I'm not a great rock fan; trouble is, I have to listen to too much I don't like before I find something I do like. But "Straight Lines" from Silverchair's album Young Modern grabbed me last year. Last night, at the APRA (Australasian Performing Right Association) awards, Straight Lines, written by Daniel Johns, was named Song of the Year. Straight Lines also was also named the Most Played Australian Work, and Johns was named Songwriter of the Year, making him the first artist to win the award three times. As well as reaching No. 1, the song also won an ARIA for single of the year, and was recognised as the highest selling single at last year's ARIA awards. The APRA Awards annually celebrate the achievements of Australian composers and songwriters.

Breathing from a hole in my lung I had no one But faces in front of me Racing through the void in my head To find traces of a good luck academy Sparks ignite and trade them for thought About no one And nothing in particular Washed the sickened socket and drove Resent nothing There's good will inside of me Wake me up lower the fever Walking in a straight line Set me on fire in the evening Everything will be fine Waking up strong in the morning Walking in a straight line Lately I'm a desperate believer But walking in a straight line Something I will never forget I felt desperate And stuck to the marrow Invisible to everyone else I'm a sex change And a damsel with no heroine

Wake me up lower the fever Walking in a straight line Set me on fire in the evening Everything will be fine Waking up strong in the morning Walking in a straight line Lately I'm a desperate believer But walking in a straight line I don't need no time to say There's no changing yesterday If we keep talking and I keep walking in straight lines Wake me up lower the fever Walking in a straight line Set me on fire in the evening Everything will be fine Waking up strong in the morning Walking in a straight line Lately I'm a desperate believer But walking in a straight line © Daniel Johns 2007

James and I saw Chess--The Musical at Sydney’s Theatre Royal on Friday 9 May. Not being from Sydney, it wasn't until we arrived at the theatre that we realised it was an amateur production (by the Balmain Light Opera Company) -- which surprised us in such a large and prestigious theatre.

Among the singers Leighton Watts as Molokov and Patricio Ulloa as Anatoly, both with deep voices, were excellent. Female leads Lucy Boocock as Florence and, in a smaller role, Sarah Hyland as Svetlana were also easy on the ear. Ed Stiener's voice was not big enough for the role of Freddie and the required American accent injected some harsh tones into the upper register of his voice. Charlie Voyagis was okay as the Arbiter but, again, lost tone on some high notes.

The ensemble singing in the big production numbers was good and sounded choral, but the orchestra sounded tinny at times. Some orchestral crescendi were mistimed with the clash of cymbals, etc., too far behind the top volume of the vocal line. The dancing was OK, but . . . amateur.

Some aspects of the production were simply farcical, especially the seemingly recycled backdrops. The backdrop for the scene in Merano, Italy, was clearly a depiction of Montmartre. The backdrop for "One night in Bangkok" showed Indian architecture, not Thai, and the 'Thai' temple was decorated by a large and very Chinese dragon. Mobile phones were an anachronism. The selection of costumes for the chorus was very odd. Cowboys?

In her review Beverley Kennedy comments that Chess is "an extremely difficult piece of theatre to mount and that "kudos must be given to the Balmain Light Opera Company for its brave--if overly ambitious--production."

She finds many points to commend in BLOC’s production. "A minimal set and neat costume design were paramount to the focus remaining on the actors and their interpretation of the music and the songs. The direction too was smooth and enhanced the music as the centre of this particular piece."

In the first-night performance Ms Kennedy also saw some flaws, such as missed lighting cues and some "abysmal" tuning in the orchestra. These seemed to have been ironed out by the time James and I saw the show on the second night. But Ms Forbes is right when she concludes that "being in a venue such as the Theatre Royal, there is an expectation that a production should be of a professional standard, and while it was clear that every effort was made, it fell short on too many counts for it to work in such an unforgiving and demanding space."

The price of almost $70 was cheaper that what a fully staged professional production might cost, but too much for what was delivered.

So . . . some decent singing, but that was about it.

Psalm 23 was set last Sunday. I so much enjoyed singing the setting Brother James' Air, the first time I have heard it and a relief from deary Crimond.

Brother James' Air is a brief setting of a familiar hymn tune from Scotland. Written by James Leith MacBeth Bain, or 'Brother James,' as an accompaniment for the 23rd Psalm, it was first printed in London in 1915. Originally titled Marosa to honour the seventh daughter of a friend whom he had christened, the melody eventually came to be known by its present name.

At first, I wasn't sure I had the energy to sing Messiah this year. But the masterly music soon changed that. And who could resist Emmanuel, our mascot caterpillar? (Just think "caterpillar, caterpillar, caterpillar" as you struggle to sing the coloratura.) Why Emmanuel? Because, as the Book says "they shall call his name . . . ".

Canberra's business groups are annoyed that the Territory Government has made tomorrow, Tuesday 6 November, a public holiday -- the day of the Melbourne Cup. They say they will lose almost $300 million because of the holiday. They usually make money from the Cup Day festivities. Facing drastically reduced trade and higher costs, most will shut for the day. The ACT Government made Melbourne Cup day a holiday because the federal WorkChoices laws abolished Canberra's traditional union picnic day. Canberrans have embraced the holiday. Thousands have taken off for a four-day break and left for the hills, Sydney or the coast.

Yesterday, All Saints' Day was to be celebrated in our small parish church in a big way, as we do every year, this time with special liturgy and Schubert's Mass in G. We're too small to have a full choir every week, but for this event twenty experienced singers were assembled (including yours truly), with three good soloists, an organist and a small string orchestra. There were eight rehearsals. Special intercessions were written (by me). An order of service was printed, plus notes on the music (me again). A full sanctuary team lined up--priest, deacon, thurifer, acolytes, crucifer, readers (including guess who) -- the lot. Our Rector preached superbly.

Weeks and hours of work and preparation, especially by our Music Director, Colin and the Rector, Rob.

Just twenty one people attended, half of them visitors.

So much for public holiday weekends in Canberra.

I was a stew of emotions. Anger at the apparent waste of effort. Exasperation and frustration because even those who weren't out of town on holiday stayed at home. Weepiness as we remembered the faithful departed. Exaltation from the fine music.

And finally gentle befuddlement, as James and I drowned the event in a bottle of sparkling wine.