Brisbane, Sydney, Melbourne, Pearces Creek: every few weeks, international and Australian musicians depart from their big city touring schedule to play a gig at a humble country hall nestled in the hills a short drive from Bangalow, Digby Hildreth reports.
The evolution of Pearces Creek Hall into a “must play” venue in recent years is an extraordinary development, a resurrection largely due to the efforts of local resident Simon Winfield. The softly-spokenEnglishman doesn’t stand out as someone who has resolved to “go harder” in life – but that is exactly what he has chosen to do: dedicate himself to turning the tiny heritage hall into a vibrant, and sustainable, cultural hub.
Since 2019, Simon has raised funds, booked performers, MC’d shows and, as café loungers in Bangalow’s high street can testify, posted concert fliers wherever there’s a space.
He’s a ball of calm, can-do energy, committed not only to the hall but also to its natural and social environment. The hall’s presentations come mainly in the form of roots music – folk, country, bluegrass – but it is also building a solid track record as a centre for the dissemination of progressive ideas, everything from regen agriculture to the use of sound as a tool for healing.
An increasing awareness about health and longevity helped to concentrate Simon’s mind further, he says, “because you realise you don’t know what your life expectancy is, right? I’m not saying that negatively; it’s just a reminder that you’re not going to live forever, and a stimulus to live more fully.”
Born in England, Simon lived in Africa and Europe for his first 14 years, then went to boarding school in Britain, followed by a career in finance in London and New York. When he and his wife, Jen, and their three young children travelled the world in 2003 they came across Byron Shire. The memory stayed with them and four years later they came back.
They rented homes in Bexhill, then Clunes and Bangalow before settling in Pearces Creek. The children attended Bangalow PS and Byron High, and both parents got involved – “the usual things, like the P&C, the school canteen stuff,” Simon says.
“What I loved about the schools in this area was that you could get involved; it’s encouraged, and it’s part of your contribution, and a great way to meet people. The volunteer aspect of this country is incredible in whatever form it might take, whether you’re looking after Heritage House or, you know, working on the local paper.”
Volunteering seems part of his DNA: he has also signed up to help at the Writers Festival for the past eight years.
Their Pearces Creek home sits on 30 acres and as the “the house and child person” with a wife busy with full-time studies, Simon was keen to learn about how to best manage the land. “I hadn’t a clue about anything,” he says, so he set about finding out, at numerous field days, agricultural studies at SCU and Wollongbar TAFE and an “absolutely fascinating” trip to (Natural Sequence Farming movement founder) Peter Andrews’ place near Canberra.
Simon credits his commitment to reviving the hall to his interest in land management. He understood that as someone who was “basically an immigrant who’s worked in an office for 25 years” – he couldn’t lean over the fence and say to the third or fifth generation farmer ‘have you thought about doing it this way?’
“So we invited Brian Wehlberg, the holistic management and regenerative ag educator, to the hall to do a talk, and it was very well attended.” Since then, they have hosted 16 talks, with artists, foragers, farmers, nearly all of them connected with the land and environment, attended by about 1000 people altogether.
While his hopes of creating a viable alternative farm have not been realised (“because I haven’t put in the physical labour”) their property has seen a huge increase in biodiversity, and the hall has similarly thrived.
By 2019, the hall was in decline: there was no money in the kitty and the committee was looking for new people and new ideas. Simon felt the community needed a hall and had an obligation to make it viable.
They ran a raffle and raised $3000, applied for government grants, held craft markets and, when a speaker dropped out, invited Immortal Soils’ Bob Horan and Selena Murray to stage one of their large-scale botanical art installations, which opened up the possibilities for the space.
Musical events followed, and the confidence felt by the team of enthusiastic volunteers to stage such acts grew – as did the hall’s reputation among performers as a terrific venue. Musicians, it seems, love to play there: it’s intimate, a haven apart from the busy world. “They also love being welcomed; and so does the audience. They love the food, and having a cup of tea and a piece of homemade cake.”
Above all, it’s a true listening space, where the music is the focus, and the audiences are attentive, appreciative. World-class bluegrass band Midnight Chicken declined the offer of moving the benches out for the second half, so people could dance. “They go, ‘no, we don’t want dancing. We want listening audiences’.”
The hall best suits acoustic acts, with complex harmonies and a close connection with the audience: “We ask all our musicians to play at least one song with no electronic sound, and ideally down off the stage,” Simon says.
At the first gig in 2026, bluegrass quartet Charley Castle and the Boys in the Well did just that, closing their show with a four-part a cappella rendition of Goodnight Irene that had some in the audience reaching for their hankies.
Local musicians are encouraged too. Hootenanny Highway, Will Hearn and Tara-Lee Byrne have recently used the hall for rehearsals, recording and performances.
Honey and Silk play on the first Saturday of this month, and another country duo, Wicker Suite, appear the following weekend – part of a tour in which they’re just playing country halls. Interspersed with the music there is a launch of Ian Kirkland’s book Booyong and Pearces Creek District – Part of the Big Scrub and cellist and sonic alchemist Tara-Lee is returning with her CELLOFINITY – a cello sound bath, where participants lie on the floor to soak up the chakra-healing reverberation of the music.
To an audience member, it feels as if the hall’s growing success is not only due to Simon’s enthusiasm as a promoter but also to his passion for such concepts, and for this kind of music.
“There is a selfish side to it,” he admits. “The musicians I book are a reflection of my tastes. But I don’t want it to be just my taste. And the same with the talks. I want to have a product that people can take somewhere else or use. There’s no point in me doing it if it can’t … if it doesn’t have a life after me.”