Ed Nimmervoll

Ed
Nimmervoll

Born Sept. 21 1947 Austria
Died Oct. 10 2014 Melb.

This is truly one of the hazards of surviving.

I first got to know Ed in his role as rock journalist with Go-Set back in
the late sixties. I don’t know how much cache being a rock journalist
has these days, but in those days nobody had quite figured it all out. The
lines of communication were so slow between the US and the UK and Australia
that by the time Billboard, NME or Melody Maker reached these shores nobody
really wanted to know anymore – apart from the bands, of course, who
were dying to get hold of the music, the fashions, the opinions, even if they
were two months old, simply because there was nothing else.

Which is where Go-Set and later Ed’s own creation Juke stepped in,
keeping us abreast of what was happening overseas for sure, but more focused
on Melbourne as well as Australia-wide.

I bought Go-Set religiously every week like every other musician, hoping
my band had got a mention. And getting a mention from a rock journalist in
print in Go-Set meant a lot in those days as it was impossible to get an appreciation
of your actual place in the pop music world by any other means.

Not that all rock journalists are objective of course. But this is where
Ed steps in, because Ed not only knew what he liked, but was able to put into
words why he liked it. He could be relied on to write about music and musicians
with honesty, perception and occasional lyricism, driven by his undeniable
passion for music.

Over recent years Ed and I shared many a communion over coffee and I came
to not only admire his tenacity, but his ability to move on without regret
in the music scene that he’d almost accidentally found himself in and
which to some extent he’d helped to shape. Not for Ed the bemoaning
of the death of rock & roll as we knew it. More than once he observed
the rise and rise of the female artist and without a hint of condescension
insisted that the boys had had their time and now it was the girls’
turn.

In fact, after checking that my own musical career was limping along satisfactorily,
music wasn’t even the focus of our discussions and Ed’s talk mostly
centred on his family and his students.

Ed had come to love teaching, which he initially undertook with some reservations,
but he told me he most enjoyed what his young students gave back to him by
way of enthusiasm.

Because of his reserved nature Ed sometimes struggled with the public demands
of his position in the media, but he knew as much as anybody about Australian
music and the musicians who figure in it and even after the halcyon days of
the ‘60s and ‘70s he was always in work as a background consultant
and even a ghost writer on occasions. His reputation for unquestionable honesty
meant his critiques were valued far more by musicians and record companies
than unqualified raves from promotional hacks.

Ed’s daughter Torie has an exhibition at the Arts Centre which touches
on a few moments in her father’s career in the music world that he loved.
It’s a touchingly understated exhibition, totally in keeping with her
father’s approach to life. You should see it.

Ed was a humble man, a self-effacing man who requested that a fuss not be
made of his passing. He loved his family and his family returned that love
in abundance when he needed it most. I’m proud to say that Ed Nimmervoll
was a friend of mine and shortly before he died I was honoured to visit him
and Jan and sit with him for an hour or so reflecting on life as we knew it.
Ed was a true gentle-man and I know that he has many friends in this room
who would like to take a minute to reflect on and honour his life.