CLANCY OVERELL | Editor | CONTACT
Local dad, Mark Plymouth (55) has today cracked open a bottle of mass produced lager and thrown his feet up.
After a big afternoon dealing with work politics and communications with new management, Mark has only one thing on his mind. Putting on a bit of Chisel.
While he doesn’t have a vinyl player, the act of scrolling through his free trial Spotify playlist is still just as symbolic. Especially when the dulcet tones of Jimmy Barnes begin echoing through the living room of his five-bedroom timber Queenslander.
While sitting on the couch, staring into space, Mark’s eyes begin to well up. Not because of the warm nostalgia filling his chest, but because he accidentally let the fizz from the beer double back up his nasal cavity.
The rest of the family respectfully leave him to his Flame Trees, aware that this kind of display is necessary at least once every few months, in order to prevent dad from pulling a Barnaby or buying a sports car.
By the second chorus dad’s toes are tapping and he is demanding someone help him find the full Chisel play list.
“This is real music” he half-shouts to his teenage children.
“Listen to the lyrics. You don’t hear this kind of storytelling with Lil Uzi Vert or 6IX9INE”
