Regret by Fiona Apple
Matthew Mastricova Lake George, New York, July 2012 After spending most of my first two years in college constantly reviewing music, I thought I would never truly feel music again.
Forever Young by Bob Dylan. Story by Vin Maskell
Vin Maskell The Bellbrae hill, 1974 Ten words was all my father said about Bob Dylan. Eleven if you count the contraction.
Move It On Over by Hank Williams. Story by Chris
Chris The family home, mid-1970s. We used to have a radiogram until it got hit by lightning. We did not have a TV until 1978.
PROTECTION by MASSIVE ATTACK Story by Nick Gadd
Nick Gadd Lounge room, Yarraville. One a.m. February 1996 Unlike the nurses in the maternity ward, who handle babies with the dexterity of waiters carrying plates in busy restaurants (two babies asleep on one arm, another on the shoulder for burping) new parents are tentative and full of doubts.
Paint It Black by The Rolling Stones
Debbie Lee A nursing home in Koroit, April to July 2009 Grandma’s strong farmer's hands disappear into paper-thin veins.
Lili Marlene by Salvatore Romita/Marlene Dietrich
Lucia Nardo A recording studio in Altona North. March 2007 I spend the session at the mixing desk, watching Dad in the recording booth, reflecting on the importance of his music to our family’s identity. It’s been the soundtrack to my entire life.
Do You Really Want to Hurt Me? by Culture Club. Story by Rick Kane
Rick Kane Sunday in front of the telly, Cloverdale, Western Australia, late 1982 I could barely comprehend how two people could experience the same moment so radically differently.
Song Sung Blue by Neil Diamond
Kerrie Soraghan Pool room, Deer Park, 31 October 1982 On Saturday mornings Dad always sang along loudly to Song Sung Blue on our tinny stereo: mortifying in the extreme to a teenage daughter full of her own pretensions