“I reckon I’m a really bad farmer, who plays music even worse. How’s that?”

Ross Knight, farmer and member of feared punks the Cosmic Psychos, chuckles as he attempts to figure out whether he’s a musician who farms or a farmer who plays music.

Sitting in the mid-afternoon shade of the homestead on his Redesdale farm, Knight relishes any time he can spend on his Central Victorian property.

Midway through a run of shows as part of the Big Day Out, he has, as always, been trying to balance the demands of fronting one of Australia’s defining punk bands and managing his vast third-generation farm.

He’d never complain about either, but it’s clear juggling the two offers up its fair share of challenges.

“The worst part about it is that first night you get home [from a tour] and it’s that quiet that all you can hear is your ears ringing,” he says.

“You might end up staying out and having a few drinks too many, or staying up late, and it’s alright for everyone else, because they’ve just got to get up in the morning and look at themselves in the mirror and walk around like a rockstar.

“Well, I’ve got to get out of bed and go to work.”

In between running cattle and tending to what he describes as 'probably the worst-kept vineyard,' Ross Knight also lends his time and his bulldozer to the local fire service.

When I call a few days before heading out to his farm, he’d just been on the phone to the Department of Environment and Primary Industries about the fires that had swept through much of the region.

Prior to that call, he’d been speaking to Eddie Vedder, who had asked if their respective kids could hang out while his band Pearl Jam were in town.

They stand as one of many high-profile artists who cite Cosmic Psychos as a key reference point (Kurt Cobain was also a fan), but Ross Knight scratches his head as to why.

“It’s funny hearing those blokes say all that sort of stuff, because they’re all my mates,” he says.

“I don’t see it as a musical influence because if you can find a musical note in anything we’ve done over the last 30 years, I’ll go heave for Heidi.

“Maybe if anything, we’ve taught them how to relax. We just take the piss out of the music industry and don’t give a stuff and if that makes them think, ‘well it’s not the be all and end all,’ then that’s the kind of influence we’d like to have.”

30 years on from their formation, the band tour far less frequently; something Knight clearly holds no objection to.

“The tours back then were two or three months long, and all I wanted to do was come home and watch the telly,” he says.

“We’d only tour when I could; when the pruning was done, or if it was too wet to drive the ‘dozer, so it’s all seasonal. It’s seasonal rock and roll.”

If anything, it speaks to a man who never really saw a remarkable musical career as anything more than a hobby.

“I’d rather be a success as a farmer. Well, that’s not going to happen. It hasn’t worked out so far,” he says.

“We’ve hardly ever made a cracker out of it, but what’s it worth? We’ve done all the travel, you get to see the world.

“You only get one chance at life. You might as well make the most of it.”

In keeping with the Psychos' famed reputation for drinking pubs dry though, Knight assures there have at least been a few free beers along the way.

“I lost count at about a million.”