The Path Continues.

My uncle John also shaped much of my taste in music - or at least he guided it.

When I was around 11 or twelve years old, he gave me a cassette tape. He had recorded two of his records for me - one on each side. The Essential Beatles, a quirky Australian compilation, and The Monkees Greatest Hits.
 
I already liked the Beatles, having watched the cartoon series. While the cartoon show focussed on the earlier years, although it did include Strawberry Fields and Penny Lane (and, most disturbingly, Tomorrow Never Knows), the cassette included songs right through to Let It Be.  The Monkees Greatest was, and still is, just a really good selection of songs.

I'm not sure, but I think it was probably a year or so later, he gave me two purchased cassettes - The Most of the Animals, and The Beatles & The Rolling Stones. The Animals tape had, for me, intriguing track titles, although at the time I didn't play it as much as the other tapes. The Beatles and Rolling Stones cassette was, in hindsight, my first bootleg.  A pretty average sounding tape of a few tracks from the Beatles 1964 Hollywood Bowl show, and the rest from BBC recordings.  I remember falling in love with the energy of Twist and Shout, but I did play the tape to death.

Unfortunately those tapes were lost in a fire in the early 80s, and until about 6 months ago I couldn't remember which Animals and Monkees tapes he had given me. I spent a bit of time researching, and by looking at album artwork and tracklists, it had to be these two. I've had the Essential Beatles on vinyl since the 80s, but I've now found copies of the other three. 

I've had a lot of fun revisiting these four albums.  I only wish my uncle was still around.  We could share a beer, listen to the albums, and talk music.

I Join The Path.

The first album I ever chose for myself was Suzi Quatro's Can the Can. I was about ten, and I asked Dad to buy it for me for Christmas. He was a little concerned, as the men on the cover looked a bit "rough", but he bought it, and I loved it and played it a lot. I still do. It had fantastic songs, a great sound and it rocked. I thought Suzi was the greatest. I even had a Suzi poster on my bedroom wall. I wish I still had that poster as it's quite rare now.

A year later I was lucky enough to score two albums for Christmas. I had really liked The Night Chicago Died and Billy Don't be a Hero, and so my parents bought Paper Lace And Other Bits of Material for me. My mum quite liked it - she even told me that it was better than she thought it would be. Not knowing who they were, she was probably basing her ideas on the sounds of the Suzi album from the year before. 

Unfortunately, Paper Lace hasn't aged too well. Many of the songs were dated even then, although at the time I thought they were really good.  Forgive me. I was 11 years old.

The other album I received was a compilation, Explosive Hits '74. It's a fantastic snapshot of the Australian music scene from that year. It's amazing how many music fans still consider it to be a great album.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, at a school fete, I bought a Simon and Garfunkel compilation. It cost me 10 cents or so. I had no idea who they were, but I liked the cover. I played that album a lot. I remember listening to I am a Rock, and thinking how deep the lyrics were. As an adult, I am amazed at about the age of ten I understood its meaning so well. 

And then a year or two later, an older friend lent me Rolled Gold. I was a Beatles fan, he was a Stones fan. I played the album a lot, preferring the later sides. He asked me what I thought of side one. I told him I didn't like it as much as the later, more poppy stuff as the production sounded "dirty".  He told me it was meant to be like that. It took a while, but over the next few years I really got into the Stones as well.

There were singles in between, one or two other albums, but in my mind, apart from the Beatles, Can the Can, Explosive Hits '74, Simon & Garfunkel and Rolled Gold put me on the path to where I am now, musically. 

And I still listen to these four albums.

Echobelly, Ocean Colour Scene and Other Assorted Blasts from the Past

Back in the 90s, while living in Japan, I started listening to Echobelly. Their first two albums were wonderful but like so much of the music I listened to in those days, I figured there was minimal opportunity for me to see them live.

A few weeks ago, that dream came true. Echobelly came to Lincoln, and I was not disappointed. They sounded fabulous, looked great, and had a fantastic stage presence. The audience was a little small, and a little quiet, but from where I was standing it appeared everyone was into the music and grooving along in their own way.

