Bones Hillman is considering the proposition that Midnight Oil are the political conscience of Australian pop music. "Yeah, we're comfortable with that. If we came out now with a 'baby I really love you, when you sway your butt, it really moves my gut' type album, I think that would be dismissed: like, Midnight Oil have really gone off the rails," he says. "There's enough people that do that kind of thing."

No argument there.

Midnight Oil have been assiduously refusing to add their voice to the lovelorn's ululating chorus since they first shook the sand from the ears of Sydney's waxheads back in 1975. And with the release of the vigorous, buzzing Redneck Wonderland - despite featuring aspects of a changing aesthetic including samples and a wibble of techno-tweaking - nothing has changed. Have they ever written a love song. Just a little one? "Um. We've had Outbreak of Love," he offers after a substantial pause. "Now is the end of the beginning of the outbreak of love," he recites. "It was one of Rob's [Hirst, drummer] on Earth and Sun and Moon. But I don't think we sing 'love' anywhere else that I can remember."

"There are two sides to Midnight Oil," he continues. "One is we are a band and second we address issues. I guess people respond to the lyrical content and the music, and then there are others who dread the day that Midnight Oil bring out a record that's going to bash them over the head with some issue they're uncomfortable about. And let's face it, we do that."

Oh yes they do. And given that, would it be fair to consider Redneck Wonderland to be a scarcely veiled snipe at the prospect of a Hanson Australia, a redhead wonderland?

"You can interpret it any way you want. But the title came from graffiti on an electrical substation on the banks of the Yarra River in Melbourne, which we walked past every day for four months. Someone suggested we use it and we all knew exactly what it meant. But it wasn't like a predetermined thing to put the boot into a particular issue.

"We've decided that she [Hanson] gets enough press. People say why don't you use a Pauline Hanson backdrop? Or what about your clips and artwork? But we're not going to add to the coverage she's already getting. Obviously there's people in this country who agree with what she's saying, and there's people who don't. But she's out there. She's out of control."

If there's one thing that people associate with Midnight Oil, apart from the fierce politicking and Pete Garrett, the whirling, lasso-limbed frontman with a bald nut and a face lined like a drought-leached ravine, it is their legendary affinity with Australia's interior. An affinity, we understand, that is brought about by touring the archipelago-like chain of inland communities that stretches from the tropics of Arnhem Land to the parched floors of the red centre: a passage the Oils have etched into the heart of the Australian cultural experience. It's surprising to learn, however, that their level of engagement with those communities is often rather prosaic.

"When we tour it's pretty cocooned. I don't really get out of my hotel room and have that much interaction with people from those areas. We're not out there pressing the flesh and kissing babies in shopping malls. We stick to ourselves and read the local newspaper. Take Rockhampton. You're bailed up for the afternoon and you turn the TV on: it's more about rainfall and how it's going to affect cattle and cattle farming, than anything to do with people and politics."

That said, Midnight Oil have only just returned from a concert at Jabiluka to support the Mirra people's protest at a second uranium mine being opened on the land to which they hold title.

"We've been in correspondence with the Jabiluka people for quite a long time. And they've been wanting us to do something. They need a lot of support. You've got an issue there which gets bugger-all coverage in the media. People wanting to start a second uranium mine in the middle of a World Heritage park! People are coming up from all around Australia to protest."

And because sometimes it's a little tricky for everyone to make it up there, the Oils are once more tooling up to bring the protest to the people on a national tour. And it promises to be quite a night out.

Kicking off with 40 minutes of footage from Hawaii of the largest waves ever ridden, "then," Bones says, "The Pale Riders come on. After them we'll play a 20,000 Watt RSL set and then Steady Eddie'll do 10 minutes of MC-ing. Then we'll put on the Spandex, tease up the hair, take out the curlers and come back and play Redneck Wonderland, and everyone can yell out 'play your old material'. Something like that."

Despite the joking you can feel the gravity which the Oils attach to their music and to their cause. Which brings us back to the original question. Does anyone else in Australian rock care like the Oils? "Well there's people like Paul Kelly, he's involved with the Aboriginal community. There's Mental as Anything, Weddings Parties ... The industry in this country is activist: it does get involved, it does mouth off. It's not just a docile community of leather-pants-wearing, marijuana-smoking, late-night, beer-guzzling chick-chasing rockers."

From Sydney Morning Herald Online, by Matt Buchanan

(Note: this article has not been approved for reproduction.)