Ian Rilen

Ian Rilen (1947-October 30, 2006) was an Australian musician, most noted for his work with Rose Tattoo and X. Other bands he was in included Ian Rilen & the Love Addicts and Sardine v.

Rilen co-wrote one of Rose Tattoo's biggest hits, "Bad Boy for Love".

He started his career in Sydney and most recently lived in Melbourne.

Solo work included Love is Murder (2001) and Passion, Boots and Bruises (2004). A final album was completed before his death.

He died at the age of 59 on 30 October 2006 at 10:10am, following a battle with bladder cancer. He had been battling cancer since early 2006.

External links

• Official home page
• Ian Rilen (I-94 Bar)
• Melbourne Age "Rose Tattoo Legend dies", 30 October 2006

Ian Rilen as told by his long time friend Stephen Esric Loomes

At Cook Road, Centennial Park, 1978. A few nights with the Rilens:

We were just like dreamers Dreaming, in the sun Situations ever-changing, Changing everyone.

We were just like lovers Lying – everyone Wait till night time covers Hiding, everyone.

Ian Rilen

One night Bryan Matthews mentioned he was rehearsing with some to the musicians next door and I joined him. In one of the backrooms the amplifiers and drums were set up and I walked over to hear the pounding drumming of Ian playing bass. We walked into the room spilling with sound. Bryan waiting for Ian’s acknowledgement, then picked up the microphone and started singing.

I doesn’t matter how much you think about things, nothing replaces feeling them. To sit next to an amplifier with leads all around your fee listening to drums, bass guitar and any other instrument is separate altogether from listening to a recording. Another thing which emerges when musicians play together is a communication between them which transcends words. The music does not have to be symphonic, it can be bad or good, it can vary from night to night and whatever the expression, it passes first between those playing before it spills out to the listener. Within this “conversation” there is differing levels of articulation, and there are the creators, and those who just play. Of those who are the creators, the ones who can sit down and create enthusiasm are the greatest performers. Ian Rilen was one such musician. It was obvious as I watched that a wealth of ideas and structure was flowing from him to the others.

“No, just try a little more of this” he would say to the others with an almost embarrassed smile and they would change and look quickly for his approval.

Most of the dialogue was with the instruments but Ian was clearly guiding.

The night was enjoyed drinking and listening to songs being rehearsed. I had not realised till that evening that Ian was an accomplished musician. He had a remarkable gift of saying, “I thought of something today, listen to this” and picking up the bass and drumming out a beat which would catch you up. He would smile and sing the words which were simple but true. Here was a new poetry for me, an honest, plainly but cleverly expressed sentiment. For those of us who spend most of our days working, it is good to meet an Ian Rilen. Often he would hand me the guitar and say “Play something.” Surprisingly I would start tapping out some primitive rhythms and be amazed at my capacity to do so. In this way Ian would play something and say, “I just need some words for this line” or “I just need a line to end this song” and I would find myself reaching into my creativity to find something to match. I was being shown how to go to the well and reach the water. Every time the bucket went down I would feel an exhilaration, a remembering. Anyone can do this I thought, even I, why haven’t I tried this before? Ian had a peculiar effect on people. Everyone wanted to be with him and they competed for his time and attention. He had the final word on any subject, not because he was arrogant or self-opinionated, but because he usually saw more than others. He had an affect of making people see some beauty in themselves. Ian was already a public figure. “A legend in his own neighbourhood”, some would jokingly say of his rejection of fame in the past. Before I knew him there was Band of Light, Rose Tattoo and much more. He was accused by many of arrogance, but they all liked him and in them one could only see the criticism came from envy and competitiveness. This is not to say the man was saintly. The reverse was sometimes true. His behaviour and emotions were there to be seen and judged. This is what set him apart and made him an exemplar. It’s not that his conduct was impeccable, simply that it was honest. I reflected on this as my association with him developed, and I considered how I hid my feelings. If I wanted to be with someone I was too reserved to say so directly. I thought of my “abstracted love” for my partners. When Ian loved someone, everyone knew, thought about it, had an opinion on it and became part of what Ian was doing. Ian’s obvious sexual peregrinations continued and in the midst of it all Stephanie kept a fine home, fed endless guests and cared thoroughly for her children through those times. Her love for Ian was great and somehow hinged on the growth that she experienced by being with him. It was not without pain for both of them, and all of us who knew them shared in their relationship because of the nature of Ian’s honesty. I often compared Ian to other people I knew. When they had relationships they were clandestine, sneaky and if uncovered, fraught with guilt and endless recriminations. Here on the other hand was a man who showed his feelings, paid for them at the time and therefore did not live a fantasy.

Notwithstanding his faults, proud for all to see, there was the remarkable compassion of the man. In artistic circles, I learnt it is almost everything to be fashionable. To most, fashion involved rejecting certain of the outer members of the people who associated in the house at Cook Road. Turning away when that person was talking, and subtle means of ignoring a being would be practiced by the pretenders to fashion. Ian was in his own right fashion, and yet would open his door to the most wayward and forlorn souls. Their words and intentions he would favour with equal time to the “more important people”. I remember going with him one day down to a single-mens’ hostel on William Street. We went in to visit an old friend of Ian’s called Norm. Norm, Ian said was a great slide guitar player but he lost his way and ended up living like a derelict. Ian loved Norm and you could see Norm felt the same way about Ian. Norm sat there with the blacks of his pupils wide and the cigarette stains on his fingers talking gently. This was one of the many “uncool” people Ian took lovingly under his arm.In that way too, I could reflect on the civilised members of society with whom I mixed, and I thought of their petulance, self-importance and cynicism. In the professions there are far more whose psychic motor is ego, than intelligence. In the best practitioners though, are always those whose concern is for all, not just those from whom advantage comes. Yet another thing which I learnt from Ian was the pleasure of children. At that time I was in my late twenties, and had always been as impatient with children as I had been with people who didn’t interest me. How shallow I was, and how much I gained from my association with Ian, Stephanie and their children. Ian’s love for his children was unfailing, he would do anything for them and above all else he spent time with them. The time spent was time in which he was absorbed, and in the way he taught me to recover lost feelings, so by this example he taught me that the love for children is not politicised as the love for one’s mate. The love for children is not qualified by their performance to expectation, but is unalloyed and endless, or it has the potential to be. The current which ran beneath his nature was his unbelievable courage. In watching him it occurred to me that most of my acquaintances were cowards. Cowardice is not a vice of wartime alone, but in every day life one is called upon to choose, between courage and fear. Stephanie said “One night, Ian and I were walking through a park at Rose Bay. Suddenly a vicious dog appeared out of the dark and came at us snarling and ready to bite. “What did you do?” I asked.

“Ian got in front of me and the dog was barking all around us,” said Stephanie. “I was terrified, and then Ian let out this yell like I have never heard before, and the dog became terrified and ran away.” “Yeah,” Ian said laughing, “I was so angry at the dog, something just came out of me and I blew it away.” This guy arrived on the planet with a gift which is evident to those around him but largely is as yet, undiscovered. The guy is a genius and his music will live on as will the love of those who have known him, whatever the temporary X-aspirations. Thanks for the music and the friendship Ian. Steve L.

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