Being a small city and with one of the main venues always in financial trouble, Lincoln hasn't really attracted much in the way of music in the past 5 or 6 years - at least, not music that interests me.  Tribute bands have their place, but they're generally not really my thing. They are, however, a cheap and safe option for a cash-strapped venue.  Fortunately the venue was taken over last year by one of the local colleges, and what a change!  It's only May, and I've already seen more acts than I have in each of the past five years. And I have bought tickets for a few more in the next six months or so. Again, many are musicians I was listening to in the 80s and 90s and figured I would never get to see.

I posted recently about wanting to see more live music, and since then I have been, and also exploring the local folk scene. It hasn't disappointed. There truly are some hidden gems here in Lincolnshire.

Next up?  Ocean Colour Scene.  A long time favourite, and although I've seen Oscar and Simon as an acoustic duo, this will be my first time to see the whole band.  And I can't wait.

I see double up ahead 
Where the riverboat swayed beneath the sun 
Is where the river runs red 
Like a King who stalks the wings and shoots a dove 
And frees an eagle instead 
It's more or less the same as the things that you said

More Music.

Much of my music collection has been in storage for quite a few years. Recently I've been able to access my music, and I've been able to commence sorting, organising, and completing the cataloguing I commenced way back in Australia.

It has also been really lovely to rediscover old favourites and listen to albums and tracks I'd forgotten about, or not had easy access to.  (I don't stream, for a number of reasons - and anyway, from what I've seen, some of my favourites simply aren't on those services.)

Last night I listened to an album I initially bought in 1989 or so, and haven't heard for around ten years. I was amazed at how fresh it sounded, and also how I knew the words and music so well.  It was wonderful to listen to. And I'm sure other aural delights await me as I explore my collection.

In a way, this re-access to my music, as well as going to a couple of live shows, has re-energised my love for music. I've bought tickets to a couple of other shows coming to Lincoln, and even explored the Folk Music scene in this county. And I was surprised to see that it's actually quite healthy and active.

I've known of the Folk Club in Lincoln for around a year or so, but their regular sessions clashed with another regular commitment I had.  I no longer have that, and so tonight I'm heading off to, hopefully, meet like minded people with similar tastes in music.

It can be uncomfortable joining a new group of people, but I've already had some online contact with a couple of them, and they seem really friendly and welcoming. I'm not nervous at all, and really looking forward to going.  And, as one would expect from a folk club, they meet in a pub.  Bonus!

In the next few months I have tickets to a few shows, Folk Club and Live Sessions pencilled into my calendar, and an unusual opportunity to explore new music.

Music still stirs my soul and speaks to my heart. And very often inspires my own creativity.

I'll let you know.

Everything In Its Right Place.

I've been organising.

Me, my things, my space, and my life.

I have catalogued my books and music, getting rid of things I no longer need, or want. And, of course, any duplicates. There always seems to be duplicates. Same with my music collection. All niceley catalogued on a database, and organised physically. It's a great feeling to know what I have, what I need, and getting rid of the things I no longer want.

I'm also going through my things - ticket stubs, concert programmes, badges - anything that doesn't fit elsewere. Now I know where they are. Exactly. I got rid of a bunch of things I'd kept, and wondered why they seemed important at the time.

I tidied my workspace the other day. Anything that didn't belong, went. It's not perfect yet. There's a bunch of letters, notes and bits in a bag that still need organising, but they're all together. The disorganised is now organised. And I will get to it, work my way through it, and the world will be a wondrous place once more.

It's good for my mind, my wellbeing, to have a space that is tidy. And that space is not only my relax space, but much of the time is my workspace too. It's more enjoyable to be in now it's all sorted out. A very pleasant environment indeed.

But I've been sorting my life too. I've cancelled a couple of magazine subscriptions that I realised were not as enjoyable as they once were. I noticed this because the unread issues were starting to pile up. I threw them out, and felt.... nothing. I continue with the couple of magazines where I am completely up to date. And I added a new one, which is cheaper than the ones I cancelled.

But I've also been working on organising my mind. I've started meditating, and I'm finding it extremely beneficial.

