And we may never meet again�.� (Throw your arms around me- Hunters and Collectors).
When i was working at Moores in Balaclava (St Kilda), there used to be this funny bloke with a permanent dumb struck smirk on his face. He would wander up and down Carlisle street making conversation with the odd person at the coffee house beside the train station.
It�s not this guy who i miss. Its the guy with the feverish smile staring out of the Woodface Cd insert, the snare in the background of �Whispers and Moans� that used to herald through the rooftops of each of my bedrooms from the time i was 13, it�s the clown mucking around with his brushes during �Sister Madly� at the Farewell to the World concert i had taped in 1996 and filed awayfor repetetive watchinguntil the tape wore thin and eventually gave up the ghost.
What is it about our favourite bands that when a member dies, we feel the loss too? i think by and large that so much of the lyrics, tones and rhythms resound and echo out of our teenage years/young adulthood that they almost form part of our innermost chore. We resound with the lyrics, the driving guitar shouting out the joy, anger, silliness, and love we feel inside. They are our voice, the ones we fall asleep too.
So for the final time ever.. goodnight Paul Hester- rest in peace.