My experience of meeting an idol was slightly different. At a book launch of Oz director Bruce Beresford the speaker introducing him was none other than Barry Humphries. While Bruce signed copies after the formalities Barry circulated the room and thanked us individually for coming. I was gobsmacked as I'd been viewing him from the stage since 1969. He even allowed me to have a photo souvenir with him . Now one of my prized mementos. Absolute legend and a fellow countryman to boot.
I wished i had met Mr Humphries. Two of my uncles were in London w him during production of The Adventures of Barry McKenzie. They were extras in the bar scene chundering and spraying beer all about. What a hoot.
He was and would say for me he has /will always been the apogee of Australian writing, culture and wit. Sorely missed.
I met Billy Bragg on his first tour of Australia in 1987. It was after his gig at the Refractory (Sydney Uni) as part of the Red Wedge events organised by none other than Anthony Albanese! Billy told me he was 29 and, as an 18 year old, I thought that was ancient. Youth, eh?
It was 1987 and Albo was an idealistic uni student thinking he could change the world. He's become a different guy, no thanks to the machinery of politics.
I was at boarding school in the 80's and a little bit obsessed with Joan Jett. My locker interior had a Smash Hits poster of her looking smoulderingly hot in lycra and leather in an animal like pose. After a couple of the boarders posters went a bit far on nudity levels The Matron designated all saucy posters were to be removed. I refused as I did not classify it as lewd thus not requiring censorship. As The Matron went to rip it off the inside of my locker I cried "Noooo" and put my hand on hers. The deed was done. My poster was in shreds and i was hauled before my regular disciplinary master for yet another round of caning. As a maytr for the cause i was glad to suffer for the beauty of Joan Jett.
About 10 years later I went to see Ms Jett perform at Selinas and was introduced by my Godmother Chrissie Amphlett. Chrissy pushed and nudged me to tell her the story of my martyrdom. JJ was appalled that i had been caned yet slightly amused. I never got round to telling Joan Jett how happy i had been to suffer for her right to decorate my locker space. CA also informed me that evening of her sapphic leanings which i was initially devastated to hear, but after consideration thought her even more rock and roll.
Chrissy must have been an amazing godmother! Joan Jett is one of my idols too, and I also saw her play at Selina’s and swear she stared right at me while she played…. Later I got to have dinner with her and she was very cool, polite and nice 🌹🌹🌹
Beautiful story! I once had a work meeting with an actor who had been romantic lead of a series I was so obsessed with, I racked up hundreds of dollars in late fees for not returning it to the video store. He was day drunk and a bit flirty, and I was a mix of disappointed (it was a bit of a challenge to wrangle) and thrilled.
That must have been quite weird! Also I kinda miss late fees! I feel like we don’t obsessively rewatch shows and movies the way we used to… or maybe that’s just me!
It was! Though even as it was happening I knew it was the kind of weird that is a good story later.
I miss video shops and curation and the ritual of choice … but not actual late fees, as I paid too many! I rewatch Mad Men and Twin Peaks once a year. But yeah, back then we weren’t always looking for the next thing so much, maybe. We accepted recycling.
Anyway, again, thanks for your beautifully told story.
Thanks Jo! I love that your writer brain recognised the value of the story even as you dealt with the discomfort of the reality… I want to read this story!
I'll start with the advice: don't meet your idols!
In 1987, I had been working at Satyricon under the dubious tutelage of Old Grey Ray for just about six months when I was approached by a nervous guy with strands of white hair peeking out from under a tight bandana. "You're the only person here who mixes the vocals in front. I've got a band. Here's my number. I sleep in."
I woke my girlfriend when I got home and literally jumped up and down on the bed repeating "I think Greg Sage just gave me his number! GREG FUCKING SAGE!!!!" She did NOT appreciate my enthusiasm at nearly 3AM.
At age 14 I was doing tape loops in my bedroom using Wipers songs. Greg was a fucking hero to me although I wasn't entirely sure what he looked like. There weren't a lot of magazine articles about Wipers and some of y'all may realize this was before the WWW and all that instant information stuff.
The ticking clock the next day was excruciating. I had been a club kid long enough to know that morning had a different meaning and I waited until maybe 2pm to call. I woke him up.
"Yeah, uhhhh, hold on." And he went and made coffee and came back to the phone ten minutes later. "I've got a band. Wipers. You may know us?"
OH MY FUCKING GOD I AM TALKING TO GREG SAGE.
Greg was looking to do some warm-up solo shows in Portland and was still recording "The Circle", which was a fairly ethereal foray into his blues roots. Getting to hear the album in his hole-in-the-wall studio off 3rd & Glisan was tempered by sharing a wall with the bathroom of (and having to use a payphone in) The Dirty Duck. Walking through The Duck as a skinny kid in the midst of a bunch of gay leather bikers was a new experience. Hearing the breakups and makeups in the bathroom was an entirely different thing and contributed to my uneasiness.
