Melbourne storytellers bare the truth: songs don't just play, they save.
Songs often find us at perfect moments, offering strength when life feels impossible, capturing fleeting chaos, marking milestones of grief or growth, or closing tough chapters. Whatever their role, songs shape our stories, just as our lives reshape their meaning. These Melbourne storytellers shared the tracks that shaped theirs.
This belief, held by founder Danny Desatnik, sits at the heart of Playlist Storytellers, which recently stopped in Brunswick and gave the microphone to Melbourne locals sharing moments that forever changed their interpretation of songs.
Playlist Storytellers – Melbourne
- Selena Brennan – Homeward Bound by Simon & Garfunkel
- Nick Robertson – Defying Gravity by Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande
- Brian Nankervis – Like A Rolling Stone (Live at the Isle of Wight, UK – August 1969) by Bob Dylan
- Maren May – Dancing on My Own by Robyn
- Riley Coyote – Dream On by Aerosmith
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He envisions every song with two lives: first shaped by the artist, then richly woven into listeners’ lives after release, often more vibrant yet rarely celebrated. Started in Toronto, Playlist Storytellers gives those second lives a stage to be heard.
Desatnik chooses local storytellers in every city, because discovering new voices and different music tastes is part of what keeps the event alive. Flying in people from elsewhere would miss the point.
“There are so many people here that have amazing stories,” says Desatnik.
After each story, the song played through the room, letting the audience feel its added emotional weight. Many tales traced literal journeys, but all marked personal transitions. Each track became a time machine to the storyteller’s vivid memory.
Selena Brennan – Homeward Bound- Simon & Garfunkel
Selena Brennan, Melbourne regional producer of The Moth, recounted her 1994 ‘ineptitude’ that stranded her in the French Alps after working as a chalet girl. She forgot to book a return ticket and waited days for the next bus. A worker assured her rides ran on Wednesdays, until she learned none did, plunging her into desperation.
Frustrated, she quipped about hitchhiking and received the “frenchiest of shrugs.” Undeterred, she set off on an eight-kilometre trek through a ‘Grimm-esque’ winter forest, heavy backpack and daypack weighing her down. Fury boiled, at the worker, then herself, as she prayed to God, Dolly Parton and any listening force.
Exhausted, she began hitchhiking, convinced she’d perish undiscovered until summer’s thaw.
Two cars sped past her thumb. The third halted. Inside sat Dom and Maria; ‘angels’ in her retelling. As she boarded, sunlight cascaded through the window, and Simon & Garfunkel’s Homeward Bound swelled on the radio, forever linking the melody to salvation after fear and exhaustion.
Brian Nankervis- Like A Rolling Stone – Live at the Isle of Wight, UK – August 1969 – Bob Dylan
Melbourne writer, actor, radio host, television producer, and comedian Brian Nankervis shared a chaotic New Zealand hitchhiking tale about meeting a “very bald man” who starred in the film Hair.
Thumbs out led to Trevor, a sharply dressed and blasting reggae from his car. The ride carried along in awkward silence, punctuated by long pauses, until they discovered their mutual obsession with Bob Dylan. Conversation then exploded, a rush of words tumbling faster than they could keep up, minds racing ahead of mouths.
Trevor invited him back home, where they shared a joint, a meal, and an impromptu dance. Over the evening, Trevor revealed his wild backstory: at the 1969 Isle of Wight Festival, his enormous afro had caught a photographer’s eye, leading to his casting in Hair. That same festival delivered what Nankervis called Bob Dylan’s worst-ever rendition of “Like a Rolling Stone.”
As night deepened, paranoia crept in. Nankervis asked for a ride back to his hostel. Before parting, Trevor gifted him the record with that very flawed performance. The bizarre encounter became a cherished, funny memory, forever anchored by a beautifully imperfect classic song.
Maren May- Dancing on My Own- Robyn
Melbourne-based comedian Maren May spoke of a song that haunted her love life, appearing whenever a new interest emerged. She traced it back to 2010, fresh from Germany to the Sunshine Coast as an au pair. Her host parents lent her an old car with a faulty CD player that rarely worked. After a date with a tall, handsome man from the park, it suddenly played the unrequited-love anthem Dancing on My Own.
Years later, post-marriage and divorce to that same man, the song vanished from memory. Then at a party, pining for another tall, handsome stranger who dangled just enough hope to keep her hooked, it returned like a ghost in the speakers. She nearly crossed the room chasing him, but stayed put, dancing with friends instead. The hymn of longing had evolved into her anthem of independence.
Nick Robertson- Defying Gravity- Cythia Erivo, Ariana Grande
Writer and performer Nick Robertson, based in Melbourne, tied his father’s memory to Wicked’s Defying Gravity to delay a “second death.”
Everyone dies twice, he explained: first physically, then when their legacy fades from living memory.
The night before his dad’s funeral, he saw Wicked with his mother and sister. As the curtain fell, he sobbed uncontrollably in the theatre. He joked strangers likely saw a 30-year-old man overwhelmed by a musical; in truth, he was grieving his father.
By weaving his dad’s memory into the song, Robertson tranformed it into a vessel for his father’s legacy. Rather than a super-fan swept up by the song, he was a grieving son fighting to postpone his father’s second death.
Riley Coyote- Dream On- Aerosmith
Queensland videographer Riley Coyote shared how “Dream On” by Aerosmith fueled his Mount Fuji summit. Once an anxious child battling insecurities, he overcame them through self-expression. After a mentor urged him to write a purpose statement, Riley crafted one to feed his curious mind with knowledge and experience, becoming a grounded leader.
Determined to live it, he chose to climb Mount Fuji, but skipped proper preparation. High on the peak, terrified he might not survive, he tried texting loved ones, only to find no service. Shuffling his offline playlist in panic, “Dream On” started playing. The anthem drove him forward and he reached the summit.
The power of listening back
Desatnik invited audience members to close their eyes as each song played, to fully immerse themselves in the music, but watching the storytellers instead was revealing. Brennan softened during “Homeward Bound,” reliving that golden, lifesaving sunlight.
Robertson tilted toward the metaphorical western sky, channeling his father’s legacy through a raw Defying Gravity riff. Nankervis leaned into the absurdity of his bad trip and the equally bad Dylan performance. Maren relaxed, realising even in loneliness, she was never alone, when surrounded by friends. Coyote sang proudly, celebrating his once-impossible climb.
Brennan summed it up simply. “Music is so tied up with memory, and allows for people to tap into moments in their life,” she said.
In that Brunswick room, those memories, and the songs that summon them, were given another chance to live.
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