EVERYTHING I DO by BRYAN ADAMS Story by David Oke
The G.P. took one look at me and called an ambulance. After Emergency I was wheeled up to the cardiac ward and connected to the heart monitor.
A WHITER SHADE OF PALE by PROCUL HARUM. Story by Luke Davies
I was like another brother to Jessica. She fancied my band mates more than me, so that was bit of a drag. We did share a love for one particular song, though.
MR BRIGHTSIDE by THE KILLERS (and Jack Riewoldt) Story by Hugh Jones
Is Mr Brightside really “one of the most seminal pieces of music of this century"? Hugh Jones dares to dampen the Richmond premiership celebrations.
HEROES by DAVID BOWIE Fiction by Jeff Dowsing
As a Bowie aficionado Jack couldn’t hold a candle to Dennis, but this track burns deep at the best of times, and obliterates him in the worst. Such as now.
The Stereo Stories Band
It's high time The Stereo Stories Band had its own permanent page on our website. After all, with no band, there would be no concerts.
BLOODY WELL RIGHT BY SUPERTRAMP Story by David Oke
My Wurlitzer piano had evolved from designs from 1954. The Wurlitzer ‘electro-mechanical’ Electronic Pianos ceased production in 1984. However, original instruments are now considered retro and funky.
LIVIN’ ON A PRAYER by BON JOVI Story by Rose Michael
It was, for the moment, their song. They liked it because they’d discovered it, because it wasn’t whatever the rest of their classmates were tuning in to. Because it wasn’t U2. ‘Wo-ah, we’re halfway there!’ The lyrics echoed their own desperate fixation on the future.
FLOW, MY TEARS (LACRIMAE) sung by STING Story by Ria Andriani
There’s something fascinating about Sting's rough voice. It lends itself into the melancholy of Dowland’s Elizabethan music in a way that is truly unique.
MIDDLE CURSE by LALI PUNA Story by Claudia Pantani
Eventually though the time will come for you to get thirsty on a random night, head toward the fridge, reach for the orange juice bottle and get hit by an epiphany.
CATS IN THE CRADLE by HARRY CHAPIN Story by Danny Katz
I’m driving my son to his mate’s house and he’s flicking through stations on the car radio, trying to find a decent pop song to listen to - something that doesn’t sound like it was composed using sampled microwave keypad beeps. Then he’s accidentally flicked onto a golden oldies station. He’s keen to flick off, but I tell him to wait a sec.