There were a couple of abandoned old sheds, and a few trees. A cow pen. The place was littered with old glass bottles, tin cans, parts of things. All of it became mine. My teenage refuge.
The next thing I knew I was on the ground. A paramedic was talking to me. I didn’t know what they were saying.
From the opening lines of this debut single you know that Oliver Northam knows how to tell a story.
Our flight back to London is delayed by a day, and we battle with a lecturer who threatens to fail us for missing a mandatory class. I don't know where the set-list we collected lives now.
I wasn’t a fan of his music, but I went along to impress the new fella in my life.
His wife would be waiting for him to get home, ready to hear about his day. Desperate for a connection to a world she wasn’t part of right now.
Dr G listens as Bruce purrs the first track of Western Stars, the album that came out just a few weeks ago. “This would be perfect for someone learning English!”
I don’t buy the album after the gig at the merch desk because I’m still holding onto the memory of hearing Chasing Van, of savouring it, of treasuring it. I don’t want to make a commercial transaction. Yet.
For a minute in history, it is 8:11 AM Australian Eastern Standard Time on Monday 12 May 2019. The moment stretches out to the sound of coffee sips...
You are captured – taken to shore and tumbled out onto the sand, seaweed in your hair, under the spell of Maggie Rogers.