Rob Hirst, the drummer and co-founder of Midnight Oil, died peacefully on January 20 at age 70 following a three-year battle with pancreatic cancer. He was, as bandmate Jim Moginie once wrote, "the engine room, onstage and off" for one of rock's most politically fearless bands.
Most rock drummers are content to keep time and stay in the pocket. Hirst was never most drummers.
He co-founded Midnight Oil in 1976, and for nearly five decades served as the rhythmic backbone of a band that refused to shut up about injustice. Indigenous rights. Environmental destruction. Nuclear proliferation. Colonialism. The Oils didn't just write protest songs—they embodied protest, with Hirst's driving percussion providing the militant heartbeat.
The band secured six ARIA No. 1 albums, including Red Sails in the Sunset (1984), Diesel and Dust (1987), and Blue Sky Mining (1990). They reunited in 2016 after a 15-year hiatus, releasing Resist in 2020—their first full-length studio album in two decades and a fitting farewell from a band that never learned how to compromise.
Moginie described Hirst in his 2024 memoir as "brash, funny and super intelligent, contrary to the clichéd view of drummers." It's a perfect encapsulation. Hirst wasn't just the timekeeper—he was a creative force, co-writing many of the band's most enduring tracks and serving as a political conscience even within a group defined by activism.
Beyond Midnight Oil, he performed with The Ghostwriters, Backsliders, and other ensembles. In 2020, he collaborated with his daughter Jay O'Shea on an album—a quieter, more intimate project that revealed different dimensions of his musicality.
Rock history is full of iconic drummers: John Bonham's thunder, Keith Moon's chaos, Neil Peart's precision. Rob Hirst belongs in that conversation, even if he operated outside the traditional rock'n'roll spotlight. His playing was muscular and urgent, propelling songs that demanded action rather than passive listening.
The band has requested donations to pancreatic cancer organizations in his memory—a characteristically practical gesture from people who always believed music should do something, not just exist.
Rest in power to a drummer who understood that keeping the beat sometimes means keeping the faith. The engine room has gone quiet, but the music roars on.
