The sound of one man clapping III

60s Garage Band

In fifteen years, this time of my life will be all soft-focused and vignetted. I will romanticise the hangovers, the howling in my ears and that time we caught the last bus to the wrong part of town and had to trudge for miles and bloody miles.

It will seem like a radar blip, this whole adventure. Meeting and jamming, booking gigs and playing to our girlfriends, designing logos, getting airplay, writing our own live reviews in the local street press – it will all seem so small and pretend.

But for now, this is Big Real.

For now, we are a band.

Me and this guy from the gig at the footy club and his cousin and that guy from school. Shirtless, sweaty, beer bottle floor, Marley poster on the garage door. The guitar is pizza delivery money, the amp is an older brother’s, the bass is all scabbed in stickers and the drums are all tired, bruised skins and stick-snapping rims. No idea where that microphone came from.

We’ll get chips for lunch. I’ve got some coins in my ash tray (cash tray).

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~ by Daniel Townsend on March 4, 2015.

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