I remember Sundays in the cold redbrick church, the smell of Mum's leather gloves and lipstick. During readings and sermons I would run imaginary horse races between the red, blue and green ribbons in my missal.
It’s the middle of winter. Never mind, we’re wearing shorts and thongs. The sky is an unbroken plain of blue. Well, not entirely unbroken. Here and there, a pillar of white smoke plumes from a cane mill.
Nathan Johnson Edinburgh, Scotland; September 1997 Chumbawamba was in my face. Far from being a pop band that sang only about pissing the night away, they were, above all else, anarchists with a deep suspicion of government, politicians, the Church, landlords, bosses, union leaders and other forms and figures of authority. While I didn’t share all of their extreme views, their music and lyrics awakened something inside of me.
A medley of romantic stories to mark Valentine's Day: The Eels, Vince Jones, Bon Iver, The Church, The Beatles.
Jesse Maskell Montana, June 2015 A race across the country skipping everything I want to see, farmland from a car window always hungry to go into them, down those roads, further in, fleetingly small towns not even, I'm strapped in with Chris a rideshare stranger on this wild ride...
Hazel Wood Yeovil, England, November 2010 At 3am, alone in the alien landscape of medically-induced fear, I reach for the only comfort available: my iPod. With its unnerving intuition, ‘shuffle’ offers up a song I have, up to now, entirely misunderstood.
Rick Kane Perth, April 2006 Someone asked, “Where’s the music?” This would be the cathartic moment. This would be where the pain flowed out as the love poured in.
Paul Bateman Melbourne, 6 March 2010 Our guests arrived in a state of heightened excitement, united instantaneously by their shared experience of the raging storm. We crowded together in the dining lounge, where Shirley and I took our vows beneath the specials board.
David Oke The Dancing Dog, Footscray, May 2015 Heather and I grinned and looked at each other through the night, as if to say, ‘How did all this happen?’ ‘Is our son really this good?’ and ‘Who would have believed this?’
Maria Majsa Hammersmith Palais, London 1980 After all the attitude and swagger of punk, here was a band with the courage to be vulnerable. And while admitting to vulnerability is never comfortable or easy, it is necessary for real human connection.