The smell of subtropical rain in gritty streets


I couldn’t tell you whether my defining the sound of Brisbane poetry by Graham Nunn’s voice with Sheish Money’s music is due to the undeniable intrinsic Brisbaneness of it or the fact that he’s the first Brisbane poet I remember hearing. Probably a bit of both. Whatever the case, the recent CD from the duo, The Stillest Hour, carries the scent of my other home across the 15000km between us.

For me, the collection is the night, a sea breeze ushering away the lethargic humid heat of the afternoon, a far-off surge and lapping of waves; that unheard voice that whispers “home” as you leave behind the bright lights and fashion clones, the fighting and the fallen, and cross the river, to watch it from a blanket of green at a safe distance – like a star – then thread home through a frozen tomorrow, cued like clockwork automata waiting for noon to strike.

Last I heard, there weren’t many copies left, but if you would like to pick yourself up one and can’t, do not despair! For there is word of more recorded goodness on the way! And a browse around Another Lost Shark will afford you a couple of tastes to tide you over…




clear Winter sky
skin full of sunlight
eyes full of stars