My brand-new iPod was my companion as I let New York take me in. And because I was writing my love letter to the city like my own personal movie, it needed a soundtrack.
I had always imagined myself with tattoos. I saw myself covered in blackwork ink, beautiful artwork, and lyrics that meant something – but I was scared about getting one. With your first tattoo, you don't know what to expect. Is it painful? What if it gets infected? What if it turns out terribly?
The bedroom wall had hundreds of small articles about music, cut out from newspapers. Album reviews. Profiles. Gig reviews.
The Chainsmokers weren’t a national punchline yet. They’d made a name for themselves with their novelty song Selfie before everyone realised that they were actually very, very serious about their music.
At the time of writing this I am currently on day 132 of self-isolation, with no end in sight. It is the first day of the mandatory mask wearing in Melbourne, Victoria.
and the singer goes yeah babe yeah yeah yeah/ then electric guitar wangs wah wah funk
Our mutual love of The Weeknd brought me just a little bit closer to my daughter. So, thanks, Abel Tesfaye. I’m pretty sure I am The Weeknd’s oldest fan. I wear the title proudly.
I didn’t really want to leave this city. But I like going somewhere, and I like leaving a place behind.
Urgency is dictating that we move more quickly now, so we forge on past rave tents full of writhing, scantily dressed youngsters, many with glazed eyes.
This is big sky music, languid yet powerful, like a wedge tail cruising on an updraft. The spirit of the sound echoes the spirit of the land.