Prologue

My father is a music aficionado.

There is nothing he doesn’t know about acid rock, prog rock, folk rock and art rock. He knows his Abba from his abbandonatamente. His geschwind from his Gershwin. And if you were to ask him who was number 1 in the charts on the 21 January 1973 he’d be able to tell you; not just in the UK, but the US, Australia, Outer Mongolia and Kazakhstan as well!

Because of my father I became a fan of The Eagles, Queen, Kansas, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Bryan Adams and The Second Severn Crossing.

Yes, they are a real band!

Yet out of all of the great music my father introduced me to; from Heart of Glass to Booooom, Blast  & Ruin, from Chasing Rainbows to Life on Mars, the song that will always remind me of him is one I shared with him.

After arriving in Australia I saw the opportunity to introduce my father to a selection of artists he may never have heard of. A world of music from the other side of the planet that would rival those he had introduced me to.

Cue My Friend the Chocolate Cake, Archie Roach, Lisa Miller, This Is Your Captain Speaking, Kavisha Mazella and Laura Imbruglia.

Amidst all these CDs was a gem of a record (as in a record, of an event, the event, of people, playing music, in a room) from a country that wasn’t Australia.

And it was this record that my father picked out to praise during one of our regular telephone conversations.

And from that record, there was one song that he proclaimed to be one of the best he’d ever heard.

And it is from this song that I derived the title of this blog. For whenever I hear it I think of him and the gifts he gave me.