I've always wanted to be more organised, and it's finally happening. The time is now. It feels right.

Who's the Artist?

Some AI generated art recently won an art competition at the Colorado State Fair. The winner has defended this, and claimed that he made no secret of using an AI. Other entrants have responded with anger. The art was entered in a Digital Art category, and the organisers and judges had no problem with it being included or winning.

There have been controversies in the at world before. There was some backlash against photography many years ago, as it was deemed as not requiring the skill and experience of a "true" artist. And then it happened again more recently when digital tools were becoming more commonplace.

I suppose the difference this time is that anyone can type a few words into an AI generator and achieve reasonably impressive results in a few seconds. Hit re-enter, with the same words, and you receive a different result. And again, and again, and again. And in a very short time, it's very easy to produce literally hundreds of artworks. And by changing the words and parameters, you can change style, lighting, setting and so on.

Out of all those hundreds of pieces, several will be special - a cut above the rest. All by typing a few words and hitting the enter key.

I tried this myself the other day, and was thrilled by some of the artwork I generated. And this was only using a general, free online version. I can only imagine the potential of some of the higher-end generators.

I also saw someone post a picture they had generated. They were asked if they'd drawn it. They responded that it was complicated, that there was some controversy, and they'd used some software.

I don't think it's complicated, or controversial.

I'm not going to pretend that my efforts using the AI in anyway requires any artistic skill, talent or ability except, perhaps, in having some critical artistic eye in determining the merit of the resultant piece. The real skill is practice in determining the words to use, how to phrase them, the order and so on. In the few days I've played with the generator, I have improved my results dramatically by playing with these variables. There is some skill needed there. I notice the winner of the above competition did not reveal the words he used. 

And we can control the styles. I found the words to create art in the style of one of my favourite artists.

We can enjoy and appreciate this art. Perhaps we just need to be more open about how it was created. Competitions and the like need to be clear and specific in whether AI art can be entered, and in which categories.

It's here. We can't go backwards. And it won't be long before we have AI generated novels, movies and music. I, for one, look forward to hearing new "Beatles" songs.

The Elasticity of Time.

When I was in primary school, in the early 70s, my friends and I played soldiers - both physically acting out scenes as well as with our toy Airfix soldiers. I don't know if we were truly aware of what was happening in Vietnam, but I don't think it even entered our consciousness and, and so we always played WW2 soldiers, and being British immigrants, watching shows like Colditz, and reading those WW2 comics, we always played British soldiers fighting the Germans.

The early 40s seemed so long ago to us, a world from another time, a time when the world was dismal and black & white. It was a time my mum and dad had been kids and told stories of their lives during the war years. I couldn't imagine how long ago that was. And yet it was only 30 years earlier.

Sitting here in 2021, and subtracting that same 30 year time period, I think back to 1991 and it's not that long ago or remote. It seems quite bizarre to me that the time in which I played those soldiers is almost 20 years further in time than those thirty years between the war and my primary schooling.

It all seems very strange. Where has the time gone since then? How can it have passed so quickly?

As I sit here writing this, I'm listening to an album of mid 60s music (no, not Beatles). A psychedelic collection of tracks and artists that are now largely forgotten. A collection of songs that is around 55 years old. And if I take it back to when I was a child playing soldiers, it would be comparable to my Dad actively and frequently listening to music from around 1918.

I do listen to current music, I read current science fiction and fantasy. A lot of both, actually, but I must say the music and the SF of the 60s, 70s & 80s, are the ones I hold closest to my heart.

And I suspect I'm not alone.

Whistle While You Work.

I have never really listened to music while I work. As a teacher, I couldn't really do so in the classroom. Even while marking I found it distracted me. And this was also true of listening to music as I write. I didn't choose to listen to music in my last position in administration. In the office, it would have meant earphones, and I preferred to be able to hear what was happening around me and to be sure when my phone was ringing.

Last week, however, I started playing music in the background while working, My role has changed, and I have found that gentle music calms me as I create content. There are some tasks which require a great deal of focus, and so off it goes. I can't focus on certain tasks and enjoy the music.

