Fuck the world
And fuck the girls
Fuck everything that you try to tell me
And you can all get fucked.
First Song Untitled. M.S. 1986
So my first effort at writing a song was not very good. Maybe I was focusing my anger to much on one single thing, maybe I was simply trying too hard, or more than likely I was still cut up a little bit about the way Andrea and I had ended. The silly thing was on the outside I was making out like it was an amicable separation and that if she walked in the door I’d happily take her back, but I think it should have been clear to me at that stage that it wasn’t going to happen.
While my writing wasn’t great I did try to loose myself in it. After work, which by that stage with the coming of winter we were down to working three or four nights a week not every night, I’d come home and pick up the guitar and headphones. On the nights where I wasn’t working if Jim was at home we’d be playing together as student and teacher, if he wasn’t I was again hold up in my room alone.
Strangely enough if I wasn’t alone in my room there was no music and no guitar because in my mind, subconsciously of course, there was thoughts that the guitar and my love for the music was what broke Andrea and I up. Of course that wasn’t the case and I never got rid of the booze and drugs despite knowing they were a more likely reason, but that just goes to show how some minds work, especially a chemically imbalanced mind.
One thing I did learn during the time of writing and playing in my bedroom was that I was better at creating riffs than I was at writing words, well words that made sense. Many of the songs I wrote in those first few months were little more than angry statements all joined together. Most of them contained the word fuck and many of them used the word in every line. Of course as I sat there with a pen in my hand they were the best songs ever written, a gold record in every song, but each morning I would wake up, read through the words and realise I needed to scrap the song.
The saving grace from that period of time was that I never felt the need to trash any of the recordings that I made. Some of the riffs and some of the tunes were great, some not so great, but most of them eventually became something else. I may not have recorded every note I played around that time of learning but within six months of picking up the guitar I had more than forty of those Sony one hundred and twenty minute cassette tapes of just me playing which I didn’t realise the importance of at the time.
Whether it was the cold weather or some other force I didn’t know the winter months were very prolific for me. It could have had something to do with leaving the house less and working less but it was also because I was improving and improving quite quickly according to Jim. The only area I wasn’t improving on was writing words, everything I wrote was angry, crude and often didn’t make sense, so I gave up writing words and concentrated on the music.
Thankfully the money I got for the job I did was decent money because even with the downturn in work I was still earning more than enough money to supply myself with food, booze, weed and music. Unlike Melbourne where shops like Metal For Metal Hearts were becoming more popular, where I lived such shops didn’t exists and with than came less choice in the shops that were available. I still managed to buy at least one album a week but I longed to be back in Melbourne where not only the scene was growing hugely but the variety of bands the shops stocked was massively bigger. But times were changing, for me anyway.
Remember when I suggested a while ago that Wednesday would grow to have some significance in my life? Well although I still didn’t realise it at the time it happened again in the year of 1986, because on Wednesday the 20th of August I handed my notice of resignation to Daphne and told Steve of my intention to leave Power Touring Company.
I gave Daphne four weeks notice, standard practise for employment in Australia despite the fact that at sixteen I still wasn’t legally employed through the books. She’d been nice enough to offer me the job in the first place when she didn’t have to, she’d been nice enough to pay me a rate not afforded to kids my age and with my lack of skills, and above all she gave me a chance where most people in her position wouldn’t have. It was for those reasons I decided to follow the words Steve once told me when Frankie was having a bad night and blaming everything that went wrong on me, “Never dump shit on the guys working below you, for one day they could be above you when you are trying to climb the ladder”, well it was words to that effect anyway. Whether I was ever going to run into Daphne again I didn’t know but treating her well by doing things the right way and writing a simple letter of resignation was such a small thing to do.
Strangely enough I also handed Steve a similar letter telling him that I was prepared to moved out in four weeks. It was worded slightly different to the letter I gave Daphne in that I wasn’t definitely moving out I was giving Steve the option to have me vacate given that I’d no longer be employed with the company he was working for. But again to Steve’s credit he told me such a thing was not needed and that the room was mine for as long as I wanted no matter what job I did.