two imaginary beagles

Warning: this one will haunt your dreams: -

why IS the earlier stuff better?

When you think about it, it really doesn't make sense that for most musical acts, the earlier stuff is better. I am not saying it's not true because generally speaking it is. But what is it about the honing of songwriting (assuming that's the crux of it) craft, that means it gets worse over time? Visual artists and writers have their peaks and troughs, and it's rare for someone in those fields to produce their best work at (say) 70 (though it's not impossible), but they do tend to improve over time. But with musicians, it really does seem like diminishing returns, to the degree that 'best album since [last really good album which was probably about 25 years earlier in the career]' is an acknowledged cliche.

Maybe it's a combination of: rock 'n' roll is a young person's game, and that's when they make the most impact, and they always have to deal with that legacy? Or, that consciously or unconsciously they shift their interest from trying to get a foot in the door, to just honing the technical nature of the craft? Or is it what I have hitherto assumed without ever really thinking about it too hard, that after a while you lose interest in being innovative and just want to do a creative rehash and/or fit in with the dominant paradigm? You lose interest in making a smash and just get comfortable with bobbing around with the status quo? 

The concurrent strange aspect to the above is that artists who DON'T peak from the beginning, but who start out producing substandard stuff and then rise after a few years and excel a certain way into their career, seem able to maintain a better quality. Who am I thinking of? Off the top of my head, Vanda & Young and the Bee Gees, but no doubt there are a million others (of course, there are also many, many people who are great at the beginning and keep being great, still, I think the initial premise holds, don't you? Sure, we can all think of exceptions, but I'd say there's ten unexceptions for every one of those). 

I wondered this because there was a buzzfeed quiz about how much of a music nerd (or snob? can't remember) one is, I did the first fifteen or so questions and then lost interest, or rather, gained interest in the above idea and had to nut it out with you. Thanks.

the future aitken boulevard

I don't know if you've had a look at the new Melways but I'm telling you things are going to happen in this part of the park. This is to be the route of the final (?) leg of Aitken Boulevard, a road the City of Hume are currently patting themselves on the back over, as they celebrate its northernmost point at Craigieburn. The idea is that this road will eventually make its way all the way down to Jacana and hit the Western Ring Road. This is destined to be the last 30 seconds of the drive:

This tree will be in the way.

This is the road that was built when the Western Ring Road widening was happening. I suppose that it will be torn up and replaced with the new Aitken Boulevard in those final approaches.

These dogs are just impervious to the implications of this change. They are just thrilled that it rained all week and the lake is filled up again. 

russell court

If you are like me, or if you are me, you've long been intrigued by Russell Court which faces Essendon Station on the east side. It's seen better days, but it definitely does appear that someone lives there, all the same. I am not sure I am glad for them, though they were close to today's record fair. 

 I went round the back to see what was happening. Nothing. These cars were parked there.

Looking at the pictures now I wonder why I was that interested. 

autumnal park

Ferdy jumping out of the lake

When 'the council' (presumably) beat down all the bracken that was covering the Sporting Club's land they piled up quite a bit of detritus in a heap on the side of the hill. Bits of car, vegetation, rocks. Note the greek chorus in the dead branches. 

This (empty) keg is a recent addition. Ferdy was very apprehensive of it. Note his body language. 

To quote Jimmy Webb/Richard Harris, someone left an umbrella stuck in the ground.

You can see the burnt patch on the Gladstone Park side is slowly, slowly becoming less of a burnt patch.

This is the lake bed we were jumping around on only a week or so ago. The water's still very shallow, but it is water (not a tempting mirage).

Ferdy and the bike track, which was created by a meteorite in 1972.

oak park house

I came across this house in Oak Park yesterday not sure of the street one of the main ones. I was listening to the /filmcast discussing Noah on my iPod while I was photographing it so it was a few seconds before I realised there was someone at my elbow talking to me. It was the woman who lived next door to the house, explaining that the owner had invited local kids to graffiti it because he was going to demolish it anyway and he wanted to encourage local art. She was saying this in such a determined positivistic way I thought there was every chance she was simmering with righteous rage. I asked her whether, as the next door neighbour, she had experienced any antisocial behaviour. Her answer made me appreciate she actually completely condoned this project, along the lines of: 'Oh no, there was no antisocial behaviour at all. The kids were great!'

screw it

Melbourne buses. I mean screw it I keep a blog in part to vent over bullshit that I wouldn’t bore anyone else with. I recommend you do not read the following:

OK so I need to get from my workplace (Parkville) to the doctor (Westmeadows) in an hour and a quarter. Public Transport Victoria’s website says yes. (Actually first it says ‘cannot load at this time, try again later’ but then it says ‘yes’). So I do as it advises and get the right time train to Essendon station. That works fine, against most odds. I’m there with a few minutes to spare, all good, who wants to hang out in that place, not I. So I find the stop with the timetables and stuff and I’m ready. A couple of buses go by and don’t go to my stop. Then I see the 477 – the bus I want – sail gaily by. Why? Well, according to the bus driver (who does, kindly, stop in the middle of the road when I hail him), the bus stop is not where the post with the timetables and the sign saying ‘477 Broadmeadows’ is – it’s a little further down the road where the seats are. So that’s good to know for future reference. At the same time it’s irritating enough.

Anyway, I’m on it. So we start out. It’s one of those bus journeys, so common in this city, which has a parallel to a shaggy dog story or a miniseries that wants to keep you watching week after week by making you wonder what happens in the end. Twists and turns. This one goes from Airport West very straightforwardly to Tullamarine (the shopping centre, not the airport – gordon bennett, imagine you were trying to get to Tullamarine Airport) thence (I love the NSW railways terminology) to Gladstone Park shopping centre. Then you think – what else is there but Westmeadows. Then it goes back towards Tullamarine. Then it turns and goes back to Gladstone Park – no, it doesn’t do a uey, it just goes round a huge arc through Gladstone Park for no apparent purpose except to check that there wasn’t anyone at Gladstone Park shopping centre who really did want the bus but was a bit shy in coming forward. Crikey!

So you’re always thinking, should I get off here? Because time’s running out and I am kind of close to where I want to be, I could probably make it. Then it goes the wrong way and you think, no I better stay on, because otherwise I’m going to be even more late. Then it gets close again. Then it strays again.

And you look up the timetable on the PTV website online via your phone and this time, it’s telling you that the bus that was supposed to get to W’meadows at 4:45 is actually getting there at 4:55. (But get this, it was a joke because you do actually get there at 4:45. And the joke is more on you than anything else, because you get to the doctor and you wait for ever and ever and ever.).

Oh, and the penultimate insult. While the bus is going circuitously nervously never quite getting to its goal, you get both of the worst songs ever to hear on a bus, and practically anywhere as well: ‘The Pina Colada Song’, and ‘Time after Time’. Fuck off. And the bus driver, god bless him for stopping at Essendon, but he’s eating a chicken sandwich while driving (I mean, is that appropriate?). Jesus.