It's been great catching up on some recent music I hadn't had the opportunity to check out properly. And to play old favourites I hadn't heard in a while.

Will I start listening to music when I return to the office?  I don't know. It may just feel wrong. Time will tell, although I don't anticipate it will be anytime soon.

In the meantime, I'm going to throw on the latest album from Dystopian Future Movies.  Lovely!

Cold Hard Shoulder.

I've written about Ben Atkinson before. I first met Ben a year or so ago, and then was fortunate enough to start working with him shortly before lockdown. We've become good friends, and share interests in music, theatre, technology and the arts.

During lockdown, Ben spent time in his home studio and recorded a number of songs he wrote during the past ten years. While Ben's main interest is in country music, and he has run a weekly country music radio programme for many years, the songs he recorded have eclectic influences. The topics, ranging from lighthearted digs at local government through to the tragedy of war, reflect Ben's life, interested and view of the world around him.

Ben asked me to record some guitar parts for this album, and I am honoured and priviliged to have made the final mixes. We had a lot of fun recording my parts - a few laughs, some great food and lots of sweat - it was a terribly humid evening when we went into the studio, so forgive any bum notes as I had a tough time keeping the guitars in tune.

Ben is donating all profits to the NHS. The album was launched last night, and is available as download, on CD, and even vinyl.

Thanks, Ben.

Our Own Exclusive Spheres.

As a teen, I remember spending hours perusing the racks in the record shop before handing over my saved money to purchase an album. Once home I would throw it onto the turntable as soon as I could, and sit and read the album notes. Anything, in fact, that was on the cover, the inner sleeve and even the copyright notices on the label.

The names seemed strange, exotic. Pink Floyd, for example, were Waters, Wright, Mason and Gilmour. There were no photos of the band, they didn't appear on Countdown (Australia's music programme), I didn't have any books about them - I simply had to imagine what they were like based on the music.

The same with Steeleye Span. The first of their albums I bought, Commoner's Crown, had pictures of little figurines, with their names alongside it. Vocals by Maddy Prior. I'd never heard the name Maddy before, and I must admit I imagined the band as living in some kind of medieval village as minstrels.

There was no internet, no way for a lad in the suburbs to learn more about these artists. I knew about the Beatles and the Stones from TV and books, but the libraries and shops I went to didn't have books about anything other than the most popular of bands.

I never dreamed that one day it would be possible to make contact with my heroes, or even to have conversations with them. We moved in orbits in our own exclusive spheres. These days, those spheres can touch.

Recently, I ended up having an online chat with one of my guitar heroes. A guy I listened to in High School, and loved. And when I started playing guitar, spent hours working out a couple of his riffs. And yet, all those years later, here I was having a chat as he shared a few little bits about the album I didn't know.

Also recently I had 'likes' and comments from another hero.  It is a strange, strange feeling when that happens.

The world is a smaller place, because of the internet, and our heroes are now within reach. Sometimes, it can be terrifying for them. We read of celebrities chased from Twitter or Facebook by a rampaging mob carrying metaphorical pitchforks and flaming torches. Some have had mental health problems following harassment by the public.

I just hope that I was respectful, and am extremely appreciative of the time given to me.

Raining on Parades.

Why do some people insist on raining on other people's parade?  If something gives you joy, then I'm happy for you.

There are, of course, writers, musicians and film-makers I don't like. Even somewhere I question their talent. And, of course, there is always a matter of subjective and personal taste. I know someone who, if they don't like a musical artist, loudly declares how the music is complete shit - even if the person who is playing that music is standing right there.

All that can do is bring you down.

I recently saw a FaceBook post from someone who declared how much they enjoyed dancing around their house to Mariah Carey. Her music lifted their spirits and made them feel free and happy. Personally, I'm not a fan, but I was pleased this person had found pleasure in music.

A few years ago I was away for a writers weekend. Someone took it upon themselves to look at the playlist on my iPad, and inform me in no uncertain terms exactly how terrible my taste in music is.  Why did they feel the need to do that?

