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Fragments of a dying comet might put on a spectacular show next week – or pass by without a trace

<p>As Earth orbits the Sun, it ploughs through dust and debris left behind by comets and asteroids. That debris <a href="https://theconversation.com/explainer-why-meteors-light-up-the-night-sky-35754" target="_blank" rel="noopener">gives birth to meteor showers</a> – which can be one of nature’s most amazing spectacles.</p> <p>Most meteor showers are predictable, recurring annually when the Earth traverses a particular trail of debris.</p> <p>Occasionally, however, Earth runs through a particularly narrow, dense clump of debris. This results in a meteor storm, sending <a href="https://blogs.loc.gov/headlinesandheroes/2020/09/how-newspapers-helped-crowdsource-a-scientific-discovery-the-1833-leonid-meteor-storm/#:%7E:text=The%20Leonid%20meteor%20storm%20was,know%20more%20about%20this%20phenomenon." target="_blank" rel="noopener">thousands of shooting stars streaking across the sky each hour</a>.</p> <figure class="align-center zoomable"><a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/465041/original/file-20220524-23-pixuou.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=1000&amp;fit=clip"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/465041/original/file-20220524-23-pixuou.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;fit=clip" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/465041/original/file-20220524-23-pixuou.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=919&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465041/original/file-20220524-23-pixuou.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=919&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465041/original/file-20220524-23-pixuou.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=919&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465041/original/file-20220524-23-pixuou.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=1154&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465041/original/file-20220524-23-pixuou.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=1154&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465041/original/file-20220524-23-pixuou.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=1154&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 2262w" alt="Artist's impression of the great Leonid meteor storm of 1833" /></a><figcaption><em><span class="caption">Artist’s impression of the 1833 Leonid meteor storm.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Adolf Vollmy (April 1888)</span></span></em></figcaption></figure> <p>A minor shower called the Tau Herculids could create a meteor storm for observers in the Americas next week. But while some websites promise “the most powerful meteor storm in generations”, astronomers are a little more cautious.</p> <p><strong>Introducing comet SW3</strong></p> <p>The story begins with a comet called <a href="https://cometography.com/pcomets/073p.html" target="_blank" rel="noopener">73P/Schwassmann-Wachmann 3</a> (comet SW3 for short). First spotted in 1930, it is responsible for a weak meteor shower called the Tau Herculids, which nowadays appears to radiate from a point about ten degrees from the bright star Arcturus.</p> <p>In 1995, comet SW3 <a href="https://cometography.com/pcomets/073p.html" target="_blank" rel="noopener">suddenly and unexpectedly brightened</a>. A number of outbursts were observed over a few months. The comet had <a href="https://ui.adsabs.harvard.edu/abs/1996A%26A...310L..17C/abstract" target="_blank" rel="noopener">catastrophically fragmented</a>, releasing huge amounts of dust, gas, and debris.</p> <p>By 2006 (two orbits later), comet SW3 had disintegrated further, into <a href="https://www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/hubble/Comet_73P.html" target="_blank" rel="noopener">several bright fragments accompanied by many smaller chunks</a>.</p> <figure class="align-center zoomable"><a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/465044/original/file-20220524-16-tuml3t.gif?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=1000&amp;fit=clip"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/465044/original/file-20220524-16-tuml3t.gif?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;fit=clip" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/465044/original/file-20220524-16-tuml3t.gif?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=576&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465044/original/file-20220524-16-tuml3t.gif?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=576&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465044/original/file-20220524-16-tuml3t.gif?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=576&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465044/original/file-20220524-16-tuml3t.gif?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=723&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465044/original/file-20220524-16-tuml3t.gif?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=723&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465044/original/file-20220524-16-tuml3t.gif?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=723&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 2262w" alt="Animated images of comet 73P as seen by the Hubble Space Telescope" /></a><figcaption><em><span class="caption">Fragments of comet 73P seen by the Hubble Space Telescope in 2006.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">NASA, ESA, H. Weaver (APL/JHU), M. Mutchler and Z. Levay (STScI)</span></span></em></figcaption></figure> <p><strong>Is Earth on a collision course?</strong></p> <p>This year, Earth will cross comet SW3’s orbit at the end of May.</p> <p>Detailed computer modelling suggests debris has been spreading out along the comet’s orbit like enormous thin tentacles in space.</p> <p>Has the debris spread far enough to encounter Earth? It depends on how much debris was ejected in 1995 and how rapidly that debris was flung outwards as the comet fell apart. But the pieces of dust and debris are so small we can’t see them until we run into them. So how can we get an insight into what might happen next week?</p> <p><strong>Could history repeat itself?