Where did you grow up and where do you call home now?

I was always on the move as a kid, drifting through places like a wind-blown leaf. Started out in the wide, endless plains of South Australia, where the wheat fields rolled on forever and the sky was bigger than anything. We’d ride our bikes down those dirt roads, kicking up dust with the friends I had then, no worries, just the sun and the wind and the quiet hum of nothingness. Life was simple, slow, but then I found myself in the suburbs, and into the city for dancing, singing, learning to be someone else. By 14, I was in Sydney with my old man, and that’s where I was playing late night bars at that age, a contrast all around. Everything was moving, pulling me in different directions, and I was just trying to keep up. I think it prepared me for my whole life. When we had our first born we moved to the Sunshine Coast in Australia where I almost gave music up. But something ng lead me to Nashville, in a strange twist of fate. We sold our house and have everything away to now live in Nashville with my wife and two boys. We’ve been here for almost 4 years. It’s been unbelievable just getting here, moving during covid.

How have the life experiences of where you lived affected your songwriting or the songs you choose to record?

I’ve always felt like the soul of country, blues, and rock ‘n’ roll has run through my veins since I was born. I’ve always been a troubadour, always the square peg in a round hole. Your environment shapes you in so many ways, and music and art are often a reflection of that. Even though I write subconsciously most of the time, I can look back months or even years later and see how my words reflect what I was experiencing at that time, even if I didn’t realize it when I wrote them. Being in Nashville certainly makes me more critical of my work, always striving for better

What artists/songwriters have impacted or influenced your work the most?

So many artists from the local cats I grew up with, showing me how to string a guitar on stage while spinning a story, making sure you hold onto the crowd, never let ’em slip. And then there were the giants—Michael Jackson moonwalking through time, John Lennon’s glasses reflecting a revolution, Janis wailing, Hendrix lighting his guitar on fire, The Doors breaking through, Miles bending notes like time, Beethoven and Debussy painting in sound. Their attitude, their swagger, it got in my bones. They gave the world their soul, and you could feel it in the air, pulsing through everything.

When you perform, what do you hope is your audience’s biggest takeaway?

Back when I was younger in my solo acoustic folk days, I had this belief—if you couldn’t hear a pin drop in the bar by the second song, if the audience wasn’t locked in, I’d failed. I had to pull in the people at the back, make sure they felt it too, or I wasn’t doing my job. Performing is about connection, making everyone in that room feel like they’re part of something. Maybe help them forget their lives for a while, give them something real to hold onto, leave them walking out feeling a little more alive, a little more empowered. I love it—the stage brings out the extrovert in me, but when I’m writing, it’s like I’m a different person, quiet, introverted. Two sides of me, I guess—one for the crowd, one for the page.

Tell me a little bit about your latest project?

Music from Crazy Hearts isn’t just an album—it’s a way of living, an ethos. I had to write it to survive, to keep moving forward. Up until now, everything I’ve done felt bent in some way, me always changing like a chameleon never staying on track as my creative visions always changes, somewhat. But Crazy Hearts never swayed. After living in Nashville for a few years, it hit me—if I wanted to say something true, something that mattered, I had to do it on my own terms. Don’t get me wrong, I love collaborating, and will always write with anyone who is inspired to work with me, but Crazy Hearts had to be a solo ride. The songs came to me in the dead of night, 3 a.m., when the world is quiet and all you can hear is your own soul talking. Each track is a reflection of my life, recorded at the legendary RCA studios in Nashville. It was an honor to be there, piecing it all together with my longtime friend Justin Cortelyou. Every note, every word, had to feel just right—this one was for me.

What was different or unique about your approach to this last project as compared to previous ones?

I think the intention approaching ever song like it was the last song I was ever going to write and record. We carefully picked the songs that felt good. Never thinking of a trend or following a heard. It was just purely to make something that felt exciting. Being at RCA studios and recording it all live.. What a trip.. every vocal was live (bar one or two punch ins ) of capturing imperfect, perfectionism. I strive to make something you can feel on every listen. Something that doesn’t wear off…

Was there ever a time you felt like you wanted to quit making music?

Being an artist these days, man, it’s a wild ride. So many gears turning, all these moving parts that need to lock in place before you hit record or step on that stage. I’m lucky I get to do what I do, but yeah, there’ve been times I’ve thought about walking away from it all. Music can swallow you whole, drag everything around you into its orbit. It’s gotta be an obsession, but that can mess with your head, make things unhealthy. I’ve had to find ways to stay grounded—meditation, learning to say no when it’s time. And once you become a parent, the game changes. There’s this new responsibility staring you in the face, showing you all the things you didn’t know about yourself. It’s a tough mirror to look into sometimes, but you’ve gotta be there for your family when they need you. It’s a tightrope walk, finding that balance between feeding your creative spirit and keeping the lights on. Whatever works, right?

What is your funniest or favorite “on the road” story when touring?

I’ve toured a lot in my life—more miles than I can count, and so many memories scattered along the way. After I got famous in Australia, I decided to do something different, to give back to the loyal fans who’d stuck with me through it all. I started doing house concerts, just showing up at people’s homes, no security, playing shows in their backyards. Was a great time. It was a little lonely, after touring with my band, and looking back, it was a little crazy, some of the experiences were something else. Mainly awesome people from all over Australia at the time but I’d laugh at some of the reactions from some people —standing there in a living room, guitar in hand, and the husband would say, “I didn’t want you here, but my wife did, so get on with it, sing us a tune!” It was awkward sometimes, sure, but mostly it was just funny and real, moments you don’t forget.

Who or what keeps you grounded the most?

My wife and my kids. They are my life blood

What advice would you give artists just starting out?

Stay true to who you are. Don’t chase trends music and art was invented to break rules not confine yourself to other people’s expectations. When people tell you they know everything they usually don’t. Listen to your gut, even when they call you crazy. If they do call you crazy then you’re doing something right.