He simply trails off in disbelief. There was for most of my career a national spirit a national pride in, I don't know, call it pub rock, it sounds a bit crass. But that spirit doesn't exist anymore. Now they'd rather play my 'greatest hits' and that's it, or that's how it seems. The eyes glint and he chuckles.
Bond looks remarkably well.
You know, this is the only way I can eat. There isn't a trace of embarassment. But if I don't get a gig in the next few days then I'm going to have to sell the Strat. I'm not pretending - anything. For the next two and a half hours he talks, a mixture of shock, passion, confusion, determination and anger, paints a deeply thought out characterisation of the Australian music industry, stumbles over his words as he tries to avoid sounding like he's a has-been with an axe to grind and a vast chip on the shoulder.