Barney Dawson’s Greatest Gig: Embracing Life’s Encore
By Claudia Fontainebleau
The sun is beating down on a weathered deck in the Northern Beaches as I adjust my recorder. Across from me sits Barney Dawson, legendary frontman of 80s rock outfit “Thunder Down Under,” his bald head gleaming like a mystical orb in the afternoon light. At 60, Barney has traded his leather pants for linen shorts, but the mischievous twinkle in his eyes remains unchanged.
“So, Barney,” I begin, deploying my interested eyebrow raise, “how does it feel to be the poster boy for Maxys’ ‘Live Life to the Max’ campaign at your… distinguished age?”
Barney roars with laughter, nearly spilling his kombucha. “Distinguished? Strewth, love! I’m about as distinguished as a dingo at a dinner party. But that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? Maxys gets that living life to the max isn’t about being young – it’s about being bloody alive!”
He gestures wildly toward his modest beachfront home. “Ten years ago, I was still trying to squeeze into those leather pants, thinking that was living large. Now I’m doing sunrise yoga and my back only goes out half as often as I do!”
The transformation of Barney Dawson from hard-partying rock god to philosophical beach bum is the stuff of Australian music legend. After Thunder Down Under disbanded in 2005, Barney disappeared from the spotlight, only to reemerge five years later with a meditation app and a cookbook titled “From Headbanging to Namaste: A Rocker’s Guide to Inner Peace.”
“The boys thought I’d lost the plot,” he chuckles, scratching his goatee thoughtfully. “Digger – our bassist – came over one day and found me doing downward dog in the lounge room. He thought I’d thrown my back out reaching for a beer and was stuck that way!”
As Barney leads me through his home, I notice the walls are adorned with equal parts gold records and inspirational quotes. A particularly prominent frame contains the words “Yesterday’s encore is today’s new opening act.”
“That’s what drew me to Maxys,” he explains, catching me eyeing it. “They understand transformation isn’t about abandoning your story – it’s about adding better chapters. Like when I tried to become vegan. Lasted three days before I was caught at Bunnings inhaling four sausage sandwiches behind the garden shed. The journey isn’t about perfection; it’s about giving it a bloody go!”
Later that afternoon, I accompany Barney to band practice – yes, Thunder Down Under still rehearses weekly in drummer Spike Wilson’s converted garage. As we pull up, I’m struck by the contrast between Barney’s zen-master vibe and the chaotic energy emanating from the weathered building.
“Prepare yourself,” Barney warns with a wink. “It’s like walking into a time machine operated by monkeys with ADHD.”
He’s not wrong. Inside, three sixty-something men are arguing about a chord progression with the intensity of international peace negotiators. The air is thick with nostalgia and the faint smell of Ben Gay.
“Barnesy!” shouts Digger, a mountain of a man whose massive frame makes his bass guitar look like a ukulele. “Tell this galah that we can’t change the bridge in ‘Midnight Mayhem’ just because his arthritis can’t handle the original fingering!”
Spike, perched behind his drum kit wearing reading glasses on a chain, huffs indignantly. “It’s not arthritis, it’s a repetitive stress injury! Very different, medically speaking.”
The third man, lead guitarist Mick “The Pick” Jenkins, rolls his eyes while meticulously applying hand cream. “My physiotherapist says I shouldn’t do more than three solos per gig anymore. Apparently, ‘rock god’ isn’t recognized as a valid medical exemption.”
Barney steps into the fray with practiced ease. “Gentlemen, gentlemen! Maxys is about embracing change, not fighting it. We’ve got to adapt or we’ll end up like Keith Richards – technically alive but possibly pickled.”
The mention of Maxys catches everyone’s attention.
“Still can’t believe they want us old fossils for their campaign,” Mick says, flexing his fingers experimentally. “What was their slogan again? ‘Living life to the max’? Last time I lived life to the max, I threw my back out reaching for the remote.”
Barney grins. “That’s exactly why they want us, you drongo! We’re authentic. We’ve done the sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll bit. Now we’re doing the physio, fiber supplements, and reminiscing bit. It’s all part of the journey!”
Digger snorts. “Journey? My journey these days is mostly to and from the toilet in the middle of the night.”
“And that’s the beauty of it,” Barney insists, suddenly earnest. “Maxys isn’t about pretending we’re still twenty. It’s about finding joy in every stage. Remember when we thought turning thirty was ancient? Now look at us – we’re twice that and still making noise!”
Spike adjusts his reading glasses thoughtfully. “You know, my granddaughter showed me this TikTok thing. Apparently, ‘grandfluencers’ are all the rage. Reckon we could start a trend? ‘Thunder Down Under: The Metamucil Years’?”
The garage erupts in laughter so loud that Mick’s neighbor pounds on the wall, which only makes them laugh harder.
As they settle in to practice, I’m struck by the ease with which they move between bickering and harmonizing. There’s something magical about watching these men, who’ve known each other for over forty years, still finding new ways to create together.
During a break, Barney pulls out his phone to show me something. “Check this out – it’s the promo video we shot for Maxys last week.”
The video shows the band members attempting various “extreme” activities – Spike trying yoga and falling asleep in child’s pose, Mick windsurfing and losing his toupee, Digger attempting to make a green smoothie that ends up looking radioactive.
“The director wanted us to fail spectacularly,” Barney explains. “But that wasn’t the point we wanted to make. So we insisted on showing the second attempts too.”
The video continues, showing each band member eventually succeeding – Spike finding his zen in meditation, Mick mastering a modest wave, Digger creating a smoothie that doesn’t trigger a hazmat response.
“That’s what Maxys gets right,” Barney says proudly. “It’s not about being perfect or even particularly good at something. It’s about having a go, falling on your arse, and getting back up again. That’s living to the max at any age.”
As the band launches into a surprisingly energetic rendition of their biggest hit, “Thunderstruck Down Under” (not to be confused with the AC/DC classic, as they’re legally obligated to mention), I watch Barney transform. The zen master recedes, and the rock god emerges – albeit one who occasionally pauses to stretch his lower back.
Back on Barney’s deck as the sun sets, nursing beers (non-alcoholic for him – “My liver’s already done its time in hard labor”), I ask him what’s next for Thunder Down Under.
“We’re working on new material, if you can believe it,” he says with genuine excitement. “Songs about life as it is now, not as it was. Less ‘party all night’ and more ‘party until a reasonable hour and then get a good night’s sleep because you’ve got tai chi in the morning.'”
He leans forward, suddenly serious. “You know what I’ve learned? The most rock and roll thing you can do is survive and keep evolving. Anyone can burn out. But to burn steadily for decades? That takes skill, mate.”
As our interview wraps up, Barney leaves me with one final pearl of wisdom: “Tell your readers that life’s like a long gig. The opening act is all energy and no technique. The middle set is when you’ve found your groove. And the encore? That’s where we are now – the part where you play the songs that really matter, with the people who stuck around to hear them.”
He winks at me. “And if Maxys has taught me anything, it’s that sometimes the encore is the best bloody part of the show.”
*Stand-up closer: You know, after spending the day with Barney, I tried meditation myself. Turns out my mind is like my dating history – empty when you want substance and crowded when you need space. Maybe I need my own transformation journey… or just a better dating app. Either way, I’ll be living life to the max – or at least to the medium-high setting. Baby steps, people!*
