GARY SHEARSTON Dingo (LP, Charisma-Fonogram, 1975)

Dingo holds a very deep and special significance for me, as silly
as that may sound (and I grant it does sound pretty silly).I was
visiting friends in London when the single from the album, "I Get
A Kick Out Ot You,' was rocketing up the pop charts, in Iact, it
seemed as though every time I turned the radio on either
Shearston or the Wombles' "Minueto Allegretto" would fill the
kitchen with their respective charms and wits. Or lost wits.

Anyway, I met in rhat same kitchen-leaning over the sink washing her reddish blond
hair -my friend's roommate, a devastatingly beautiful Swedish waif whom l proceeded
to fall in love with. That in itself wasn't particularly surprising, I have a tendency to fall in
love with Swedish waifs. What was a surprise was that she appeared to feel the same
way about me ... , Our eyes locked into each other's and there was music in the air
(either Shearston or the Wombles, I forget which). For the next three weeks we were
inseparable: we wandered blissfully from one end of London to the other. We'd feed
the pelicans in St. Jame Park, dodge I RA-loaded exploding mailboxes, ogle at the Pre-
Raphaelites in the Tate Gallery, take long walks across Hampstead Heath, And without
fail, whether in the kitchen having tea and Swedish crisp bread in its original round,
frlsbee like form or in a coffee shop watching Peter O'Toole walk by looking like a loon
in a raincoat, the strains of "I Get A Kick Out Of You" would i whimsically-though
nonetheless movingly- filling the air,

I suppose I shouId cease this sentimental reminiscing and talk about "I Get A Kick ... "
and Dingo in total. One of only two non-originals on the album (the other is the classic
"Without A Song"), Shearston's version of the Cole Porter tune is near-genius: he sings
it in his typical dead-pan style, a swift bevy of strings lush it up romantically and there's
a great Stephan Grappelli-like violin solo srnack in the midst of it all. Hearing Gary, with
his native Australian twang, singing: "I get no kick in a plane, flying too high with some
bird in the sky is my idea of nothing to do" brings a grin to the face and a flutter to the
heart simultaneously (or something like that). Gary's voice bears some of the qualities
of Bryan Ferry's: flat. seemingly bored and unwavering no matter what music soars and
plummets around him sort of inspirad disinterest.

And while "I Get A Kick Out Of You" was the monstrous smash single, Dingo isn't one-
track lp. Shearston's own material exudes the sarna subtly demented, slightly weird but
nonetheless enl ightening characteristics, at the same time possessing a real beautv
and melancholv air (most notable in "Witnessing" and the almost gloomy "Back of
Beyond"). Shearston's own native roots come out in the title track, an anthem-like
homage to the endangered wild dog of Australia that transcends its ecological meaning
to take on more far-reaching themes. "Aborigine" also obviously aIludes to Gary's
homeland delving deeply into the culture and myths of the Realm Down Under and
ends in a brilliant percussion fadeout with Gary playing mulfa-wood sonqsticks, I
remember one evening, we were sitting in the kitchen (what else is new?) eating the
same thing we'd had for breakfast a paragraph or two back (only more elaborate this
time), gazing endlessly into each other's eves. The candles were flickering and we
were drawn te each other, cross the table laden with French cheese, New Zealand
butter. Swedish crisp bread, English tea and Scottish whiskey when the first few swift
acoustic guitar chords of the song carne on. This time I recall distinctly that it wasn't the
Wombles. It was some Australian singing about cocaine and champagne and "getting a
kick out of you."
Steven X. Rea (January 1977)