Music Industry

The Hon. F. PANGALLO (15:39): I want to recite slightly altered lyrics from an iconic pop song:

A long, long time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile,

And I knew if I had my chance that I could make those people dance,

And maybe they'd be happy for a while.

But March 2020 made us shiver,

With every paper they'd deliver,

Bad news on the doorstep,

We couldn't take one more step.

I'm sure many cried when we read about all those who had lost their lives,

But something touched us deep inside,

The day the music died.

That is based on Don McLean's American Pie. However, when it comes to 'Australian pie', COVID has dealt a grave blow to our music industry. The Marshall government is doing nothing to resuscitate it before generations of talent and industry skills are lost for good. I am talking about performing artists, composers, promoters, DJs, MCs, event organisers, booking agents, production companies that supply PAs, lights, sound equipment and staging, and production crew, such as sound engineers, lighting operators, roadies, technicians, behind-the-scenes support workers, clubs and pubs. All are profoundly impacted by confusing and illogical restrictions placed upon them.

The SA music industry employs more than 6,300. Before the pandemic, it contributed more than $375 million annually to the economy—nothing to sneeze at. The combined losses now run at tens of millions of dollars. These contributors should not be viewed in the context of one-off events like the Fringe or Festival of Arts. They are the foundations of our entertainment industry. To earn their bread and butter, they must work up to seven days a week. It is not great dough but they love it, and we love what they produce because their creativity lifts our spirits in times when we need it, and don't we need it now.

To coin yet another iconic song title, this one from one of Adelaide's greatest rock bands, The Angels, are we ever going to see their faces again? In many cases, probably not. They are throwing their hands in the air, along with their mics and instruments, 'giving it all away' as Leo Sayer and Roger Daltrey sang.

I attended the recent music industry summit at the Arkaba Hotel, pulled together by one of the state's best-known music figures, Rob Pippan, performer Jessee Catalano, also known as Mr Buzzy, and Jack Jericko, entertainment manager for the Hurley Group. Apart from the Leader of the Opposition, I was the only MP there. The room was as packed as it could be. They probably would have filled it 10 times over had it not been for restrictions.

We heard distressing, despondent and desperate pleas for help now that JobKeeper is over. So why is this government and our Premier—it is his portfolio—not listening? Pardon the analogy with another famous hit, Mr Marshall, but SA Health and the Transition Committee are killing them softly with their COVID song. It rings true in their ears and now in mine.

Some snippets from the guest speakers: Rob Pippan, who has lost or cancelled more than 100 shows since the start of the pandemic, says it is the worst crisis his industry has faced in his 40 years in the business. He wants:

industries to be heard on the floor of parliament;

immediate financial support;

dance floors reopened and vertical consumption returned as they are, paradoxically, at private functions; and

the Transition Committee to consult with them.

Singer Rachel Vidoni has been abused by patrons at her events because they cannot dance or have fun. She says:

I'm drained. What's the point anymore? I don't do it for the money. I don't do it for the fame and glory. I do it because I'm an entertainer. I want to make people happy. And when you're not making people happy, based on restrictions that you don't put in place, it's very, very hard.

Ben Whittington sold off his 10 guitars to survive after making a decent living for the past 10 years. He says, 'We're losing our income; we're scared to pay the bills.' Robert Butliva is now living in an old bus. Before COVID he was married, had built a successful music business with his wife and was planning to move into a new home to start their family. When COVID hit, their income dropped by 75 per cent. His wife miscarried. Their dreams were shattered. Rob's poignantly sad words stick in my mind. His disillusioned wife told him one day:

We have no customers to worry about now. We have no baby on the way. So if there's ever a time to end our marriage, is now. That was the bullet straight to the heart. And by mid 2021 I was a Covid divorcee.

The message in this huge bottle of despair and uncertainty is clear: time to listen to the music.