can i have my wine? i forgot i had it.

The water in Geelong must be somethin’ magical, like from a Harry Potter book, infected with time-rewind face cream, ‘cos everyone who was out the Nash looked like they were fifteen- or they were all on fake I.D’s.

It was the weirdest gig I had ever been too. I’m barely legal, but I felt like I was among the oldest in the band room. Everyone was jumping like they would on a trampoline, the band member were smiling and playing wholesome songs about kisses, girls and summer and I was just standing at the back with my arms crossed.

I can’t remember the bands that played, except for the first- Kung-fu In Technicolour. They were my friend’s friend’s band (excuse my apostrophes- I have no idea) and our reason for traveling east. They were first and were cute. Then another local band played that had a cool lookin’ girl lead singer- they weren’t too bad. It finished off with another band, who must be pretty popular in Geelong because it was getting more crowded.

It was a strange experience and reminded me of going out in my home town. Which mustn’t have been such a good thing because Shepparton’s most ‘famous’ band is playing tonight and I’m not even going (mainly because I’m grumpy at missing out on my true loves Eddy Current Suppression Ring tonight).

I also saw Thee Oh Sees at PBS on Wednesday .They were pretty sweet and the guy had some cool tattoos and I touched his hand.

faux junkies are dreamy.

Legends of Motorsport have been escaping me all year. I didn’t discover them until I saw the fabulously bearded Richard Fyshwick play at some Fringe Fest thing whenever the Fringe Fest was on, and fall deeply in love with the song Brunswick Ladies. Ever since I brought the CD and played it incessantly in my room, my friends who had overheard their sweet, sweet sounds would never go see them (by slyly being out of town, or ‘tired’).

Once again I am unable to attend Legends of Motorsport when they play along side Dynamo at the Cherry Bar tonight. My Cherry Bar cherry will remain unpopped most likely forever, as nothing there ever really tickles my fancy (although Digger and the Pussycats are playing there this New Years Eve, except I’m busy), but then again, I never really think about going there.

I like Dynamo. They were one of the first local Melbourne bands I ever listened to. Back in my country high school my friend gave me approx. five of their badly recorded song he swiped off his brother, and I used to listen to them all. the. time.

Because I can’t go see Dynamo and Legends of Motorsport tonight, I’ll just imagine what would have happened:

I’d probably wear one of my two outfits on high rotation- the tablecloth 80s party dress or the white, lace-trimmed, short-sleeved blouse with a skirt- and go buy myself (hopefully not by myself) a beer and stand by a piece of furniture or wall with my arms crossed.

LoM would sing new album songs that I don’t know, and I would get bored until they sing the ones that I know. I’d be happy (maybe tearful- depending on my alcohol level) when they play Brunswick Ladies and then I would stroke Fyshwick’s beard and find a family of birds.

Dynamo would play, and it would be fun and nostalgic and prompt me to send annoying text messages… Afterwards the drummer would remember meeting me on Wednesday and we’d discuss his missing cymbal prompting him to go see the band about the return of the cymbal. I would follow, because they are friends with good looking men, and I’d eventually meet a tall, thin man with facial hair who looks like a junkie (but isn’t really). Then faux-junkie and I would fall in love and I’d drop out of uni and we’d spend our days kissing and moulding each others faces in clay.

I haven’t used my imagination in a long time, so please excuse me.

spooky records tenth birthday

Sixfthick were delightfully disgusting once again, on Saturday night at Spooky Records 10th Birthday. They had their way with blow-up dolls, cracked glasses on backs, and sweated and grinded against ladies in the crowd. I missed the start of their set though, as I was watching The Stabs being fucking weird on the floor upstairs in the Cobra Bar.

I really like The Stabs new album, but last night they were a bit all over the shop. By the end of the set they were all sitting on the floor, instruments abandoned (except the guitarist) and the drummer was playing the bass with his beer bottle. I'd like to see them play again though.

Digger and the Pussycats also played, and were the main drawcard to my attendance (because I'm an obsessed loser). It wasn't their best show, but that's probs because last time they played at the Tote they were AMAZING, and all of their past shows I could never find anyone to go with 'til the last minute, so I cherished each of them as I do my eyes. I'm going to miss seeing them over Summer!

I also watched a little bit of Gentle Ben and his Sensitive Side, and it wasn't too bad but the singer just peforms so much better when he's playing with Sixfthick. Maybe the lyrics for Gentle Ben are more meaningful, so he has to tone down his movements and settle for gyrating?

Who knows- i stopped listening to lyrics when I started worshipping Digger and the Pussycats.

sam?

I thought that the Arthouse was really ugly, but my more artistic, design student friends assured me that it was not. Although, I did find the quilt looking ceiling a bit cute and I shouldn't be one to feel negatively towards them as the door guy did let us in for free (and save us $6- dinner for two days).

