Step Away from the Synths
A true story of bad synths, good friends, and glorious nonsense.
Some memories don’t ask permission—they just plug themselves in and start playing.
Welcome to Needle Drops—a new corner of Brittle Views for short, sharp memories that skip and loop and come back sounding a little more distorted than you remember.
Most won’t be polished. Some won’t even have endings. But they’re real, they’re loud, and they still hum with something true.
Let’s begin where so many formative stories do: cheesy synths, tall tales, and a healthy disrespect for retail authority.
Back in my teenage days, me and my friend Woody managed to get ourselves banned from Woolies. Actually, for me, it was the second time I got banned from there—but that’s another story for another time.
Not for stealing. Not for swearing.
No—we were banned for pretending to be The Human League.
To be precise, the “crime” was switching on the synthesizers they had set up in the window display and launching into what can only be described as a deeply unconvincing rendition of Being Boiled.
We were committed, though. One-finger keyboard riffs. Intense facial expressions. Probably some theatrical swaying.
We were channeling Phil Oakey, in our own budget-bin way.
As the staff raced over to (quite literally) pull the plugs, we upped the ante.
We told them—deadpan—that we were the band.
That this was a scheduled promotional appearance.
That Woolworths must’ve forgotten to notify them.
Readers, they were not convinced.
But for a few glorious minutes, we were stars.
Banned, yes.
But stars.
Happy days, indeed.
And that’s the thing with these little moments.
They don’t always matter at the time.
But years later, they still crack you up.
More to come.
— Robert
Oh my God I wish I’d have seen that. I know exactly the Woolies you mean too! Great times, brilliant music. Bring it on!