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.