Isn't it interesting how things can change in twenty-four hours? Just yesterday, I was mentally rocking out to INXS, having watched Part 1 of the miniseries about the band. My word, all I wanted to do was go to that brown plastic milk crate where all my old records are stored (I never got around to getting a K-tel flip-finder for just $2.99), and give 'Kick' a spin. I bought that album in 1987, when I was 21 years old. Awesome stuff. Some purists have been telling me it's not a patch on 'Shabooh Shoobah', and they probably have a point. But I loved 'Kick' as an album. And although not on 'Kick', I had the song 'The One Thing' in my head. This is not a bad thing; that song kicks all shades of arse up and down the street. And I was reminded that Michael Hutchence was quite sexy in a bad, extremely flawed way. Was. I hate using the past tense to describe good rockers. My 12yo asked was this a band that actually existed, and I explained yes, and that they were at one stage in the top three live acts in the world, and the lead singer is no longer alive. This lead to the inevitable, 'How did he die, Mum?' I had to think of an age-appropriate explanation that wouldn't leave my kid thinking, 'Eeeeeuuw, Mum's talking about sex of some kind. When can I have therapy?' I said something along the lines of, 'Well, he was found dead in a hotel room, naked. Some people think he killed himself, but the argument against this is that he was found naked, and people who take their lives usually don't do it in the nude, because that's how they're going to be found. Also, he didn't write a suicide note, which is very unusual. He had a belt around his neck, and the story goes he was doing something called auto-erotic asphyxiation. Some people like to be choked when they're pleasuring themselves. I understand he was taking codeine-based drugs, which affects your breathing.' Oh boy. The explanations I have to give are so different to the ones I had growing up. I cannot imagine my mother, who avoided 'difficult' subjects as though she was crossing a mine-field, ever telling me a story like that! I think the only time we ever remotely discussed anything sex-related was when we watched the dog give birth to a sweet little puppy (well, the dog must have had sex to have been in pup, right?). She did tell me about periods, and showed me a sanitary pad, and a sanitary belt.
So, anyway, I've been getting around with INXS music in my head, which can only be a good thing. I remember their cover of 'The Loved One' being played at a school disco, and this boy miming the chorus to me, 'Oh baby, I love you so/I need you now....' At the risk of sounding a tad vain, I do believe this guy had a crush on me at school!
But things can change. Today, my FB group are posting one hit wonders from the year 1979. There were some enjoyable ones: 'Video Killed The Radio Star', 'Gold', 'Hot Summer Nights' to name a few. And then you've got 'Escape (The Pina Colada Song)'. Who's with me in going, 'Aaaarrrgggghhh!'? To be honest, I can just about stomach it. My brother-in-law will run screaming for the hills if he hears it. And then there's this one, which I've had stuck in my head most of today: 'Don't You Write Her Off Like That' by McGuinn, Clark & Hillman. Whilst not demonstrably terrible, it's just so, so meh. I like the harmonies in the song; those guys could really sing nicely, but shit, the song is just blandness and banality with a rhythm section. It's as plain as unseasoned porridge. And it's driving me mad because it's been stuck in my head all day long, as I drove my father to an appointment to have his hearing aids fitted. He was in two minds about getting the more expensive model, but he is in very good health (just elderly - 84) and probably has a few good years left in him, so he might as well enjoy them. I reckon if he gets subjected to songs like the one I've mentioned, he'll be ripping them out! I did jokingly tell him he'll probably end up not using his new hearing aids just to avoid having to listen to the bullshit so many people go on with.
Good things have been happening with the writing, too. Yesterday, whilst doing a domestic service for somebody, his friend told me he had just read my first book 'Calumny While Reading Irvine Welsh' and really enjoyed it. That, my friends, made me feel good and kind of compensated for the fact that I had to clean a receptacle into which this guy had been coughing up phlegm (yuck, I almost blew my groceries when I had to do that - my hat is off to nurses). When I got home today, my 9yo told me the school librarian wants to have a look at my second book, 'Abernethy'. I will probably pack it in his bag on Thursday - tomorrow is the swimming carnival. I did suggest he tell her to buy the damn book for the school library. And today, oh this is so exciting; hang onto your hats and get to the toilet quickly before you read on: I saw the cover art for my upcoming book 'Silver Studs and Sabre Teeth' - and it's totally cool bananas. It's got 70s-style lettering, vinyl records, a discreet image of Marc Bolan, and a Doberman. All good books should have a Doberman.
And tomorrow is my birthday. 48 orbits around the sun. Oh boy.
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