We dedicated our performances of Silver Moon in 2022 to musicians and writers who had died in the peak years of Covid, 2020 and 2021.
Mum was fiddling with the dial, but the glitchy radio was not getting her urgency—pure static.
Dad stands at the bowser. I sit in the passenger seat. The thrum of petrol is like a bassline.
Cars may come and go but some you never forget.
As the sun set, a man took a seat at a truncated keyboard. A 60-key piano that barely fitted in the space, jammed between the door and a window. With minimal fanfare he played for the few of us there.
It reminded her of when the conductor moves to the podium and, with a couple of taps, signals the dawn of the main event.
Mary Pomfret writes a lyrical response to the song Fairytale Of New York in the wake of the death of Shane McGowan.
Music is always so much more than just music. It’s quite simply everything.
Our song then started to play over the speakers as Laura handed me a light blue notebook which she said was filled with her dreams and writings.
I play Simon and Garfunkel as loud as my portable turntable lets me, drowning out my fears as I yell out the words.