Stormcellar Band Home Page

Howdy folks.

Feels like a lot longer since 2020 and the start of the pandemic. Hard to imagine that it's been 2 years. 

In a month from now, 2 years will have elapsed since we went to the US to play in Memphis and surfed the wave back to Oz the week before the world shut down. 

I am loathe to tempt the fates by saying how lucky we have been all things considered, yet it seems just as likely to annoy the metaphorical greek gods to avoid offering gratitude.

I know I go through this at the end of year each year. Good.

We're especially fortunate to have been able to continue making music whilst everything went to Poop for a bit.

I can also remember a few people we have lost along the way in these last cycles. Tommy Lee, always in our hearts and most recently, Al. 

There's enough harshness in the world without adding a pandemic in. Or more war. Or too little. or making war on the wrong things, or making war at all. As we're not in a well known european band , we'll refrain from offering the world any advice at this stage of the millenia.

I was grateful to have known Tommy and Al. I was grateful for what they put into the world. I remember Tommy explaining his brief nudist period. I'll miss Al, heck all of Sydney's bands will miss Al. even if they don't know why. There's a hole where he once stood.

I feel like you miss less of the good stuff when you appreciate it while you got it.

Thanks you dear reader, for your continuing company, as we keep...going. I hope you are staying in good order as well.

Happy Seasons Greetings in whatever manner you subscribe, Merry Christmas, Festive Festivus, Happy Kwanzaa, meatballs of peace to the Pastafarians.

Thank you and merry christmas to the cellar fellers and cellar dwellers, and all who made things like the CRAB, Downtime and Signposts possible.

I am grateful that we have been able to keep going, and doing what we love. thank you for helping us to do it :)

Late mail, Saturday night late gig! Townie, Newtown, yeaaaah.

Al and I rode to the CRAB fest in the year Safe Harbour/Rogue State came out. As the Cypher remix of ‘Sail Away’ ended, the CD stacker flipped to Rogue State and the electric version of ‘Pirouette’ came thundering in, we both simultaneously let out a whoop, 'Now that's how you do it' he said.

I’d been encouraging Al to come out from his midnight haunts, going as far as dragging him into the car. Al joined us on the weekend trip, getting blind drunk and making our guitarist cringe as Al swore and cussed his way through the meal at the restaurant the night before the festival, after popping two painkillers for a headache and following that up with a few bevvies.

Al was erudite, sophisticated and a music connoisseur. He did not bear fools lightly. Or at all in fact, as those who got on the rough side of him found.  He had a tongue like a fireaxe. The flipside of that nature was his genuineness, directness, honesty and wisdom.  Gaining Al’s respect as a musician was an achievement reserved for those he thought were worthy.

I learned a great deal from his insights into all things material, physical and spiritual. He was the one to tell me to chop wood and carry water, the one to tell me when I had missed the obvious the one to encourage me to be who I am, and not to be anyone else, all in the same sentence. Usually loudly, usually with added ‘Fucks’ for emphasis.
We as a band were his friends too. We bailed his drunken and belligerent ass out at gigs before someone boofed him, and yes he would curse me and damn me were I to spare him any truth as I write this. ‘What are ya, my fucking mother? Spit it out! Tell them the truth!’

Al had seen some pain, it was carved deeply into him, as if life had made of his crags a filigree.

And so he offered this hard face to the world and carried within a gentleness and an appreciation of beauty in the natural way of things.

10 o’clock in the morning at the Duke, Midnight at a gig after going to 3 others. Al was a towering presence on the local scene, this tall, black garbed, cursing warlock of a man, cane in one hand, omnipresent fag at his lip.
Thank you for everything you taught me mate, and I know in whatever manner it may be possible, you’ll be at a gig right now, telling them how things are. We’ll miss you Dr. Rock.

Godspeed, my friend.