Almanac Music: Darkness from the Mainstream: Ten Dark Songs from Favourite Australasian Artists
Darkness from the Mainstream: Ten Dark Songs from Favourite Australasian Artists
Poetically speaking, not all popular songs are primarily connected with light – even if, in broad terms, they are probably more usually associated with that side of the poetic coin than with what could be considered the ‘dark’ side.
As a – hopefully – interesting exercise, I’ve decided to name favourite ‘songs of darkness’ from ten of my best-loved Australasian bands/artists. Obviously, deciding what constitutes a song of darkness is not an exact science, though I’m mainly going by its overall feel; typically, this involves the words, music and performance working in tandem.* Also, as most songs have elements of both light and darkness, it’s often a matter of having to weigh up each side then decide in what category the song is best located. Ultimately, my aim in this piece is not simply to provide a list of dark songs – this would be easy and not that interesting – all one would have to do is make obvious selections from the repertoires of punk/new wave/heavy metal artists, the genres of which are most closely associated with this side of the divide. That is why I will be featuring dark songs that can be found in relatively mainstream pop/rock contexts or, at least, from bands or performers who have figured importantly in the mainstream charts.
Here, then, are my ten ‘songs of darkness’ from ten Australasian bands/artists I really like. I’ve listed the songs alphabetically.
‘Bed of Nails’ (1989), performed by Ross Wilson, written by Ross Wilson / Eris O’Brien / John Pullicino. I’ve always loved this blues-tinged, almost jaunty song, with its breezy harmonica – the musical style can be viewed as an ironic counterpoint to what the song is about, namely, life’s habit of things turning to shit. These lines from the chorus also convey this theme succinctly:
‘ … It’s the oldest of tales
Lose the wind from your sails
You lay down in a bed of roses
And wake up lying on a bed of nails’
Fittingly, this is from a Wilson solo album (his first) called Dark Side of the Man (1989).
‘Charlie’ (1977), performed by Split Enz, written by Tim Finn. Dating from the Enz’s highly interesting, earlier prog rock period, this is a macabre, chilling song, musically inventive (possessing a stark, relentless rhythmic pattern and a melody that soars and plunges), apparently about a killing. The first verse sets the scene with a dark, Baudelairean feel, and this mood continues throughout:
‘Wake up, Charlie, rise and shine
Pour the tea, I’ll draw the blinds
Sunlight halo, you look wonderful
Darling, Charlie, pale and deathly still
For Heaven’s sake, wake up, Charlie’
‘Company’ (1978), performed by Dragon, written by Jenny Hunter-Brown and Todd Hunter. This straight-ahead rock song, from their O Zambezi album, possesses a scary, sinister quality. Night imagery dominates. For a song supposedly about company, the piece is shot though with loneliness and a sense of underlying fear. The recurring chant of the word ‘company’ in the chorus sounds more like a threat than something connected to comforting togetherness.
‘Darling it Hurts’ (1986), performed by Paul Kelly and the Coloured Girls, written by Paul Kelly and Steve Connolly. It possesses a grungy, street-level earthiness and drive, and is a song that is considerably more in the shadows than in the light. The basic sentiment in this relationship song is definitely on the ‘other’, dark side of the poetic coin – the ‘darling it hurts’ refrain relates to the singer’s feeling as he watches his former girlfriend, who has become a sex worker.
‘Four Seasons in One Day’ (1992), performed by Crowded House, written by Neil and Tim Finn. This beautifully-crafted ballad, suffused with melancholy, with minor chords a-plenty, is now widely considered a classic of Australian/New Zealand music even though, surprisingly, it only reached number 47 on the Australian ARIA charts. Such affecting, evocative lines, like ‘Sun shines on the black clouds hanging over the domain’ and ‘Even when you’re feeling warm / The temperature could drop away’ indicate the overall mood.
‘Hearts on the Nightline’ (1979), performed by Richard Clapton, written by Richard Clapton. This is an excellent rocker of a song, with exciting, melodic lead guitar runs, very much about alienation and isolation. There’s some particularly fine Clapton lyrics. Here are the first eight lines, preceding the ‘Hearts on the nightline’ chorus:
‘Here on the razor’s edge, stranded here from my friends
Stumbling along through the canyons
Wasting away in shady cafes
I don’t have smile I can turn on
And I don’t know if I can survive
Keep getting caught up in this arcade of lies
How can you have any sense of direction
Walking this street of mirrors?’
