Vale Rob Hirst: The Heartbeat of Midnight Oil

The Southern Aurora was late againAs I waited at Central to take you homeWinking, spinning, sparkling lights on our flat earthTold you ‘bout the old groundling waysWhere the suburbs summer play in wrinkled sandAnd never, never, never, never land

— “Bells and Horns in the Back of Beyond”, Midnight Oil (1984)

Yesterday was heavy with melancholy. The news hit hard. Rob Hirst, founding drummer and driving force behind Midnight Oil, had passed. Later that evening my wife and I, for the first time ever, saw the Southern Aurora, which made me think of the lyrics above, and our own mortality.

For anyone who grew up in Australia in the 80s and 90s, Midnight Oil were a cultural institution. I don’t need to repeat what has been said elsewhere. For more on Rob Hirst’s extraordinary career, I recommend these tributes, but I will share my personal reflections below.

• The Guardian: Rob Hirst was a force of nature, a born showman who led Midnight Oil from the back
• The Australian: No words, but there will always be songs - Midnight Oil’s Rob Hirst loses cancer battle

A D90 Cassette Changed Everything

The first time I heard Midnight Oil, I was a teenager. Some friends lent me a D90 cassette—that’s what we did before the internet. We dubbed tapes and shared them, the quality degrading with each generation, but the music burning through regardless. On those tapes: 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Diesel and Dust, Red Sails in the Sunset. The music was wild, freeing, challenging and complex. I was hooked immediately.

So hooked that at 17, I picked up a guitar and started teaching myself. My neighbour was into Metallica—Fade to Black, Enter Sandman etc.. I wanted to learn Short Memory, Read About It, Beds Are Burning. Songs that Rob Hirst co-wrote.

The Image That Changed My Life

I remember watching them on the ABC, playing on Goat Island in Sydney Harbour, completely mesmerised. My first large concert was the Blue Sky Mining tour in 1990 at the National Tennis Centre in Melbourne (now Rod Laver).

The crowd was electric—everyone there for a good time, knowing it would be wild. Good vibes, but wild.

One image from that night is seared into my memory: during the break in “Only the Strong,” Peter Garrett was on his knees before the drum kit, prostrate on the ground. And there was Rob Hirst, standing tall on his drum riser, drumstick pointed towards the sky.

That moment blew my mind. It made music a central part of my life. I’ve written songs, played in bands, and still play guitar today.

Meeting the Man

I was lucky enough to see them countless times over the years—every Melbourne show I could get to. In 2000 or 2001, I travelled from London (where I was living) to New York (where my brother still lives) specifically to see two Oils shows. One was out in New Jersey at a venue that had lost its liquor licence—a horrible place made memorable by the music.

That show yielded a photo: me and my brother with Rob Hirst, my brother draped in an Australian flag. Back then, Australians were comfortable to drape themselves in our national flag.

My brother’s charm eventually got him backstage at a later New York gig. That connection flowed back to me for what turned out to be the last Victorian concert before their hiatus—Peter Garrett was heading into politics. It was at the Forum Theatre in Melbourne. Through the band’s office, we arranged backstage access for me, my wife Anna (girlfriend at the time), and my mate Andrew.

I was so nervous. Peter Garrett fixed us with those steely blue eyes: “Hi, I’m Peter.” No shit! :-) Of course you are.

But what I remember most is Rob Hirst. He came across so gently, so genuinely interested in us. He offered drinks. He engaged in real conversation. He was obviously a sweet bloke.

Walking the Walk

Midnight Oil didn’t just sing about Indigenous rights and social justice—they lived it. Rob and the band would do shows in remote communities, in the middle of nowhere. They met people on the ground. They were generous with their time and money for causes they believed in.

This wasn’t virtue signalling. This was the real thing. It gave me a passion for improving the lives of Indigenous Australians that I carry to this day in my work as a First Nations Ambassador at Amazon.

The Final Show

I was fortunate enough to see their last concert in Sydney. They played for three and three-quarter hours. Unbelievable. They ended with Rob’s song “Forgotten Years.”

Then Rob passed on his sticks.

The Sound of Australia

I am truly grateful for every dollar I spent on tickets, every hour I spent listening to their music, every moment I spent watching this extraordinary band. Rob Hirst was the engine—his drumming the heartbeat of their sound.

For so many of us, Midnight Oil will always be the sound of Australia.

Rest easy, Rob. Thanks for everything.

The first time my wife and I ever saw the Southern Lights — Wednesday 20th January, Ricketts Point, Victoria.

If you’d like to honour Rob’s memory, his family has asked for donations to Pankind (Pancreatic Cancer Australia) or Support Act.

Rob Hirst: September 3, 1955 – January 20, 2026