MY HERO by FOO FIGHTERS. Story by Smokie Dawson
Urgency is dictating that we move more quickly now, so we forge on past rave tents full of writhing, scantily dressed youngsters, many with glazed eyes.
Urgency is dictating that we move more quickly now, so we forge on past rave tents full of writhing, scantily dressed youngsters, many with glazed eyes.
I’ve been so immersed in music before that I’ve forgotten where the knife ends and my body begins. Sometimes I wear scars of songs that move me; a nick on my finger, a burn on my wrist.
The best thing about Glenda’s enthusiasm, though, was that it triggered my interest in Slade.
We rehearsed a great deal for our debut. The gig was in the clubrooms of the St Albans Football Club on a winter’s night, with a pig on a spit, a few barrels and a good-sized crowd.
I felt uneasy, like the world I knew at 11 was broken, and 17 transformed kisses into wounds.
This cheesy American 1980s song, with an equally tacky film clip, provokes a memory bathed in anger, frustration and disappointment - my first experience of really distrusting a real estate agent.
Tina told me one of her favourite songs was a ballad from the album, Fool For You Anyway; for a while, I listened to that song repeatedly and thought of her.
There was almost no conversation happening in the taxi so when the familiar whistling in the introduction to Wind Of Change came on early morning Portugal radio there was room for listening and contemplation.
Listen to Stephen Andrew as he recalls errant high-school days and a taciturn teacher.
The Beach Boys were there with us on each and every road trip. Each song had its own special moment to shine along the journey.