QUEEN OF COUNTRY: Joy McKean looks back on a life of music, mentoring and loving Slim Dusty

At almost 90 years old, Joy McKean is still the queen of country. Toby Creswell meets this singer, songwriter, mentor to generations of young musicians and the love of Slim Dusty’s life.

“Ican be tough, but I think I’ve mellowed,” says Joy McKean with the sort of smile that tells you she hasn’t mellowed an inch more than she wanted to. It’s a warm summer morning when we meet at her house in a retirement village on Sydney’s leafy North Shore. It’s a very beautiful but modest house that doesn’t feel as if it has been properly moved into yet. There’s one person conspicuous in his absence and represented only by a large portrait, leaning against a chair – Joy’s late husband and partner in music and life, the legendary Slim Dusty. In fact, the electric piano in the corner and a few awards on a shelf are the only clues to suggest that Joy McKean OAM is Australia’s queen of country music – winner of six Golden Guitars and the songwriter behind Walk a Country Mile, The Lights on the Hill, Indian Pacific and some of the local country music scene’s biggest hits.

On January 14, Joy will blow out 90 candles on her birthday cake. A week later, the cream of Australia’s country music talent will gather in Tamworth for a jamboree in her honour – the biggest ever held under the Southern Cross. The line-up includes Paul Kelly, Kasey Chambers, Troy Cassar-Daley, Beccy Cole, Don Walker, Graeme Connors, Sara Storer, Adam Harvey, James Blundell, Lyn Bowtell, Gina Jeffreys, Melinda Schneider and members of Joy and Slim’s family, the McLean and

Kirkpatrick clans. Keith Urban put it best: “They say behind every great man is a great woman … but I say in Slim’s case, she was right beside him. She’s an extraordinarily talented and formidable woman who I’m honoured to say has been not only a true believer in me, but a very loyal friend.”

The gift of music

Joy was born in the NSW town of Singleton. Her dad, Silas, was a second-generation school teacher and the family moved around with his postings. In 1934, four-yearold Joy contracted polio. Being shunted between hospitals and family in those formative years, then finally broaching school wearing a calliper on her weak leg, undoubtedly contributed to Joy’s strength of character.

“I was never encouraged to sit in the corner like the invalid child,” she says. “If there were games that involved running, I would find a version of that game where I could be the boss cocky and arrange it so I didn’t have to run. I was never left out.”

When the kids played rounders, Joy’s younger sister, Heather, ran for them both, “and she could run like a hare,” she says. “I found swimming, too. I became a champion swimmer. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t ballroom dance – I wasn’t too good at the quickstep either – but I was fairly confident. And then I used my head ... Some people call it karma,