Monday, October 31, 2016
Tuesday, October 11, 2016
100 reviews # 11 Mount Trout EP on Rough Skies
I am sure this has happened to you –
sometimes, probably very occasionally (i.e. every couple of years) you’ll hear
a record that you feel completely aligns with your tastes and interests,
something you had hitherto no experience of or knowledge about, and you’ll have
a range of positive responses. Right? I hope so for your sake.
Wouldn’t it be funny if I then said ‘But,
yeah, this ain’t one of those moments’.
Actually it is. I have had a good solid
selection of varied musical experiences this year as a consumer, from bland
europop in Polish shops to extraordinary synth rock in a Finnish bar and plenty
of great Melbourne/Australian bands as well of course. But this kind of takes
the cake for me in 2016 (so far. I hope it gets better but could my tiny mind
take it?!). I’ve always had a strong disposition towards controlled shambling,
and this Tasmanian boy band nails that, with two tiny instrumentals and two
polished new wave songs that could or would have been underground hits in, you
know, 1979.
I'll keep listening to this record, if I have anything more intelligent to say than 'I really like it', I'll let you know.
Wednesday, October 05, 2016
the ric melbourne crazy album
Never let anyone tell you that there was ever any such thing as the good old days. Wow, the world is horrible enough now, but it was twice as horrible even in my lifetime. Thrice maybe. This is so extraordinarily - I think the best word is 'lame' - that I do think it would be funnier if you didn't understand English. Truly the only funny thing - and I am using the term broadly - is in one sketch where a horse puts its head through the door at various punchlines and neighs, for no reason.* Which reminds me, happy birthday Phar Lap.
By the way I guess you had to be there, but I was, and I am pretty sure this wasn't funny then, then again, I still think back to when Graham** Kennedy was a regular guest on some show... on 3LO I think... where they'd regularly play Don McLean's 'Wonderful Baby', a song I still love, and at the end Kennedy would make bird noises. And when I think back to that, I laugh. No accounting for anything, including taste.
* Though there is also a song sung by a whinger which I kind of enjoyed though I didn't really think it was funny.
By the way I guess you had to be there, but I was, and I am pretty sure this wasn't funny then, then again, I still think back to when Graham** Kennedy was a regular guest on some show... on 3LO I think... where they'd regularly play Don McLean's 'Wonderful Baby', a song I still love, and at the end Kennedy would make bird noises. And when I think back to that, I laugh. No accounting for anything, including taste.
* Though there is also a song sung by a whinger which I kind of enjoyed though I didn't really think it was funny.
** Update 6 July 2023 sorry about the misspelling of Graham Kennedy's name and the fact that this error was allowed to remain for almost seven years.
Sunday, October 02, 2016
what have I learned
Now I can’t remember what kind of a
traveller I used to be. A much more acquisitive one, that’s for sure, I was
right into grabbing stuff to adorn my Melbourne life that evoked the travel
experience and I felt that things that had particular sentimental/ experiential
significance were very important. So, I guess, I mean souvenirs. But what I
really wanted to do was kit my living circumstance out like the everyday of
other places, that glamorous otherness, and that was impossible, though you
know when I go to a Finnish op shop (particularly one of those ones with the
extensive furniture/interior decoration section) I think surely it would be
worth it to come to this country, fill up an shipping crate with amazing
things, and open a shop back in Melbourne sort of like a parallel universe
Savers. Though it’s the aesthetic, and the ambience, that excites me more than
the actual things. So I suppose I
should take a picture (and I have done, many) because undoubtedly it will last
longer.
I’ve spent seven weeks in countries where
English is not the main language, though it is a language almost everyone has a
bit of a handle on (the funniest bit, which I might not have mentioned, is the
habit of Polish flea market owners to signify (for instance) ‘5’ not by holding
up five fingers, but writing the number in the air). It’s been slightly strange
but I have to say, absolutely nothing at all like it would be to spend seven
weeks in an English-speaking country like Australia knowing only Polish or
Swedish or Finnish or even French. So I’ve been lucky. But I did start to get a
bit of isolation psychosis I think towards the end. It is possible I am still
suffering from that a little. It’s nice to know that if it absolutely
positively has to happen I can manage with my own drab company for extended
(ish) periods. It wasn’t like living in a cave in the Himalayas. Even without
scheduled meetings/discussions with people, I still periodically had nice chats
with people in shops or on buses or whatever so if I was complaining, which I
am not, obviously I’d have nothing to complain about.
So what happens when I return. Glad you
asked. I have about five ten papers to write before the end of the year, and I’m
thinking about completely reworking one of my courses, which is only right and fair,
considering we have a whole new degree on offer at work anyway. In fact, that’s
something I’ll probably do now, while I’m buggerising around at the airport.
I think I have quite a bit of detail to put
in on some of the earlier parts of the trip when it was all so frenetic I
didn’t get around to writing much down, but I have pics, I can piece it back
together at some point, though it will be with a very different kind of
outlook/perspective, like remembering a dream. From photographs.
Europe used to be so glam and exotic, and
now it’s kind of… they do things better there most of the time, except when it
comes to the riding of bicycles on the footpath, or all that fucking heavy
metal music (I’ve never seen so many Scorpions albums). And the smoking… idiots.
I guess when it comes down to it wherever you live there are things that make
you cringe and you wish it could be like something/somewhere else but… no, I
can’t formulate a coherent or interesting philosophy on this!!!
I am writing this at Charles De Gaulle gate
K a huge slightly 1930sish tunnel of departure lounges. I had a peculiar day of
wandering, going to museums that were resolutely ferme for reasons I didn’t
understand. Pompidou centre, for instance, had people going in and coming out
of it but it wasn’t open (I think they might just have been going to the
restaurant). Anyway, it didn’t matter that much. I was really just filling in
time. I have a long day ahead of me, Paris to Shanghai, Shanghai to Melbourne,
I hope it is fairly uneventful, I have some (probably not enough) things to
entertain me and with luck, I will also do some sleeping.
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