It was 6am when the builders on the apartment tower on the site of the old Musos Corner shop in Newcastle West started up the machinery for the day's work. At that hour of the day, it sounded like an earthquake.
The traffic bollards were dragged out into the road, and a few trucks were rolling around. One of the builders saw a young guy sleeping in his car across the street outside the new Musos Corner, which moved into the former Spotlight building in 2022.
They tapped on the window.
"You've got to move your car," they said and slipped the kid a $20 note to cover parking for the day in the lot next door. Then, the tradie walked over to the swag, pitched between two shopping trolleys on the footpath.
"Hey, mate?" they said. There was a small shuffle and something like a "grr" sound from inside.
"Do you want me to wake him up?" the kid said.
"If you could," said the tradie.
"Sam!" the kid said, "We need to move the car."
"What?" the body inside the swag said.
The kid dangled the line: "They're paying for parking."
"Yeah, all right!" Sam said, suddenly perking up. "That's so nice of them!"
"They could have just made us pay ourselves," the kid, Phoenix, told me later that day. "But they looked after us."
Since Sam arrived on Wednesday, the builders have kept an eye on the boys' makeshift camp outside the renowned local music shop. They make sure their gear is safe when the boys duck off for a coffee in the morning, and help where they can. The boys call them "actual legends".
"They have been so nice," Phoenix said, "They're like, you know what, we'll help these boys out."
Phoenix has been sleeping in his car since Monday. The boys have a band together (Cardboard Castles - their four-piece indie rock outfit - is playing at the Newcastle Hotel on May 23), and, in Sam's words, they're both "crazily, stupidly passionate about music".
They have been sleeping rough in the pouring rain, woken every morning by the earthquake of construction work going on over their heads, for almost a week because inside the music shop there are two rare guitars that were too good to let go. And they're going for a steal.
The Musos Corner May the Fourth sale has become an institution of the city's music scene. Each year, for one day only, the store all but gives away a collection of unique musical instruments and recording equipment that would, on any other day, be worth thousands.
The rules are simple: you have to shop in-store, and there are no layaways or holdovers. Some of the most valuable pieces might be squirrelled away, so you have to know where to look. And it's first come, first served.
For more than a decade, young musicians like Sam Collins and Phoenix Munroe have woken up in the smallest hours to line up outside the shop, or camped for days just to be the first in line. And the treasures inside are worth it.
Last year, a Maitland schoolboy - fittingly named Banjo - camped for four nights outside for a one-of-a-kind Gibson that had come to the shop by way of a ballot. It was the only guitar like it in the country and was valued at $10,000. A music industry man had even phoned the store's owner, Sandra Lindsay, and tried to buy it for full-retail price on the spot, but Ms Lindsay turned them down.
The sale is the legacy of her late son, Andrew, who was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in August 2022 and died in December the same year. Andrew was the one who designed the sale event, the rules, and it is in his memory that the band of the faithful who observe the annual event share an unspoken bond in the line.
As Ms Lindsay watches the shoppers looking out for each other as they dash through the doors each year, sometimes calling out finds from across the store, she thinks of her son.
"He had a great way with people," she told me last year, remembering the countless times he would ask her to call up someone's parents to reassure them, because a friend was going through a rough patch, and he wanted to make sure they were ok, "He was very caring."
When she turns the light out at the end of the day, she's sure Andrew is still wandering the sale floor, tinkering with the instruments and filling the place with his legacy.
This year will be Sam's third camping out. His swag belongs to a mate who thought he could use the comfort, but he forgot to include the poles, so Sam had to improvise.
"I had to rig up a couple of trolleys as supports," he said, "It's pretty good. It keeps it up. It's actually so cosy in there. It's so nice."
He took a year off last year, but the pair were determined to be first in line when May 4 rolled around again. A year or two back, Sam arrived three days out and was still 13th in line. The last time he was out, he arrived a week before the sale and was first, but lost his spot in the interim and was relegated to 10th. No one was beating them this year.
"I've been here for so long now, I think if I leave and come back and somebody else is here, I'm just gonna be done," Collins said.
The boys are exhausted. But they're beaming. A friend brought a new camp chair for Phoenix when his was knicked one night. Sam has been driving for Uber Eats and Phoenix has already submitted all his assignments. They feel like they've crossed the hump and are on the downhill stretch now. They spend the days playing guitars, jamming, talking about gigs that are coming up.
Phoenix moved to Newcastle when he was 19 for the music scene. He's in his mid-20s now and studying audio-engineering, and feels like the city is opening up for him. Cardboard Castles has been around for about three or four years, he said. He and Sam had spent a lot of time writing songs together before they started playing any of them, but they released a single last year called Fist Fight before taking a short hiatus to travel.
When they both found themselves back in Newcastle, the started lining up gigs.
"It's good man," Phoenix said, "We're both focusing heaps on it. Our bassist is helping us a bunch in landing spots to rehearse ... we're getting some good connections coming through. It's nice, like, you might as well follow your passions."
Sam smiles wide when he talks about the passersby who have dropped in for a chat, and looked out for them.
"Everyone looks out for each other," he said, "That's why it's so good when you do get here early. It's like a little commune for a week and we just hang out and play guitar and talk shit - it's always such good vibes.
"We're all the same kinds of people, you know. Only people who are crazily, stupidly passionate about music are going to line up out the front of a music shop for days."
Phoenix has been vlogging the week on his Instagram account. He didn't expect there would be much to record, but he's been overwhelmed by little interactions with mates and strangers passing by.
"Really cool things are happening," he said.
The famous sale begins again on Saturday.
