That older brother or sister who brought home Led Zeppelin or Joni Mitchell or Guns N' Roses or Public Enemy?
They should identify the brain synapse that's firing in that moment and study it: I think it might be the answer to the eternal question of what love really is. I remember feeling nailed to the floor, as if air in my head was expanding with the music. What was this? How could anything be this beautiful?
But I'm happy to share it. I found the news this week that Kate Bush's 1985 masterwork, Running Up That Hill, was charting again — because it featured in the first episode of the fourth series of Stranger Things — wonderfully heartening. No, not because of nostalgia: I don't need my TV to keep sifting through the cupboards of my youth to keep me happy. But because music-sharing platforms were delivering on their promise of creating a musical universe that is truly time-shifted.
Sorry, but where is the analysis? Reminiscing over music isn't analysis. ABC, please stop using this word until you acquire a dictionary
My dad played Mario Lanza and I'm still in awe of his voice. And I'm 71 now. Love Kate but not sure she'll be remembered that long. Unlike the Fossils The Rolling Stones, I never like them when they started.
A goldmine of GenX 80s music. Go Kate!