Fathers’ Day at Stereo Stories
Fathers and fatherhood are universal themes. Here at Stereo Stories we celebrate Father's Day 2015 not with gifts of angle grinders and barbecues and golf balls but with stories, ten in all.
Fathers and fatherhood are universal themes. Here at Stereo Stories we celebrate Father's Day 2015 not with gifts of angle grinders and barbecues and golf balls but with stories, ten in all.
Maria Majsa Auckland, New Zealand, early 1970s Western Springs College, Auckland 2012 Inheritances run in families like a seam through generations; swallowed hopes and ambitions which sometimes find their full expression decades later.
Luke R Davies Blacktown, New South Wales, 1986 It was hairs standing up and goose bumps time. I am an atheist and this was as close to a religious experience I was ever going to get.
Rick Kane Northcote, Australia July 2015 London July 2010 Vicki and I scan the north side of the river, trying to imagine what window of what flat Ray Davies peered out to look at people swarming like flies down below. Is he looking at us now?
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.
Maria Majsa The Marquee, Wardour Street, London 1984 I headed for the place I’d seen him last, but all I found was blood on the floor. People had scrambled through it leaving sticky prints in every direction, like a contaminated crime scene.
Vin Maskell Geelong 1979, Melbourne 1982 We were talking and Van was singing. Tom, maybe you talked about your family, whom I’d never met. And maybe about your father, your distant, distant father.
Stereo Stories' fifth gig in less than four months was at Victoria University's Footscray Park Campus on Thursday evening 30 July. A night of new stories and lovely musicianship.
David Oke Classroom, Footscray, 2014 Of course my class didn’t know about David Bowie. They were more interested in One Direction and Five Seconds of Summer. One student claimed that his dad liked Bowie.
Rijn Collins Northcote, 2007 They took the chairs closest to the door, leaving me the couch. I realised too late that this blocked my exit. The tall one stared at me, his mouth slightly open. Sideburns grinned. And then the CD player whirred into action and gave me an omen, straight from 1971: the bluesy wail of I Smell Trouble. And I did. Fuck, did I ever.