How He Got His Wiggle Back

On the shonky stages of inner Sydney and Melbourne venues in the 1980s, I harbored a quiet confidence that, despite the mullet and my habitually poor choice of clothing, I would eventually find a niche in the music world. Sure, the stony silence that greeted the end of many of my band’s performances was a little unnerving, but the physical beatings were merely sporadic.

Yes, I would tell myself as I slinked off the ‘stage’ at the Sussex Hotel avoiding the gazes of (depending on which band we’d just supported) snarling disaffected youths or poncy rhythm-less geese with peacock hair, my voice will one day reverberate around some of the nation’s biggest venues.