</strong></p> <p>Our current understanding of meteor showers began 150 years ago with an event quite similar to SW3’s story.</p> <p>A comet called <a href="https://www.nature.com/articles/061078c0" target="_blank" rel="noopener">comet 3D/Biela</a> was discovered in 1772. It was a short-period comet, like SW3, returning every 6.6 years.</p> <p>In 1846, the comet began to behave strangely. Observers saw its head had split in two, and some described an “archway of cometary matter” between the pieces.</p> <figure class="align-center zoomable"><a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/465046/original/file-20220524-18-2sg6h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=1000&amp;fit=clip"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/465046/original/file-20220524-18-2sg6h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;fit=clip" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/465046/original/file-20220524-18-2sg6h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=283&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465046/original/file-20220524-18-2sg6h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=283&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465046/original/file-20220524-18-2sg6h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=283&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465046/original/file-20220524-18-2sg6h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=356&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465046/original/file-20220524-18-2sg6h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=356&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465046/original/file-20220524-18-2sg6h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=356&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 2262w" alt="Sketch of a comet split into two pieces, each with its own tail." /></a><figcaption><em><span class="caption">Sketch of comet 3D/Biela in February 1846, after it split into (at least) two pieces.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Edmund Weiß</span></span></em></figcaption></figure> <p>At the comet’s next return, in 1852, the two fragments had clearly separated and both were fluctuating unpredictably in brightness.</p> <p>The comet was never seen again.</p> <p>But in late November of 1872, an unexpected meteor storm graced northern skies, stunning observers with rates of more than 3,000 meteors per hour.</p> <figure class="align-center zoomable"><a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/465047/original/file-20220524-22-d7c5zp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=1000&amp;fit=clip"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/465047/original/file-20220524-22-d7c5zp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;fit=clip" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/465047/original/file-20220524-22-d7c5zp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=453&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465047/original/file-20220524-22-d7c5zp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=453&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465047/original/file-20220524-22-d7c5zp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=453&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465047/original/file-20220524-22-d7c5zp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=569&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465047/original/file-20220524-22-d7c5zp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=569&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465047/original/file-20220524-22-d7c5zp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=569&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 2262w" alt="A paiting showing meteors raining down over mountains" /></a><figcaption><em><span class="caption">The meteor storm of 1872.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Amedee Guillemin</span></span></em></figcaption></figure> <p>The meteor storm occurred when the Earth crossed 3D/Biela’s orbit: it was where the comet itself should have been two months earlier. A second storm, weaker than the first, occurred in 1885, when the Earth once more encountered the comet’s remains.</p> <p>3D/Biela had disintegrated into rubble, but the two great meteor storms it produced served as a fitting wake.</p> <p>A dying comet, falling apart before our eyes, and an associated meteor shower, usually barely imperceptible against the background noise. Are we about to see history repeat itself with comet SW3?</p> <p><strong>What does this suggest for the Tau Herculids?</strong></p> <p>The main difference between the events of 1872 and this year’s Tau Herculids comes down to the timing of Earth’s crossing of the cometary orbits. In 1872, Earth crossed Biela’s orbit several months <em>after</em> the comet was due, running through material lagging behind where the comet would have been.</p> <p>By contrast, the encounter between Earth and SW3’s debris stream next week happens several months <em>before</em> the comet is due to reach the crossing point. So the debris needs to have spread <em>ahead</em> of the comet for a meteor storm to occur.</p> <p>Could the debris have spread far enough to encounter Earth? Some models suggest we’ll see a strong display from the shower, others suggest the debris will fall just short.</p> <p><strong>Don’t count your meteors before they’ve flashed!</strong></p> <p>Whatever happens, observations of next week’s shower will greatly improve our understanding of how comet fragmentation events happen.</p> <p>Calculations show Earth will <a href="https://www.imo.net/files/meteor-shower/cal2022.pdf" target="_blank" rel="noopener">cross SW3’s orbit at about 3pm, May 31 (AEST)</a>. If the debris reaches far enough forward for Earth to encounter it, then an outburst from the Tau Herculids is likely, but it will only last an hour or two.</p> <p>From Australia, the show (if there is one) will be over before it’s dark enough to see what’s happening.