Janet’s Vagrant Love

Elaine Crombie has problems with her guitar.  She thought it was tuned, but it’s not.  Her excellent accompanist, Amaru Derwent, gives her an ‘E’.  She tunes the guitar, but it won’t stay tuned.  She invites us to the ceremonial burning of said guitar.  She’s come on stage, laid back, very relaxed, almost as if we just happened to drop in so we’ll have a bit of a yarn, sing a few songs and that.   

Janet’s Vagrant Love is held together, at first, by Crombie’s mischievous, twinkle-in-her-eye persona that we know - and love - from movies like Top End Wedding and television shows like Black Comedy.  Here, she goes darker, much darker.  The complete title of this show is, after all, ‘A story about love, loss and raising Blak men.’  The Blak men are her sons.  At one point she tells the story of another Blak mother, standing in the middle of a night street, screaming at the cops who’ve just killed her son. 

These are stories that we all know are true.

Crombie figures because she’s in the show business, she fits the definition of ‘vagrant’ - no fixed address and uncertain employment.  So, she tells us, making light of it, about the breaks in bringing up her sons when she has to travel from one gig to another and then the boys go to their Gran - as she went to hers.  But if her sons get intermittent mothering, in what sort of society are they growing up? 

In short, punchy anecdotes, she tells of rape, separation, and racist cops.  She asks us who’s been to Uluru.  A few of us raise our hands.  Crombie says, ‘I haven’t.’  That’s a shock.  But she tells us it’s her mother’s-mother’s-mother’s-mother’s-mother’s country.  (And as the program note tells us, she is a Pitjantjatjara, Warrigmai and South Sea Island woman.)

But it is in her songs that Crombie really connects with the audience; it’s in the songs that she finds the pain and rage of a Blak woman’s life.  She abandons that uncooperative guitar.  Amaru Derwent, on keyboard and trumpet, keeps up with her, providing strong backing.

Then abruptly, it’s over.  Crombie thanks us.  The Crombie persona is irresistible, and she is a great bluesy singer.  The heartfelt songs are the real strength of the show.    

Michael Brindley