AN INNOCENT MAN by BILLY JOEL. Story by Cher Finver
I wish a few Billy Joel songs did not torture my soul, but songs are a time machine.
THAT SUMMER FEELING by JONATHAN RICHMAN. Story by Louise Maskell
After cassettes lost favour I bought Jonathan on CD. And Jonathan on vinyl. In Spanish, Italian, French and English.
A Capital night in Bendigo
Stereo Stories performed at The Capital Theatre on Saturday 8 May as part of the Bendigo Writers Festival. Good to be back in action.
RAZOR’S EDGE by GOANNA. Story by Jim Roberts
The next time Razor’s Edge played he loudly sang the line about getting a letter from Davey. I usually shut up for a few minutes. It was that line that cut me up a bit, it still does.
A CRY IN THE WIND by YABU BAND. Article by Anne-Marie Smith
Delson and Boyd Stokes perform this song as a tribute to Elder Josie Boyle (RIP), who documented the Wongatha language for all to use, respect and share while bonding together.
NOW THAT WE’VE FOUND LOVE by THIRD WORLD. Story by Victoria Wells.
As the circular crowd of angular, awkward teenagers missed the timing, we spotted Harriet and Mr Reynolds in the middle of the throng.
FM by STEELY DAN. Story by Jim Landwehr
I was dressed in my rust-colored corduroy 3-piece suit, and she in a conservative, Catholic school girl skirt and blouse. She was tall and attractive, in a girl-next-door sort of way. Overall she appeared to be a suitable match for this first foray into my dating life.
Three weeks to Bendigo!
We’re three weeks away from our first show in 18 months, our first show at the Bendigo Writers Festival, in the lovely Capital Theatre. Saturday evening, 8 May. 8.30pm to 9.45pm.
IN YOUR HOUSE by THE CURE. Story by Maria Majsa
November came and went and winter gaped ahead of me. The hostel was somewhere to sleep and a place to leave my things, but there was no comfort there.
SO WHAT by THE CURE. Story by Maria Majsa
Hearing the music in its original context, I could appreciate it anew and it made me think about how mutable songs were. How a stormy day might crank up the angst in a track, the way putting on a particular jumper could change the colour of your eyes.