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Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Pinky the Teeny Bopper.


Groovin the Moo (the regional music festival equivalent to the metropolitan Big Day Out), is coming to our fair city once more and three of the Poinker kids are chomping at the bit. Hagar, in his usual custom, has ordered a costume from the United States and is anxiously awaiting its arrival. This year he will be delighting the crowds dressed as ‘Towelie’ from South Park. 


Please click …here to read about previous adventures at Groovin the Moo.

Music concerts were a smidgeon different back in my day (she says rocking back and forth in her chair). In 1974 my life was irrevocably altered by the appearance of Countdown on television. 

Every Sunday afternoon, straight after The Banana Splits, my sister Sam and I would sit glued to the television watching and gushing over the gaunt, chestless rockers swivelling their hips and miming to their latest singles.

The first time I saw Countdown on a colour TV at my friend’s house I nearly wet my pants with ecstasy. Even though Dad could have bought a colour TV cheap because he was in the electrical industry he refused to because, in his words, “Colour TVs are a gimmick! They’ll never catch on.” 

The main targets of my adoration were Daryl (Dazza) from Sherbet and the baby-faced Les Gock from Hush. 
Sam was in love with Shirley Strachan and Gene Simmons from Kiss. She was always a bit weird! 

Our country town was on the touring circuit and the site for these exhilarating concerts was an outdoor stage and a grassy mound that uncomfortably sat about 1000 screaming teeny boppers, incongruously called the ‘Soundshell’ which made the venue sound much cooler than the actual reality.

When I was about fourteen my fellow Dazza fanatic and I turned up at some ridiculously early hour to be first at the gate so that we could position ourselves right in front of the stage in order to be able to feel the sweat the lads from Sherbet might shake off their sexy chests. 

At one stage I dramatically fell on the ground and was trampled by the cork heels of the other dedicated zealots. There were no injuries but the satin shirt I’d borrowed from my mother was ruined and she hit the roof. She was also a bit angry about the fact that we’d lied about the time the concert ended so we could hang around the dressing room afterwards in the desperate hope of getting to meet Dazza and the boys. We didn’t.

I think about those pop stars in their heyday and wonder what they’re doing now. Of course not all of them made it through. Bon Scott (RIP) from ACDC, Mark Hunter (RIP) Dragon, Guy the guitarist from Australian Crawl (RIP), Brad (RIP) from Australian Crawl, Paul Hester (RIP) from Split Enz, Chrissy Amphlett (RIP) the Divinyls, Shirley Strachan (RIP) the Skyhooks … crikey, I’m starting to feel a bit old.

“That was back when music was music not that silly nonsense Hip Hop crap,” croaks Pinky popping her teeth back in.

I’d like to say my taste in music has matured over the years but sadly, my teenybopper taste in music really hasn’t changed all that much. I do love that Harry from One Direction!