SJ Rowland Suburban Auckland, mid-1980s Most of the time I didn’t know what to think or how to act. I was always grateful when musicians or anyone else I looked up to could provide a few pointers. Or better yet, provide some strong opinions I could pass off as my own.
Maria Majsa The Marquee, Wardour Street, London 1984 I headed for the place I’d seen him last, but all I found was blood on the floor. People had scrambled through it leaving sticky prints in every direction, like a contaminated crime scene.
Earl O'Neill Beverly Hills 2209, 1982 I had a direct line into the rare chances that rock and roll might gift me. Radio Birdman to The Clovers, Kinks, MC5, to the best friends I’ve ever known.
Earl O’Neill Leichardt, Sydney, 1985 What if something happened and I was at home watching telly? That’d never do. Sex, drugs and rock and roll were too important for a young fellow.
Mark ‘Swish’ Schwerdt Twin Street, Adelaide, 1978ish The intersection of a new record store, Modern Love Songs, and a new music newspaper, Roadrunner, led me to discover The Modern Lovers. And their song Roadrunner.
Rijn Collins Berlin, August 2013 My head against a train window, I watch Berlin slide by and listen to Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.
Nick Cowling Driving in Hoppers Crossing, a Thursday afternoon. August 2011 That day I realised that I can still listen to metal and that I don’t need to be a music fascist and devote myself to only one genre.
Stephen Andrew Student hostel, West Geelong 1982 I didn’t get a Mohawk, nor cut up and safety pin my clothes. I kept my phlegm to myself. I was a part-time punk.
Stefan Schutt Reservoir 2012, Paris 2013 South Morang is the centre of the civilised universe.
Rijn Collins The Metro, Melbourne, November 1995 Agoraphobia starts slowly. There’s a tremble of a hand on the doorknob, a flutter of your heart on the tram, and then suddenly it’s been two years of watching your housemates walk down the front path, without you.