“We’re adults now. We’re in our thirties. Our work has always been a passion, and always fun, but now it’s our livelihood,” Busby says. Several belt-notches and a decade into their tenure, he and Marou are ignoring or else burying their laurels. “We’ve had our excitements: getting calls about having a high rotation on triple j – yay – or our first Bluesfest, or getting signed to Warner. Now we look to the future.”
The two are building a profitable model. “We used to love to party but now we think, ‘Hang on, we’re serious musicians here’. We’ve always wanted to do this long term. It’s been ten years, so we say, ‘Let’s be good at it, let’s make some money, and let’s survive’.”
Busby laments how difficult it is to celebrate him and his partner these days – a side effect, he figures, of constant success spurts. “Sadly, it’s not as exciting anymore,” he says. “We give each other a nod, and we’re onto the next thing. I wish it wasn’t like that, but it is. I guess it’s a grown-up reaction to success.”
So the grown-up Busby Marou were veritable children about their debut album’s ARIA chart gold win? “It’s been a long time coming,” Busby laughs. “It’s strange, because we got a gold plaque to mark it, and it’s been out for so long.” He offers numeric perspective. “I mean, 35,000 people around Australia have bought this album that we recorded and pretty much self-produced. It’s a great feeling. And the plaque is really nice and shiny as well.”
He reckons their partying days have never been closer in mind. “Of all our exciting news lately, that was probably the big one. We thought, ‘We did it’. No one knew of us, except for the blokes that would come down and see us play at the pub, and now we’ve managed to break out. It’s cool.”
Asked if a few quiet tinnies are on the cards in the coming months, Busby says he hopes for such a reprieve. “A few years ago we would have partied for days,” he says. “We’re too busy right now, though. Part of being grown-up I guess.” He recalls the presentation ceremony was a decent break. “We went down, and we were presented with a plaque, and they took us for a bit of a lunch. And then we went straight into the studio. That day.”
Come tour travel time, though, Busby predicts a bash. “Our manager was overseas at the time, but on the Sydney gig coming up, we’re letting our hair down. That’s going to be our celebration for that achievement.”
Busby and Marou’s second record, Farewell Fitzroy, gave them something resembling the sophomore willies at one stage, and Busby is thankful it occurred early on. “It never bothered me that this was a follow-up except for one time,” he says. “I was sitting in the house, nutting out all the songs and melodies I’d worked on, and I’d put them down, and everything was going great.” Doubt followed. “I thought, ‘Uh oh’, and couldn’t figure out where to go. It was the pain of wanting it to be good, of wanting people to like it.” He insists his pain was acute.
“I don’t think the whole ‘second-album syndrome’ has gotten to us still; we always think of ourselves as long-term artists. So this record will be number two of however many. We’re album artists who make full albums.”
Busby promises album number three will come from a more learned Busby Marou, and he believes we have Don Walker to thank. “We only had the one four-day session with Don,” he says. “We went to his house, hung out, and now he’s given me the confidence to go out and collaborate with other people.” Walker’s prowess initially had them intimidated.
“We thought it was so weird. We thought we weren’t good enough – I mean, it’s Don Walker, what’s the go – but he was a great help.” Walker offered his seasoned chops to help pen Luck, a song only in an early development phase before his arrival. “I only had the melody down, basically. I played him a few songs, and when I got to Luck, he said, ‘That one, that one’. So we sat down, listened to some Glen Campbell to get in the right mood, and he saw where I wanted to go with it.” He concedes Walker may be his songwriting superior.
“He crafted the lyrics and music in a way that I just couldn’t. I’ve got a big part to that song, and it’s hard to explain, but without Don Walker the song would not be as strong as it is.”
Busby Marou have been hard at professional development – a set of hard yards few recording and performing artists are keen to run after ten years – and they’re clearly better, if a little tired, for it. Over the next few months come tour slots, festival appearances, “Jeremy in his footy shorts,” and likely the next phase of what Busby hopes will be a “very long, successful career.”
BY NATHAN HEWITT
