Half of the enjoyment of seeing bands is not the bands you go to see, but the crowd—who you see.
I still don’t know that many people in Melbourne, so when someone recognises you it’s quite a nice feeling. I think I knew at least seven people when Buried Horses played as part of the Spanish Festival on Friday night. The band was good too-- I think it just takes a million listens to get used to, like many nice things.
Later on in the night I discovered the mystery of the second floor rooms at the Old Bar, and uncovered a plethora of GV gossip. The secrets mainly revolved around failures of sorts, and because I was so intrigued with these jaw-dropping hearsays I missed out on Midnight Woolf. I heard their cover of Gloria though, which sounded fun.
On Sunday my friend asked me to go to China Town Getdown. There was too much floral, lace and high-waisted pants. I’m pretty sure every band there would cite the Velvet Underground as a major influence. They weren’t bad, bad—Dirt Farmer are nice, but the bands were just all too similar and I was too tired.
Plus, it was kind of boring compared to the previous night.
Sorry.
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