Imagine by John Lennon 1971

His last really great album. In 1971 I was living in Fulton Road, Blackburn South. I was hanging out with an Irish kid called Tommy who I met playing for the local soccer team Box Hill United. We played at Wembley Park. His Dad would often drive the team to games. I had to be picked up because we didn't have a car and he lived close. I would ride round to his house which was on the new housing estate. Brand new. The street was full of kids and we'd often muck around in all the other new houses which had not yet been occupied. Hide and seek in half-built houses. Later at his place, we'd listen to his big brother Liam's records on his new stereo. despite having my chemist round sometimes it took me ages to buy a record. Liam played two records continuously. Nilsson's Nilsson Schmilsson and this one "Imagine" The place was all-new with great big windows overlooking freshly dug soil. The sound was magical. Tom and I did the chemist round together. The week after he couldn't work so I did the whole week. $6 for six days. After school. Along with the money I got from taking back empty Coke and Fanta bottles (20cents each) or running to the shop for my brothers (20 cents an errand) I had more than enough to buy the album. On the bus to Box Hill. Hand over the money and an hour later I've got my own copy. It even came with a postcard of John holding a pig to take a poke at McCartney's Ram album. And such great songs. Jealous Guy, Oh Yoko and How Do You Sleep? The song Imagine was all over the radio. How could anyone top Lennon in my book? The Beatles. The first solo singles. This album. And then along came David Bowie and Ziggy Stardust and everything changed. It gave me a totally different outlook on music. One that I've kept to this day.

Sheer Heart Attack by Queen 1974

I remember listening to this in my bathroom at Fulton Road Blackburn South back in 1974. By now I was playing guitar and recording stuff on my tiny cassette player. Thanks to the library at school I had managed to borrow a few books about the history of rock and roll and had become fascinated by the echo. And how John Lennon had a bathroom voice on his records. How handclaps were recorded in corridors. How Eddie Cochran's drummer used cardboard boxes for drums.
So I took my listening adventures to new places. I dragged my record player out to the backyard. I moved my speakers to different heights. Eventually, I would put a pillow on the floor and put speakers on each side of my head. I was then blanketed in music.
Queen records sounded great like this. There was always a lot going on sonically. nd so much layering f different sounds that went from speaker to speaker. But with songs like "Now I'm Here," it really rocked so I couldn't always lie down for it.
In Blackpool at the end of 74 on my first visit back, I had a brief flirtation with a girl called Susanne. One night we were sitting at the bar at the Casino (next door to the Pleasure Beach) while the DJ played Northern Soul and because it was Xmas a few pop hits in little in between sets. Killer Queen came on and she said to me "Every second Queen single is always rubbish!" Then again this was the girl who hated songs on records that didn't fade out.

Not a big Queen fan but I must admit they do have their moments and this album as a few of them.

So by Peter Gabriel 1986

I was traveling back from the UK after spending Christmas of 1986 there. I had turned out to be quite a rubbish experience. I was supposed to take a train down to Italy and meet a friend from school there. After spending Xmas in Blackpool I went down to London. The winter was a particularly cold one. Within two days London seemed to be snowed in. The trains weren't running. Shops were empty. I spent New Years Eve in Trafalgar square. After the countdown, I bought myself a hot dog but before I could eat it some girl took it out of my hands and scoffed it and then proceeded to try and snog me. It wasn't a pretty sight. I retreated to my hotel room alone and watched Ziggy Stardust on the telly.
The next day I tried to get to Europe but the ferries were closed due to the winter conditions. London was dead. It was getting kind of miserable. No good bands. A few days later I got to Paris. But they decided to have a train strike. As I pulled into Paris gendarmes with machine guns lined the railway tracks. I sat on the bench at Gare Du Nord and thought about Melbourne. When I left it was hot. Rubber Soul was jumping. And I'd just kissed a girl outside the Jump Club. Now here I was freezing in a hotel room in Paris watching French TV without subtitles. The cold had given me chapped lips as well. When I went to the chemist and tried to get something for them I could have sworn they were laughing at me. The chemist seemed to pull out a one-litre jar of Vaseline.
My Euro rail train pass useless. Italian ferries suspended. I had to get out of there. I was back in Blackpool by 10pm the next night. drinking brandy and dry with my brother.
All the while Peter Gabriel's So album was playing on my Walkman. And despite Kate and Peter imploring me to "Don't Give Up" I guess this time I did.

PS As for the album the cassette was a constant on my Sony Walkman as I walked the streets of London and moped on my single bed in a small room in Paris. Later back in Melbourne I bought the album and it became a favourite of mine. They used a few of the songs in Miami Vice which particularly effective. Red rain especially. And then of course there was the scene in "Say Anything" where John Cusack plays "In Your Eyes" on the boombox. 

