CENTRE STAGE Williamstown Literary Festival
A bloke had a vague notion. The Williamstown Literary Festival turned it into a reality.
The Mental Health collection
It is a source of quiet pride – and privilege - that nearly a dozen contributors to Stereo Stories have entrusted their accounts of mental health with us.
GREENSLEEVES (and ice-cream vans)
Greensleeves is the sound of anticipation. The sound of promise and summer. The sound of hot days. The sound of ice-cream on your tongue, melting over your fingers, dripping onto your toes.
DON’T LET THE SUN CATCH YOU CRYING & WALK HAND IN HAND. Poem by Cathy Brigden
No shaking shoulders and no audible sobs for this public crying needs to be invisible for the grief mask to be effective. "Don’t let the sun catch you crying", sings Gerry with his Pacemakers.
CENTRE STAGE The library concerts
Given the literary aspect of Stereo Stories and the embracing, innovative nature of libraries, one should not be surprised that libraries have hosted quite a few of our concerts
ALABAMA SONG (WHISKEY BAR) by THE DOORS Story by Madeleine Maccar
His closest friends at the time were those people who excel at throwing those parties that spill out of an artist's canvas of a house and should only exist as an amphetamine slideshow held together by ragged descriptions in Brett Easton Ellis novels.
DOG DAYS ARE OVER by FLORENCE + THE MACHINE. Story by Steven Joyner
In that final hour, I felt compelled to dance. I’ve never been a dancer, nor have I ever truly felt the inclination, but suddenly, I felt the desperate need to stand up and flail around my bedroom like a madman.
DAYDREAMER by TROPHY EYES. Story by Samantha Lee Currran
Dreaming made the emptiness I felt less demanding, but there was a hole inside of me. The Trophy Eyes song helps me find my way.
RAGGED WOOD by FLEET FOXES. Story by Bernhard Sayer
The songs invited me to sing again. And I realised through that two-week journey, that that was what had gone missing.
SUMMER OF SORCERY by LITTLE STEVEN ft THE DISCIPLES OF SOUL. Story by Vin M
We’ve never emailed each other. We don’t need Facebook to be friends. We hardly text each other. And then, on the eve of another summer, you tap into your phone...