You can tell by the catch in Neil Finn's voice that it was a tough gig to play and sing this song for his former band mate.
After breaking up and getting back together 152 times, I finally found an exit strategy that would stick. My Happiness was awaiting me – I just had to meet it halfway.
My mind drifts away with the sublime guitars and complementary vocals. The song unfolds gradually but confidently, like the highway I’m driving on...past Tutye, Boinka, Linga, Underbool...
This isn’t a song for Grafton, or Australia, it’s a song for the human condition. The sublime execution is what sets it apart.
Like footy fans at finals time, we queued at the local Bass outlet for tickets. Revelling in the early morning banter with the diehards, who were lucky enough to have witnessed the band at full tilt in the ‘early days’ of the late 1970’s. Other standout gigs were re-lived: Astor Theatre ’82, Kooyong ’85, Venue ’86 and Festival Hall ’87.
So there I was, at the WACA indoor nets with 100 flushed and excited teenage girls, ready to bowl to Daryl Braithwaite.
The next few minutes were life-changing. Well not really, but they did change the direction of my musical life. My friend's cassette got thrashed that weekend and I knew the lyrics to most of the songs by the next day.
After calling out to the members of the audience who had ever experienced mental turmoil, or just emotional struggles as a whole, the rollicking beauty of steady electric guitar along with the angelic high pitched crooning of Sultana, the flash light on thousands of phones swayed in time to a truly memorable cacophony of sound.
There are guidelines to making a mix tape when you're in love: no heavy metal, no techno, no hip hop, no breakup elegies, no schmaltzy love songs and definitely no Phil Collins or Rick Astley.
We’d run out of petrol returning from Mildura. Mobile phones were an invention of the future. We couldn’t even see a house light in the distance, let alone a public phone.