LET’S DISAPPEAR by JOSH KRAJCIK. Fiction by Alice Richardson
I asked where she was going and she giggled. Said she didn’t know, didn’t care.
LIDO SHUFFLE by BOZ SCAGGS. Story by David Barton
Which record could hold our story, and become the beating heart of our home, but never play its music again?
LIFE IN A NORTHERN TOWN by DREAM ACADEMY. Story by Hugh Jones
For about nine months we worked and played as a double act. Steve helped me cover Oxford United Football Club’s first home match in First Division (and was threatened with a knife by a nervous scalper he stopped in the street outside), while I tagged along to concerts he was covering (remember Squeeze or Level 42?).
LIGHTS by INTERPOL. Poem by Michael Leach
well-stocked op shop—/she sifts thru clothes racks/to find/an alternative/while I scan CD racks
Lights On The Hill by Slim Dusty. Story by Stephen Andrew
Stephen Andrew Central New South Wales, circa 1987By the time the bus hit the Queensland border, I was a changed man, hearing things in a new way. It was a conversion of sorts, or perhaps, a mini musical epiphany. From that day on, country music made sense to me.
LIKE A ROLLING STONE by BOB DYLAN. Poem by Craig Kirchner.
We sold our place needed the cash to eat./We were lucky on the street...