It was a time of riding on a barrel of a song and being saved by a fisherman called Friedrich Nietzsche and his novel Thus Spoke Zarathustra.
In a world of neon signs and endless advertising angles this was the most uplifting piece of graffiti I've read in a long time.
Saturday night hot and dark/lonely widow sits outside/on front verandah no lights on
At the youthful age of 39 poet Michael Leach find teenage memories in a Newcastle museum.
It was one of the few gigs I have ever played where all the bands on the bill supported each other with real verve during each of the performances.
Mike Brady's guitar strums ripple through the MCG and reverberate through the living room.
Dja Dja Wurrung Country, Monday 18 September 2023 A new week has dawned outside this all-but-empty house in the country that I’ve come to call home. As Monday morn becomes more of a memory, I stay seated at my desk with a sick cavoodle on my lap and a view of [...]
We have been looking at other people’s houses. Not like the characters – a cleaner and her child – in Paul Kelly’s 1992 song. No, not like that at all.
Ron S Peno, the compelling self-taught singer of Died Pretty, died on Friday night, 11 August, at his home in South Yarra, Melbourne.
I sent you a goodbye message in the chat you’d set up because, unlike the song, we never really did talk on the telephone.