The Chills’ Pink Frost
The Chills were the first band I ever saw. Well, actually, they were the first band I never saw, despite my best intentions. I was fifteen at the time, and my friend got word that the seminal Flying Nun act, who hailed from the deepest, darkest trenches of Dunedin, New Zealand, were to play a show that night at the now long gone Max’s in Petersham, Sydney. We had to go. It was The Chills, the very symbol of low-fi sullen rebellion, with their ruddy cheeks and out of tune guitars. So we whacked handfulls of gel in our hair and resolved to sneak our way past the doorman. Only my friend arrived at the venue a little earlier than me (his Dad was clearly a better driver than mine) and promptly sauntered into the venue, while I was turned away for ‘obviously being a minor’. Dammit! They were probably better on record anyway.