I was supposed to be in Lisbon for two nights. A quick stopover on the way to Morocco, just enough time to tick the main sights off the list and eat a pastel de nata or twelve. That was the plan. The plan lasted approximately six hours. What happened was fado. And fado, if you’re…
Japan wasn’t supposed to be a music trip. I went for the food — because obviously — and figured I’d catch a gig or two if the timing worked out. Three weeks later I’d been to more live shows than I could count, discovered an entirely new appreciation for jazz, and had my mind completely…
Melbourne has this energy that’s hard to explain until you’ve been there. It’s not flashy like Sydney. It’s not trying to impress you. It just quietly does its thing, and somewhere between your third flat white and stumbling into a basement jazz bar at 11pm on a Tuesday, you realise you’re completely hooked. I had…