TOWARDS THE MEN IN BLACK
Novelty is not a part of my genome and I’m definitely ‘addicted’ to habit. As you get older, rituals form an increasing part of day to day living. They’re regular, time-wasting and provide comfort. In fact, they tick all the boxes for a unit who doesn’t work and has a few spare hours locked in on most days. I was in Sydney this morning and, while engaged on my compulsory tour of the music shops along York, George and Pitt Streets, I calculated just how long I had been doing ‘the walk’. The closest that I could figure was about fifty years. The outlets may have changed but my intent on searching for those hard to get releases (in varying formats, given my advanced years) has not. Luis Gasca’s For those who chant (1972) and Suntreader’s Zin-Zin (1973) might still be elusive but they haven’t weakened the crusade. Perhaps the chase is as important as the vinyl. Who knows? I can remember in the early seventies heading off from Abbotsford on Thursday nights or Saturday m