</p> <figure class="align-center zoomable"><em><a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/465059/original/file-20220524-22-pmvu1v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=1000&amp;fit=clip"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/465059/original/file-20220524-22-pmvu1v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;fit=clip" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/465059/original/file-20220524-22-pmvu1v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=322&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465059/original/file-20220524-22-pmvu1v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=322&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465059/original/file-20220524-22-pmvu1v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=322&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465059/original/file-20220524-22-pmvu1v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=405&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465059/original/file-20220524-22-pmvu1v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=405&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465059/original/file-20220524-22-pmvu1v.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=405&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 2262w" alt="View of the night sky showing the Tau Herculids radiant" /></a></em><figcaption><em><span class="caption">For observers across Australia, the Tau Herculids radiant is low in the northern sky around 7pm local time.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Museums Victoria/stellarium</span></span></em></figcaption></figure> <p>Observers in north and south America will, however, have a ringside seat.</p> <p>They are more likely to see a moderate display of slow-moving meteors than a huge storm. This would be a great result, but might be a little disappointing.</p> <p>However, there is a chance the shower could put on a truly spectacular display. Astronomers are travelling across the world, just in case.</p> <p><strong>What about Australian observers?</strong></p> <p>There’s also a small chance any activity will last longer than expected, or even arrive a bit late. Even if you’re in Australia, it’s worth looking up on the evening of May 31, just in case you can get a glimpse of a fragment from a dying comet!</p> <p>The 1995 debris stream is just one of many laid down by the comet in past decades.</p> <p>During the early morning of May 31, around 4am (AEST), Earth will cross debris from the comet’s 1892 passage around the Sun. Later that evening, around 8pm, May 31 (AEST), Earth will cross debris laid down by the comet in 1897.</p> <p>However, debris from those visits will have spread out over time, and therefore we expect only a few meteors to grace our skies from those streams. But, as always, we might be wrong - the only way to know is to go out and see! <!-- Below is The Conversation's page counter tag. Please DO NOT REMOVE. --><img style="border: none !important; box-shadow: none !important; margin: 0 !important; max-height: 1px !important; max-width: 1px !important; min-height: 1px !important; min-width: 1px !important; opacity: 0 !important; outline: none !important; padding: 0 !important;" src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/182434/count.gif?distributor=republish-lightbox-basic" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" /><!-- End of code. If you don't see any code above, please get new code from the Advanced tab after you click the republish button. The page counter does not collect any personal data. More info: https://theconversation.com/republishing-guidelines --></p> <figure class="align-center zoomable"><a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/465061/original/file-20220524-23-ilm484.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=1000&amp;fit=clip"><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/465061/original/file-20220524-23-ilm484.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;fit=clip" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/465061/original/file-20220524-23-ilm484.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=322&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465061/original/file-20220524-23-ilm484.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=322&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465061/original/file-20220524-23-ilm484.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=600&amp;h=322&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465061/original/file-20220524-23-ilm484.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=45&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=405&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465061/original/file-20220524-23-ilm484.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=30&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=405&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/465061/original/file-20220524-23-ilm484.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&amp;q=15&amp;auto=format&amp;w=754&amp;h=405&amp;fit=crop&amp;dpr=3 2262w" alt="The night sky at midnight, showing the Tau Herculids radiant." /></a><figcaption><em><span class="caption">By midnight (local time), the Tau Herculids radiant will have moved to the north-western sky, seen from across Australia.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Museums Victoria/Stellarium</span></span></em></figcaption></figure> <p><em><a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/jonti-horner-3355" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Jonti Horner</a>, Professor (Astrophysics), <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/university-of-southern-queensland-1069" target="_blank" rel="noopener">University of Southern Queensland</a> and <a href="https://theconversation.com/profiles/tanya-hill-121214" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Tanya Hill</a>, Honorary Fellow of the University of Melbourne and Senior Curator (Astronomy), <a href="https://theconversation.com/institutions/museums-victoria-1116" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Museums Victoria</a></em></p> <p><em>This article is republished from <a href="https://theconversation.com" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Conversation</a> under a Creative Commons license. Read the <a href="https://theconversation.com/fragments-of-a-dying-comet-might-put-on-a-spectacular-show-next-week-or-pass-by-without-a-trace-182434" target="_blank" rel="noopener">original article</a>.</em></p> <p><em>Image: Getty Images</em></p>

