Over the course of his career, he collected more gold and platinum albums than any other Australian artist.
Dusty not only recorded songs written by himself and other fellow Australian performers, but also recorded classic Australian poems by Henry Lawson and Banjo Paterson with new tunes, to call attention to the old 'Bush Ballads.' An example is The Man from Snowy River by Paterson.
In 1970, he was made a Member of the Order of the British Empire for services to music. In 1971 he won Best Single at the Australian Country Music Awards at the Tamworth Country Music Festival (Slim's wife Joy McKean won Song of the Year as writer of the song for which he won best single). In all, he won a record 35 "Golden Guitars" over the years.
He died at home in St Ives, New South Wales on 19 September 2003 after a protracted battle with cancer, at age 76.
The Slim Dusty Story started back in the 1940s on a remote dairy farm in the hills behind Kempsey, NSW, when a 10-year-old boy dreamed of being a country music singer. His name was David Gordon Kirkpatrick... he called himself "Slim Dusty" and began to live that dream.
But even the most optimistic farm boy would never have imagined the life that was to unfold... a life that would establish Slim as the voice of the nation, the chronicler of Australian history in song.
Slim managed to hold on to those early visions of writing and singing about the bush because during his lengthy career, he always stayed in touch with his audience. And he did this in a very real and meaningful way, so much so that his fans would feel that Slim was one of their mates and his songs "just a good yarn you might hear from a mate at the pub, around a campfire in the bush or at a back yard barbie".
He described his music as "songs about real Australians... "I have to be fair dinkum with my audience. I can't see any other way of doing it," he said. "You have to believe in what you are singing about."
Slim Dusty was the first Australian to have a number one hit record and the only Australian to ever receive a 78rpm Gold Record (for A Pub With No Beer in 1958)...
He was the first Australian to have an international record hit and the first singer in the world to have his voice beamed to earth from space (astronauts Bob Crippen and John Young played Slim's recording of Waltzing Matilda from the space shuttle "Columbia" as it passed over Australia back in 1983).
During an amazingly successful career spanning over six decades, Slims' continued popularity saw him rewarded with more Gold and Platinum Awards for sales of his singles, eight-tracks, cassettes, CD's, videos and DVDs... more than any other Australian artist!
He received an unequaled 37 Golden Guitar Awards, two ARIA's (Australian Recording Industry Association awards), inductions into the ARIA Hall of Fame and the Australian Country Music Roll of Renown.
Slim was recognized for his long time services to Australian entertainment with an MBE and an Order of Australia. In 1999, Prime Minister John Howard named Slim Dusty Australia's Father of the Year and Senior Australian of the Year. There were many other awards and honors... too many to name here!
Dusty died at his home in St Ives, New South Wales on 19 September 2003 at the age of 76, after a protracted battle with cancer.
Clancy of the Overflow
Slim Dusty Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago,
He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him,
Just 'on spec', addressed as follows, 'Clancy, of The Overflow'.
And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected,
(And I think the same was written with a thumb-nail dipped in tar)
'Twas his shearing mate who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it:
In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy
Gone a-droving 'down the Cooper' where the Western drovers go;
As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them singing,
For the drover's life has pleasures that the townsfolk never know.
And the bush hath friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him
In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars,
And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended,
And at night the wond'rous glory of the everlasting stars.
I am sitting in my dingy little office, where a stingy
Ray of sunlight struggles feebly down between the houses tall,
And the foetid air and gritty of the dusty, dirty city
Through the open window floating, spreads its foulness over all
And in place of lowing cattle, I can hear the fiendish rattle
Of the tramways and the 'buses making hurry down the street,
And the language uninviting of the gutter children fighting,
Comes fitfully and faintly through the ceaseless tramp of feet.
And the hurrying people daunt me, and their pallid faces haunt me
As they shoulder one another in their rush and nervous haste,
With their eager eyes and greedy, and their stunted forms and weedy,
For townsfolk have no time to grow, they have no time to waste.
And I somehow rather fancy that I'd like to change with Clancy,
Like to take a turn at droving where the seasons come and go,
While he faced the round eternal of the cash-book and the journal --
But I doubt he'd suit the office, Clancy, of 'The Overflow'.
In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy
Gone a-droving 'down the Cooper' where the Western drovers go;
As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them singing,
For the drover's life has pleasures that the townsfolk never know.
The opening verse of Slim Dusty's song Clancy of the Overflow tells us of a man named Clancy who the singer, sitting in his office in the city, had written a letter to years ago. The singer sent the letter addressed to Clancy at The Overflow, which indicates that Clancy may have once worked there. The singer receives an unexpected reply that begins with the news that Clancy is no longer around and that his whereabouts are unknown. Instead, the response comes from Clancy's shearing mate. The mate wrote that Clancy had gone to Queensland, but they did not know where he was.
The following verses present a stark contrast between the singer's dreary existence in the city and imagining Clancy's life as a drover in the bush. The singer's "wild erratic fancy" conjures up visions of Clancy's life a-droving down the Cooper, where he enjoys the pleasures of life that the townsfolk will never know. Clancy sings behind the slowly stringing stock, and the bush friends greet him with their kindly voices, the breezes murmur, and the river trills. The description paints a picture of a man who is living a much simpler, yet much richer life than the singer in the city, who could hear nothing but the sounds of the tramways, buses, and fighting children.
