It was still plaintive and summery. It was by another St Kilda institution. A guy I first saw play at Deakin in the early 1980s. I tracked it down to a new double album of Christmas songs.
Steve and I are driving from Kempsey to Crescent Head in 1972 at about 9pm and the local DJ at 2KM puts on the Hollies’ Long Cool Woman (in a black dress) and apparently goes outside for a smoke as the vinyl single hits a snag and repeats and repeats … and right in front of me the Disciples of Soul …
well-stocked op shop—/she sifts thru clothes racks/to find/an alternative/while I scan CD racks
Each time it was played a surging panic set in. How long did I have left before my bald, elderly, and poor parents required feeding? And how could they possibly go out until a quarter to three in the morning if they were in that condition? I’d be worried sick.
Paul Mitchell concludes his story of the rise and fall of Geelong's greatest band from 1991, Tall Planet.
The former Monkee had played rather grander venues, but he seemed pretty comfortable up there on the graduation stage. I was just a few rows from the front. Stage right, near the guitarist, Al Perkins.
Nineteen-ninety-one was the greatest year in rock history. Anyone who says otherwise wasn’t 22 and forming a band.
Brian Nankervis has long been curious about the relationship between songs and personal stories, going right back to his days on RRR-FM.
Later, it’s six of us at a workmate’s one-room apartment, watching videos, drinking, talking. He and I sit on the bed, a purring cat between us. Kitty’s tail flicks against my thighs as he strokes one end, I stroke the other, our hands sometimes touching: poor kitty a conduit for the swollen energy between us.
We played our first Zoom gig this week!