I occasionally see someone posting about movies or books I love and again informing me just how terrible they are. Once there was even the comment that if you liked that film, you have no understanding of film or comedy. So that person is the universal determiner of quality?

A couple of years ago I shared a post about how Oasis were on the verge of reforming. Someone immediately commented, "Who cares?"  Well, I do. That's why I posted it.

Each of these instances brought me down, just a little.

And this happens a lot in FaceBook groups. People are very quick to comment how much they hate something, think it's rubbish, or name call over tastes. It seems like we all have a need to feel superior over our refined tastes.

I have a good friend who told me he doesn't have any guilty pleasures. If he likes something, he'll just play it, watch it, read it, and doesn't care who knows. And I think that's great.

Enjoy your art, no matter who produced it. Me, I'm going back to listen to my Bay City Roller albums.

Gone, But Not Forgotten By All.

I worry sometimes that we're losing our past, our heritage.

Carson, Ross Ryan, Buffalo, Sid Rumpo, Co. Caine?

None of these will mean anything to most of you, and even if you are Australian the chances are you won't know them, or at least not have heard of them in a very long time.

These were all musicians in the early 70s. Well known at the time, and some of the members went on to other things. But now largely forgotten.

My last foray into an Australian music store had none of these available. Most of them have never even had their work released on CD. Even if it was, it was generally on a specialist re-issue label for a very short time.

I'm lucky to have a few friends who remember these acts. I also have a group of friends who have ripped their vinyl to CD and share them, as long as the music is well out of print and not available in any format. Yes, their first aim is to protect and support the artist. And that is exactly how it should be.

My dad played a lot of older music when I was young, so I have a love of crooners, big band, brass band, and even some country music. But having taught for a number of years it seems as though the past is largely forgotten by many young people. They were never exposed to it. Occasionally I has a student who would approach me when no one else was around to tell me they'd discovered some amazing "new" artist, such as Hendrix or Nirvana, and wondered if I'd ever heard of them. But these are big names, and I very rarely hear anyone mention any of the artists above, although I Am Pegasus gets the very occasional spin on Australian radio.

We need to make sure we don't lose our Arts heritage, whether it's a novel by George Turner, a Smiley film, or an old album by Blackfeather.

Explore the past. There are some real diamonds in there.

Another Christmas in the UK.

I've finished work for the break.

Most of the office went out for a Christmas lunch, which then extended into the evening until I left around 9pm to head home. I must say we had a fantastic time.

I really enjoyed the company of my colleagues. The whole atmosphere was very jovial and we had a lot of laughs. Somewhere in the evening I lost my car keys. It was crowded and someone knocked my work bag off a chair. I didn't realise the keys were gone until I was about to head home. I checked but couldn't find them. Apparently they were handed in five minutes after I left and I managed to retrieve them the next morning.

Hardly the worst thing that's ever happened to me.

Christmas in the UK is still one of my favourite things. People wear Christmas Jumpers - which isn't a thing in Australia. Most of us wear t-shirts at that time of year. But here it gets dark early, the lights are on, and it feels like Christmas is supposed to feel.

It's all very cosy and festive and seems right.

We have family visiting Lincoln for Christmas and Boxing Days, and I can't wait.  Yes, for the family, but mostly because I really enjoy Christmas lunches.

Merry Christmas, everyone. I hope you're not hearing Wham's Last Christmas in the shops too often.

It's Still Rock 'N' Roll To Me.

As I posted recently, most Tuesday evenings I wander down to the local for their open-mike night. Regulars, for the most part, play a variety of both originals and covers - blues, folk, 50s, 60s and 70s. Lap steel guitars, banjos, mandolins, acoustics, electrics, keyboards and even full bands are dragged out. The quality varies, but the passion is there. Always. These folks do it because they love the music.

It's a fun evening. I get to chat to friends, have a pint or two, and listen to some tunes. Every now and again something special happens and the music transcends the time and place. And those performances are the ones I long for.

It's inspired me to pick up my own guitars and play more often - a habit I'd long fallen out of. At the moment I play an hour or more every night, re-honing my skills, learning new songs and toughening up my fingertips. It's a lot of fun.