We took off on a California tour and it was.....was it a disaster? It was a helluva introduction to drug addiction and paranoia and bigger-than-Satyricon shows for me. Greg was a wreck, it was dawning on me that he was expressing a lot of interest in me that I wasn't ready to deal with, and I was having a hard time balancing learning new venues and using new equipment with procuring drugs to get him onstage. Fuuuuuuuuuuck.
There were a lot of cool moments. Greg was stoked to have someone along who hadn't heard his stories (hmmmmm.....I feel seen about now). And I was stoked to hear them. He also had a sixth sense or deep memory for every Denny's along our route. "Get ready for an exit....there's coffee....". And I was doing sound for one of my idols every night as he crafted a uniquely vulnerable show with brawny guitar and lyricism.
At the I-Beam in San Francisco I got a tour from the house engineer who went up the ladder to the FOH balcony ahead of me. I looked up and realized he was wearing a pair of loose gym shorts and his balls were hanging out. I suddenly understood the poncy accent and the whole Castro vibe. We had finished our soundcheck and I was trying to figure out where to score heroin for Greg (or blow...we were out of both) and met the most mesmerizing gal at the bar. There was an announcement over the PA and she smiled like a thousand suns and said "oh, I've gotta go, that's my call." A minute later the place erupted in thunderous and FANTASTIC drumming and I walked out onto the floor to realize that SHE was the drummer for Imperial Teen and was maybe the best drummer I'd ever heard. I felt a little sheepish for hitting on her.
It could have been the end of the dream but somehow it wasn't. I made it home, heard Greg out on one last "age is just a number when it comes to love" speech and never saw him again but had the experience under my belt and was ready to spend the summer with Napalm Beach while their usual engineer was gone....which was yet ANOTHER totally wild ride but sweatier and different.
A year later I'd meet Jonathan Richman, of Modern Lovers and solo fame. The man is an idiot and nothing in his Boston accent lessens the effect. Good Lord.
Wow! What a beautiful story 🩷Thank goodness for good friends that nudge us to walk in the right directions🩷
Yes indeed! I really needed her nudges and encouragement to force myself to do that!
My experience of meeting an idol was slightly different. At a book launch of Oz director Bruce Beresford the speaker introducing him was none other than Barry Humphries. While Bruce signed copies after the formalities Barry circulated the room and thanked us individually for coming. I was gobsmacked as I'd been viewing him from the stage since 1969. He even allowed me to have a photo souvenir with him . Now one of my prized mementos. Absolute legend and a fellow countryman to boot.
I wished i had met Mr Humphries. Two of my uncles were in London w him during production of The Adventures of Barry McKenzie. They were extras in the bar scene chundering and spraying beer all about. What a hoot.
He was and would say for me he has /will always been the apogee of Australian writing, culture and wit. Sorely missed.
Yes he was such an incredible talent - and mirror to society. Your uncles must have had a ball in that scene, on my god!
I loved Bruce’s memoir! And how gorgeous to hear that about Barry, what a gent 🌹🌹🌹
I met Billy Bragg on his first tour of Australia in 1987. It was after his gig at the Refractory (Sydney Uni) as part of the Red Wedge events organised by none other than Anthony Albanese! Billy told me he was 29 and, as an 18 year old, I thought that was ancient. Youth, eh?
Ha how amazing. It’s nice to know the PM cares about culture.
It was 1987 and Albo was an idealistic uni student thinking he could change the world. He's become a different guy, no thanks to the machinery of politics.
this was so beautifully written i got a little teary eyed!! holly golightly and audrey hepburn is immortal 💓
Thank you Karina! ❤️
Great story Lo.
I was at boarding school in the 80's and a little bit obsessed with Joan Jett. My locker interior had a Smash Hits poster of her looking smoulderingly hot in lycra and leather in an animal like pose. After a couple of the boarders posters went a bit far on nudity levels The Matron designated all saucy posters were to be removed. I refused as I did not classify it as lewd thus not requiring censorship. As The Matron went to rip it off the inside of my locker I cried "Noooo" and put my hand on hers. The deed was done. My poster was in shreds and i was hauled before my regular disciplinary master for yet another round of caning. As a maytr for the cause i was glad to suffer for the beauty of Joan Jett.
About 10 years later I went to see Ms Jett perform at Selinas and was introduced by my Godmother Chrissie Amphlett. Chrissy pushed and nudged me to tell her the story of my martyrdom. JJ was appalled that i had been caned yet slightly amused. I never got round to telling Joan Jett how happy i had been to suffer for her right to decorate my locker space. CA also informed me that evening of her sapphic leanings which i was initially devastated to hear, but after consideration thought her even more rock and roll.
