Goanna - Spirit Of Place (LP)

Some records feel like they carry a place inside them. Goanna’s Spirit of Place is one of those albums, the kind you drop the needle on and suddenly you’re standing somewhere in Victoria’s wide light, with guitars chiming and a story being told that still matters. Released in 1982 on WEA, it was the debut from the Geelong bred folk rock collective led by songwriter Shane Howard, with key harmonies and keys from Rose Bygrave. The music was tuneful and radio ready, but it also had a conscience that cut through the decade’s gloss.

Everyone knows Solid Rock, and for good reason. Howard has spoken about writing it after a visit to Uluru in 1981, and you can hear that shock of recognition in the way the song builds. The didgeridoo at the top sets the tone, the beat locks in, and then those lines about “out here, nothing changes” flip into a protest that never lets go. It became a national hit, peaking at No. 3 on the Australian charts, and it has had a long afterlife. In 2001, APRA named it among the Top 30 Australian songs of all time, which feels right. Plenty of political songs date. This one is still being sung at schools and rallies, and it still stings.

Spirit of Place is more than its big single. The follow up, Razor’s Edge, pushed into the Top 40 and showed a different side of the band. The guitars bite a little harder, the rhythm section tightens up, and Howard leans into a restless lyric about living between ideals and the grind. Across the record, there is a smart blend of folk textures and rock muscle. Acoustic guitars that jangle and ring. Keyboards that lift the choruses. Harmonies that feel communal rather than polished. You can tell this was a road tested band, not a studio confection. They toured hard, and you can hear that live unity in the arrangements.

The production helps. Spirit of Place was produced with Trevor Lucas, a figure who knew how to get clarity on tape without stripping the heart out of a performance. The mixes have space. Drum hits feel warm rather than brittle. The vocal sits right in front, so when Howard goes quiet, you lean in, and when he opens up, it carries. That balance gives the album a timeless feel. Plenty of 1982 releases sound locked to their year. This one still plays beautifully, especially if you can find a clean Goanna vinyl pressing.

Context matters here too. The early 80s were a flashpoint in Australian culture. Music was breaking internationally, yet there was a growing conversation at home about land, history, and responsibility. Goanna were right in it. After the album, members joined the protest single Let the Franklin Flow in 1983, credited to Gordon Franklin and the Wilderness Ensemble, to support the movement against the proposed Franklin Dam in Tasmania. That song was a Top 20 hit and raised money for the cause. It makes sense once you’ve spent time with Spirit of Place. The record cares about people and country, and it trusts melody to carry those concerns to the radio.

What keeps me coming back is the way the album threads hope through its more sobering moments. Rose Bygrave’s harmonies add warmth, even when the lyrics cut. The guitar tones feel like sunlight. There is craft everywhere, but the songs never lose their human shake. You can put this on with friends who grew up on Aussie pub rock and with someone who loves Fairport Convention, and both will find a way in.

If you’re crate digging, keep an eye out for Spirit of Place vinyl. Original Australian pressings tend to sound rich, and the sleeve art looks great in a rack. I spotted a tidy copy at a Melbourne record store last month and kicked myself for not grabbing it. You can also buy Goanna records online without too much trouble, though clean copies get snapped up. If you’re building a shelf of Goanna albums on vinyl, this is the cornerstone. It also sits well alongside other touchstones of vinyl records Australia from the era, the kind of set you play when friends drop by and conversation drifts from songs to stories.

Four decades on, Spirit of Place feels like part of the cultural furniture, but not in a dusty way. It still asks the same questions that sparked Solid Rock. It still finds beauty in a chorus and power in a shared rhythm. Put it on loud, let the first track roll, and see if the room doesn’t change a little. Some records carry a place. This one still carries us back to it.