There’s no pretending. I must’ve had my head buried in the sand of a desert teeming with culture for decades, knowing nothing of Australia’s Warumpi Band whose debut album released in 1985, Big Name, No Blankets, is now the title of a rock ‘n’ roll biographical story tracking the bands development and championing its raison d’être.
If you’ve similarly been blind to their music or existence, here’s the chance to not only clap along, stomp your feet and revel in the rhythm, boldness and often warmth of their music but “stand up, stand up and be counted” among them – as sung in the reconciliation anthem Blackfella/Whitefella – and take home their story of love for Country, family and intergenerational storytelling.
Big Name, No Blankets, co-directed by Dr Rachael Maza and Anyupa Butcher for ILBIJERRI Theatre Company, is alive with family love and connection. Developed in collaboration with founding band member Sammy Butcher (father of Anyupa Butcher) and the families of Warumpi Band members, it’s a passionately created performance work featuring the band’s music – not entirely sporting the drama and theatrics of a juke box musical but much more than a rock concert spiced with anecdotal experiences.
Lovingly written by Andrea James, the coming together, the travels and the eventual yearning to return to Country make up its 100 uninterrupted minutes.
Following along with band members guitarist Sammy (Baykali Ganambarr), his brother Gordon (Jack Hickey) on drums, bass guitarist Brian (Corey Saylor-Brunskill), Neil (Jackson Peele), songwriter, guitarist and only whitefella in the group, and George on vocals and didgeridoo (Taj Pigram shines in the role with a thoroughly exhilarating display), it’s a fun-filled but mighty purposeful road trip of sorts.
Cassandra Williams – her singing voice a delicious combination of affecting technique and heartfelt emotion – is the only female cast member who plays several roles, most prominently, Sammy and Gordon’s devoted Mum.
Emily Barrie’s simple set design incorporates a slither of the brothers’ family camp offset to the left, reflecting their Indigenous community of Papunya. Two arched gantries of lights rise to the right. Under them, the band’s adventures unfold in front of an on-stage band at the rear who provide muscled support for the brilliant musicianship of the featured five members.
On a background screen, Sean Bacon’s video content gives instant association to the many places travelled, Patricia McKean and Guck’s gorgeous and painterly, often dreamlike animations, evoke images of terrestrial and celestial connection while Jenny Hector’s thoughtful lighting design is vividly coloured and synchronised to when music plays.
The fast-paced declamatory song that resonates like a call to action, We Gotta Be Strong, is a perfect accompaniment to the band’s tour around outback communities as they sit huddled on their equipment cases, comically driving and bobbing along the desert dirt tracks.
As their notoriety grows, so too does the sense of social and cultural agency in their undertakings. And despite the metropolitan centres beckoning – where the sense that their brothers and sisters who faced the front line of invasion and occupation is recognised – they’re never not in tune with their spiritual home. That sentiment burns strongly in the meltingly contemplative beauty of My Island Home in which George sings, “is awaiting for me.”
Making reference to their stint as a support act to Midnight Oil, Pigram continues his phenomenal performance – a flexibly gifted singer and dancer who marvellously bridges indigenous and rock ‘n’ roll influences – with a ripping take on lead singer Peter Garret’s electrified moves.
The overseas flight on milk crates and arrival into Germany is a hoot as a customs officer presses George about his didgeridoo, swaps his rifle for it and wonders if it’s perhaps a bong. And England’s turn comes with a simple but powerful question about how a country so little could get away with bossing us around for so long.
Much variety and mood resides in the music and it’s employed judiciously across the course. As a sucker for the songs of The Seekers, Fitzroy Crossing is a seriously charming song-a-like beauty. There’s a coercive song about land rights that has the air of Johnny Nash’s 1972 popular song I Can See Clearly Now, and, at the other extreme, the thumping beat of From the Bush which pulsates with an explosive desire to be heard.
Including songs written and sung in Indigenous Luritja and Gumatj languages Big Name, No Blankets is energising, thought-provoking and inspiring. And following the failed Indigenous Voice referendum in October 2023, it seems a necessary and hearty serve of entertainment that connects us, in all our different skin colours, with a sense of unity.
Big Name, No Blankets
Her Majesty’s Theatre, 58 Grote Street, Adelaide
Performance: Friday 14 March 2025
Season continues to 16 March 2025
Information and Bookings: www.adelaidefestival.com.au
Image: Big Name, No Blankets – photo by James Henry
Review: Paul Selar