William Crighton on his ARIA success, touring with Midnight Oil and the art of songwriting

Part bush balladeer, part rock'n'roll minister, the Bellbird troubadour has the intangible ability to enchant even the most cynical ears, whether he's preaching to the converted in the country surrounds of Dashville or turning on fresh minds in support of Midnight Oil.

So it's intriguing to view at close quarters the other side of Crighton, the devoted family man as a husband and father-of-three.

We're at Hunter Street's Happy Wombat one busy lunchtime and Crighton's youngest and only son Jack, 18 months, is sitting patiently in his stroller munching on chips while his father switches seamlessly between articulate artist and attentive dad.

It's a rare day off for Crighton in amongst a hectic touring schedule and running a music program for inmates at the Cessnock Correctional Centre.

At the moment he's touring Australia with Melbourne folk-rock artist Liz Stringer. They arrive back in Newcastle next Friday (March 24) to perform at the Cambridge Hotel.

Crighton's been a fan of Stringer's since watching her play eight years ago at Maitland's Grand Junction Hotel, but the pair bonded as like-minded songwriters while supporting Midnight Oil on their farewell tour last year.

"That essence of truth," Crighton says, when asked why he's a fan of Stringer's. "Her voice, the melodic way she weaves her melodies. She's one of our best songwriters.

"She puts on an amazing show. We've always yarned about doing it and when we were on the road with The Oils we just made the pledge."

In the career of William Crighton, there's never been a better year than 2022. Measure it by any metric you like.

In February he released his critically-acclaimed third album Water and Dust, he then played to the biggest audiences of his career supporting Midnight Oil in Australia and Europe and by November he was accepting his first ARIA Award when he took out Best Blues & Roots Album.

"It was cool and definitely what meant the most to me was the idea that the peers in your industry are listening to your music and supporting you," Crighton says.

"I thought I existed outside that context, but it's great to be welcomed and recognised in that way."

Crighton is also quick to point out that the ARIA Award also belongs to his wife Julieanne, who is a constant bandmate, collaborator and source of inspiration.

While Water and Dust's ARIA success might have surprised the industry, anyone who's followed Crighton's career since his reinvention on his self-titled debut in 2016, would have felt the recognition was overdue.

The debut filled with Australian tales of murdering paedophile priests, suicide and childhood exploits, introduced Crighton's dark mix of country, folk and rock.

Imagine John Williamson crossed with Nick Cave's Murder Ballads phase.

Empire in 2018 was a step towards a more muscular and psych-influenced sound and a greater emphasis on Australia's Indigenous histories and mythologies.

Water and Dry brought all Crighton's strengths together with raging protest songs (My Country), odes to Cessnock (This is Magic) and epics about colonial horrors (Killara).

Crighton has started writing album No.4, which is describes as "very different", and he hopes to release a single in May.

Paul Kelly has described songwriting as fishing, you need to cast a line to catch something, while Noel Gallagher compares it to tuning into a radio frequency.

Crighton generally writes songs in his head first, before sitting down with a guitar or at the piano to etch it out.

"Sometimes it comes out of nowhere," he says. "I can't explain it. It feels like I'm listening and letting it happen.

"Other times it's far more conscious and I decide I want to write about that or I'll hear a phrase or a word."

IT'S clear that touring with Midnight Oil caused a pivotal shift in mindset for Crighton. Like he realised what was possible.

REVIEW: Midnight Oil produce rocking farewell.

"More than any other band I've seen in my life, the amount they put into the show, as far as the thought behind it and the staging, was amazing," he says.

"It was an epic performance by all of them, considering they're not old, but they're not young. [Drummer] Rob Hirst, after every show, was spent. He left everything on stage. He's a machine. It was a sight to see every night."

Crighton's favourite memory was The Oils' show at Paris' L'Olympia Bruno Coquatrix. During Kosciusko the power went out, leaving the audience in darkness.

"There was no power for four minutes and they just kept playing. You could hear them acoustically in the room and it sounded massive. They just kept playing and the crowd roared."

The European reaction to The Oils' very-Australian songs also reinforced Crighton's belief that stories are universal.

"It makes me think that stories are just stories," he says. "Context adds the interest, but the story is universal.

"We grew up listening to American stories so much and we resonated with the story because it happens so much all the time, it doesn't matter where it is."

It's also made Crighton more determined to take his music overseas. Following the end of the Stringer tour on April 1 in Brisbane, he'll kick-off a 13-date UK tour beginning on April 5 in Cardiff, Wales.

Crighton says previously many Australians succumbed to "cultural cringe", but he believes younger generations of artists are proud to tell our stories, in our unique way, internationally.

"I sing in an Australian accent and I sing about things that happened here, but you've got to remember those things have happened everywhere," he says. "Especially in the UK and Europe, a lot of the stuff in the songs comes from there.

"The music I create, I try to echo the soundscape of here too, the harshness, the beauty. I try to emulate that in the sound of the music and tell whatever story seems necessary over the top."

William Crighton and Liz Stringer play the Cambridge Hotel next Friday.

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