No Dude, You're Not Dying, You're Wasted!

Could this be the most stupid thing you've ever seen/heard before?

I love it...

127.5 Reasons why I won't be seeing Daft Punk

$127.50 for the pleasure of standing on the grass to watch Daft Punk - Homey don't play that!

I got quite excited yesterday when I saw the following bulletin in my MySpace page regarding the Daft Punk concert, so I followed the link.



Not only was the ticket allocation exhausted (at 4pm), but I discovered that the general admission tickets & reserved seats were all the same price. Now I didn't mind paying over $100 to see The Pixies, but this sort of money for Daft Punk is crazy!

'Tis a pity, as there live show is apparently jaw-droppingly good, but alas, Melbourne will have to enjoy it without me...

I'll buy the dvd, open a nice bottle of shiraz, and enjoy the show for half the cost in the comfort of Pleasantville instead methinks. Wanna come over?

Daft Punk are Playing in my House, My House!

Read during the week that Daft Punk are finally bringing the pyramid to Melbourne!

Hooray for that!

They'll be playing at the Sidney Myer Music Bowl on December 14, the scene of The Pixies show earlier this year, and I'll be there with bells on! Apparently a double live cd will be in the shops a few weeks prior!



Harder, Better, Stronger, Faster indeed!

Yes, Contrary to Rumours, I am STILL ALIVE

Ok OK, I know it's been a month and a half since my last update, but I've been busy with the Melbourne Film Festival, turning 40, and packing my mother off to Qld for a month in the sun.

But I'm back baby, I'm back!

Went to the Lee Gallery opening on Friday night, and discovered that if Fashionistas are Perth, I'm Sydney. The place was full of heaps of wanna-bees, models, haircuts, crocodiles, snakes, stick insects, and Madam Ginger & I. We brought along Niece Poopie whom had fun, but even the free booze wasn't tempting enough to keep us in the sardine-like conditions. The kids seemed to be having a ball though, and there were some mighty fine legs on display! Woohoo! So glad I'm an old fella now...



Got home just in time to watch "The 40 Year Old Virgin" on Foxtel - now that's entertainment!

How do I know you're gay? 'Cause you like Coldplay - Genius!

You Have to be Kidding

I think this morning's front page of The Age best sums up the Socceroos' lack luster performance in Thailand best...

If the match against Oman wasn't bad enough, this was a new low - does no Guus mean no guts?

As Roy & HG would say, into the room of mirrors boys, into the room of mirrors...

Renovating?

Stumbled (literally) across the following website & related demo video for an amazing product - from Lightspace Corporation, the "Play", "Dance", and "Design" products are amazing design installations for domestic, entertainment, and retail applications.

I won't try to describe these product's concept, as I would not be able to aptly describe them, so take a look for yourself. Click this link.

The following is a link to the demo video for the "Design" product, and I can imagine this kind of technology seeping into the retail world much sooner than later - so why not factor it into your next renovation?
Video .

There are no prices quoted on the site, however if you're going into hock, why not go all the way, and incorporate some cutting edge (and trippy) technology into your space? The "Play" product is an amazing product for kids of all ages, and would be a great alternative to those late-night-too-much-booze Twister marathons! Or maybe not. Come on, tell me you've never thought about Twister "that" way before!

OK let's move then...

Put simply, in my opinion, this an awesome, innovative product which is no doubt prohibitively expensive, and will date very quickly I can imagine, but great as far as I'm concerned in July 2007!

"Tom Jones at the Concert for Diana", or "How to bury a highlight with ads for paper towels".

'Twas nice to see channel 9 doing a hatchet job on the Concert for Diana on the TV last night - there was so many other performances they could have shown, but instead we got the crapola they dished up. You would never have known that Pharrell Williams was there, nor Lilly Allen, and that many of the acts played a few songs each.

Hell! Let's not take away too much CSI time from the baby boomers whom watch channel 9, eh?. I mean to say, this was never going to be a groundbreaking music event like channel 9 purported it to be, but I always get caught up in the atmosphere of such affairs, and as always, am bitterly disappointed by what free-to-air TV delivers. I hope this weekend's Live Earth coverage is different.

The only highlight on the TV last night, in my humble opinion, were Fergie's legs - they were special. But I digress, as I could wax lyrical about Fergie for a long time...

A quick peruse of YouTube, as always, reveals most of what we didn't see here, including the following clip. I can't wait for real broadband to hit this country, just so I can see all that advertising money leave commercial TV networks once & for all, as discerning viewers program their own evening's entertainment online. I'm truly sorry about the rant, but I'm just so sick of hearing that shit television is what Australians want to see. Ask anyone under 25 what they think - I'm sure they'll agree with me. It's not McLeaod's Daughters they want - that's for sure!

Anyway, Tom Jones has been a groover since before I was born, and throughout the late eighties & early nineties, he reinvented himself by performing great covers of contemporary hits. Channel 9 managed to squeeze in his performance of Prince's "Kiss", but failed to share the OTHER cover he played. This time around, he's covered the Arctic Monkey's hit(?) "I Bet You Look Pretty Good on the Dancefloor".

I don't have a lot of time for the Arctic Monkeys, and Tom Jones' reworking of this is a tad lumbering, but what it lacks in edge, it makes up for in style. And Tom managed to persuade Joe Perry from Aerosmith to play lead guitar for him as well.

Onya Tom, you are a true legend...

Thoroughly Modern

My friend Penny joined me for a dinner the other night, and working in fashion, she is probably more aware of all that is supposedly "so-hot-right-now" than most, so I am always interested to hear what new language has permeated the hip crowd. A few years ago I noticed the introduction of the word "so" to evoke a sense of extremes, eg. "I'm so not going to be going", and this time around, it's another seemingly innocent word's turn.

"Modern".

Now, normally I'd just dismiss Penny's observations as just another devious marketing technique - I'm sure that there are people employed to think up new & cool ways of using commonplace expressions everyday, but I have a special place for the word modern. I remember as a child in the early seventies, being modern was the epitome of the forward-thinking, new wave that would (hopefully) herald a new age. Man had conquered the moon, Australia had managed to survive the loss of a prime minister, and now were were in the era of Gough & the "It's Time!" concept of change, so being modern didn't just mean buying that burnt orange laminated kitchen setting, it was all about breaking away from the six o'clock swill culture.

I guess that's why I have such a strong affinity with this era of Australian history & culture, as it's what I grew up surrounded by. Not that my parents were Brett Whitley/Richard Neviile/Germaine Greer arty types at all - my family was thoroughly suburban, with a weatherboard house, a Labrador in the backyard, a Holden in the driveway, and Disneyland on the telly every Sunday night in front of the oil heater.

When I first became aware of modernist architecture, it was so far removed from what I imagined my cultural roots to be, that I was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. I couldn't grasp the idea that amongst the triple-fronted blonde brick houses of my youth, could stand these time-capsules of modernity, which were conceived in the post-war period, and built throughout the fifties and early sixties in the suburbs of Sydney & Melbourne (albeit affluent ones).

All I knew was that I needed to know more, so I started a crusade to learn all that I could about Modernism. