Ahead of the 100 Years, 100 Stories CD and record market, photographer Caytlan Koljndrekaj from Rebel Rebel Agency and I met 4ZZZ librarian Kate at the station’s archive – a dense, living history of formats, LPs, 7″s, cassettes, CDs, dating back to the station’s first broadcast at the University of Queensland in 1975.
The first track ever played was The Who’s Won’t Get Fooled Again. Remarkably, the original reel still survives, though no machine remains to play it. Much of the collection survived evictions, relocations, and reshuffles that might have destroyed a lesser archive. “A lot of places would have lost everything,” Kate says.
4ZZZ, Punk Brisbane, and Resistance
The archive documents Brisbane’s struggles with authority. “They used to raid us,” Kate recalls. “Police came to seize copies of our singles.”
Several reels capture the tension of the Joh Bjelke-Petersen era. Zed reporters made probing calls to the Queensland Premier’s home. He often answered himself, Kate says. No secretary screened the calls.
How Brisbane’s Oldest Independent Radio Station Preserves Music History
Why do physical formats still matter for a radio station like 4ZZZ? For Kate, the answer is simple. They provide something digital does not.
That’s not to say the archive stands in the way of progress. Digital databases complement physical media. Above all, the goal is to serve the presenters on air. The station’s digital archive maps connections in ways physical media cannot—documenting local, independent, and First Nations artists, and even providing a complete record of the acts featured in the Triple Z Hot 100. “It’s a different way of discovering music,” Kate says. “Better than the internet.”
Some items exist nowhere else. “We have a responsibility,” Kate adds. If these objects disappear, so do their stories.
Rare Finds and Daily Discovery at 4ZZZ
Requests come from veteran DJs and newcomers alike, often for late-night and early-morning shifts. Shelves hold impossible-to-find Australian releases, punk band sticker bombs, and props from old live-to-air sets. A cupboard reveals tapes with labels like F*ck Off and Marijuana 1979.
Kate moves quickly through these radio rarities. “Nick Cave, 1985,” she says, setting aside a reel—what might be a holy grail to someone else. “I can’t stop.”
She collects more tapes, searching for the station’s first broadcast reel.
A Vast, Living Archive
The collection is vast: early Nirvana vinyl, a shelf labelled Kate Bush, Go-Betweens singles, as well as those by Brisbane punks like Razar and The Parameters, whose provocative single Pig City was recorded at the station. Kate has a soft spot for a worn copy of From My Eyes by No Fixed Address, noting the intertwined histories of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander radio station 4AAA and 4ZZZ.
Luke, the station’s sponsorship manager, notes that announcers can play anything. The most-played track in the last four years? Better in Blak by Thelma Plum. Taste shifts, but good music holds.
Even now, artists mail in CDs and records. The collection continues to grow.
Experiencing Brisbane’s Music Memory
For listeners, the archive is rarely seen. Kate serves announcers, but the space carries a museum-like dignity. Rows of LP sleeves, compilation CDs, and cupboards of 7″ singles. Even seasoned collectors might blink at the density.
Kate moves between order and chaos with enthusiasm. Organizing, digitizing, and listening to this archive requires a lifetime of work.
Even staff discover mysteries here. Kate, the successor to the previous long-term librarian, carries unspoken authority. It’s like a record store, she says. “You can dig in this library.”
The dust is being cleared. What remains is an extraordinary resource—musical objects full of history, emotion, and meaning. Digital versions exist for most items, but Kate is clear: “The vinyl’s here.”
Closing Reflection on the 4ZZZ Archive
I found the experience remarkable. What struck me most was the passion of the 4ZZZ staff. Archives need humans. Kate buffers a growing digital universe and the chaos of physical media. She adds the station’s folklore and missing context—why this 4ZZZ compilation mattered, who did the cover artwork, which DJ cared about this record, how this CD came to the station and many more stories that fill the gaps.
The archive reflects generations of volunteers and staff, each deciding what deserves support amid commercial noise and hype. Visiting impressed upon me how rich Brisbane’s culture is. The library is an Aladdin’s cave of local music, waiting to be rediscovered.
I’ve been thinking about “organic discovery” lately—the joy of finding unexpected music through chance and touch rather than through screens. As Kate put it, “It’s different to the internet.” It is heartening to meet others who share this joy. At 4ZZZ, it happens every day. Over time, the station has cultivated a unique culture—a way of thinking about, valuing, and engaging with music that I’ve not encountered anywhere else.
Comprehending this archive can take hours or days, with thousands of artefacts demanding care and attention. It’s a testament to the network of people who maintain it. I left inspired with new energy, purpose, and perspective.
