While on a road trip across Australia, Oli Firth found himself somewhere he never expected to end up: in prison.
Mr Firth's drive was cut short in the dusty NSW outback after he was caught with drugs and sent to Broken Hill Correctional Centre.
But while behind bars, Mr Firth got involved in a program called Songbirds that teaches songwriting to inmates. It changed him.
"[Music] was a real beacon of light for me. It was the one thing that carried me through."
And Mr Firth is not alone in finding solace through music in prison.
Into the jungle
Murray Cook is a musician (and also a marine biologist) who's played with Midnight Oil, Mental as Anything and Mixed Relations.
But for more than 20 years, Mr Cook has also run music classes in different NSW prisons, including a stint as a music teacher in the psych ward of Sydney's Long Bay Correctional Centre.
He's currently the director of the Songbirds program, a project of the non-profit Community Restorative Centre, which brings music and other art forms into prisons, with a focus on songwriting.
Songbirds was inspired by the Jail Guitar Doors program that was set up by musician Billy Bragg and MC5 guitarist Wayne Kramer in the UK and US. The aim is to use music as a means of achieving rehabilitation and help to break the cycle of incarceration.
"Because if you show any emotion, if you let on that you really love your daughter or something like that, [other prisoners] can use that against you. That's a bargaining chip for them to stand over you and get money — threaten to kill your kids, that sort of stuff."
But he says: "Somehow within the context of a song, it's OK to say stuff like that, to say something like, 'I love my partner.'"
So Mr Cook has assembled a team of musicians to run Songbirds workshops across the state, including Abby Dobson from Leonardo's Bride and Bow Campbell from Front End Loader and Dead Marines.
What happens at the workshops?
Mr Cook tries to get inmates to write about their feelings and experiences, as a way of dealing with them. But getting to this point isn't always straightforward.
In the first session of a songwriting class, he talks about tolerance, about "not putting anyone else down, [not] being too critical".
"[I also] always say in the first workshop, 'Look, your lives are really valuable … your music is so valuable.'"
The classes can be made up of a fairly diverse group.
"When you look at a group, you've got Islanders, Kooris, Middle Eastern people, bikies … They'd probably kill each other in the yard, as they tend to segregate into their own groups," Mr Cook says.
"[But soon] you see a Koori guy over there working with an Asian guy and a bikie, trying to write a song, it's fantastic."
There's also a bit of humour.
Then it's over to the prisoners to perfect their songs and, if they choose, perform them.
"Once they've got it out and sung it, it's very cathartic. Just to know that somebody's listening to their story," Mr Cook says.
Music to the world
For inmates who want to, Mr Cook will record their songs and then add in other instruments. Or if they'd rather not perform their own songs, Mr Cook or an industry guest will offer to perform and record them.
For the past five years, Mr Cook has been creating albums from these recordings to raise money for the program, with the latest album, Songbirds 3 released earlier this month.
The team decided to dedicate the album to a young Indigenous singer and songwriter that appeared on Songbirds 1, named Anzac, who died in police custody last year.
One song on this latest album, called Yesterday, sung by Sione and recorded in the library at Broken Hill Correctional Centre, sums up the feelings of many inmates.
"Why am I feeling this way?" he sings.
"I'd trade all my tomorrows, for just one yesterday."
'Personal transformation that comes through music'
Mr Cook says at the end of the program there's almost always a big pay-off for everyone involved.
"[Afterwards] I'll say, 'You've done really well, congratulations,' and shake their hands. Sometimes there's these big, tough guys covered in tatts [and] you see the tears in their eyes because they've never been praised. That's a huge thing for them and for me too," Mr Cook says.
Inmates are encouraged to keep up their music, both in prison and when they get out.
Some program participants have gone on to become roadies for bands and others have been invited to perform on singing reality TV competition The Voice.
Asked about some more memorable songs over the years, Mr Cook mentions one from a young Indigenous man who was about to get out, but knew there would be no-one to meet him at the gate. Another was all about apologising to a wife on the outside.
He recalls one of the most memorable lyrics he's heard: "The outside world is like a pearl. It's just too deep to reach."
"Like I always say to people in jail, music is a great way of letting off steam without hurting anyone, … [But] I think the core of this is the personal transformation that comes through music," Mr Cook says.
The program is currently only in NSW, but there are similar initiatives which bring music to prisons in other states and territories.
Not just prisons
Songbirds is also run out in the community, with Mr Cook holding weekly lessons at Ozanam Learning Centre in Sydney's Woolloomooloo.
Here, music is brought to some of the city's less privileged residents.
"It's such a diverse group of people, different ages, nationalities and levels of experience. There's ex-sex workers from Kings Cross, people who are homeless, people who are living in housing commissions," Mr Cook says.
Ivor Thomas travels in for the workshops from across Sydney. He says he's been working on a song called Shadow Lands, which is about loneliness, or what he calls "the biggest social problem out there".
When asked about the song, he reads some lyrics.
"Waiting here in the shadow land, wishing time would pass by. There's no use in crying, if you ain't gonna try. I've been lonely for so long now. Even though you've been close. Why can't you see what's happening? When it's you I need the most."
He adds: "I am a firm believer that music is the greatest healer of the soul. It brings people together."
'A helpful creative force'
Oli Firth spent three months in Broken Hill Correctional Centre. Then, as he puts it: "I ended up getting off completely clean … [I] just lost three months of my life."
But his relationship with music continued long after he completed the Songbirds program.
"I decided that was what I wanted to do when I got out," he says.
So Mr Firth started a band called Couch Wizard, which he is still playing and touring with.
"I also work in disability support. And I have a couple of clients who are really musically talented. So I work with them and help them to record music," he says.
"[It's] like what Murray did for me, when I was in that spot — needing help to lift my spirits and show how good music is as an outlet, as a helpful creative force."
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