Chrissy must have been an amazing godmother! Joan Jett is one of my idols too, and I also saw her play at Selina’s and swear she stared right at me while she played…. Later I got to have dinner with her and she was very cool, polite and nice 🌹🌹🌹
Did u see the show at Seymour recently "Amplified"?
Beautiful story! I once had a work meeting with an actor who had been romantic lead of a series I was so obsessed with, I racked up hundreds of dollars in late fees for not returning it to the video store. He was day drunk and a bit flirty, and I was a mix of disappointed (it was a bit of a challenge to wrangle) and thrilled.
That must have been quite weird! Also I kinda miss late fees! I feel like we don’t obsessively rewatch shows and movies the way we used to… or maybe that’s just me!
It was! Though even as it was happening I knew it was the kind of weird that is a good story later.
I miss video shops and curation and the ritual of choice … but not actual late fees, as I paid too many! I rewatch Mad Men and Twin Peaks once a year. But yeah, back then we weren’t always looking for the next thing so much, maybe. We accepted recycling.
Anyway, again, thanks for your beautifully told story.
Thanks Jo! I love that your writer brain recognised the value of the story even as you dealt with the discomfort of the reality… I want to read this story!
Thank you Loene… this story brought tears to my eyes.
❤️
I'll start with the advice: don't meet your idols!
In 1987, I had been working at Satyricon under the dubious tutelage of Old Grey Ray for just about six months when I was approached by a nervous guy with strands of white hair peeking out from under a tight bandana. "You're the only person here who mixes the vocals in front. I've got a band. Here's my number. I sleep in."
I woke my girlfriend when I got home and literally jumped up and down on the bed repeating "I think Greg Sage just gave me his number! GREG FUCKING SAGE!!!!" She did NOT appreciate my enthusiasm at nearly 3AM.
At age 14 I was doing tape loops in my bedroom using Wipers songs. Greg was a fucking hero to me although I wasn't entirely sure what he looked like. There weren't a lot of magazine articles about Wipers and some of y'all may realize this was before the WWW and all that instant information stuff.
The ticking clock the next day was excruciating. I had been a club kid long enough to know that morning had a different meaning and I waited until maybe 2pm to call. I woke him up.
"Yeah, uhhhh, hold on." And he went and made coffee and came back to the phone ten minutes later. "I've got a band. Wipers. You may know us?"
OH MY FUCKING GOD I AM TALKING TO GREG SAGE.
Greg was looking to do some warm-up solo shows in Portland and was still recording "The Circle", which was a fairly ethereal foray into his blues roots. Getting to hear the album in his hole-in-the-wall studio off 3rd & Glisan was tempered by sharing a wall with the bathroom of (and having to use a payphone in) The Dirty Duck. Walking through The Duck as a skinny kid in the midst of a bunch of gay leather bikers was a new experience. Hearing the breakups and makeups in the bathroom was an entirely different thing and contributed to my uneasiness.
We took off on a California tour and it was.....was it a disaster? It was a helluva introduction to drug addiction and paranoia and bigger-than-Satyricon shows for me. Greg was a wreck, it was dawning on me that he was expressing a lot of interest in me that I wasn't ready to deal with, and I was having a hard time balancing learning new venues and using new equipment with procuring drugs to get him onstage. Fuuuuuuuuuuck.
There were a lot of cool moments. Greg was stoked to have someone along who hadn't heard his stories (hmmmmm.....I feel seen about now). And I was stoked to hear them. He also had a sixth sense or deep memory for every Denny's along our route. "Get ready for an exit....there's coffee....". And I was doing sound for one of my idols every night as he crafted a uniquely vulnerable show with brawny guitar and lyricism.
At the I-Beam in San Francisco I got a tour from the house engineer who went up the ladder to the FOH balcony ahead of me. I looked up and realized he was wearing a pair of loose gym shorts and his balls were hanging out. I suddenly understood the poncy accent and the whole Castro vibe. We had finished our soundcheck and I was trying to figure out where to score heroin for Greg (or blow...we were out of both) and met the most mesmerizing gal at the bar. There was an announcement over the PA and she smiled like a thousand suns and said "oh, I've gotta go, that's my call." A minute later the place erupted in thunderous and FANTASTIC drumming and I walked out onto the floor to realize that SHE was the drummer for Imperial Teen and was maybe the best drummer I'd ever heard. I felt a little sheepish for hitting on her.
It could have been the end of the dream but somehow it wasn't. I made it home, heard Greg out on one last "age is just a number when it comes to love" speech and never saw him again but had the experience under my belt and was ready to spend the summer with Napalm Beach while their usual engineer was gone....which was yet ANOTHER totally wild ride but sweatier and different.
A year later I'd meet Jonathan Richman, of Modern Lovers and solo fame. The man is an idiot and nothing in his Boston accent lessens the effect. Good Lord.