For more than a decade, the far-flung village of Narrandera was the centre of the Big Thing universe. As home to the World’s Largest Playable Guitar – a 5.82m-long acoustic axe that fascinated music lovers and Thing-o-philes alike – the region’s economy boomed. Then the unthinkable happened, and it all came crashing down. This is the story of how the music almost died.
Looking to promote the Country Music Club of Narrandera, local guitar guru Robert Palmer (who may or may not be the Simply Irresistible dude) spent more than 300 hours carefully crafting the bodacious banjo, before presenting it to the public in 1988. Headbangers, country bumpkins and wannabe rock gods put aside their differences as they teamed up to play the fully-functional fiddle, which is so big it requires a small team of musicians to play it.
When the Guitar was listed in the 1991 edition of the Guinness Book of Records, the town’s pubs were drunk dry in celebration. Tourism reached record highs and every road led to Narrandera. There was even talk of building an international airport with direct flights from Shanghai and Wagga Wagga to cope with the sightseers. The owners of the other Big Guitar could only look on with envious eyes.
But, as pop legend Bob Dylan once warbled, “The times, they are a-changin’”, and darkness descended upon Narrandera in 2000. And I’m not talking about Y2K, although many locals did unplug their toasters as a preventative measure against them gaining sentience and chasing them around the kitchen.
Don’t mess with Texas
Proving that everything is indeed bigger in Texas, a bunch of rowdy students from the Academy of Science and Technology in Conroe built an immense, 13.3-metre-long playable guitar and cruelly snatched the record. Conroe got the tourists. Conroe got the fame. Sadly, Conroe even got the international airport with direct flights from Shanghai and Wagga Wagga.
The unveiling of the Big Tennis Racquet in nearby Barellan was a further humiliation for the townsfolk, who were often the subject of cruel taunts from their northern neighbours. Not surprisingly, they soon reached break point.
The people of Narrandera were left with nothing but the shirts on their backs (which were, shockingly, emblazoned with the words ‘World’s Largest Playable Guitar’ and thus rendered unfashionable). The town never fully recovered from the tragedy, and when I visited a palpable atmosphere of depression and defeat engulfed Narrandera like a thick fog. I struggled to locate the huge ukelele, because locals burst into tears when I asked about it.
Yesterday’s guitar hero
After discovering the Guitar had been sequestered away to the Narrandera Visitor Information Centre, I trotted inside and was led out the back by a very pleasant volunteer. The Guitar didn’t string me along, and we shared a chord-ial greeting. He may be the second-biggest playable guitar, but, with his handsome plywood body and carefully-painted details, he’s number one in my heart!
I plucked up the courage to play with him and, with the assistance of a rambunctious local granny, banged out a rousing rendition of Old Time Rock and Roll. As we segued seamlessly into The Crocodile Rock, local shopkeepers and students swept in through the front doors, surprised but delighted to hear the Guitar playing once again. Narranderans jived and gyrated as our playing became wilder, and the gloom that had consumed the town lifted.
With sweat pouring down my face and the final echoes of my hour-long interpretation of Stairway to Heaven fading in the twilight, I felt a firm but friendly hand on my shoulder. Turning, I was met by an impish man in a broad, black hat – my good mate, roadside attraction-loving country music legend Lee Kernaghan. We embraced in front of the Big Playable Guitar as our admirers cheered us on.
Lee, me, and the Guitar make three!
“We need to stop cuddling in front of Big Guitars,” I beamed when we finally came up for air.
“Bigs,” Lee Kernaghan rasped, with tears in his eyes. “Look at what you’ve done! You’ve brought life and love back to Narrandera. You’ve saved the bloody town, mate.”
“Firstly, Lee Kernaghan, I don’t care for your colourful language,” I snapped. “You’re a talented songwriter who can surely find more appropriate ways to express yourself. And anyway, the Big Playable Guitar is the true hero of this story. I’m just a vagabond with a heart of gold, travelling the land to cast light upon the trials and tribulations of our beautiful Bigs.”
“My apologies, Bigs. You’re right as always. Do you want some more of these Country Music Awards? I won another eight this year and they’re just piling up. I’ve been using them to tip waiters.”
And so, with a song once more in the heart of every Narranderan, Lee Kernaghan and I climbed atop my scooter and burnt out in the endless night. With our smiles cutting through the darkness and only the stars to guide us, we chased our next Big adventure.
