By Ignatius Kim
Waiting outside the interview room at the offices of Polygram, I can hear roaring guffaws within. "They're viewing their video clips", I'm told.
Tiddas — an Aboriginal word for sisters — are a band that don't take themselves too seriously. Abounding in earthy humour and a healthily irreverent view of life, they do what they do with much passion and enjoyment.
Thrown together one night after performing with another band, Djaambi, Amy Saunders, Lou Bennett and Sally Dastey didn't strike the chord immediately.
"We tried. We missed the mark at first. We got up there, and the three of us sang in a different key each and we didn't know whether to get off the stage or stay on", says Saunders.
"We had to go back there the next night, but we got support from the bass player in Djaambi, who came down and helped us out with some whisky. We sculled that down thinking it would warm up our throats ... But it was a pub gig, so the audience had a few whiskies under their belts too."
The trio crease over in amusing recollection. They even laugh in harmony.
Since that night, Tiddas have, if not rocketed, gracefully ascended to critical success, taking a loyal audience with them. They've supported acts such as Sweet Honey in the Rock, Midnight Oil, Bob Geldof and Mahlathini and the Mahotella Queens. At this year's ARIA awards, they were nominated for Best Australian New Talent and Best Indigenous Record. Their 1992 EP, Inside My Kitchen, gained a better than expected reception, with sales still increasing.
But unless they reach superstar status, recording artists are working stiffs like the rest of us. In fact, because they work to contracts, their income is more precarious.
"I've just managed to pay my rent", says Sally Dastey.
"I still haven't paid mine — I'm a couple of hundred down", adds Lou Bennett.
Says Saunders: "Just because you've released an EP and an album, people think you've got fur-lined underwear. But it's a myth. They're fur-lined, all right, because you don't get a chance to wash them and you can't afford to buy new ones. You get more money on the dole."
"And you get it more regularly", Bennett adds.
Their debut album, Sing About Life, was released late last month. It is more culinary than aural: delicious vocals and accompaniments are arranged into a feast of 19 powerful, defiant and inspirational songs.
Their eclectic style is tight and well balanced, masterfully combining traditional Aboriginal music with lush, soulful harmonies and folk-acoustic accompaniments. The odd strings do nicely, too.
Says Bennett: "Even though it's labelled as folk kind of music, it's still quite unique compared to what you'd consider folk or traditional. I used to hate the bloody sound of it. I'd think, 'Oh god, no, I could never be a folk singer'. And now, here I am ..."
"... singing about the times", finishes Dastey.
Guest artists, including Chris Wilson, Joe Geia, Ruby Hunter and Archie Roach, add their flavours to Sing About Life.
These musicians are part of a range of songwriting talent that has been emerging locally for some time now, the best of which include Kev Carmody, Tiddas and Neil Murray.
Encompassing diverse styles, they are characterised by a mature mastery of their influences, confidently producing innovative and genuine music with a refreshing lack of self-indulgence.
Central to it are the political themes, essentially a working-class outlook that is also Aboriginal, feminist and environmental.
A number of them performed together throughout NSW at the start of this year for the Carnivale tour.
"The thing about doing gigs like that with people like Roger Knox and Euraba band, Neil Murray and Kev Carmody is that they're real people. They don't get pissed off because their mineral water and hors d'oeuvres aren't backstage on time", explains Saunders.
"Just the way Kev expresses his Aboriginality to cover everybody — people can take it and put it in that political arena, but it's just singing about what's happened."
Tiddas, too, are not self-conscious about delivering a message.
"Our songs come from our personal experiences, life around us, everyday things", says Bennett. It is simply that their political consciousness necessarily interprets these sources for what they are: social and political experiences.
"Malcolm Smith", off Singing About Life, is about a young Koori who died in custody.
Saunders elaborates:"Malcolm's sister was in prison as well. She was having her own problems while Malcolm was in another prison cell somewhere else, worrying about his sister, his family, and yet, that system kept him locked up for years away from his family, away from the thing that would rehabilitate him ...
"When we get up to play 'Malcolm Smith', whether they're Koori or not, people are moved — they come to know the meaning of losing somebody to a society that you really don't have any control over."
Singing about life in all its beauty and terror, these sisters enrich a sense of justice with sublime melodies.