About the Album


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From the banks of the Murray River in 1979 where he first heard indigenous balladeer Youngie Doug, to the outback of the western desert where an impromptu jam with Sammy Butcher kick started the Warumpi Band that would later roar into the cities, pricking the nation’s conscience with a new and strident voice.

The dust is still settling. People still wonder what that was. Neil Murray didn’t stop. He shifted gears, hauled new cargo to different destinations. Calm & Crystal Clear, These Hands, Dust, The Wondering Kind, Going The Distance,- the solo albums kept coming like post cards and dispatches - reports from some remote frontier, some hidden landscape he was writing from, yet was somehow strangely near and familiar so much so that we felt we’d touched it. That we’d been there too.

Since the 1980’s Neil Murray has garnered a loyal following of die hard believers. Artists as diverse as Carus and Lee Kernaghan drew inspiration. Christine Anu, Adam Brand, Jimmy Little and Amy Saunders recorded his songs.

The man himself was hard to catch, hard to pin down and hold up to the light. He shrugged categorisation. Was he country, rock, folk or roots? A writer, a poet, an environmental activist ?

Tick all the boxes. He’s delivered again with Overnighter his new studio album containing a dozen songs that – like sign posts - command your attention - if you want to know where you’re going and where you’ve been.

Here’s what Neil Murray says about Overnighter.


"A lot of these songs came from the road. Driving, late at night and long distances. If you’re a musician and you are doing an overnighter (going from one gig to the next that you have to travel overnight to make) the only other people out there at that lonely roadhouse at 3am are truckies, itinerants, late night party revellers, young lovers, lost backpackers, cattle rustlers and street kids, roo shooters and runners, hoodlums and misfits, the homeless and the dispossessed. Regular people aren’t about. They’re sleeping.

When you are that strung out and tired, there is an unspoken camaraderie with those with whom you share the night and the distance. You might not speak but there is a kinship. A glimpse of a face or a gesture is a snapshot that fixes itself in your memory. Its not too hard to imagine their story:- That bloke climbing down from his truck has a missus somewhere cheating on him. That young girl has a secret sweetheart. That kid is gonna be in trouble with the law. That woman endures an unhappy marriage. That old fella hasn’t long to live….

You see it in their faces. The broken dreams, the anger, the resignation, the hope lost, and the hope gained. What am I gonna do with it? Nothing. But people want to know where my songs come from. I may as well say they come from an old shoebox and it rides with me everywhere. Anytime I want a song I just go to that shoebox and get one out.

We are all driven to make sense, to make some meaning out of seemingly random events. It may not mean much or it may mean everything. But it calms us down. Gives us something to consider and reflect on. Makes disappointment bearable. Makes light of the dark".

The Songs from the Album

“With you tonight”
I was driving from Western Queensland into NSW and got stuck behind these roadtrains that had come down from the Territory carting stock. I listened to their bullshit on the UHF. I wondered what was going on with their wives and girlfriends behind them at distance somewhere. The rest came from the vague memory of a Chris Knight song I heard once on late night radio.

“I can go on”
My daughter inspires me. I’m handing her the torch.

“Lights of Hay”
I was doing an overnighter, headed for a music festival at Nymagee. I was out the back of Moulamein, it was late and I’d had a shitty day. I could see a glow over the horizon- the lights of the town of Hay. But they didn’t seem to be getting any closer. I wondered if I was getting anywhere at all… If any of us were…if the world even, was doomed.

“Drifting Ways”
I was on a coach bound for Darwin, I couldn’t stand it (being cooped up on the bus) so I got off in Kununurra for a night. Checked into the pub, there were a few grizzled faces around the bar. I had a few beers. Nobody had much to say. I watched a wet season storm unleash over the town. Then I went to my room, pulled out the guitar and wrote the damn thing.

"Once in a While"
Frustration at obstruction, injustice or circumstances- whatever conspires to separate you from loved ones – can make you even more bloody minded and determined to conjure a win. The feel of this track recalls The Police - who were an influence on us in the early years of the Warumpi Band.

“You’ll have to follow”
My father passed away in 2003. He wasn’t a musician (though he liked to dance) artist, writer or anything like that. He worked with his hands and enjoyed it. A lot of what I am came from him. He was strong willed and brave. Braver than I’ll ever be.

“Meet me in Bedourie”
Could I have written this song without going to Bedourie? Probably not but I could also never have written it without first hearing the songs of Youngie Doug, Herbie Laughton, Willie Nelson, Slim Dusty and Hugh McDonald.

“Key to my heart”
A man in a panic over some sweet young thang.

“Streets of Bourke”
An impression of a country town as a testing ground of the nation.

“Where my people go”
I probably couldn’t have written  this song without first walking 150 km's overland with indigenous people in 2005. It was the first of our annual “Healing Walks”. The tune came to me on the second day of the trek and I carried it in my head for a week before writing it down. One for the heartland.

"Get back to the Country"
Advice for those who seek to make it in the music business.

“Sing the Song”
I’d had the tune for quite a while. All of a sudden it came together one afternoon in Broome. Sometimes, if you shift your position on the planet a few thousand km's - reception improves. Broome’s been good to me.