The blue star light went to my room, the Pokémon poster and books went to my sister, and the guitar went to a corner in the living room, where everyone fights the urge to strum it when they walk past. What are we if not pieces of our older sibling, broken off and handed to us as they grow?
Returning to Melbourne always felt like a slow deflation, but I had Paddy and our photos and stories and reminiscences to keep me going through the school term. I longed for open skies and mountains, physical work and companionship, stars and weather and cold.
Despite my stage fright, a dodgy monitor and a handful of fluffed lines, my little trio are sharp enough and together enough to sound OK.
Vin Maskell Geelong, 1971, Melbourne 1974 My eldest brother didn’t own many records. If my memory serves me well, the albums he listened to were by The Beatles, a rebel country songwriter, some Dylan and Clapton, a little art rock, and some English pop by a red-headed protégé of Elton John.