Sometimes travel includes gigs, when the planets align and you and your current crush (Ron Sexsmith) perhaps are in London at the same time. Or when Bob Dylan and Paul Simon do a show in an amphitheatre outside of Boston.
We ended up in a pub. There was a country-rock band in a back room. They played with a certain honesty. Lap-steel guitar can do that.
At The Palais Theatre, most of the audience of 3000 would have known Your Bright Baby Blues. At The Railway Hotel, probably only two brothers.
Mark Schier California, 1990 We sat on the train and plugged into our portable cassette players with those 1990s chunky headphones. I'm not sure what my wife listened to, but for me there was only one choice.
Kahli Scott Brisbane, Australia and London, UK; April 2016 There’s been a shadow over me that doesn’t seem to lift when London’s grey skies do. And Randy Meisner’s voice keeps popping into my head.
David Oke Colac , early 1980s From our vantage point of the stage we could see that CPR was being administered to someone. Someone who’d had a heart attack.
Lucia Nardo Rod Laver Arena, Melbourne, February 2015 I guess the passage of time buffers down the sharp points on everything, not just voices, but love and loss.
Vin Maskell Gertrude St, Geelong West, Victoria. 1976 Sometimes Bill’s quiet voice would quicken with enthusiasm as he suggested we listen to a particular song. And we’d sit there and not interrupt the song. I wouldn’t even reach for another shortbread, there on the spotless glass coffee table.
Lucia Nardo Fire-place, Melbourne, July 1993 The thick door of my home couldn’t protect me from that winter’s chill. Icy wind whistled between the jambs and into the house.