The Other Middle East

Sarah Whyte takes a trip and looks at the fate of the Sydney Independent Music Scene.

Last Friday I went to The Middle East. It took me forty minutes to get there and I was met by two burly men upon arriving, having to show identification and my pre-arranged ticket. A little hesitant, I continued to walk on, only to be greeted by the melodious harmonies of mandolins, banjos, flutes and voices floating around me. My friends ran up to me with smiles, hugs and a jug of beer. I couldn’t believe we were finally here.

The Middle East is an Australian band that heralds from the tip of the Australian coast, from a small town called Townsville. The eight piece band played at the Manning Bar at the University of Sydney recently to a sold out crowd- who were aware that The Middle East was not only a currently turbulent geographical region, but also a band that makes you want to go home and pull out anything remotely resembling an instrument, or ideally several instruments at once in the hope of producing melodic noise.

If Townsville is the place where every dangerous reptile, shark, stingray or mammal resides in Australia, then The Middle East band acts as a musical antidote to such horrors- with soothing ballads, beautiful melodies and poetic lyrics.

The harmony between the three lead singers- a girl with flowing red hair and a short straight fringe, and two guys with rough beards and gypsy-like clothing- are divine. Listening to the music, you can only close your eyes and imagine that you are in paradise - perhaps Townsville without the killer creatures.

The Middle East is your typical ‘indie’ band. Indie music is short for Independent music (and not shortform for the soundtrack to Indiana Jones, as one enterprising friend once had me convinced). It’s light years away from the ‘mainstream’ music that you might find on Western music film clips where near-naked girls dance next to near-naked boys.

Indie music is eclectic in style and can range from folk-like dance music, to more adventurous and louder music, to anywhere in between. Being ‘independent’ somewhat collapses the conventions of genre that restrict other artists, meaning indie bands can draw on anything and call it art - so an extra tambourine or triangle should never be far away!

Yet the future of the Indie scene is currently in turmoil in Sydney. The closure of classic Indie venues such as the Hopetoun Hotel and threatened closure of the Annandale Hotel in Sydney’s Inner West, due to mounting costs and council demands, has shocked the Indie music culture and its devout roadies. These venues offered performance opportunities every Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights to varied audiences, giving up-and-coming bands staggering coverage within Sydney’s and Australia’s music community. Increasingly, Indie bands such as The Middle East are having to rely on online coverage, such as Myspace and Facebook rather than live gigs to promote their soft melodies and haunting harmonies.

Perhaps these bands should go on tour; and ditch Sydney’s diminishing venues for a crack at the Indie scene in the Middle East. It’s bound to be a hell of a ride.

Truth in a War Zone: The phenomenon of the ‘Combat Journalist’

The Combat Journalist (n.) – a journalist who will go to extreme lengths for a story, including walking into open warfare, having clandestine meetings with guerrilla fighters and is passionate about social justice. May not have too much common sense, but does not wear toy lizards around one’s neck, nor have a ditzy smile. Sometimes will wear khaki.

With the release of Balibo this month, it seems we are moving into an era where the story of the Combat Journalist is now being be told. The traditional storyteller (journalist) finds himself at the centre of his own tale. And people are sitting up and listening. Interest in the film Balibo has forced the Rudd Government to conduct an inquiry into the long-forgotten deaths of 5 journalists in East Timor.

In film, theatre and television this narrative shift is placing the Combat Journalist as the protagonist in search for truth and justice. Untold tales of foreign journalists killed on the frontline are coming to the fore. It is a private and intimate space where journalists battle to survive and where lives are sacrificed in the name of justice and truth. Its also public, big-screen gold.

The Australian movie Balibo takes viewers into the heart of East Timor in 1975 where former journalist Roger East (Anthony LaPaligia) goes in search of five Australian journalists who had been reported missing. These five journalists from Channel Seven and Channel Nine are out to get a story on the Indonesian invasion and have taken themselves to the frontline of the battle in Balibo, despite many warnings of its danger and fears for their safety.

For a little ‘deep background’, The Australian Government at the time would not intervene with the invasion, which left over 130 000 innocent Timorese citizens dead and many others wounded. These journalists bravely, and some would argue naively took it upon themselves to tell the plight of the East Timorese people, who had only just declared Independence from Portuguese colonisation three days earlier. “People need to know of the injustices taking place!” Former journalist Roger East frantically writes as the Indonesian army invade Dili.

When confronted by an ABC journalist who told the Channel 9 and Channel 7 journalists it was too dangerous in Balibo, journalist Greg Shackleton argues, “It’s a direct violation. That’s why we should be here.” It is only the ABC journalist that decides to go home, for his own safety. “They’re fucking crazy”, he tells Roger East back at home of the five journalists missing. Does the competition between the two rival stations lead the journalists to think they are invincible against the Indonesian army?

The Combat Journalist is indeed a heroic figure, but does their passion for social injustice lead them astray? Do ratings come into this fight for justice?

Without spoiling the movie for you, in the final scenes of the journalists’ execution they plead to the Indonesians: “We’re journalists! We’re Australians! You can’t do this!”

Unfortunately for many journalists this plea goes unnoticed in a war zone. Only a few months ago, a former colleague of mine from the Phnom Penh Post was brutally beaten when covering the election crisis in Iran. In trying to tell the world of the injustices in Iran he was severely silenced.

According to Reporters Sans Frontiers 22 journalists have already been killed this year (60 were killed in 2008) and over 200 journalists and journalist assistants have been imprisoned for their work this year. A former colleague of mine covering the election in Iran was brutally beaten, just a few months ago.

The Combat Journalist is a figure that should be celebrated, but heroism can be cheap. Journalists are not invincible. Do we choose to glorify the Combat journalist who throws away personal safety for a glimpse of the truth? Where injustice still thrives, the answer is yes.