Entertainment
How Trials turned traumatic childhood into triumphant solo album
Key Points
How Trials grew up, got sober and confronted his past on debut solo album Hendle Sun 31 May 2026 at 6:30am Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are advised that this article contains the names of people who have died. For 25 years, Trials has been making music with or for others. But now, he's doing it for himself.
How Trials grew up, got sober and confronted his past on debut solo album Hendle
Sun 31 May 2026 at 6:30am
Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are advised that this article contains the names of people who have died.
For 25 years, Trials has been making music with or for others. But now, he's doing it for himself.
Getting his start in the 2000s Adelaide music scene as part of Funkoars, the prolific producer, rapper and songwriter, real name Daniel Hendle Rankine, is best known as one half of award-hoovering hip hop duo A.B. Original.
His credits include a long history with Hilltop Hoods, Australian music royalty including Archie Roach, Paul Kelly and Gurrumul, rock acts DZ Deathrays and Dune Rats, plus TV and film soundtrack work.
Trials now goes it alone with the release of his debut solo album Hendle.
Its title drawn from his middle name, and that of his paternal great-grandfather, Hendle is a deeply personal project that packs a life's worth of personal and professional experience into its punchy 29-minute run time.
It's an unfiltered retelling of the proud Ngarrindjeri man's journey, from traumatic upbringing to fatherhood, from substance abuse to sobriety. A tale of displacement, domestic violence and systemic racism.
"Spoiler alert, the hero lives," Rankine tells Double J's Dylan Lewis. "He survives, succeeds [and] thrives."
Trials wrote, produced, mixed and performed nearly every note on what he calls a "guilty pleasure project'" that combines all his musical interests and pulls no punches.
The album begins with rueful acoustic guitars on Run To The River, where Rankine recounts a childhood memory of fleeing with his mother in the dead of night from his abusive father. ("We was home free if we did not wake him.")
They started a new life in the UK, only to find the prejudices they thought they'd escaped followed them overseas, with Rankine the subject of bigotry and school bullying.
That experience is tackled in the claustrophobic Six Letter Word. Need a clue? "It starts with N", Rankine reveals at the end of several verses constructed solely from other six-letter words.
"Every single one," the self-confessed 'word nerd' explains. "The second I realised I had two that rhymed I understood, 'Well, I've walked into a room I won't be able to leave for a while. Might as well get comfortable.'"
Elsewhere, You Could Never Hate Me Like I Do twists Rankine's self-loathing into a muscular, triumphant positive. How can his haters bring him down with their worst when "I didn't like me first"?
Wrong feeling, right music
Whistle While I Walk is a masterful exercise in juxtaposition, its springy guitars and diabolically catchy whistling hook scoring the challenges of quitting alcohol.
It's a subversive example of Trials "using my evil powers as good as I can," he explains.
"I was aware that kind of beat has the potential to be played amongst lots of different circles that might not be listening to Six Letter Word.
"So, I paired it with possibly the hardest topic to talk about on the album: sobriety and my relationship, or lack thereof, with religion. Two hot party starters, you know?"
Trials is no stranger to packing tough topics into palatable tunes. It's a lesson he harnessed alongside MC Briggs in the politically charged A.B. Original.
In particular, demanding a change of date on "January 26", a G-funk protest rap that paired the frustrations of First Nations people with the soulful vocals of Dan Sultan.
"I made the most bouncy, happy kind of West Coast joint you can think of. And then wrote a very pointed rhyme," Rankine reflects. "A little airtight argument I try to present that people could have without me being in the room."
The track certainly reignited cultural chatter as it rocketed to the pointy end of triple j's Hottest 100 while A.B. Original's album, Reclaim Australia, went on to win multiple coveted awards.
It also taught Trials his biggest songwriting lesson.
"One of my favourite things to do is just marry the wrong feeling with the right music."
He puts that into practice on another Hendle stand-out, What's The Colour of Love?, which skewers domestic violence over a bittersweet soul sample, big breakbeats and prismatic synths.
Hendle also leaves plenty of room to exhibit another Trials trademark: dark humour.
Pollywaffle isn't about the iconic Australian chocolate bar, but rather the frustrating chit-chat that comes with living the suburban, straight-edged life.
The comical wordplay of Be An Adult (have a breakdown) takes another swing at alpha males who refuse to grow up and take responsibility for their damaging actions.
"Many men always thought that they was f***in' better than/Big body-building Bene Gesserits," Trials raps, referencing the magical sisterhood central to Frank Herbert's Dune series. "[But] the biggest bitches in the whole world is all men."
A family affair
Hendle began with Rankine journalling during "one of the first years I got sober" and making sense of his own history.
"I had a lot of time to think about myself and who I was supposed to be. And all those little passages started becoming verses and became song titles.
"It's kind of me trying to understand who I was to make up who I am now."
Getting clean, growing up and becoming a better role model to his family were key discoveries in putting his history to music.
"I am a dad first and foremost. That was the paramount decision for me to just settle down and go, 'Hey, I'm supposed to be leading by example here and [kids are] sponges for everything I do.
"I really wanted to do something meaningful and show them that [this] is an option: you can make music that means something to you, and it will resonate more."
Hendle also taps Rankine's nearest and dearest. His son plays clapsticks, percussion and drums on a few songs. His daughter is credited with graphic design, and his wife provided some vocals.
"My way of just saying, thank you so much for putting up with all the keyboard stomping and hands banging on drums while you were trying to sleep for the last 20 years.
"I really do appreciate it. Would you like to pop some headphones on and just enjoy the other side of this for 3 or 4 minutes?" he laughs. "Also, save me a tiny bit of labour."
Painting a resilient portrait
Beyond the music, Hendle is a multidisciplinary project encompassing a series of 20 acrylic paintings, displayed at launch shows and physical releases, and an upcoming memoir.
"When I put down the pen, I'd pick up a paintbrush, just to give myself something else to keep my idle hands occupied."
Rankine effectively sees the visual art and autobiography as extended liner notes, offering a hand-crafted experience in an era of proliferating AI and algorithm-driven content.
"I hope people feel the same way I felt when I would hold liner notes of an LP record.
"The physical product being held in your hands with that moment of discovery and being locked in is being lost for me.
"I wanted to provide that experience for other people who might miss that in the era where digital stuff takes over and convenience wins."
It resonates with a key message of the album: resilience.
Downplaying tragedy and focusing on overcoming adversity is a theme that surfaces repeatedly in lyrics like "I don't fold, play to win" and "I will not be broken, I was raised broke."
The most acidic moment sees Rankine casually admitting to contemplating suicide before getting on with his day.
The track, …Then I Got Dressed, opens by lampooning editorial disclaimers featured on media mentioning deceased First Nations people.
Instead, it flips the cultural sensitivity on its head:
"In some Australian communities, hearing recordings, seeing images or the names of Indigenous people alive and over-achieving may cause sadness or distress."
Even at its most controversial, Trials says his music isn't so about attacking others so much as making himself an example.
"It was always about me, or where I could or couldn't find some sort of help along the way.
"That's what has made this album so easy to write, was that none of it has come from an influential position. It's all about: Here's the mistakes I've made along the way and how they either have or haven't improved me as a person."
Hendle is out now.