I remember those tv dinner, jaffles and cup a soups in front of Countdown…though I’m not sure what we at e in summer. I grew to hate certain songs that stayed number one for what seemed like forever. Then there were the music poster on that one wall in your room. The Pink Floyd triangle set on the vast sheet of black with a rainbow of colour shooting through the mystical prism, which was only mystical really because of the rainbow. And you know what – I never did like Mike Oldfield. But what I did like was the raw punk music, that Warsaw single before they became Joy Division. Maybe I’m mixing up memories now, but I think you played that single over and over, on the record player that I have now. Skip a few years and you introduced me to the Cure, and Shriekback too. I was the only kid at the Culture Club concert excited by the supporting act, and I’d never seen anything like it. And the Cure! I knew when I was accused at high school for only liking their popular stuff, well I knew that kid just couldn’t be more wrong. I grew up on the shit, and without knowing at the time, had more cred than any other teenager at that school. Who else was going to Severed Head gigs at the Paddington Town Hall? Hardly any of the kids at my school made it beyond the Harbour Bridge. While other kids were watching video hits, I was getting snuck into Do Re Mi gigs when I was much younger than 18. I was so nervous walking into another world, pretending to be all grown up and most likely failing. Then a few years on catching the bus all the way to your flat in Clovelly I think, before seeing New Order at the Enmore. After that I was on my own, at art school with the Sydney music scene at my feet, and my own little circle of bands. But those years, they marked the beginning of my love affair with music. An obsession with three piece bands - walls of guitar and noise. It all started in that little suburban household, in a bedroom at the back. Your room, your music and your big brother love.