‘Carlton (Lygon Street Limbo)’ (1974) performed by Skyhooks, written by Greg Macainsh. Some songs help to define a time and place more than others. This edgy, atmospheric song about the Melbourne inner suburb of Carlton after dark, for me, does so more than most; in fact, it’s hard for me to think about Carlton, particularly arty-farty, ramshackle, early seventies Carlton, without ‘Lygon Street Limbo’ lurking somewhere in my psyche. Its milieu is clearly established in the first two lines: ‘When the sun sets over Carlton / And the moonlight floods the streets …’. From here, Carlton night characters abound, such as ‘those grey haired writers and drunken fighters’ and ‘night time junkies and long haired monkeys’.
‘Man Overboard’ (1985) performed by Do-Re-Mi, written by Deborah Conway, Dorland Bray, Helen Carter and Stephen Philip. To me, this anti-misogyny song is certainly on the dark side, and one of the most cutting songs in Australian musical history. It also possesses the most cynical, pissed-off vocal performance I can recall in a mainstream hit, too – admirably done by Deborah Conway. At one point, the singer at the centre of the diatribe against male misbehaviour and attitudes witheringly asks her nominal male partner in the context of the song: ‘Are addicted to attention? Do you do it for effect?’ Wow! What great lines, ones which indicate the acerbic nature of the overall piece.
‘Only Lonely’ (1982) performed by Divinyls, written by Christina Amphlett and Mark McEntee. I first heard this powerful, driving song on the Music from Monkey Grip EP, which certainly got a hammering at my family home back in the day. It’s a song very much concerned about feeling alienated and alone in the big city, and is almost nihilistic. The sentiment is basically the singer wanting a relationship to fill the massive void she feels at her centre: ‘Oooh baby, wonder if we could get involved.’ It doesn’t feel as if love has much to do with it in this song.
‘You I Know’ (1987) performed by Jenny Morris, written by Neil Finn. This rock ballad is more melancholy than outright dark in nature, though both states are closely related. Interestingly, in general terms, melancholy feels to me to be a state that is more complex and literary than straight-out darkness. (Just read a little about the most famous literary example connected to this subject, Robert Burton’s The Anatomy of Melancholy, first published in 1621, which runs to well over a thousand pages in most editions.) Also, I suppose, this an example of a song where the light is ultimately there too, because love does conquer, as is repeated in the last line of the chorus: ‘And it’s you I know, you love me to the end.’
New Zealanders seem to have received a good run in this piece, but I think that’s just a coincidence. Almost all of the songs included date from the most influential music-listening period of my own life, which indicates why there are of a certain vintage. Perhaps Almanackers of various ages can supply some of their own favourite songs of darkness to add to the overall picture.
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*On the other hand, Australasian ‘songs of light’ examples would include: Paul Kelly and The Messengers’ exhilarating ‘Leaps and Bounds’ (1986), the optimistic promise of ‘It’s Almost Summer’ (1975) by Billy Thorpe, and, to throw in something relatively new, the joyousness of ‘Yanada’ (2017) by The Preatures.
MAIN GENERAL REFERENCES
https://www.azlyrics.com/
https://genius.com/
https://www.lyricfind.com/
http://www.songlyrics.com/
https://songmeanings.com/
Wikipedia
YouTube
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About
Kevin Densley is a graduate of both Deakin University and The University of Melbourne. He has taught writing and literature in numerous Victorian universities and TAFES. He is a poet and writer-in-general. His sixth book-length poetry collection, Isle Full of Noises, was published in early 2026 by Ginninderra Press. He is also the co-author of ten play collections for young people, as well as a multi Green Room Award nominated play, Last Chance Gas, published by Currency Press. Other writing includes screenplays for educational films.
Great idea for a list and to get the thought juices flowing KD.
Can I talk to the PK nomination. I think the darkness is in the protagonist’s heart. His desire, no matter how good intentioned he might think he’s being, is to control (through his crude and highly questionable idea to “protect”).
She’s her own person with her own agency and if she wants to work as a sex worker, that’s her prerogative. He is the one lurking (watching her, probably from the shadows) wanting to kill others that she goes with. He is repulsed by what she does, who she goes with and what she does with the money. I say, mind yer own business.
To add to the “darkness” PK has a song on album following this song called I Don’t Remember a Thing which may be what happens due to his obsession with his ex-girlfriend.
Cheers
Troop Movements In The Ukraine – Mental As Anything
Well played KD
Interesting list and concept KD. My darkness always tends to wistful regret.
Earliest Oz song I can remember conveying this was Doug Ashdown’s “Winter in America”:
“Winter in America is cold
And I just keep growing older
I wish that I had known
Enough of love to leave love enough alone”
The Paul Kelly song that always gets me is “I Wasted Time”:
“I wasted time, now time is wasting me
One question left, to be or not to be
I cheated time and now it’s time to pay
All out of change and nothing left to say”
That and “Dumb Things”.