I went there to see my friends old babysitters band. I can't remember what they were called, but the singer/guitarist looked a little like Sam from Digger and the Pussycats from a distance. They played shitty nonsense and kind of sounded like Kamikaze Trio, but I did like one song. I couldn't understand anything of the lyrics that they were shouting except i nearly got the gist of one repeated line- "bahkjhfkahfkahfkharfmotherfucker".

They had this little thing going on where the drummer would flip out on his drums and then the guitarist would start banging a spare snare- until it's legs broke (the snare, not the Sam look-a-like), and that was the end of that. But it was funny, and their show made me smile.

brian hooper.

So, so good looking. Brian Hooper- marry me. You can buy g-strings with his face on them if you really want to here. I'd totally be up for it, except he's really only insanely attractive when he has short hair- like in the photo above, swoon...

i want to be your lego man.

I f'n hate volleys, and i'm totally the kind of person who will judge you by the aesthetics of shoes (excluding the criteria of age- my shoes are complete scum [only because I'm poor]) and one of my new favourite musicians was disappointingly wearing them on Saturday at the UV Race LP launch.

Deaf Wish and Royal Headache were playing along with the UV Race. Deaf Wish was pretty good, but I liked them better last week. Royal Headache were really cool- they were so much fun. The singers stage movements kind of reminded me of Aussie hip-hop, but they totes didn't sound it.

UV Race were really good. I love it when the band perform like performers instead of playing like they are recording, or something. The singer was the best, he was wearing this sweet little get-up (that WAS actually little, size-wise) of this fluro yellow cord/tape wrapped around his chest and shoulders. Then there was oven proof aluminium containers placed on his shoulders, armour style with foam letters UV on the right side, and RACE on the left. I was too busy being mesmerised with his ensemble, their sick show and getting bruises to even notice his shoes.

I also saw Brendan from ECSR just hanging out at Ding Dong, and I got to do that cool double take 'wow, it was him' thing. I told Dad, and he sent me a message saying 'to cool'. I can't decipher whether he used the write too/to, maybe I was just leaning towards 'too cool' because it's more pleasing to the eye.

And I'm all about that.

you say you love me when you're drunk.

My friends brothers band plays around the town fairly often, so I usually get updated of their shows via some sort of electronic social networking site. I saw that they where playing with Mass Cult Suicide and I was a bit befuddled as to why they'd be playing with such a heavy band (judging by their name...). I looked them up, and they were awesome.

I was going to scurry down to Off The Hip last week to pick up their album, but I wasn't sure if the rest of the nine songs would be as enjoyable as the two I heard. So I thought I'd brave taking my child-like face to the Tote to go see them on Friday. I really wanted to go but no one would come with me, then I got grumpy, forgot about it and did something else.

So, today I went into PBS and help out with writing mini-blurbs (which really just consisted of going to a bands Myspace, Ctrl C, Ctrl P, then a minor edit to make the sentences flow...like streams) for this wrap-around advert in Inpress for PBS Live Music Week. Bands have been coming in to prerecord their sets and today as I was trawling Off The Hip's webpage for info about Mass Cult Suicide, they totally started playing in Studio 5!

I was a bit excited and went and sat like a loser in the room with the knobs and shit, and watched for two songs. They were great, except the two songs that I heard, where the two that I already knew. But Dan Trolley is good lookin' in a fun looking way, so I'll probably buy his CD anyway.

friday on my mind.

I really, really like the Chinese Burns.

I saw them play a couple of songs last night at Town Hall in North Melbourne and I felt like squealing. It may have something to do with the Digger and the Pussycats-esque singing drummer, but with my loser obsession aside, Chinese Burns where great. It really sucks that it was their last show and I missed most of the set.

Deaf Wish also played last night, they were pretty insane. I'd seen Jensen (?), one of the guitarists/singers do some solo stuff a few months back and have been waiting for ages to see him in a band, I think I actually forgot it though- hence this being the first time I had gone along to see them. I think I fell in love with the guitarist (the one with blonde hair). He was really trashy, jumpy and just flipping out with his guitar the whole time. I like it when musicians do that, but my eyes have been void from the experience lately. I think the best time was when the old guy from Sixfthick (wait...they're all old!) took off his shirt, slagged on his chest, rubbed it in like nobodies business and then proceed to sexually dance upon women in the crowd. I keep recommending them for a good time to friends, but nobody ever goes and sees them.

There was also a plethora of really impressive mustaches in the Town Hall on Friday.

i love google maps.

Last night I got lost on my way to the Tote.


