It was Saturday. The day was March 1st. I was in this community space in The Valley of all places and had just completed an English assignment. I was really locked in. I poured my heart and soul into that assignment. When I handed it to my teacher, he was absolutely floored. It was perfect. Too perfect that he thought I must've had some outside help. After explaining how I wrote it he praised my writing ability and said that my writing would literally get full marks. Guess what? I not only got full marks that term, but full marks the next and the term after that. He said I'm on track to literally being the top student in the school for English.

Anyways, the story of the gig that happened on this day isn't very long. I had to leave early so I wasn't able to catch the entire thing. Additionally, I would review another gig (if I had attended other gigs), but ever since the great all ages gig drought that started in March due to the organisations that own the community halls banning gigs, I've haven't been to any really. My last gig I attended was in April. It was SkatePunk, but honestly that gig was quite an awful experience for me, I only really saw one band, and I'm saving it for a future issue.

So after absolutely annihilating my English assignment, I got a text from the legend Arran McKenzie asking where I was and to come down to Spring Hill hall for a gig. Luckily enough, I was already pretty close, being in The Valley, and had time to stop by for a quick bite before rocking and rolling.

I walked over to The Valley Metro and into Karl's Jr to buy a burger, chips, and a drink. I sat down and noticed a familiar looking figure walking about outside—donning a pair of sunglasses and this gothic kinda attire. It was Tani—photographer and fellow rock and roll enthusiast whom I had met at pretty much every Gormless Records gig I had previously attended.

I texted her and soon we caught up and had a pretty good chat. She was also heading to the Spring Hall gig—as a photographer—and discussed how she had been a companion to her friend Ellie's 18th birthday outings—which consisted of going to the same bar 3 days in a row. After finishing up the remnants of that admittingly overpriced but decent feed we walked over to the Spring Hill hall.

Upon our arrival, there was this funny dancing class who hadn't cleared the hall and had gone overtime. Me, along with singer George of Shock Value—basically burst out in laughter as they frantically packed up and looked starstruck at the sight of a bunch of rock and rollers hurling equipment into the hall.

A highlight moment was Java of Bubblegum Haircut and singer George of Shock Value taking turns jumping from the stage and landing on this cushion thing. There were also a lot more randoms who had showed up to this gig, in contrast to the previous one at Ithaca Hall of all places where it was just close mates.

This old guy named Cliff also made an appearance as another one of the VIPs for the gig. He was literally a random guy who just loved rock and roll and went to every gig—warranting him a place among the band members, photographers and other inner circle members. Arran and Cliff discussed Arran's plans to become a public defence lawyer. His justification? It makes money and he wants to help people who can't help themselves. He also discussed how although he loves music, that it was impractical to pursue it as a career. This conversation would later change my life as I would soon also pivot from a delusional 'dream' of being a musician towards a more pragmatic approach of pursuing a profitable law degree and doing music on the side.

Either way, after setting up the rock and roll racecourse, me and the other VIPs retreated outside to basically fuck around while the first band—Breaking Hands—kinda blasted through a improvised set. Arran by this point was drop-dead drunk despite his attempts to convince us otherwise. Johnnie and David of Piss Off soon discussed how they would perform their set with a singer and guitarist who was lost in another world. They soon decided that he might have to play bass and kinda murmur some lyrics.

When Piss Off came on they played their classic pre-LA-Alley album golden age setlist. Of course, a highlight of their set was Born to Be Wild by Steppenwolf, which Jackson Moore of Pimp provided backing vocals for. Arran tried playing some guitar parts here and there but was so intoxicated that he basically just sang while David covered both lead and rhythm parts. Due to the ridiculously small stage size, the hi-hat kept falling off the stage so basically the rest of the gig was played with only basic bass-snare rhythms.

Another highlight moment was right before Heavy Liquid—a band fronted by Nate Kenny—come on stage. Someone had smeared butter all over the doorknobs that secured entry into the gig. One specific person kept laughing and trying to act oblivious over what had happened. That person was singer George of Shock Value—who was off in the kitchen section cracking open beers among with a rather large group of people who had committed themselves to the pursuit of subversive pleasure.

Heavy Liquid's set was also a full blast exposure of rock and roll—with Arran languishing his way through some basslines. Jackson Moore also kicked out his hardcore dance moves—in stark contrast to the crowd of insanely intoxicated individuals, couples cuddling and kissing, people who were new to this whole 'rock and roll' thing who were just figuring out how to get lost in the music, and a few hardened fans like me who were just there for a good time.

By this point I had to leave the gig as it was 8 pm. Little did I know, this was my last rock and roll experience and 'good old days' gig, for increasing academic responsibilities, authoritarian community hall owners, and Arran's preoccupation with a law degree and inability to host gigs would soon mark the death blow to Brisbane all ages rock and roll. It had a good run, but even Arran himself admits that 'rock and roll is dead', with him focusing on other projects such as his new band Ringer and his more country-inspired, slow-tempo album LA Alley—which would soon drain his bank account dry as he wanted to get the sound 'perfect' in a proper recording studio.