STACK #253 November 2025

FEATURE MUSIC

SHAKE SOME ACTION

CRUISING IN THE CLOUDS WITH JIMMY Words Stuart Coupe

A s Jimmy Barnes heads out on tour to celebrate the 40th anniversary of his For the Working Class Man album, my mind drifts almost that far back to 1988 and the Barnestorming live tour. Here I am on an Air NSW flight (read SMALL PLANE – did I mention I’m a nervous flyer?) heading to Coffs Harbour. We’re at 17,000 feet in the air, bouncing through the clouds on our way to clear skies, hopefully touching down on a slab of concrete ten minutes away from where Australia’s best-known rock ’n’ roll star will perform seven hours later. In fact, Jimmy is sitting next to me in the front seat of the jet. A few more feet and we’d be in the cockpit flying this sucker. It’s another day for Jimmy Barnes. He’s just played Newcastle, there’s Shellharbour next week. Tonight is Coffs, a 55-minute flight from Sydney and one of the last dates on the Barnestorming tour, one which has grossed more than $4 million in its first three weeks. Serious money then. Serious money now. In the early days, Jimmy drove every major highway in the country with Cold Chisel on his way to gigs. These days “on the road” means another plane, another dose of less-than-spectacular airplane food, and another bunch of people wanting autographs. That happens three times today. On the bus from the terminal to the plane, one of the airline staff wants an autograph, and in the middle of the flight a young girl wants a photo. She’s been a fan for years. And then there’s the girl who knows Jimmy’s nephew in Coffs. Jimmy almost always smiles, signs, and poses. He’s the biggest rock star that Australia has in the late ’80s, but it doesn’t show. He’s always accommodating – except, as he says, when a bunch of out-of-it drunks pull up outside his house at 3am in the morning demanding he come out and chat. “There’s panic buttons in the house

He grew up working class, but Jimmy likes the life of a rock star. He demands the limos, always has. He likes the best hotels. He likes, almost demands, that the family be on the road. He likes to party hard. He likes the farm in Bowral. He likes his ever-increasing car collection. And he likes entertaining kids who are growing up just like he did. Barnesy and I chat throughout the flight until we’re rapidly approaching the Coffs Harbour runway. The plane lands. There’s – surprise, surprise – a limo to ferry Jimmy to the luxurious Aanuka resort. But first, there’s a stop at the venue. It’s an outdoor show and the clouds aren’t looking good. It torrented down the night before. “Every outdoor show I’ve done in the past two years it’s rained,” Jimmy tells me. “I call myself the rainmaker.” It buckets down again for the show that night, but 5000 kids hang for the whole show. Jimmy brains ’em, even though the rain is cascading down. Later, back at the resort I call Jimmy’s manager’s room. That would be the legendary Michael Gudinski. Jimmy answers the phone, and he’s ready to party. I’m sure Jimmy remembers more of the rest of the night than I do – but I do recall a lot of pacing around and around Gudinski’s room, trips outside in the rain for fresh air, with muddy shoes making increasingly obvious marks on the carpet that are going to take some very serious steam cleaning to remove. But hey, it’s Jimmy Barnes and his manager and a journalist in full party mode. Things could have been a lot worse. They almost were. At 11am the next morning Jimmy bounces into the foyer. “How ya doing, squire?” he asks, looking like he went to bed early with a glass of warm milk. The limo is outside. The plane leaves at 12. The rest of the day is off. There’s a photo session for the magazine I’m working for the next day. Then another gig… and another gig… and another gig. Jimmy is Barnestorming.

and a security firm five minutes down the road,” Jimmy tells me. “They’ve got this guy who’s like Rambo. He used to do security for the shopping mall but got kicked out for pulling his gun on this kid who was skateboarding there.” Outside the home environment, Jimmy’s accessibility is, after all, part of the gig. He’s the working class man… as long as the limousine is waiting – even in Coffs Harbour. ...it’s Jimmy Barnes and his manager and a journalist in full party mode. Things could have been a lot worse

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