Ian Moss on Bow River, meeting Jimmy Page and his love of night driving
The singer, songwriter and Cold Chisel guitarist reflects on his life at 68 — ‘all things in moderation’ — as well as his iconic song Bow River, his love of night driving, and meeting Jimmy Page.
Alice Springs-born singer, songwriter and Cold Chisel guitarist Ian Moss opens up to Andrew McMillen about his much-loved song Bow River, meeting Jimmy Page and his love of night driving.
Preparing for my eighth solo album release is making me feel… a combination of anxious and excited. I feel good about what I’ve got in my hands, but it’s a bit like stage nerves, really: nervous about how it’s going to go down, and what the reaction’s going to be. You need a certain amount of “healthy nerves” to give you a bit of edge, I think, to get up and really deliver.
The first money I ever made was… I had a crack at paperboy stuff, delivering the local paper in Alice Springs – the Centralian Advocate – when I was 11 or 12, on my push bike. They weren’t the ideal rolled-up, chuck ’em over the fence kind of thing; you’d be trying to fold ’em up, shove ’em in a letterbox, and hoping like f..k that the gate was shut properly – the one that had the vicious dog behind it, threatening to rip your leg off. There were plenty of those in Alice Springs.
Here’s my best advice if you ever find yourself sad… move. Go for a walk or go for a swim. There’s something incredibly replenishing and revitalising about jumping in the ocean. I don’t know whether it’s hippy kind of thinking, or whether there is something instantly magical about diving in cold salt water.
The most under-appreciated song I’ve written is… definitely not Bow River (he smirks, referring to the Cold Chisel fan favourite released in 1982). I’d say a song called Only Yesterday, which ended up on a compilation album sold at Byron Bay Bluesfest a few years ago. It’s a slightly jazzy, bluesy bop thing; that, or If Another Day, from the last album (2018, self-titled).
My relationship with Bow River today is… it’s a song I’m very proud of. Does it feel like an ace up my sleeve on the setlist each night? Yeah, for sure. I’ve got a couple there: Tucker’s Daughter is the other one, I suppose. If everything else is shithouse, just make sure you do great versions of these songs – because then they’ll forget about all the shit bits (laughs).
My routine for warming up before a concert is… Guitar-wise, it’s just sit and noodle; the longer the better. Voice-wise, there’s a bit of a ritual there that (Jimmy) Barnes and I have been doing for about 20 years. I’ll hang my head over an open kettle that’s boiling, inhaling steam for five minutes. And then do a concoction of one part honey, one part apple cider vinegar, hot water and a squeeze of lemon in there. Get that as hot as you can handle, and gargle it – but be careful, because the back of your throat is more sensitive than the front of your mouth. I’ve learned that the hard way.
My policy on meeting my heroes is… you want to be aware of not crowding somebody’s space, or fawning too much. When Cold Chisel played a gig at Hyde Park, London, in 2012, (Led Zeppelin guitarist) Jimmy Page was hanging around backstage, and my partner insisted he say hello to me. She’s very driven like that, and kindly enough, he did – but I was kind of gaga, I didn’t know what to say. “Nice to meet you, mate.” All that stuff you think of later; the French have got an expression for that. (L’esprit de l’escalier, or “staircase wit”.)
The dumbest thing I do is… with my touring, I drive as much as possible. I’ve driven home (to Sydney) from Adelaide; that’s a serious drive. Flights are so cheap these days, but I particularly love driving at night-time. As long as you get home before the sun; I hate getting home when the light hits the sky. I’ll drive home and listen to podcasts, particularly Casefile, the Australian-produced (true crime) show. Great stuff, to be driving in the middle of nowhere and hearing these incredible stories of just how phenomenally evil people can be.
Not in my life anymore is… my parents. My father died in 1989, and my mother died eight years ago. Particularly with the old man, it’d be great to sit down and say, “It’s been a while – what’s been happening?”
Life at 68 is… all good. I’m just grateful to be here, and be reasonably healthy. Sometimes you’re chasing energy, but it doesn’t take much red wine to kill off those energy levels a bit. All things in moderation – or at least, if you’re going to go hard for a while, then set a period to recuperate and rejuvenate.
Ian Moss’s eighth album, Rivers Run Dry, is out now via Universal. His album tour includes dates in Brisbane (August 5), Melbourne (Aug 11), Sydney (Aug 12) and Perth (Aug 18).
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