Domestic Travel

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‘A gentleman with the mad soul of an Irish convict poet’: remembering Chris Bailey, and the blazing comet that was The Saints

<p>Inala in the early 70s was bleak. A Brisbane suburb of wide dusty streets, treeless and bland. A planned community, meant to grow over time. Austerity, accented by the cheap houses – weatherboard, red brick, concrete – stifled the suburb like a blanket on a hot February night. </p> <p>It was boring. Beyond boring. The only concession to communal childhood joy was the pool, and the crazy concrete skate rink. But if you wanted a creative outlet, you needed to search elsewhere. </p> <p>Ivor Hay, (future Saints drummer), was heading to the picture theatre in Sherwood one Saturday night in early 1971, "and I saw Jeffrey [Wegener – another Saints drummer] with these two longhairs, Chris [Bailey] and Ed [Kuepper]. They were off to a birthday party in Corinda and asked me along. That was our first night."</p> <p>Bailey was raised by his mum, Bridget, in a house alive with siblings – mostly girls, who looked after the kid. He got away with a lot. </p> <p>“None of us had a lot of money,” Hay tells me. "Both Chris and I were raised by single mums in reasonably sized families. Chris’ mum was pretty feisty, with this Belfast accent which was just fantastic. They all looked after ‘Christopher’, he could do all sorts of things and they would accommodate him. His mum would have a go at him about the noise, but we’d just go to his bedroom and rehearse and bugger everybody else in the house!"</p> <p>Kuepper taught Hay to play the guitar: Stones and Beatles and Hendrix. Hay passed the knowledge down to Bailey, who was keen to learn. Neither Kuepper nor Bailey learned to drive, so Hay became the driver in those wide suburbs where driving and cars were everything. </p> <p>There was politics in Bailey’s house – his sister Margaret chained herself to the school gates to protest uniform policy – but this pervaded the town. The conservative government had no time for the young, and the police force did their best to make life difficult. </p> <p>But there was a sense that these young men were making something new. As Hay says, "We used to sing <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Internationale">The Internationale</a> at parties. I don’t know if we were revolutionaries, but we had that sense that something was happening. [With the band] we were doing something that we thought was going to change something. Chris was particularly good at pushing things, at being anti-everything."</p> <h2>Out of Inala</h2> <p>To escape the suburb was to head north to the railway line. It was the lifeline to the centre of Brisbane – record stores, bookshops and other forms of life. </p> <p>Kuepper remembers going into the city with Bailey. "We had intended to steal a record, and we went into Myers […] both wearing army disposal overcoats […] these two long haired guys walking into the record department with these overcoats […] surprisingly enough, we were successful!"</p> <p>Like the railway line, Ipswich Road joins Brisbane to the old coal town of Ipswich. It slices through these western suburbs, carrying hoons in muscle cars and streams of commuters, the occasional screaming cop car or ambulance.</p> <p>On Thursday nights, the boys used to sit at the Oxley Hotel, overlooking Ipswich Road, “just sit up there having beers, we wouldn’t have been much more than 17 or 18 at that time. Chatting about all sorts of stuff,” says Hay.</p> <p>"Chris and Ed were comic collectors and Stan Lee was the hero […] there were political discussions, philosophical discussions. Those guys could talk underwater."</p> <p>They talked and played and sang. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X5YP_tsPzmg&amp;t=905s">And Bailey had the voice</a>. It was a force, not just loud and tuneful, but full of snarl and spit. </p> <p>Soon they had songs, and in 1976 scraped the money together to record and release their first single on their own Fatal Records label. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MpMwMDqOprc">(I’m) Stranded</a> took Bailey out of Inala, out of Brisbane and into the world. </p> <p>He never looked back.</p> <h2>A changed city</h2> <p>The Saints released three albums in as many years – (I’m) Stranded, Eternally Yours and Prehistoric Sounds – before Kuepper and Hay returned from the UK to Australia, leaving Bailey to his own devices. </p> <p>Bailey remained in Europe, releasing a cluster of solo albums and many Saints records over the next 40 years. He wrote some achingly beautiful songs. It is a testament to his talents as a songwriter that Bruce Springsteen <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hJ4a_tgJp4I">recorded a version</a>of Bailey’s Just Like Fire Would in 2014.</p> <p>There’s no doubt that Bailey and The Saints changed Brisbane forever. People around the world who love music know Brisbane exists because of The Saints, The Go-Betweens and bands like them.</p> <p>Peter Milton Walsh (The Apartments) was one of many who benefited from The Saints legacy, "They blazed through our young lives like comets. Showed so many what was possible – that you could write your way out of town."</p> <p>“Without The Saints,” Mark Callaghan of The Riptides/Gang Gajang told me, “we probably wouldn’t have started. ” </p> <p>"They just made it all seem doable. It was like, ‘Well, they’re from Brisbane!’ So we started our first band, and at our first gig we covered (I’m) Stranded! We even took a photo of the abandoned house in Petrie Terrace with (I’m) Stranded painted on the wall. But it never crossed our minds to stand in front of this. It would be sacrilege, you know? And we were trying to work out a way that we could get it off the wall intact, because we recognised it was a historical document."</p> <p>Chris Bailey isn’t the first of our creative children to leave this life behind and move on into memory. With their passing, like the returning comet, the past is freshly illuminated, allowing us to look back at our young lives. Back when the future was broad in front of us, urged on by voices like Bailey’s to open our eyes and see the world.</p> <p>And Bailey’s was a unique voice. Kenny Gormley (The Cruel Sea) remembers him singing <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yYA5WdP47Y0">Ghost Ships,</a> "But ah, I’ll never ever forget seeing Chris pick that shanty, alone at sea in a crowded room, holding us sway, wet face drunk and shining, quiet and stilled in storm, cracked voiced with closed eye and open heart. And that was Bailey, a gentleman with the mad soul of an Irish convict poet.“</p> <p><em>Image credits: Getty Images</em></p> <p><em>This article originally appeared in <a href="https://theconversation.com/a-gentleman-with-the-mad-soul-of-an-irish-convict-poet-remembering-chris-bailey-and-the-blazing-comet-that-was-the-saints-181059" target="_blank" rel="noopener">The Conversation</a>. </em></p>

