BLACKBIRD GREEN | INTERVIEW + TRACK REVIEW

Blackbird Green writes like someone who has been paying attention for a very long time. The Melbourne project, led by singer-songwriter Simon Ferwerda, has moved through line-ups and long stretches of quiet since 2013, but the through line has always been the same, songs that arrive when they are ready, not when they are demanded. Some of the tracks on the new album Spans were written twenty years ago and quietly put in the bank, waiting for the right moment to be pulled back out. That patience is the whole point. The album's title reads like a mission statement, a body of work that spans stages of a life rather than a single season of it.

There is a Melbourne underneath these songs that any Melbournian will recognise, the clocks at Flinders Street, a coffee in Degraves, an open mic on a school night, a call and response that half worked at Nighthawks. But Blackbird Green is more interested in what those places carry than what they look like. The Clocks at Flinders St is a song about meeting a friend and passing on advice rather than falling in love. Self-Made Man wears its melancholy on the surface and hides comfort underneath. This Side of the Fence turns gratitude into a chorus loud enough that strangers sing it back to you. In the interview below Simon talks about writing melody-first, why most songs follow a formula and Blackbird Green refuses to, and how a lyric written for a partner twenty years ago has quietly rewritten itself into the past tense.

TRACK REVIEW -

This Side of the Fence lands with the whole band together from the first bar, somber but arriving fully formed, which is always my favourite kind of intro. From there the guitar work climbs, soaring and chimey, until a set of out of the blue rim clicks step into the arrangement and quietly change the feel of the whole thing. The lyrics carry a real sense of longing and Simon's voice sits inside that mood without ever pushing. It's authentic, and authenticity is the shortcut past every other trick.

The lead guitar solo is the moment the track really opens up. Warm, articulate tone. The playing sounds comfortable in the best way, unhurried, sure of itself, letting each note breathe without ever chasing the next one.

The title Spans suggests distance, connection and the space between different points in life. What is the album trying to bridge, either personally, musically or across the band's history?

The title Spans reflects how the songs span different stages of my life, exploring love, loss, grief, health, and the highs and lows of living. Some of the songs were written around twenty years ago and "put in the bank" so to speak, until the time felt right to revisit or rediscover them.

The Clocks at Flinders St takes one of Melbourne's most recognisable meeting places and turns it into a song. What is it about that location that carries enough emotional weight to become part of Blackbird Green's story?

The Clocks at Flinders St is based on a true story. Years ago, I met my cousin under the clocks at Flinders Street Station for a catch-up. Like countless Melburnians, I've always seen it as a classic meeting place.

When I wrote the song, I didn't realise the idea had already been explored in the 1980s by Weddings Parties Anything in Under the Clocks. I only discovered this a couple of years ago after performing my song at an open mic, when another musician mentioned it.

While Under the Clocks is a love story about meeting for a date, my song is about meeting a friend and passing on some advice that had once been given to me.

Blackbird Green has reformed rather than simply formed. When you returned to the band, did it feel like continuing an unfinished conversation or meeting a completely different version of yourselves?

Yes, it has often felt like an unfinished conversation whenever Blackbird Green has reformed. Founded in 2013, it has always been primarily a solo project, with me as the main singer-songwriter, despite several different line-ups over the years.

That said, some songs - Influencer, Keyboard Warrior, and This Side of the Fence - were genuine collaborations, with the core ideas written together.

For now, Blackbird Green isn't about becoming something completely different. Of course, that may change over time.

Your influences include The Beatles, Crowded House and Radiohead, three bands known for making complex songwriting feel effortless. What matters more to you when writing: an immediate melody or a song that slowly reveals itself over repeated listens?

When I write, melody comes first, as well as substance - whether that's telling a story, capturing a feeling, or expressing an opinion. It's easy to forget that rock'n'roll is an art form before it's a business. You can chase a No. 1 hit, but does the song actually mean something?

I write a lot of songs, but I'm selective about what I perform live and record professionally, and that approach shaped Spans. I don't force creativity - the songs tend to reveal themselves naturally. I rarely add a verse, bridge, or solo simply because a song is expected to have one. Too many songs follow a predictable formula.

Maybe the best songs are the ones that reveal themselves over time, rewarding repeated listens in the same way a great album gradually becomes part of you.

Melbourne is constantly rebuilding, closing venues and changing around the people who live there. Do you think The Clocks at Flinders St is partly about holding onto familiar places while everything else keeps moving?

I think so. I'm drawn to the nostalgia, and I find endless inspiration in the city. I often spend time there on my own - walking the streets, grabbing a coffee, and soaking up the atmosphere. I've spent many hours sitting in cafés, especially in Degraves Street, writing lyrics.

I've been doing that for years, so I suppose the song is also about holding on to a place that has always felt familiar.

There can be a strange gap between who you were when a song was first written and who you are by the time it is finally recorded. Did any of the songs on Spans change meaning as the band evolved?

Yes, some of the songs have taken on new meaning over time. For example, Shake (to be released soon), a rock-reggae track, was originally written for my partner when we first got together. Twenty years later, the feelings are still there, but I updated the lyrics to reflect the passage of time, mostly by changing them to the past tense.

For instance, the line, "Like an explosion, I could go off, where you're a sunbeam, I'm a flare," became, "Like an explosion, I could've gone off, where you were a sunbeam, I was a flare." The changes acknowledge the distance between when the song was written and where we are today.

Your music balances heartfelt lyrics with memorable hooks and driving guitars. Have you ever written something deeply personal and then found it surreal hearing an audience sing those words back to you?

Yes, although I can only remember it happening once - an open mic. This Side of the Fence, a single from Spans, was written recently and is largely about gratitude. The final verse reflects this idea: "Living in the present tense, I will look at this side of the fence, I will look at what I've got, and not focus on what I've not."

The song has a catchy chorus - "Why do you mind if I walk away, if I come on home" - and I remember hearing a couple of other musicians singing it back to me, quite loudly. They were probably a few drinks in, but it was still a surreal and memorable moment.

After spending time away from the project, did returning to Blackbird Green make you more protective of your original sound or more willing to dismantle it and explore new territory?

I've never really thought about protecting a particular sound or deliberately pushing into new territory. I've been writing songs for a long time in a style that feels natural to me. As mentioned earlier, I believe the substance lies in the songs themselves - they tend to write themselves, and creativity can't be forced.

That said, I may explore new territory in the future, and that would be exciting.

A strong melody can make sadness feel strangely uplifting. Are you naturally drawn to that tension between emotional weight and music people can still move, sing or feel hopeful to?

Since adolescence, I've felt drawn to melancholy in all forms of art - music, films, and paintings. Perhaps it's a reflection of my life, my upbringing, and everything that's shaped me.

So while 'Self-Made Man' (from Spans) has a melancholic sound, I hope it ultimately brings comfort or even uplifts. It's about someone who has worked hard to build a meaningful life without much of a head start. That success might be in a relationship, as a friend, in raising a family, or in any other part of life.

Playing intimate Melbourne venues puts you close enough to see people react in real time. Has there been a particular live moment since reforming that changed how you understood one of your own songs?

I remember Blackbird Green playing at Nighthawks in Collingwood a couple of years ago. During our closing song, If Your Time Is Free, a simple, groovy pop song that repeats the line "if your time is free so's mine," I had the spontaneous idea to get the crowd involved in a call-and-response.

It didn't quite work as planned - the band was caught off guard by the spontaneity, and we lost time. Still, it was a fun experiment, and something we could try again in the future, though with a bit more preparation.

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