My 1985

In January I boarded the Sunlander to Brisbane for the last time. I didn't mark the occasion with any particular note as I didn't realise that the rail service would be retired and I wouldn't set foot in Townsville again for almost four decades. I tried not to think of the reduced purpose there was of my staying in the Auchenflower place or even Brisbane. I felt directionless. No uni, no band. Things were going to change.

Everyone had moved out except my brother who didn't bother with the rent any longer as he had no justification and knew I could just move out. He hadn't stopped being a dick. That was for life. The quieter house felt good in that it was peaceful but also empty. Everyone else had moved out to get away from Stephen. Fair enough.

I kept writing the book and tried to keep in touch with the people I knew at Uni. I kept writing songs though I had no idea what I'd do with them.

Over the enxt months, my parents would come down to work on the house and be somewhere else. I think both had retired and were wondering if they wanted to sell the place or even move into it. It worried me. I was still kicking the can down the road. Dad would get to work on the things that needed attention. I woke to the thunder of his hammer on the roof. He replaced the boring white door with a carved one and fixed the wobbly front steps and everything that could got painted. I did the balcony outside my room.

The songs I'd written were burning a hole in my creative pockets. I went to the cinema one evening and Greg spotted me from the street. After catching up I asked him if he'd be into helping out with them. He was keen. We practiced a few and organised with Pat Ridgewell to use his 4-track reel to reel studio under his house in Taringa. They worked as well as they were going to and we took tapes away. 

Margot came over one day and announced she was moving to Melbourne for a job at Latrobe Uni. Would I be interested in starting a share house with her? Dad stepped up his hints about how intolerable life at number 24 was going to get including me giving up my room. I had to move out somewhere. Melbourne sounded great so, after a lot less dithering in the conversation, I said yes and, after she left, I started planning it.

I bought three teachests through the Trading Post and filled them with books and everything else I was taking. (check diaries for dates)

As to music, I still listened to 4ZZZ and 4EB. I kept up with whatever TV brought news (Rockarena was a favourite) but I felt a decreasing affinity with what was appearing on them. I noted REM but was puzzled as to The Smiths' popularity (still am). A vein of electronic music was thickening and heating to enter the culture but it left me cold. At twenty-three, I was feeling old. I was listening to the songs I'd done at Pat's place as though they were golden oldies.

Then again there were some songs to note.

Live it Up had Mental as Anything joining the OzRock battalions, crossing lines that didn't seem visible anymore. Would I Lie to You continued Eurhytmics' regugitation of Sweet Dreams. Walking on Sunshine sounded like it came from the late '70s. Like a Virgin and 1999 proved I was right in my indifference to both Prince and Madonna. She Sells Sanctuary did sound good with its big riff and old school rock vocals. In Between Days made the Cure sound like New Order and I didn't get why. Nick Cave's Tupelo was intriguing but not played enough. Echo and the Bunnymen brought out no albums but the great single (especially as a 12 inch) in Bring on the Dancing Horses. Talking Heads seemed like they were just being absorbed by the mainstream with things like Road to Nowhere. Simple Minds did someone else's song for a movie and it was a stunner (Don't You Forget About Me). We Are The World was a lousy song in comparision to the U.K. one for the same cause but it was easier to sing the chorus and got to more people. I started watching Live Aid but woke up when it was over. Remember that crack about The Smiths? I did like How Soon is Now. Bittersweet was the Hoodoo Gurus best. 

Dire Straights did an oafish song called Money for Nothing and I have cause to recall it. I was, by September, ready to the trek south to Melbourne. I called my father who was happy for me, venturing away from the family dependency. When I asked him for money he made the usual noises about having none but asked how much. I said $500. He laughed warmly and told me how to take receipt of it through the bank. I knew I should have asked for more.

The bus left frorm Queen St. Stephen and a few of the people form the '84 house saw me off. And off I was. The bus took over a day to reach Melbourne and that's how long I had to listen to the first two tracks of the Dire Straits album Brothers in Arms which begins with Money for Fucking Nothing. Two yobbos who spoke in grunts and mumbles in the seat in front of me were the perps. They even mentioned that they were headed for North Melbourne which is where my friend James lived. I lived a few uneasy hours imagining them seeing me on the street. I hate those two songs to this day.

But then we crossed the Victorian border and charged along to the outskirts. The city's older look beguiled me adn I couldn't stop beaming. Finally, we taxied into the terminal in a massive spring downpour. James appeared at my shoulder as I got my luggage. We embraced and he drove me to his place where I'd be staying for a while as Margot and I went house hunting on the weekends. He reminded me that I owed him a bottle of bourbon which we picked on the way. We drank. A lot. And at one point we walked to Carlton where I had my first Melbourne coffee. It was cold and rainy and it felt like a city. I was home.