I'd been there a couple of times before courtesy of tram 86 and a short stroll down Johnston St, but this time I went some weird way and got really lost. I had to call my friend whilst standing on the corner of Hoddle and Johnston, so that she could locate me on Google maps and street view me to Wellington St. It was a bit embarrassing, but I'm sure she loved playing cartography hero.


The Tote always reminds me of my innate uncoolness (and getting lost on the way there only adorns this), and lack of years in my age. This visit, to see the Ooga Boogas last show for the year was no exception.

I'd never seen them before, but I had seen the guitarist (who was an extreme keyboardists for this show) in ECSR. I really like ECSR, so much so that I have a 5 by 4 (measured in A4 paper) homemade poster of them- mainly Brendan though.

The singer had this shirt on that, if my memory serves me correctly, stated 'on the loose'. This was written in fluro eighties type and every time I looked at him I was like "What? Why is he wearing a Daft Punk top?". I did this each time I glanced at him, which was really only when I wasn't mesmerised by the drummers top. If his t-shirt was a Iggy Pop song, it would be 'Dirt' (because that's my favourite).

The conclusion of the set felt a bit a bit abrupt (like my review- i'm super tired...), but I would probably go see them again because I have heard that they are usually much better than their Thursday Tote peformance.

My hair really smelt like the cellar at my parents house the next day. It actually still does, because I'm gross and didn't wash it in the morning (mainly because i'm inept at using a hairdryer).

I might go hit the shampoo now. Wait, I might nap first- I think my eyes are about to fall out.

wolfmother is for cunts.

This evening I read the following status on Facebook:

Wolfmother- live at the wireless... delicious

This was written by the boy who introduced me to ECSR before they were cool and a monstrous amount of Melbourne bands before I was eighteen and legal(which eventuated in the finding of the truly spectacular stage-show that is Digger and the Pussycats) and updated my iPod; doubling its songs like a modern day mix-tape. However, my faith in his musical choosings has come to a debilitating standstill with this recent piece of new-found knowledge.

Reading that was like the aftermath of an explosion. I was shocked, and a bit confused. Firstly, Wolfmother is a piece of shit. Secondly, I don't understand the recent uprising in the use of the word 'delicious' or 'delish' from people from my old high-school. I hate this word in referral to anything other than foods, and even then I'd prefer you to just say, "dinner was good."

Now that I know this, I'm really scared that the roots of my iTunes could involve Wolfmother. Granted, once I actually came to Melbourne and Dad trusted me enough to allow me to inherit his records prematurely, I developed a lust for shitty under-produced sounds and was able to eradicate a lot of the Triple J stylin' soundtrack of my youth.

I'm just chilling on Wikipedia and apparently the guy from Radiohead is a fan of Wolfmother. Luckily I don't like them either. I wish Radiohead and Wolfmother would collaborate on a cover of Zappa's 'Return of the Son of Monster Magnet' and instead of saying 'cream cheese', they should say 'delicious'.

Yuck..yuk? Ew.

a bad seed, a beast of bourbon, a boy next door and a birthday party

I saw Rowland S. Howard at Prince last night. Here is a picture I stole off some site, of the show. I was standing near that guy to the left with the bangin' fringe. I was jealous that he, as a boy, had nicer hair that me ( I presume he still does, apologies for the past tense).

It was to be my very first gig on my lonesome, but I ended up spotting someone that I knew, and stood with him for the gig. It wasn't too hard to spot a young face amongst all the oldies, although I shan't be disrespectful, as I hope to still be enjoying music as washed-up groupie when I grow up. Take that whole last sentence with a grain of salt, please. I really can't rectify it in a positive light- i'm too tired at the mo'.

I don't know whether to call it a gig or a show. The word gig conjures up sticky-floored pub and attractive young men jumping about and sweating with their instruments (not to say Rowland and his band weren't good looking. Brian Hooper still looks completely sexy, nearly as good as in his heyday). I'd only been to Prince Bandroom once before and I was too plastered to remember anything, the venue was really blue and clean looking but I guess it fit the crowd well enough.

The show itself was great. It was amazing to see members of all these influential bands on the one stage and to FINALLY get to see Rowland after caressing his poster every time I saw it plastered somewhere. I was pleased to be given the aural pleasure of hearing Dead Radio and his banter with the audience, namely towards some presumably drunk or possibly overexcited ladies: "there's some werewolves in the font row". I was however, a bit disappointed when he bid his goodbyes without playing Exit Everything but a few moments later the band returned as they had "forgotten to play the last song", which happened to be Exit Everything followed by another.

Halfway through Exit Everything, he must have hit his lip on the microphone and blood was falling to his chin and over his hands (or in his words "...i'm leaking"), but he continued to plug away. It was insane. I'm not sure what other word to use here. I guess on the inside I momentarily felt like I did when I saw Rocket Science earlier in the year and Roman jumped off the stage and and slipped on beer that some crazy-dancing drunken buffoon bitch split everywhere and everyone was like "ahhh" in alluding to how he was in a coma for falling over in '04.