Overall, Slim Dusty's song Clancy of the Overflow is a nostalgic tribute to the bush and the people who live there by presenting a stark contrast between city and country life.
Line by Line Meaning
I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better
Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago,
He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him,
Just 'on spec', addressed as follows, 'Clancy, of The Overflow'.
I wrote a letter to Clancy, an acquaintance I only met once. I addressed the letter to him using his nickname and sent it to his last known occupation, hoping he would receive it.
And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected,
(And I think the same was written with a thumb-nail dipped in tar)
'Twas his shearing mate who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it:
'Clancy's gone to Queensland droving, and we don't know where he are.'
I received a response from one of Clancy's mates. The message was written hastily and informally, possibly with a tar-covered thumb. It informed me that Clancy had moved on to a new job and they were unsure of his current whereabouts.
In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy
Gone a-droving 'down the Cooper' where the Western drovers go;
As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them singing,
For the drover's life has pleasures that the townsfolk never know.
I imagine Clancy out droving, living a seemingly carefree life in a rustic setting. His days are spent slowly herding cattle, and he sings as he rides. I envy his simple pleasures and lack of worries compared to the stresses of city life.
And the bush hath friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him
In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars,
And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended,
And at night the wond'rous glory of the everlasting stars.
Clancy is surrounded by friendly companions in the bush who welcome him with gentle voices in the midst of calming sounds of nature. He also gets to enjoy the stunning beauty of the natural world with expansive plains during the daytime and awe-inspiring stars at night.
I am sitting in my dingy little office, where a stingy
Ray of sunlight struggles feebly down between the houses tall,
And the foetid air and gritty of the dusty, dirty city
Through the open window floating, spreads its foulness over all
In contrast to Clancy's idyllic lifestyle, I'm stuck in a small, dreary office surrounded by high buildings with little sunlight. The air is unclean and gritty, and the unpleasant scent of the city wafts through the open window and permeates everything.
And in place of lowing cattle, I can hear the fiendish rattle
Of the tramways and the 'buses making hurry down the street,
And the language uninviting of the gutter children fighting,
Comes fitfully and faintly through the ceaseless tramp of feet.
Instead of hearing the peaceful sounds of grazing cattle, I'm bombarded with the clanging of busy trams and buses rushing along the street. Even the sounds of children squabbling in the gutter can be heard faintly over the constant noise of people walking.
And the hurrying people daunt me, and their pallid faces haunt me
As they shoulder one another in their rush and nervous haste,
With their eager eyes and greedy, and their stunted forms and weedy,
For townsfolk have no time to grow, they have no time to waste.
The constant movement and anxiety of the townspeople overwhelm me. Their faces are pale and anxious as they push and shove their way through the crowds, their greedy eyes and weak, unhealthy bodies reflecting their lack of time and concern for personal wellbeing.
And I somehow rather fancy that I'd like to change with Clancy,
Like to take a turn at droving where the seasons come and go,
While he faced the round eternal of the cash-book and the journal --
But I doubt he'd suit the office, Clancy, of 'The Overflow'.
I wish I could swap lives with Clancy and try out the drover's lifestyle with its cyclical seasons. Although it would mean Clancy would have to endure the monotony and repetition of financial record-keeping in exchange for the joys of nature. However, I doubt Clancy would be able to handle working in an office like me.
In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy
Gone a-droving 'down the Cooper' where the Western drovers go;
As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them singing,
For the drover's life has pleasures that the townsfolk never know.
My fantasy returns to images of Clancy out droving in the carefree environment of the Cooper with fellow Western drovers. He's riding behind the slow-moving cattle singing, appreciating the tranquil pleasures that are impossible in the city.
Contributed by Audrey G. Suggest a correction in the comments below.
Sandra
on One Truckie's Epitaph
My brother Terry Radke was the man Slim wrote the song for after he received a letter from Terry's youngest son, Lync. Thank you
Charley Boyter
on Axe Mark On a Gidgee
With horsebells to keep me company
Jake
on Your Country's Been Sold
You say you belong to Australia my friend
And rightly you’d die for this land to defend
But let us be honest, it’s sad but it’s true
Australia my friend doesn’t belong to you
Our country’s been sold by the powers that be
To big wealthy nations way over the sea
We couldn’t be taken by bayonets or lead
And so they decided to buy us instead
And talking of wars and the blood that was spilled
The widows, the crippled, the ones that were killed
And I often wonder if their ghosts can see
What’s happening now to their native country
I wonder if ghosts of the fallen can see
The crime and corruption and vast poverty
With a lost generation of youth on the dole
Who drift on life’s ocean without any goal
I once had a dream of our country so grand
The rivers outback irrigated the land
With towns and canals in that wasteland out there
And big inland cities with work everywhere
With profit from farming and factory and mine
Was used to develop a nation so fine
Then I woke from my dream into reality
That the wealth of our nation goes over the sea
Yeah you say you belong to Australia my friend
And rightly you’d die for this land to defend
But let us be honest, it’s sad but it’s true
Australia my friend doesn’t belong to you