Champagne, songs and telling jokes: how we gave my father an ‘incredibly beautiful’ death

Each week, Benjamin Law asks public figures to discuss the subjects we’re told to keep private by getting them to roll a die. The numbers they land on are the topics they’re given. This week, he talks to Katie Noonan. The singer-songwriter, 48, has been nominated for 29 ARIA Awards across diverse genres and won five, including one for fronting the indie rock band, George. She has released 29 albums.

POLITICS

What do you think about the argument that all art – and, therefore, music – is inherently political? I’d have to agree. Art is a response to the world and the world is political. Also, I’m the daughter of an ABC investigative journalist, so news and politics are embedded in my DNA. It made me aware of the world and the power of art, how it can change people’s lives and influence politics. Think of Helen Reddy in 1973 when, on accepting a Grammy, she publicly thanked God and called Her a woman.

Very cool. I didn’t know that. And in Bible Belt 1970s America, that wouldn’t have gone down well.

How does the political inform your own work? Well, I wrote a song called Special Ones in March 1999 – in the last century! It was me being a young feminist, trying to own my power in a relationship. When we released it, I got these incredible messages from women who were the age I am now – in their late 40s and 50s – saying, “This song gave me the agency to leave a violent marriage.” That was overwhelming for me: “That song didn’t mean that for me at all, as a 21-year-old, but it meant that for you.” I made a conscious decision at that age that I wanted my music to be an offering for goodness in some way.

DEATH

You’ve been having an incredibly rough trot: marriage break-up, losing your father … I’ve had 18 months of profound grief. My beautiful father, Brian Noonan, died in March last year, then my marriage died around September and October. And perimenopause was a nice side-plate of f---ery.

Jesus, that’s a lot. How are you at the moment? Well, I’ve just finished my 30th studio album. Music has always been my healing space, my catharsis. I found myself writing songs about the grief around my marriage ending and being, suddenly, a single woman. I was with the father of my children for 26 years, which is, basically, my entire adult life. It is what it is. Actually, the death of my father was incredibly beautiful.

What makes for a “beautiful” death? At home, surrounded by family, laughter and music. My father had been very unwell for almost 20 years, and Mum was his full-time carer – the most extraordinary carer. I’ve come to a new place of love and respect for her because of her amazing care of my dad. Dad came home and we had incredible assistance from Karuna [hospice services in Brisbane], so we could do whatever was required at home. Amazingly, Mum said, “Let’s get champagne” – she doesn’t really drink – so we just gathered around the bed, singing and laughing and telling jokes. I’d just written a piece for Dad that I was going to debut at the Sydney Opera House and I was singing him the demo. And hearing the laughter, the music and knowing that Mum was OK and that we were together, he felt he had the permission to go. It was perfect.

It sounds as if I’ve caught you in a pivotal moment. Yes – and I’ve joined this bad-ass, f---ing cool club: the Perimenopausal, Menopausal and Postmenopausal Divorcee Club. Lots of amazing women in it. Even though I didn’t want to join, I’m now a mighty member.

What are the non-negotiables for your own farewell? Dear friends having a good time and sharing music.

Any song requests for the funeral? Last Goodbye by Jeff Buckley.

SEX

What was your sex education like? Oh, it was atrocious. I grew up in the 1980s in Brisbane, the daughter of two devout Catholics. The thing about Catholics is we’ve got the Virgin Mary – she’s a virgin! – so we’re sort of brought up to believe that sex is this naughty thing. She was a virgin, but she had Jesus. It’s very confusing for girls: you’re meant to be pure and virginal, but then also you’re meant to make life. And, to do that, you have to have sex. But that’s what our bodies are made for. Whether it be with a man or a woman, it doesn’t matter: it’s about connection, spirituality and pleasure.

What’s better? A really good gig or really good sex? Oh, it’s still got to be a good gig. Nothing is more cathartic than being in the audience and being part of this collective release. It’s sort of like all of us having an orgasm at the same time.

When do you feel your sexiest? Actually, I felt my sexiest when I was pregnant.

Oh, that’s interesting. Yes: “I’ve had sex – and here’s the proof!” You just feel so womanly. Your skin and hair look incredible, your boobs and hips get bigger – you’re growing a life. And I was lucky, I didn’t get bad morning sickness. I’m so grateful I’m a woman who was capable of doing that.

What kind of person are you attracted to? It changes. At the moment, I’m embracing being on my own and enjoying the solitude. The thought of being with someone else is the furthest thing from my mind. But maybe I’d like … a salt-and-pepper Maori man in a suit.

Yeah, you would! I dunno why that came out! [Laughs] I think it’s because I’m watching this fabulous Maori series on Netflix [Friends Like Her] and there are a lot of good-looking Maori men in that.

Katie Noonan: Jeff Buckley’s Grace is now touring nationally.

diceytopics@goodweekend.com.au

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