That more relaxed approach is indicative of an increasingly softer stance on life and music which has emerged within the Oils camp in the '90s. The band is now a much kinder, gentler beast. After 1993's 'Earth And Sun And Moon' and now the even more conciliatory 'Breathe', it's obvious they've left their barnestorming sturm and drang days far behind. For example, the pleasant country song One Too Many Times from 'Breathe' is a long way from 1979's incendiary 'Head Injuries'!

"Well, I'm glad it's not 'Head Injuries'!" declares Garrett, when questioned about the expectations of long-term fans. "I mean, we wouldn't have stayed together as Midnight Oil if we had've made six 'Head Injuries'! We would have got too bored. We've never been a band that's liked repeating what we've done. We could have gone back in the studio and made another 'Diesel And Dust'. But what's essentially Midnight Oil is more to do with attitude; Out of that, audiences will come and go. If someone gets into you at a certain period in their life, that's always going to be their favourite time. I'm the same with my favourite bands. But as a musician I can't wear a strait-jacket that's been built for me by an audience."

While the Oils may have mellowed as musicians and as people, Garrett is quick to point out that they are no less committed to their work. "Certainly we've changed," he says quietly. "You can't be an angry young man forever. You're either an angry young man who turns cynical or you become somebody that actually tries to produce or construct something. I used to hit my head and my fists against a wall and hurt myself because I felt so anguished at what was being done to the country, and occasionally that still happens. But I don't think it's possible to say that Midnight Oil have mellowed in the sense that people accept that word. If anything we've become more focused in the way in which we direct our energies. 'Breathe' has still got strong statements on it, we're just not shouting at people."

While many will view the Oils' progressively diminishing record sales and the quieter, reflective sentiments of 'Breathe' as proof that the band is entering the twilight of its career, Garrett believes that sort of thinking couldn't be further from the truth.

"Success has never been in our vocabulary," he says firmly. "And as a result of that we do have the potential to keep on making music because it means something to us regardless of how successful we are. It's a glorious experiment to see if we can go into the next phase. I think we can. And this is not a line from me, because we don't need to go on! We've had the achievements, we've had the tremendous good luck of having success in our country and in other places, so it's not like we have to prove anything to anybody."

That willingness to not be too precious about the Midnight Oil recording legend will extend to the next album, which is already in the pipeline. "We're just going to bring a tape machine into the show or to wherever we're rehearsing, or to a house and just throw the new stuff down. And we're just going to keep on accumulating songs and feels and different bits of music and see what we end up with. It'll be much more chaotic, much more by chance. No producer, just as we go. You'll be hearing new music hopefully by March/April."

There may even be a surprise in store for the long term fans longing for a return to the glory days, if one of Garrett's throwaway comments is anything to go by. "We played 'Powderworks' two nights ago and it sounded rawer than it had ever had!" he laughs. "The boys were playing Marshalls and I thought to myself, okay, I got a feeling what the next record's going to be like!"

After talking with Peter Garrett about how his band has changed over the years. it seemed only reasonable to ask how the man himself, once a towering, belligerent figurehead of ranting righteousness for a generation of now middle-aged Australians, had changed in the 18 years since they unleashed the feral 'Powderworks' on an unexpected world.

"I think that I've seen the good, the bad and the in-between," he says after a moment's deliberation. "I've come to realise that if you want to hold onto something then you hang on tight, you don't let people pull your hand off it: you know that you won't be moved. And know that if you can do that, what comes around, comes around again and that the things that we care about as musicians, the way that we play, the way that we construct our music, what we do is more a product of trying to clear away opinions than in trying to listen to opinions.

"So I guess the learning process has been to learn to follow your instincts, to follow you quiet 'heart' voice and ignore the chatter. For me, the most important thing has been understanding what really letting go is all about. You can't control it all, you're fooling yourself if you think you can. No-one controls it all, not even Rupert Murdoch."

From dB Magazine, by Peter Strelan

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