, look, it doesn’t serve you in the long run”.
Throughout the interview, Gus offers a message of hope, noting that the intimidation of amputation often stems from the unknown, but that peace is found in community. “Don’t underestimate the generosity of people particularly who have gone through similar things… they are one hundred percent willing to help you along,” he says.
Ultimately, his story is not one of victimhood, but of agency. He advises that while things may seem traumatic, there is always a path forward. “There is a way to take the situation at hand and make it as best as it can be, and I think that’s the thing that I don’t think I’ll ever let go of, which is there’s always something to take from any moment that you can learn from”.
He was such a lovely guy to chat to, and there were a couple of shared emotional moments.
I can’t remember the last time I got a nightclub stamp. Aside from the first glow-in-the-dark stamp I received twenty years or so ago from Tracks nightclub in Brisbane, nightclub stamps are mostly fairly forgettable. But the one I got tonight from Cube nightclub in Canberra has to go down in history as the first one I’ve ever seen based around a daytime tv quiz show.
As with the last time we came to Canberra, Sam and I have travelled by bus. It’s fast (only slightly longer than driving), cheap (much less than hiring a car), and reasonably comfortable. That said, the air conditioner did struggle with Sydney’s high temperatures.
As we travelled we chatted, read, listened to music, dozed, and looked out at the rural NSW landscape. “It’s a lot greener than the last time we travelled to Canberra” (twelve months ago), I said to Sam, and then seconds later realised the side windows of the bus were tinted green.
Nightclub Stamp
Along the way, we spotted a couple of things that made us laugh/cry. We felt incredibly sorry for the fully-decorated wedding limousine (presumably containing a bride) which had been pulled over by the police for speeding. And we laughed at the road sign declaring “Rydges Canberra” was ”now four stars”. “So what were they previously?”. I said to Sam. “Have they gone up from three stars or down from five?”
Soon after arriving in Canberra, Patrick picked us up from the bus centre, and we then proceeded to have a bit to eat at “Edgars Inn” at the Ainslie Shops, followed by a drink at “Tilleys” at the Lyneham Shops.
It’s a delightfully quaint naming tradition from Canberra – that everywhere seems to be called “the shops” – that we’ve decided we just have to bring it back to Sydney. “Where shall we meet”? someone can ask. “I’ll meet you at the Potts Point Shops”, another can reply. “Where do you live?”, I can be asked. “I live just behind the Surry Hills Shops”, I can reply.
As we came back to Patrick’s place we chatted and listened to a variety of musical styles that spanned Marilyn Manson to Melodifestivalen.
After a suitable rest period, we headed out for a bit of a night on the town, visiting a number of bars, including the Canberra-cool of “Hipp” (five dollar entry), located right above “The Happy Chinese” and “The Kremlin” which must have the busiest toilet in Australia. The music is good, the surroundings are great, the crowd lacking in pretension. But for some reason or other, there always seems to be a regular flow of people to and from the toilets. “It’s like those clown cars”, I said to Patrick at one point, where seemingly hundreds of clowns emerge one by one from a tiny car.
Our evening ended with a dance and a drink at Cube. For just a moment I was transported back to my European trip last year when “September” came on with “Cry For You”, and the wonderful refrain of “You’ll never see me again”. And that’s where I got this stupid nightclub stamp from.
Talk about four seasons in one day. What began as a fine sunny day in Sydney, had, by mid-afternoon turned into something cold and wet. Cold and wet enough to drag out the possibly fake “North Face” rain jacket I bought in Beijing a few months ago. As the rain tumbled down, I could think of nothing better than an afternoon of wine tasting at Elizabeth Bay House.
And not just any kind of wine tasting. No, it was Colonial Wine Tasting, an event at Elizabeth Bay House put on by the Historic Houses Trust.
Having been to the Colonial Spice Dinner there a couple of years ago, I was intrigued when I saw the listing in the HHT’s semi-regular events calendar. So intrigued, I invited along fellow Blogger-Twitterer etc, Tom who had come with me to the Colonial Spice Dinner in April 2009.
According to the blurb associated with the event…
Like most gentlemen of his day, Alexander Macleay kept an extensive cellar and he produced grapes at his Elizabeth Bay and Camden properties. Colonial wine expert Dr Julie McIntyre will talk about tastes and wine production in the 19th century. Includes tastings in the cellar and light food.
Tasting in the cellar at Elizabeth Bay House
The first part of the afternoon went into quite significant detail about the history of wine in Australia. For example, I learned there were cuttings on the First Fleet and that a “Wine Industry” was part of the vision for the colonial settlement of Australia. The historian, Julie went into a lot of detail locating this, both within temperance ideas about the so-called “civilising effect” of wine consumption (as opposed to other forms of alcohol), as well as lots of economic theories about free trade advanced by the likes of Adam Smith. Though, Julie did ask whether Adam Smith’s theories may have, in part, been influenced by his love of French wine in a period when wine from Portugal was given preferential trade status by Britain. While it was interesting, most of us were probably there more for the second part of the afternoon…
The second part of the afternoon was a series of tastings of Angove’s wines. The idea was to give us an idea of the style of wines which may have been enjoyed during colonial times in Australia. Naturally enough you’d expect sherry and brandy and so on, but there were also lots of varietals and blends. There were some lovely wines and some not so great also. For me, there was a bit of a buzz in re-connecting with Angove’s, since I lived for a couple of years just down the road from their winery at Renmark in South Australia. “It’s great to have a winery down the road”, I told the company representative, but noted that it tended to stink the house out during crushing season. Eek.
There was another connection from my past also, in that Alexander Macleay used to grow wine around Wagga Wagga, where I also lived for a time. It was wonderful to try to imagine how it must have been to have brought the wine all the way from Wagga in those days by bullock dray, and then to bring them to Elizabeth Bay House, all the way down those stairs.
Garage sale in the downstairs carpark
Elizabeth Bay House is a gorgeous property with terrific views. And it was great to go down into the cellar and to do some tastings. The people who spoke were also very passionate about their interests.
By the end of the afternoon, as we emerged at about 6.20pm the weather had cleared somewhat. It was no longer wet, and no longer cold. Or maybe that’s just because I chose to drink instead of spit?
The other two really cool things about the day were having a drink with my friend Graeme tonight (and meeting a visiting tourist, and having a garage sale in the basement carpark. While most people were participating in the great garage sale trail (or whatever it’s called), it’s not so easy in an apartment block. But that didn’t stop a couple of enterprising women in our block who set up a stall in the carpark downstairs. “All a bit girly for my liking”, I told one of them, a woman I used to work with, commenting on the assorted dresses they were selling, but still congratulating them on the efforts, and by maintaining apartment block security by declaring the garage sale “for residents only”.
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I am so excited about Australia’s entry to Eurovision!!! I can’t wait. :-)
I notice there’s a backlash in some Eurovision forums about this. Most people seem to think it’s a good idea, but others are quite critical of the EBU, saying it “breaks the rules”.
I am so excited about Australia’s entry to Eurovision!!! I can’t wait. :-)
Will be interesting to see who they select.
I wish Autralia sent Kylie Minogue! ;)
http://betterbeahit.com/?s=Eurovision
Aaron – would win hands down.
I notice there’s a backlash in some Eurovision forums about this. Most people seem to think it’s a good idea, but others are quite critical of the EBU, saying it “breaks the rules”.
Yes, but it’s only a one time occasion, to build bridges, I think it’s a cool gesture… :)