Playful music poetry from Martin H Samuel
Looking for gifts for friends and family (or yourself!)? We have online merch, tickets for our Memo show on 9 January, and new books by several of our contributors.
As I leaned against the rail, trying to keep my skates under me and wishing I could do what my older cousins Greg and Gary could do, I became vaguely aware for the first time of the importance of music as a soundtrack to your life.
Salvatore Romita, founding member of the Stereo Stories band, died on Wednesday evening, 17 November, aged 96.
It’s a classic punk song; raw, revelatory and raging. The Guardian claims it’s “one of the best singles ever made by anyone, anywhere, anytime”.
When The Stereo Stories Band is not preparing for its shows, the members are rehearsing and playing with various bands and combos around Melbourne and Geelong.
Like arc welding, I think lyric decipherment, when it comes to micro grindcore, is quite a specialised skill. There’s possibly a TAFE, or adult education course in it.
The sounds of the snipping scissors and whirring electric clippers were hypnotising, and I felt myself drifting off.
I came across a song that I hadn't listened to for ages, a song that when I first heard it, was a real life changing moment.
For about nine months we worked and played as a double act. Steve helped me cover Oxford United Football Club’s first home match in First Division (and was threatened with a knife by a nervous scalper he stopped in the street outside), while I tagged along to concerts he was covering (remember Squeeze or Level 42?).