Ted Kelly remembers building the Pampas memorial hall stone by stone.
“All the corrugated iron was lifted by hand,” says the now 87-year-old farmer, tapping the floor with his walking stick. “All the blocks underneath here are all four feet in the ground and all dug with a crowbar and a shovel. It took weeks and weeks.”
The hall, which first opened in 1955, is a 50-minute drive from Toowoomba, and serves a town of just 60 or so people. It was originally lit by kerosene lamp, and cost £422 to build – with money raised by the community of mostly cotton farmers. One fundraising dance, held in a local’s barn, featured a chocolate wheel, pillow fight and a “belle of the ball”, according to records. It made £43. In a swimming carnival, one Mr VW Fysh donated a duck for the “catch the duck in the water competition”; other fundraising events included tractor races, tug-of-war and “throw the broom”.
More than six decades later, the rural Queensland hall – which still stands handsome and strong, with a corrugated iron roof, hardwood floor and warm panelled wooden walls – has seen grand balls, boxing tournaments, movie nights and bowls, although these days is mostly used for craft groups and meetings.
But last week it hosted something more novel: a live gig, for the first time in maybe a decade.
To a crowded room, which included a grey-haired lady in bright blue nylon stockings who spent the concert knitting, three acts belted out their songs. Decorated with bunting and coloured bulbs strung up from the ceiling, the evening was part of the Festival of Small Halls: a series of seasonal tours that take local and international bands through rural and remote regions, and has been running in Australia since 2013.
‘It’s like playing in a hall from forever ago. It’s perfect.’ Photograph: Timothy Roberts
“There was a long period when the halls were dormant. People want to see live music, musicians want to play and the venue is there,” says Ash Bell, 39, one half of the Aussie folk duo Ash Bell and Sara Tindley. “It’s like playing in a hall from forever ago. It’s perfect.”
“The hall breathes,” gushes Tindley, 52. “You can feel the history.”
Produced for Australia by Woodfordia Inc, which also put on Woodford folk festival, the Festival of Small Halls has three goals: to grow the market for folk music; to provide access to high-quality live music in remote areas; and to carve out a regional touring circuit for the music industry.
“Regional Australia doesn’t have a touring circuit in the way that Europe and America does: venues and deals aren’t set up to support artists,” says the festival’s producer Eleanor Rigden. “We work with these [communities] for at least six months to support them to put on a show.”
The idea is simple: by showing the communities who manage the halls that live music is an option, a touring circuit will slowly be carved out, which, in turn, will help provide space for music across the country to flourish and grow. Critically, it will also show bigger acts that these rural areas are worth visiting and have the infrastructure to host them.
The Jellyman’s Daughter. Photograph: Timothy Roberts
“Normally when international acts come to Australia they hit up the cities and that’s it: done,” says Emily Kelly, 27, of Scottish acoustic duo The Jellyman’s Daughter, who will travel this November by bus everywhere from regional New South Wales to Queensland to Victoria. The festival is “taking the initiative to go to these places”.
The seasonal tours usually encompass 20 dates over five weeks, with most shows featuring a local act (from highland dancing to teenage singer-songwriters), followed by touring bands: one international, one Australian. Each tour is non-profit, with state governments, local councils and communities subsidising the events to help keep prices low. In Pampas, tickets cost just $15.
But if supporting the growth of Australian music is one aim, so is a celebration of the halls themselves, the oldest of which date to pre-federation.
Of the Pampas memorial hall, Ted Kelly says, “It’s a good solid building.”
It is also a hub for a community under considerable strain as Australia suffers a crippling drought. “We haven’t grown a crop for 18 months now and we’re hanging out for some good rain,” says his 64-year-old son, Graeme, a farmer who is also president of the hall committee. “To have this many people on a Thursday night in the middle of the drought just shows there’s still some community spirit around.”
“A community hall is a reflection of a community,” agrees 55-year-old local Michael Hegarty, as he mans the sausage sizzle and hands out $1 cups of coffee. “If you didn’t keep the hall in good nick, it would be the start of the fragmentation.”
‘It’s a good solid building’ says Ted Kelly, pictured, who helped build the Pampas memorial hall in the 1950s. Photograph: Timothy Roberts
It isn’t just extreme weather that is proving a challenge, but the ageing population. Graeme Kelly sighs. “Everyone is getting old,” he says, eyeing up the crowd of mostly seniors. “So we’ll be looking for some new blood, which is going to be hard. Not a lot of young people round here anymore.”
For the moment, however, the Festival of Small Halls is providing some respite.
“This is the pinnacle of touring Australia,” insists Bell. “Because you are playing to people – you’re not playing to massive rooms or auditoriums or huge festival audiences. You are playing to people who you can see, talk to and have a cup of tea with. You have to let yourself be hosted rather than think you’re hosting them.”
• The spring tour of Festival of Small Halls takes the Jellyman’s Daughter and Ash Bell & Sara Tindley from Dorrigo to Queenscliff, through November. Upcoming summer tours travel from Mullum to Woodford; and Cygnet to Illawarra. The Guardian was a guest of The Festival of Small Halls
