Triple J spans the years to prove music makes the world go around

Time flies by… My blog has been off the air recently because the computer has decided to take charge again. Sometimes, I hate technology. It’s rather like the days of yesteryear when the old pirate radio ship, Radio Caroline, had to stop transmitting because of a broken mast or similar ailment. You need to be of a certain vintage to appreciate that but I believe the former pirates of the high seas of the 1960s have joined the mainstream of broadcasting and still exist in a modern form. It’s fitting to be nattering about music because I have enjoyed radio station Triple J’s forays back in time to celebrate its 40 years of existence. Two separate hours per day were allotted to each year with various tunes given an airing. I managed random listenings across the 20 days. With 1975 the starting point as ground zero, it was fascinating to reflect on which tunes had stood the test of time. Also some numbers were like a slice of time travel, transporting you right into the very epoch of when they were first heard. And the selections were quite eclectic. The supposed alternative station was not afraid to throw in some seemingly well-worn standards as well as some radical rants and raves which are best left where they were. For instance Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody will always take me back to my first term at Birmingham University. The song was the number one single in the UK for what seemed forever. Time passes slower in your youth. That same year the Sensational Alex Harvey Band was riding roughshod along the UK live circuit. And Pink Floyd played Knebworth – one of those legendary festivals, where everyone of a certain age claims to have been there. But I still remember the spitfires swooping low as the band were spaced out somewhere amid Dark Side of The Moon. I also remember watching proceedings as part of a vast expanse of humanity. But that didn’t stop one of our throng, the legendary Steve Duckworth, known to all as Nags, announcing in the middle of the afternoon he was “going to the pub.” Nags disappeared to Gawd knows where for some time. I had almost forgotten about him til the crowd near us all started turning around to see what was going on in the opposite direction to the stage. There, staggering along though the endless groups of cross-legged and flaked-out music fans, was Nags. His mission had not been in vain, because despite struggling to keep his balance in his arms he was carrying a huge stack of tottering beer cans. I can’t remember what kind of ale. In those days it would probably have been the ever dangerous, new-to-the-market Breaker. It was a form of malt liquor that sent most folk deranged. Nags had a liking for Breakers, I recall. The cans were dutifully shared round as the bands – Captain Beefheart, Roy Harper and more ‑ played on. Floyd melancholia surfaced in another remembered trip from late 1975. This time myself, Ian ‘Nev’ Drummond, Al Denby, Alex Carlos, Phil Poole and Mick Edmondson were heading towards the West Country under dark, brooding November skies as the gloom of an English autumn took a firm grip. Big Al was behind the wheel after a raucous night on the Birmingham pub circuit as the Floyd tape provided fitting road trip music. Destination Bristol. To see our beloved Blackburn play the other Rovers. It ended as a 1-1 draw. Dunno why, but the Floyd’s album Wish You Were Here always takes me back to those days – just after its release. The reflective and atmospheric Shine on You Crazy Diamond is an instant throwback to that Brum Univ era and that weekend in particular. And it even got a look in on Triple J’s countdown. Or maybe I imagined it. These days the years all seem to merge into one as listening habits change and old age kicks in. But for a while, Triple J made each time slot a journey to where your mind wanted to go. It just shows the highs and emotions that music can stir. Then last weekend, those ol’ troupers, The Who, played a monster double bill back home at Hyde Park and Glastonbury. They never seem to tire. Was it really way back in 1976 when I saw ’em at the big Charlton Athletic festival? Amazingly, it was. It’s seems like sommat off a Doctor Who episode but it really happened. And it is still happening. I don’t get to as many gigs these days, but I’ll be checking out a refugee from The Smiths, Electronic and The The among others – Johnny Marr ‑ when he and his band touch down for a night out at the Gov in Adelaide on July 21. The past may have been fun but there’s no time like the future.