Darlene Zimbardi February 1992, New York City The cab stops; Peter runs around to open my door. Even though the doctor told me that everything was going to be fine, here we are just a couple of months later; I can’t even stand. Received: diagnosis. Lost: everything else. Pete bends over, gently lifting my body [...]
There is much conjecture and disagreement about the trajectory of Paul Weller and friends, the evolution of The Jam from punkish to mod to pop to pastiche, ending in the Style Council, of which I was never a fan (you can tell a Weller woman by the way she wears her hair etc).
“My big sister learnt this song!” “My cousin can play this!” The excitement in the room was palpable. The look on the faces of the Grade One/Two students was a sight to behold. This is what bliss looks like.
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.