Michael Leach pens a limerick about a Superjesus guitar pick.
On a fresh midmorning, I alight my bus at the east end of Adelaide’s CBD and proceed to speed walk along cracked concrete, as The Superjesus’s track ‘Now and Then’ begins on my iPod.
I listened as Kirk opened up about his former bandmate and my namesake, Michael: a man who, much like me, was a shy kid yet, much unlike me, became a global rock star.
It’s a classic punk song; raw, revelatory and raging. The Guardian claims it’s “one of the best singles ever made by anyone, anywhere, anytime”.
She shared her name with the character in Blue Bay Blues so perhaps that is how Richard’s 1978 album Past Hits And Previews became the soundtrack to our summer afternoons.
Stereo Stories photographer Eric Algra is currently putting the finishing touches to a wonderful collection of photographs that are to be published in a new book, Rock ‘n’ Roll City.
Over the course of the year Arijana and I saved countless bus fares hitching a ride to uni in the green Volvo, chatting away, distracting the driver who ran the odd red light.
Dicko invited me to a concert at the Mooroopna Mechanics Institute. On a Sunday night. To see Slim Dusty. I had heard and rejected Slim and his music.
Throwing protocol to the wind I even joined the exhibitionists in standing and swaying in something akin to dancing.
I worried the distance would be a death sentence as I found myself alone in my best friend’s mostly empty new living room, 1681 miles from any possibility of weeknight concerts, impromptu G&Ts and sushi, Galentine’s Day, movie marathons, holiday gatherings, city adventures, beach birthdays, and drop-everything post-tragedy afternoons of comfort TV.