Q&A: Mona Foma‘s Brian Ritchie

Brian Ritchie, artistic director of Tasmanian arts and culture festival Mona Foma and Violent Femmes bassist on ‘knobby’ agents, playing at 62 and how Midnight Oil literally changed his life.

Mona Foma artistic director and bass player for iconic band Violent Femmes Brian Ritchie. Picture: Supplied

You’re presenting Tasmania’s music and arts festival, Mona Foma, with a full line-up for the first time since the pandemic started. Were there times during the past three years when you felt like you were banging your head against a wall? No, I looked at the positives. For example, being able to focus on the Tasmanian artists: we gave people nice projects to work on, and they moved up the bill because it wasn’t crowded with international or national artists. One of the biggest positives was not having to deal with knobby [booking] agents trying to pitch you the most ridiculous things, hoping that you’re gonna bite. That’s a part of the music business I did not miss in the Covid years.

Now you’re back dealing with knobby agents, I guess? [Laughs] Yeah, it’s OK. It’s a symbiotic relationship: I’m sure they think we’re knobs, too. But as a result of the glut of performers that are back out on the road after a drought, we’re having some pretty good international engagement with touring artists, and the public has come to expect that.

You’re an artist at your core, famously as the bassist with Violent Femmes. Is it easy to juggle that with the role of a curator? Once I started programming Mona Foma, I realised it was just another form of creativity. I still love to perform, and I play music every day, but organising the festival brings me into contact with so much talent and so many ideas; it’s probably keeping me young.

You founded Violent Femmes with Gordon Gano in the US more than 40 years ago. Do the old songs strike you differently when you play them today? I think Gordon has to carry that burden more than I do, because he’s singing the lyrics, which could be unwieldy: something like “Why can’t I get just one f..k?” [laughs, referring to 1983’s Add It Up]. That’s his cross to bear. But I still think our music is potent and fun to play. I think it has not really aged poorly.

Your friendship with Midnight Oil was partly responsible for you putting down roots in this country. What’s the story there? My wife and I wanted to move to Australia, but we were too old to get any kind of normal visa. I went instead for a “distinguished talent” visa, which they give to artists or sportspeople; you need to have a nominator, and Midnight Oil nominated me. Their letter said I was going to be a good contributor to the music scene in Australia. That carried a lot of weight; we were living here by 2008.

Mona Foma, the winter festival Dark Mofo and MONA itself are all funded by David Walsh. Is there something about David that may surprise people who only know him as a professional gambler and art collector? He’s a full supporter of music and performers. He’s not a typical 60-something who just wants to hear the stuff that they listened to as a teenager. He’s got wide open ears, and he turns me on to some stuff. His degree of enthusiasm for what he does is something that everybody should aspire to.

And through him, you get something that not many artists have: a steady salary, right? My main thing is still the Femmes, and performing. It is great to have the salary, but that’s not the reason I do it. I do it because I believe in the cause, and I think I can do good things for the community. I always felt like I owed Australia something for accepting me into the country; this is something that I want to give back.

Mona Foma runs in Launceston until February 19, and is in Hobart from February 24-26.