John Williamson’s “Cootamundra Wattle” always brings a tear. Apposite for the world today.
“Don’t buy the daily papers any more woman,
Read all about what’s going on in hell.
They don’t care to tell the world of kindness,
Good news never made a paper sell.
There’s all the colours of the rainbow in the garden woman,
And symphonies of music in the sky.
Heaven’s all around us if you’re looking,
But how can you see it if you cry.
Hey it’s July and the winter sun is shining
And the Cootamundra wattle is my friend
For all at once my childhood never left me
‘Cause wattle blossoms bring it back again.”
Thanks Rick for your comments, particularly in relation to the Paul Kelly song – you’ve gone further with your analysis than I did with my short bit about it. In fact, I think you took your analysis in a highly interesting direction. Another thing I did ponder concerns the clip accompanying the song – the twirling skirted rock ‘n’ roll dancing in front of the singing, often smiling Kelly seemed somewhat at odds with the tale involving jealousy and sex work.
Hi Swish. Thank you for your input.
And wow! You’ve certainly come up with a topical Mentals song here – witty and musically nifty like so much of their stuff.
Thanks, PB, for your interesting and detailed response. I especially liked, on a personal level, your inclusion of ‘Cootamundra Wattle’. (Great to see a lovely country song get a guernsey, and I’m growing increasingly fond of country music as I get older.)
I’m so pleased you liked my overall concept for this piece. I tried to come up with something that would elicit both a variety of songs and a range of interesting bits of analysis – both from me, and from Footy Almanac readers.
Paul Kelly again with “Sweet Guy”, about domestic violence.
Also Sharon O’Neill ‘s “Maxine” – about domestic violence and prostitution.
Then there was the Angels “Am I ever going to see your Face Again” and Stevie Wright’s “Evie” – both songs about girlfriends who died…
“Solid Rock” by Goanna – I don’t have to explain what that song is about.
“I was only 19 (A walk in the light green)” by Redgum – again, a song with which most would be familiar.
Interesting topic, thanks KD.
Thanks, George, for your thoughtful and interesting contributions. ‘Maxine’ almost went into my personal list – the only reason it didn’t was that I wanted to limit this list to ten for the purposes of this post.
And it’s also interesting how different your four songs are in musical terms – there’s certainly a great deal of variety in this context for songs from the dark side. They don’t have to sound conventionally ‘dark’ in a tonal sense.
Thanks, Smokie, for your input – great choices.
‘Solid Rock’ has become a kind of anthem in an indigenous context, of course, while ‘I was Only 19 (A Walk in the Light Green)’ has, to my way of thinking, such evocative, spot-on lyrics and a performance of utter conviction from John Schumann.
Surely Pub with No Beer is the darkest song ever! It’s about a pub … that has no beer!
Good one K Densley.
Most of these are dark in a personal sense. Or in a relationship sense. On that level I’ll nominate:
Cold Chisel “Choirgirl” by Don Walker. About pregnancy termination.Moving. Though the meaning is diluted after being a staple of no-repeat-work-day-all-killer-no-filler-black-thunder-a-thons for 40-odd years.
And “A Midlife’s Tale” – a classic from My Friend the Chocolate Cake. Melancholy to the point of dark.
And “Step in, step out” by Weddings, Parties, Anything.
There’s probably another brand of darkness at a whole-of-society level – or even a planetary level.
Midnight Oil would feature here.
“Short Memory”
“Power and the Passion”
“Beds are Burning”
“The Dead Heart”
“Blue Sky Mine”
“River runs red” for starters.
Also here: “Prisoner of Society” from The Living End.
All with a raw darkness roaring at the fate of those snared alive by The Great Free Market Trap/ Con.
Ha Rick – ‘Pub with No Beer’! Surely we’re talking about one of Dante’s hitherto unknown circles of hell here!
Hi E.r.
Many thanks for your input.
I particularly like how your response underlines the various kind of darkness that can be found in popular song – this is an issue I addressed to some extent in my post, but you’ve certainly added to the picture in this context.
Your mention of ‘Choir Girl’ reminded me of one of my most memorable ‘dark’ popular songs with similar subject matter – it wasn’t by an Australian, but co-written by an artist with significant Australian connections, Ben Folds from Ben Folds Five. The song is ‘Brick’ (1997) of course.
KD, I never saw Lygon Street Limbo as a dark song. It celebrated a time when Carlton was rocking, was a hive of creative activity, a phase that lasted into the 90’s. The Lygon Street ‘scene’ now is the antithesis of the creative scene Shirl sung so well about.
