ANARCHY IN THE UK by THE SEX PISTOLS Story by Paulie Stewart
This was my music. It sounded like the musical equivalent of Attila The Hun sacking Rome. If punk hadn’t come along I probably would have willed it to appear anyway.
This was my music. It sounded like the musical equivalent of Attila The Hun sacking Rome. If punk hadn’t come along I probably would have willed it to appear anyway.
Like footy fans at finals time, we queued at the local Bass outlet for tickets. Revelling in the early morning banter with the diehards, who were lucky enough to have witnessed the band at full tilt in the ‘early days’ of the late 1970’s. Other standout gigs were re-lived: Astor Theatre ’82, Kooyong ’85, Venue ’86 and Festival Hall ’87.
So there I was, at the WACA indoor nets with 100 flushed and excited teenage girls, ready to bowl to Daryl Braithwaite.
Sometimes salvation can be found in the unlikeliest of songs. I find the one I want in the playlist, the one you call your dancing song, and turn it up loud.
I'm up on top of the house looking at a hole in the roof. A storm is coming. I’m thinking rain, I’m thinking possums, I’m thinking Handyman, wherefore art thou?
The next few minutes were life-changing. Well not really, but they did change the direction of my musical life. My friend's cassette got thrashed that weekend and I knew the lyrics to most of the songs by the next day.