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Comet emits 500 bottles of alcohol every second

<p>A comet discovered by an amateur astronomer has been shown to produce vast amounts of alcohol.</p><p>Last year, Australian&nbsp;Terry Lovejoy discovered a comet with a blue-green tinge which had become known colloquially as Comet Lovejoy. Researchers have now found that Comet Lovejoy is producing 21 organic molecules including vast amounts of alcohol and sugar.</p><p>Scientists, led by Nicolas Biver from the Paris Observatory, published their findings last Friday, detailing the 21 organic molecules they had found on the comet. The alcohol and sugar are startling discoveries in particular, as these molecules have never been previously recorded on a comet.</p><p><img width="500" height="300" src="https://oversixtydev.blob.core.windows.net/media/10339/comet-lovejoy_500x300.jpg" alt="Comet Lovejoy (1)" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"></p><p><em>Image credit: Twitter / Phys.org</em></p><p>Mr Biver detailed his findings to the website Phys.org, “We found that comet Lovejoy was releasing as much alcohol as in at least 500 bottles of wine every second during its peak activity.”</p><p>Mr Biver also suggested the comet could provide clues to the formation of life on earth: “These complex organic molecules may be part of the rocky material from which planets are formed.”</p><p>While star gazes and liquor enthusiasts will be keen to check this comet out the next time it’s in town, they’ll have to be patient. Comet Lovejoy won’t be near Earth again for another 8,000 years.</p>

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Comet emits 500 bottles of alcohol every second

<p>A comet discovered by an Aussie astronomer has been shown to produce vast amounts of alcohol.</p><p>Last year, Queenslander Terry Lovejoy discovered a comet with a blue-green tinge which had become known colloquially as Comet Lovejoy. Researchers have now found that Comet Lovejoy is producing 21 organic molecules including vast amounts of alcohol and sugar.</p><p>Scientists, led by Nicolas Biver from the Paris Observatory, published their findings last Friday, detailing the 21 organic molecules they had found on the comet. The alcohol and sugar are startling discoveries in particular, as these molecules have never been previously recorded on a comet.</p><p><img width="500" height="300" src="https://oversixtydev.blob.core.windows.net/media/10339/comet-lovejoy_500x300.jpg" alt="Comet Lovejoy (1)" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"></p><p><em>Image credit: Twitter / Phys.org</em></p><p>Mr Biver detailed his findings to the website Phys.org, “We found that comet Lovejoy was releasing as much alcohol as in at least 500 bottles of wine every second during its peak activity.”</p><p>Mr Biver also suggested the comet could provide clues to the formation of life on earth: “These complex organic molecules may be part of the rocky material from which planets are formed.”</p><p>While star gazes and liquor enthusiasts will be keen to check this comet out the next time it’s in town, they’ll have to be patient. Comet Lovejoy won’t be near Earth again for another 8,000 years.</p><p><strong>Related links:</strong></p><p><a href="/news/news/2015/10/astronaut-tweets-photos-of-australia/"><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><em><strong>Astronaut tweets photos of Australia from space</strong></em></span></a></p><p><a href="/news/news/2015/10/nasa-buddha-statue-mars/"><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><em><strong>Buddha statue found on Mars</strong></em></span></a></p><p><a href="/news/news/2015/10/nasa-announce-asteroid-will-miss-earth/"><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><em><strong>NASA announces asteroid is headed for Earth this weekend</strong></em></span></a></p>

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