I'm really glad I got the chance to see him, it was a really good night and worth my money. Or worth Dads money I 'spose. Thanks Dad.

wayward man.

I can not decided whether to be bad and skip five hours of class, and go get a new record I've had my eye eye eye on for a while and my Rowland S. Howard ticket. I kind of just want to go to sleep again. I think I will.

desire be, desire go

Last night my friend and I trifled away our evening divulging in Cameron Crowe's 'Almost Famous'. Although my favourite scene is the obvious, the-singing-Tiny-Dancer-brought-us-all-back-together-again, we longed to be involved in the mosh scene of one of Stillwater's arena shows. We thought that we'd have to wait a couple of months, and spent $80 to see a band that would warrant the jump, squash and bump of the mosh, but we only had to wait less than 24 hours. All year we have only really attended gigs in Melbourne where everyone is too cool to do anything but nod and cross their arms. Or I have dragged my friends along to gigs like this, so it was my turn to be a courteous young lady and attend a gig of my friends choosing. Last time was saw Tame Impala a little light bopping occurred, but Tame Impala at the Corner Hotel tonight was an insane contradiction of this. Granted, they are slightly more mainstream than the bands we generally see, but their laid-back retrograde psych rock didn't seem it would be the place to get vigorously jumpy. I was wrong, the crowd was going fairly nuts for such a small time band, even causing the lead singer, Kevin Parker to lavish the crowd in praise for their performance. After losing my shoe, and regaining it (luckily) moments later; I retreated to the side of stage (not to the actual side of stage, rather to the left of the crowd) for the last two songs. I feel sorry for my feet, but it was worth it to have a little Stillwater moment whilst it was still fresh on my things to do list.

diane arbus.

brunswick ladies.

I have found a new humdinger of a song, 'Brunswick Ladies' by Legends of Motorsport. I am yet to see them live, as a whole, and it is a moment of high as a kite anticipation. I discovered this piece of aural pleasure when I attended a show for the Fringe Festival called 'About The Town', where 20 musicians each sung a song about Melbourne.

Truthfully, I was bored out of my brains for most of the two hours I was there. There was too much folky, pretty music and I really was just their to hear a bit of Digger and the Pussycats, and to let my eyes wander over some of the very, very good lookin' muso's.

Richard Fyshwick, from Legends of Motorsport, was a relief from all the slow acoustic that was incessantly falling from musicians mouths. He sounded shit, but that's the way I like it. So, a couple of days later I hippity hopped to the record shop to buy the Legends of Motorsports CD. It's great. Especially Brunswick Ladies and Ice Cream.

Things I have learnt from listening to the Legends of Motorsport song, Brunswick Ladies:

1. Brunswick ladies don't like the Coberg ladies

2. Coberg ladies don't like the Preston ladies

3. Fairfield ladies bark like dogs with rabies

4. Fitzroy ladies shake their ass like crazy

5. Brunswick ladies never take of their shadies

Things that I already knew, that listening to the Legends of Motorsport song, Brunswick Ladies reinstated in my mind:

1. Northcote ladies like kissing other Northcote ladies

2. Brunswick ladies are stuck in the mid to late 80's

3. Thomastown ladies are all hitched to tradies

4. Toorak ladies drive around in their soft-top Mercedes

The song had other suburbs/ ladies but i couldn't quiet grasp what he was saying.

It's not all about the content anyway, really...

now it's time to cut you loose.

Digger and The Pussycats and Yah Yah's are the twin peaks of my musical love and when they come together I get weak at the knees. Once before I had shrilly and hysterically professed my inundated love for Digger and the Pussycats orange haired drummer at a gig at Yah Yah's, but no need for embarrassment (I have no shame when it comes to barely know musicians), he remembered my name. I have continually been smashed off my face at every gig post my inaugural one. I have only ever been to one of their gigs sober, and that was last Friday at the Tote for their farewell show.

It was trashy garage punk rock at its finest and hilarity ensued with the drummer releasing his body from his clothes. He didn't have the finest body in the room, but he still banged his drums as vigorously as his chest was flouncing spasmodically. They were joined by a myriad- okay, maybe only four- guests from the crowd; a tambourinist, a maraccarer, a shitty single-hand drummer, and a tiny raucous-voiced lady. They were all shit, but all added to the amazingness of the night. I'm going to miss their live shows.

With Digger and the Pussycats departure from the country and the sobering realisation that as beautifully crap their music is, the drummers moobs made my retinas cringe a little. I think it's time for me to find a new lesser-know Melbourne musician to give my hand, face and heart to.

bonjour.