The Man Machine by Kraftwerk 1978

After the blast of Punk the movement broke up into several smaller scenes. although I stayed with my sixties guitar pop I was still enamoured with the electronic music which had been broadcast to the world by David Bowie. He was championing Kraftwerk a lot and in 1978 Man and Machine came out. It sounded perfect. Mesmerizing. It was like one of those videos of a city at night but with the film sped up at the same time the action on the street slowed down. You'd go to parties and though I wouldn't call it dancing, people were swaying to Kraftwerk. Usually later on when the house was trashed from 100 people dancing in a small living room.
I didn't really start listening to Kraftwerk properly until the early eighties when it's influence really kicked it. I had a flat with a large balcony on Meredith Street Elwood. I'd sit out there on warm nights and listen to a mixture of this album, the Bladerunner soundtrack and even a bit of the old classical stuff. I guess I was chilling out.

Best of The Doors 1985

In 1985 I was DJing at Rubber Soul in West Melbourne. It was starting the do really well have a brilliant beginning and then a kind of lull. To get out of the lull me Ronny and Michael talked about having a "special" where we would feature an artist for the night. Play their songs maybe every third song. Put up some posters. It was up to me to come up with the image for the poster. We would have probably begun with the Beatles or The Stones but as luck would have it this Doors double album came out and we were given the chance to launch it with free Doors giveaways. So we had this poster with the image of the album all over Melbourne.
We felt it might be a big night because Jim Morrison was getting quite a bit of coverage including the cover of Rolling Stone. A very hot dead rock star. But we weren't to know how big it was really gonna be. The biggest crowd we'd ever had was 220. On the Doors night, we got 800. It was over the top with queues snaking down the block. We must have filled every available corner with punters. Both levels. We even opened the front bar for the first time. It was massive. Later we couldn't get people off the street after the club closed and the police came down. Lights flashing. It was like Sunset Strip.
We continued having once a month specials but The Doors were always the biggest. Always rammed. My copy of this album looks like it's been in a war zone.

Pills 'N' Thrills and Bellyaches by Happy Mondays 1990

In 1990 I had just got the Lizard Lounge started. At first, numbers weren't all that impressive. It was enough though to buy more records for the club. We even tried bands and one night we had Captain Cocoa play. I was managing them at the time. Their bass player Dave O'Neil later went on to appear on just about every comedy show ever made in Melbourne. However, that was the future. Right then we couldn't seem to over get more than 60 people through the door. On a good night. We even tried Beehive like specials bringing back the dreaded ABBA special. It looked grim.
Three things came together to put us on track. I went to a nightclub at the Continental in Greville street and was like wow to the sheets of material hanging from the roof with light displays bursting over them. I grabbed that idea and put sheets up and used coloured wheels and slides from old movies. Maybe not as artful but still effective. 
Even more importantly the pub gave us a happy hour from 9-11pm. That was a huge thing. from the first night, they piled in for those drinks.
And thirdly music began to change. Stone Roses and Happy Mondays were the new kings. The sound was disco meets sixties pop and it was glorious. It was a big happy vibe. Much of it chemically induced. Almost hippy. We gave out lollies at the door. We mixed new and old songs and all different styles based on what we read about the Balearic sounds of the UK summer. And we played Happy Mondays to death. The good times had begun. And the club numbers went through the roof.

These Foolish Things by Bryan Ferry 1973

 I was going out with a girl from Teacher's College and one day I picked up this album from a small music shop in Box Hill on Whitehorse road. It was an instrument shop and sold a few albums as well. But they had decided the album caper wasn't worth the room used so they sold off their stock for 1:99 each. I had everything Roxy I wanted already (or so I thought) except this which I hadn't got round to buying because I was appalled by the version of Hard Rain's Gonna Fall (now I love it) and I was a steadfast Roxy man. But I took it back to my girlfriend's place in North Balwyn and we played it a few times and she liked it more than the Roxy albums I'd played to her. And it was full of songs I'd never heard before so I had nothing to compare them to. It was great. Mr Ferry was cool. I wanted to wear suits and hang around pool parties in Hollywood when I listened to his solo work.

Anyway we even made the title track our song. Xmas presents and such were often based on one of the lyrics. We even went to Paris together. And London. And in London we saw him perform the song on the Cilla Black show. It really was our song. 

Then we broke up. 

One night I'm driving home from the Clayton Drive In with a new girlfriend and I'm playing the album on my cassette. And I sing along to These Foolish Things. And she loves it and says "That should be our song!" And I tell her that the song is kinda taken and the all hell breaks loose.

PS Do couples still have "songs"?