Best of Canberra Music | Cover Photo by Konrad Lenz
TOM WOODWARD
TERMINATION DAY
Termination Day sounds more like a reckoning than a warning. This is not only a result of the song’s style but, perhaps more importantly, the style of delivery.
The track kicks off with a guitar chord slamming down like a gavel; a blunt declaration that we’re not here to dance but to bear witness. The groove is slow, deliberate, almost plodding, like someone pacing the floor waiting for a call that never comes.
It’s folk rock, but there’s nothing quaint about it. It’s got the dusty snarl of Dylan‘s Highway 61, the grizzled edges of The Band, and the weary, fatalistic sneer of someone who’s seen the eviction notice more than once.
Woodward’s lyrics circle back like a vulture gnawing at the same rotten bone:
You’ve been waiting
For your termination day
They spent your money
It’s a slow burn
Blowing it all away
It’s less lament and more a punch to the gut. He sings it like a soul watching the world crumble in slow motion, wheels grinding, the rich getting richer while the rest of us sink.
And then there’s the refrain:
Let it slide
Lose your livelihood easy
Let it slide
As they do you so slow.
It’s a line that sticks in your throat like a bad memory. This isn’t the sound of someone pulling himself up by his bootstraps. It’s the sound of someone staring into the abyss and daring it to blink first.
Woodward’s voice is a rasp, a drawl, a man too tired to scream and too angry to shut up. You can practically hear the last shred of hope unravelling as he lets the words “let it slide” drag across the beat.
Musically, the song is deceptively simple — a guitar that sways and stumbles, a backbeat that shuffles along like a man with his hands in his pockets, waiting for the axe to fall. Katie Walsh‘s backing vocals echo like a ghost in a dark hallway, as if she were singing from some other room or some other life.
The groove is relentless, chugging and churning along, keeping you locked in the same cycle, over and over, until the chorus slams you back against the wall.
But it’s the final verse where Woodward hits hardest:
Internet hustler
On your tiny screen pretends
Repeat their program
You’ll make easy money and new friends
It’s a line that cuts like a blade and is not just about one man’s downfall. It’s about all of us, trapped in a digital labyrinth, scrolling our way to oblivion while the bigwigs laugh from their towers. Woodward’s seen the bottom of the barrel — or maybe he just keeps looking for it. He walked the east coast of Australia with nothing but the ache in his feet and got ejected from America like a bad punchline.
What does that do to a man?
On Termination Day, Woodward is not offering answers. He’s singing from that place between the fall and the landing, trying to make sense of perpetually shifting ground.
It’s not a cry for help, not a rallying call — just the uneasy lull of someone still waiting for the dust to settle, still checking for bruises that haven’t shown up yet.
Keep up with Tom Woodward’s news over at https://tomwoodwardmusic.com/
Be sure to catch the Canberra single launch (and Tom’s b.day celebration) of Termination Day > June 26 > 6pm > Dissent Café & Bar > 2nd release tickets are on sale now via Humanitix!