I've also been inspired to listen to a lot more 50s rock. A couple of rockers play a 50s set, which I thoroughly enjoy. Mark jumps up and sings a couple of numbers. And he's good. He's gotten me into Charlie Gracie who I'd never heard of before, but had a few hits here in the UK. Fabulous and Butterfly are wonderful songs. My listening at the moment includes a couple of fantastic 50s compilations, as well as albums by Buddy Holly, Eddie Cochran and Gene Vincent.

I knew some of these songs already, but I feel like I'm hearing them with fresh ears. And there have been some surprises along the way. Elvis Presley's B-side, Mess of Blues, is just amazing, and should have been a hit.

Hey, hey, my, my - rock 'n' roll will never die.

All I Know Are Sad Songs.

There's no doubt I'm rusty. I've hardly played my guitar for the past few years. I'm not really sure why as I love making music. Time, other plans, life. The truth is I would make the time if I really wanted to.

And this is exactly what's happened. My local pub has a weekly open mike evening and I attend quite often. The musicians are mostly regulars of varying styles and abilities, with the occasional newcomer or irregular visitor. Some are good, some need more practice, but they all love the music. I always enjoy the evening.

I haven't been game to jump behind the mike, mostly because I am so rusty. But they have inspired me to drag out my guitar and play more often. Actually, I practice about an hour a day at the moment, and it's coming back to me. My fingertips are hardening, my fingers are moving more freely, and the old skills are returning.

There is only one thing that concerns me. Much of the evening consists of 50s rock and 60s pop. Happy, jangly tunes. The songs I would play are sadder alt-country. I'm not sure if I want to be seen as a downer playing songs they don't know.

It's About Time.

Despite having five stories slated for publication this year, it's been about four months since I've had a sale.

I've had a bunch of close calls. Making shortlists, personal rejections from markets I once only dreamed of subbing to, and great feedback. But they're not sales. And that's what I want.

On the one hand I guess it means I'm improving. On the other hand it can be frustrating getting so close only to be rejected. But a miss is as good as a mile, they used to say. Close, but no cigar.

These are good stories, and I have no doubt they will sell. It would be nice, though, if it were soon.

In other news I'm currently setting up a music blog with an old friend. We're currently determining the scope and the format. And the name.

A good name is vital, and we've started shortlisting. More information on that when we're closer to launch.

Have a great week. I plan to.

That Wave.

Do you remember record stores?

Not CD stores, nor those chain record stores. Those beautiful old shops, often dimly lit, with racks crammed with vinyl.  The records, the artists, the album titles were all mysterious. I had no idea who half of them were, had no idea what they would be like, or even what style they played in. We didn't have the internet in those days. I often didn't even know what was available, except through word of mouth or from an article I'd read in Ram or Juke. And the album artwork - a decent size that could actually hold detail and be seen.

I close my eyes, and I can recall some of those stores. The smells, the colours, the moods. I remember flipping through the racks, carefully inspecting covers and liner notes, finding a tidbit of information that connected this record with that artist, or studio, or producer, or player. I remember reading song titles and wondering what they would be like, or what they could possibly mean. I'd buy an album, hurrying home with it safely tucked under my arm, desperate to drop the needle and be lost in the sounds.

I occasionally still find a used record or book store that evokes those times - superficially, though. I walk in through the door, and I'm back in the past. But as soon as I look through the racks it's gone. I have too much experience, too much information at my fingertips. I've seen all those covers before. I even carry a phone which permits me to google the 'unknowns' right there and make an informed decision.

That's not to say there are still gems to be found, it's just the process that has changed. And the expectations. With so much music available, it's more difficult to be impressed.

But sometimes, just sometimes I push a CD into the player, close my eyes waiting for that wave to crash over me and drag me under. And for a moment I'm sixteen years old again.

Back Into The Fray.

I woke up to a story sale this morning, which is a fabulous way to end my holidays.

