I don't think I turned my lipstick red radio off between 1996 and 2003. Led Zeppelin and the Doors ruled the cars and the backyard. Jethro Tull played in the lounge room when no one was practicing the piano. 702 chattered constantly from behind the jug in the kitchen. Aretha Franklin pumped out of the family room over the vacuum cleaner. And in my room, the little red wireless on the floor by my window was constantly tuned to Triple J.
Mid way through last month, the Lucksmiths, one of the bands that played to me in my bedroom while did important teenage things like cutting out shapes for my wall collages and writing passionately all over my inflatable chair with permanent marker, announced that they're doing a farewell tour in August. I'm going. Band wakes slay me. Is that perverse?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment