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.

Somewhere, Under The Rainbow...

A couple of weeks ago, I hooked up with some friends to watch The Dark Side of the Rainbow. You know the one.  You watch the Wizard of Oz while listening to Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon, and just enjoy the moments of coincidental synchronisation. I first saw this about 10 years ago at University - but some of my friends hadn't seen it so we threw it up on a big projected screen and ran the sound through a great system.

The DVD I was able to score had already been cued up with the music, and came with overlays showing the matching points of reference. OK, some of them are a real stretch - but when you see Dorothy reacting to sounds on the album, or watch the tornado dancing in time to The Great Gig in the Sky - it seems to be more than just a happy coincidence.

It was a lot of fun, but I came away with a few thoughts.  Firstly - The Wizard of Oz is a great film, and beautifully filmed. Whole scenes that are just stunning to watch. Secondly, The Dark Side of the Moon is a great sounding piece of art - even though it has been overplayed and overpraised for many years.  Return to it from time to time and check it out.  And thirdly - it is an album. Remember those?

Back when I was a kid, bands made albums - complete works that were meant to be listened to as a whole.  Yes, they often pulled singles from them, but generally the tracks had a unified theme or were planned to sit one after another. And I'm not necessarily referring to the great 'concept' albums, or the prog rock monstrosities of the 70s.

But in these days of the 30 second attention span, bands don't make and listeners don't seem to want more than one or two tracks. (Yes, I know this is a generalisation.) Many 'bands' (and I use the term loosely) these days are singles oriented. The kids I know at school tend to download their songs, or buy compilations, and generally aren't worried about having complete works.

I know, I know. It's a different world, a different time.  But I remember the first time I listened to Mountain's Nantucket Sleighride, for example, and was blown away by the whole thing. From beginning to end it was brilliant. Or Jethro Tull's Thick as a Brick Would we have had this 43 minutes saga (yes, it's divided in two parts, but it is one song) in these times of two minute gratification? It wouldn't be financially viable for a band to record and release a beast like that.

But there are still bands around making albums. And I still take great delight in finding old gems that somehow I missed first time around.

Speaking of which, have you heard the new Lynyrd Skynyrd I'm listening to? It was released in 1976.