Photos: Emma from Love Loop

Words: Penny Brand

I came across the all-encompassing sounds of Sunshine Coast singer/songwriter Phil Barlow at an open mic night in downtown Nambour.

After chatting to a few of the musicians, Phil subsequently invited me to do a review of his upcoming house concert in the idyllic, rural hinterland locality of Eerwah Vale.

I’d seen Phil’s face around town on “intuitive music healing” posters, as a promiment figure in the Eumundi spiritual community, but knew little about his work as an original blues and roots artist.

I figured the event would be something approximating a gentle afternoon in the country, with some fresh air, relaxing tunes, and kindred spirits. Win, win!

While I’m used to going to gigs on my own (purely out of convenience), I can sometimes find myself lurking in the shadows of back-row punters, should an unexpected dose of social anxiety suddenly smack me like a chart-topping hook.

Or I’ll simply shelve the whole idea in favour of the safety and warmth of my doona, electric blanket, true crime, and snacks (bad, punter!).

However, there was no chance I was caving into any homely creature comforts on Saturday.

After reading Phil’s event blurb, which advocates for greater grassroots relations, there’s no way I could take a rain check on this lovely community man and everything he champions.

“People are in need of connection, with the self, with each other, and with this planet,” it reads on Phil’s Humanitix ticket page.

“As we break free into our authentic selves, and become conscious of our actions, we can then create the changes needed to live sustainably on this earth.”

THIS.

It’s everything I stand for as the publisher of a local music magazine: people and connection over profit.

It’s my entire reason for existing as Yelo: to encourage people out of their homes and into the nourishing halls and spaces of the community, in a bid to tackle depression and isolation.

When you find a fellow compatriot in the game who is also risking it all to restore healing (and sanity) in the deteriorating music industry, hiding from my fears was simply out of the question.

While I felt incredibly exposed leading up to Phil’s concert, even fighting back a few tears due to life’s continual overwhelm and demands, I decided I must practice what I preach, venturing bravely towards the inviting, warm winter sun.

It was a wholly serendipitous sojourn.

As I waved my complicated urban thoughts out the window, I welcomed in the sharp, cool outside breeze, allowing the energy of the motherland’s rolling hills to begin working away at the tangled knots of my skewed soul.

Entering the picturesque, private property – which consisted of a converted ‘bus’ cabin with makeshift deck-turned-stage, glorious yurt complete with wooden stove, and a half moon hanging from the middle of the sky – my first thought was “damn, since when did hippies get so ridiculously good looking?”

It was a legitamite lament I would later discuss with my new gal-pal, who – with our matching Merry People boots, maroon camp chairs, moon signs in Leo, and whole-lotta-girl-problems – agreed it was because these wholesome, country folk take great care of themselves out here.

Feeding their families off the land’s organic resources, they are completely and utterly nourished by mother nature’s nectar.

With their sculptured, bohemian bodies glistening from a hard day’s work and regular vitamin D, they made for some seriously bronzed gods and goddesses, with their ‘raggedy-Ann’ babes, who played rough-and-tumble – exactly how it should be. Not an iPad in sight.

They were barefoot, happy and grounded. Full.

It was like Little House on the Prairie meets The Age of Aquarius, and for just a moment it felt like we were in the golden, halcyon days of the 70s, celebrating a new dawn.

It felt free. It felt like home.

Many were attending from a nearby home-schooling community, greeting each other with big smiles and open embraces.

It reminded me of what life used to be like: pre-pocket phones, AI and Covid.

The good times.

Women and children twirled with their long flowing hair and skirts, while their lumberjack-looking husbands manned an open-fire, while prodding at a camp oven full of slow-cooked meats and nourishing assortments from the veggie patch.

Cacao and chai drinks – laden with magical mushroom elixirs – were served from a back tent, and a long banquet-style table made for some shared feasting. And more connection.

After bumping into an old friend at the hot tonic stand, the three of us set out our BYO chairs and picnic blankets, and settled in for the raw, visceral, emotional intensity that is Phil Barlow.

After a welcome to country by the property owners, Phil gradually filled the quaint, surrounding paddock with his deep, resonating, acoustic sounds, creating an instant connection of heart to ‘source’.

A fusion of conscious-soaked lyrics, charged with blues and roots mastery, Phil’s musical journey has garnered him an eclectic following of relief-seekers and beatnik beat-shakers.

His Eddie Vedder-esque timbre evokes introspection, while a shy, dimpled smile – which erupts at the completion of every song – summons a sincere thankfullness.

Phil’s anima and animus vulnerabilities dance delicately together, offering an insight into the complex human condition, with songs such as, “In my Heart”, and my personal favourite, “To See the Sun”, which Phil says is only a newbie. I say keep making more of those!

With powerful vocals which veberberate through the earth with every note, and electrifying guitar rythms that echo an unparalleled potency, I have never encountered such an authentic musical experience from a single artist.

It was more than watching a performer on stage. Phil was having a spiritual experience before us and delivering that synergy straight to his audience and beyond.

Phil not only wears his heart on his sleeve, but also invites the listener deep into his inner-world, delivering a guttural explosion of raw, acoustic prowess.

He bears it all for his audience, allowing for the ultimate sacrifice in his search for a greater meaning and understanding of the world.

Phil’s music transcends mere melodies; it is a testament to the power of emotive storytelling, and the profound impact of a voice that courageously navigates the depths of the human soul.

Since 2019, Phil has released four full-length albums, “Phoenix Rising”, “The Awakening”, “True Evolution” and “Break Free”, and has acheived Triple J airplay, sold-out shows, and a 30-date tour.

His stand-out festival appearances include Mitchell Creek Rock and Blues Festival, Blues On Broadbeach and Caloundra Music Festival.

Following a prolonged period of songwriting and inner growth, Phil has re-emerged, like the pheonix from the ashes, with a swag of new music which you can see at his next home concert on July 21 in Eumundi.

Or catch one of his Intuitive Music Healing sessions on June 28 or July 12 at the Eumundi School of Arts.

As I drove away that evening, I reminisced about the conversations I had with my newfound “besties”, our shared stories of mutual passions, pursuits and pains.

The native land, its generous spirit, and its fair-weathered friends had saved me from spiralling into yet another single-mum pity party.

Instead of sabotaging my precious time in a convoluted heap of technology and dopamine-infused treats, I was so glad I had chosen to take the road less travelled.

It was exactly what my soul needed.

A play in the forest, with its pixies, making intimate connections of both old and new, melting together beside the fire, under a star-studded sky, like we’d known each other for years.

As I left the property that night, I thought perhaps I should take a gamble on the countryside more often.

If you feel like you’ve lost yourself recently to the hustle and bustle of societal pressures, be sure to check out a Sunny Coast community music concert soon, whether it’s at someone’s home or in one of our many wonderful live music venues.

This is where you will find your healing. Your true north is in community and connection.

It’s within the power of the music.

Thank you, Phil and your magic friends.

I am whole, once again.