Skyhooks ‘Keep The Junk In America’ is about the dark subservience Australia has held so long to the US of A. Even ‘All My Friends Are Getting Married’, a charting pop single is about the dark area of loneliness , being left behind. Paul Kelly’s dark songs are almost endless, as yourself & a few other ‘Knackers’ have touched on.
Billy Thorpe & The Aztecs ‘Believe It Just Like Me’, is quite a dark song, as he sings about how Australian muso’s, Australian music was constantly ignored & derided for many years. So many great artists from my childhood never got the success they deserved, because they were Australians.
If you want some dark songs Rose Tattoo classics like Butcher & Fast Eddie, Assault & Battery, Sidewalk Sally show a dark side of Australian life many people never encounter.
Sorry PB, any song about Cootamundra would not be inspiring.
Glen!
Thanks, Glen, for your detailed and stimulating comments.
Of course, we all have our own perspectives on particular songs; ultimately, it’s a matter of opinion, I suppose. Regarding Lygon Street Limbo, I’ve always thought of it as dark – for a start, in a literal sense, being about night-time in Carlton, and also metaphorically in some ways. But, of course, I do respect your opinion – fair enough. Regarding when Carlton ‘changed’ … as someone who had a couple of plays produced under the auspices of La Mama, and as a person whose main tertiary performing arts teacher was a key figure in the days of the Pram Factory – there is a school of thought that it was the ‘end of an era’ in Carlton when the historic home of the Pram Factory theatre company was demolished in 1980 to make way for the Lygon Court shopping centre. I refer to this issue in my previous Almanac poetry post: ‘Lunch with Terrie and Bernadette’.
I do like your mention of Rose Tattoo, and some of their dark songs – another of these would be the anti-war ‘I Wish’, from 1984.
The richly Oz evocative Tenterfield Saddler by Peter Allen
“…The son of George Woolnough
Went off and got married
And had a war baby
But something was wrong
And it’s easier to drink than go crazy
And if there were questions about why
The end was so sad
Well George had no answers about why a son
Ever had need of a gun…”
Great concept and excellent post and comments, KD.
And on darkness in local music I suggest a song about the death of local music by the masters of dark satire, TISM. Their song, ‘The Last Australian Guitar Hero’ is my favourite from their terrific back catalogue. It’s a narrative that’s funny and tragic and hugely relevant. And being TISM and a song about the demise of the guitarist, of course, it’s dominated by keyboards and the guitar doesn’t feature as I’d imagine it might. The opening lines set up the song-
In a tiny inner city pub
The amps were bein’ stacked
Leads were gettin’ wound up
It was full of pissed Anzacs
“Got no more gigs for Tuesday nights”
Said the barman to the star
“We’re puttin’ pokies in the lounge
And strippers in the bar”
Thanks for you response, RDL – very much a song of darkness from the mainstream. And a really good one at that.
Thank you for your kind words about the post and comments, Mickey.
What a great TISM song you’ve chosen, too – bleak, intelligent and witty, like so much of their stuff.
I almost included ‘Greg! The Stop Sign’ as one of my initial ten songs.
Dave Warner, has plenty, including Suburban Boy, Worst Day, Strange Night, Waiting For The Cyclone.
Kasey Chambers Not Pretty Enough, Nothing At All, Paper Areoplane, Ain’t No Little Girl and others
The Triffids Wide Open Road of course
and Stella Donnelly Boy’s Will Be Boys (with the striking twist on the Midnight Oil line to end the song)
Thanks, Rick, for adding more quality songs to what has developed into a highly interesting list.
Just thinking out loud … Kasey Chambers’ ‘The Captain’, to mention another of her songs, is dominated by a loneliness and sadness in spite of some (for want of a better word) ‘uplift’ … Stella Donnelly’s ‘Boys Will Be Boys’ – stunning, very powerful.
Brilliant point about Man Overboard. I decided about 10 yeras ago it truly was our greatest song and, as you say, vocal performance. Generally i thought Do Re MI pretty irrelevant – but this grabbed me then, and just screams “anthem for the times” now.
I made the kids watch the Stagger Lee video this evening. Can’t really say why. We were talking about darkness and light. Obviously Cave has a million dark ones all of his own, too – Papa Won’t Leave you, Henry!
Thanks, Peter, for your words about ‘Man Overboard’ – I certainly agree with your ‘anthem for the times’ sentiment. And thanks for your other comments, too.
Of course you’re right about Nick Cave – the only reason he hasn’t got a mention (before you brought his name up) is that the focus in my post and the comments has been upon more mainstream artists/bands.