Stephen Andrew Share house, West Geelong, 1983 Phil was divesting himself of all material possessions, man. Fortunately, I was on hand to help him cleanse himself of the most evil of these things, his LP records.
Rijn Collins Jackson, Mississippi, August 2012 With Hurricane Isaac approaching, our bed and breakfast evacuated and New Orleans airport closed, we had little choice but to jump on a train and head north.
It was a tiny rose the colour of musk sticks and fairy floss and just blown, on the climber that never flowered after that one winter when we cut it right back.
Stephen Andrew Central New South Wales, circa 1987 By the time the bus hit the Queensland border, I was a changed man, hearing things in a new way. It was a conversion of sorts, or perhaps, a mini musical epiphany. From that day on, country music made sense to me.
Damian Balassone Goondiwindi 1991 After those rugby games we played music on an old cassette deck whilst going about our chores. It did not take long for me to realise that country music was the preferred genre amongst the cotton chippers.
Rick Kane Preston West, Victoria November 2013 I sat up in bed, scared by what I’d heard. I’m never quite prepared for a song that, by revealing the protagonist’s innermost demons, reveals my own.
Rick Kane Ironing before work, Preston. January 2013 In the quiet of an early summer morning, ironing one pant leg after another I listened while Johnny once again led me into the beauty within a seemingly ordinary moment yet nonetheless, a crossroads moment.
Chris The family home, mid-1970s. We used to have a radiogram until it got hit by lightning. We did not have a TV until 1978.