I'll be back at work tomorrow, but it's been a really good break, a necessary break. The end of last term was possibly the most hectic I've ever had - partly due to the ever-shifting demands of teaching, and partly due to changing schools partway through the semester - but I just about feel rested and recharged and ready to return.

I was fortunate in that I was able to focus much of these two weeks on writing. I completed several new stories, finished a couple of rewrites, and sent out a few submissions. I had one rejection which disappointed me, an acceptance (the one this morning), and I have another story out there upon which I'm currently sweating. I really want to make this sale - it will be an important one. There are, of course, no guarantees, but I have some confidence that my story hits all the criteria in the submission guidelines. Oh, and I think it's a darn good tale too.

I hung out with some friends and colleagues last night. We made our way to the Burrinja Cultural Centre for Khristian Mizzi & The Sirens' album launch. Khristian is a top-notch songwriter, as well as a talented musician and singer. I was really impressed by the show last night - not only the musical abilities of the band, but with Khristian's lyrics and his ability to paint a picture, evoke a mood and touch our emotions through his music.

Between songs he spoke about his own life, his own emotions and feelings, his art, his goals - heartfelt and honest words which caused me to pause and reflect on my own writing dreams.

Tied in with a couple of recent conversations, a number of things are becoming clear to me at this time.

As an online friend, Martin L. Shoemaker, says,  "Write. Write. Write. Submit. Submit. Submit."

Oh, and do not be distracted by the antics of  others around you.

Vale: Doc Neeson.

In the late 70s, The Angels ruled Australian rock, and Face to Face was one of my favourite albums. I was in high school and I played it non-stop. No Exit, Darkroom and Night Attack followed over the next few years and were all great. In fact, those four albums still get played regularly. This was the band AC/DC could have been. Intelligent poetic lyrics, biting guitars, a solid rhythm section and Doc Neeson, the enigmatic Irish frontman who always sounded as though he was spiralling into madness.

For some reason I never got to see them live, which is something I will always regret - particularly when you see the energy of their performance on the La Trobe University video.
 
But by 1983 line-ups had changed and the albums didn't work as well. I simply didn't bother with them. I still bought the albums, but found they didn't get repeated playings.

So I was really excited when I finally saw the re-united Angels about five years ago, albeit without Doc. And then I was completely thrilled when Doc joined them a year later. Since then I've seen them three or four times, and loved every show.

Of course there were more falling-outs and Doc left again.

About 18 months ago, Doc was diagnosed with aggressive brain tumours. He fought the cancer, formed a new band and planned a tour. This morning, Doc lost his battle. He was the lyricist, the voice of The Angels, and they will never be the same again.

Thanks for the stage theatrics, Doc.

He was 67.

Titles.

When I was a teenager, I would walk down to the local record store every Monday after school and pick up that week's charts. They were published by the radio station we all listened to, at least everyone my age listened to 3XY. These charts (and yes, I wish I'd kept them) were the same size as a vinyl single (7" for those of you who weren't around when dinosaurs walked the earth), had a picture on the back, and the week's charts on the front.
 
I've loved music since I can remember, and I've been fascinated by song titles just as long. I had a couple of catalogues - one was from the World Record Club - and I remember spending hours reading through these charts, reading the catalogue, looking at artists, albums and the song titles, wondering what those songs were like.

I was always a Beatles freak, and I have a book that listed a whole bunch of unreleased music by the fabs. Again, I spent hours poring over those lists, and I could tell you the title of every track I'd never heard.

I always figured titles were important. I've given an album, or a book a second look, read the notes, researched the author, simply based on a title that appealed. And I still have no real idea what makes a great title.

I've had moments where I've created titles I thought were great. I even have a list of titles waiting for the right story. There are those titles where I think I'm the only one that sees the connection with the story. And then there are the titles that seem generic, too simple. Believe me, I've even spent time over those simple ones, and chosen them for a reason.

I picked up a collection recently where I thought the author was probably trying to be too clever with all the titles. They all seemed a little forced. But maybe not - our minds all work differently, and maybe they mean as much to that author as mine mean to me.

Ultimately, a title is only a clue as to what is (hopefully) within. We succeed or fail on the story, not the name it's given.