BY NAT BARTSCH
The Australian summer was one to remember: eerie orange skies; the smell of smoke in your house from fires 200km away; trips to the shops where you couldn’t see across the street.
We’d been here before: Black Saturday in 2009, and the various bushfires before them. As a kid, growing up in the Dandenongs and Yarra Valley, it was an accepted part of summer life – keeping the lawns mowed, the gutters cleared, and watching the weather reports.
But this summer was different. It wasn’t just the scale of destruction, or the prolonged time it took to bring the fires under control, though that made it different enough. It was the impact they had on everyone: the holidaymakers evacuating by boat; office workers with masks on their faces. It was the thousands of businesses shuttered; the millions of animal lives lost; the firefighters on the frontline for months at a stretch.
As a nation, we experienced such a palpable sense of grief. It wasn’t just the grief that came from the fires themselves, but the grief for how we ended up in such a predicament. These fires were fiercer and harder than ever to control — climate change starting to take full effect. And yet somehow, the public discourse was still conflicted about whether climate change was even to blame. Our frustration with each other turned as toxic as the smoke itself.
Even more heartbreaking was the political discourse: seeing our conservative leaders work for days on end to avoid even saying the word climate. And then, suddenly, hearing out PM say the words “climate has changed”. As if it were now inevitable, as if nothing could now be done. We somehow missed the opportunity to hear them talk about meaningful climate policy, and this was by design.
I sat down at the piano over that fiery new year and wrote Searching for the Map and The End of the Decade, reflecting upon this grief, but also trying to create a meditative, lullaby-like soundworld to soothe Australians.
Then, of course, COVID-19 happened, and I felt an incredible urge to record and release this music. I recorded the tracks with my friend, engineer Andrew Pollock, on a gorgeous 100-year-old Wertheim upright piano made in Melbourne. It was the best few hours I’ve spent since everything changed.
COVID-19 has cast a shadow over the world like nothing we have ever seen in our lifetime. That’s why, as a composer, I hope this music can help make your day a little better. Over the past year or so, I’ve seen a steady trickle of messages from people from all walks of life who use my lullabies in their daily life: often accompanying some of life’s most vulnerable moments – childbirth, death, and everything in between. It is an immense honour, and a reminder that music can be the glue that binds everything together.
As performing artists, we are in the toughest period of our careers. Despite this, we still carry powerful gift that is the envy of most others: with creativity comes human connection, and that skill is still within us.
Whether we choose to use this time to regroup and rest, or whether we push new creations out into the world, like me, better days are ahead. Whatever you choose to do at the moment, you’re doing great!
I hope that in another decade’s time, we will reflect upon these pivotal moments leading to a better world for all of us.
Nat’s release Searching for the Map is now available on ABC Classics. Learn more about this composer and keep up to date with her new music on her website.
Read next from Nat: Writing music for my newborn son
Images supplied.
