David Oke Anglesea, 1984 and 2010There has always been a bit of rivalry between Anglesea and the neighbouring town Torquay. I think that it is more than the local netball, football and lawn-bowls competitive spirit.
Bea Jones Wellington, New Zealand. 1963In my first tentative relationship with a fellow student I felt I had found my soul mate. where the rampant hormones were matched by our mutual passion for art; many Sunday afternoons spent wandering the back streets of Wellington, sketch book in hand.
Anson Cameron Basement Discs, Melbourne, 2012Rare times, a hole opens in a life and a song appears from nowhere to fill it, explain it, exploit it… a fluky medicine - the voice you needed to hear at the moment you needed to hear it. Sometimes you blunder onto a song that fits the need.
Maria Majsa Back bedroom, Pakuranga, Auckland 1978I held the popsicle to my left ear while my brother stabbed away at my right. It was a warm day and I could feel the popsicle oozing down my neck. Blood and raspberry, an indistinguishable mess.
...Jacek Koman owned that studio. He snarled, sang, and sneered. I had never before watched a character of mine brought to life, off the page and into the room. The experience was intoxicating....
Carl Dickens Footscray, Melbourne, 2015Annika sulked in her room; she figured someone had run Wolfgang over in the street and just chucked him in a bin. She blared Elvis Presley songs from her stereo and told of how she and Wolfgang used to sit outside together and listen to The King.
Ethan Andrews The Standard, Darlinghurst, Sydney January 17, 2013To clear my conscience I needed to make amends and I had to do it the only way a 19-year-old searching for an anonymous stranger knows how. On Facebook.
Darren 'Smokie' Dawson Newport, Melbourne 1992As the opening chords of Under the Milky Way softly made their way through the speakers, I asked the woman with whom I was planning to spend the rest of my life to dance with me. “I like this,” she whispered.
Bruce Jenkins Bentleigh East, Melbourne, 1969How different from tinny snatches of tunes captured from passing transistors: like smells drifting from strangers’ kitchens. This time I would actually hear an album on a real stereo.
Laura Grace Weldon Ohio living room,1970Supervising little kids’ baths was one of my dad's chores in the parental division of duties, so he’d sit on the toilet lid singing and strumming the guitar while we played in the tub.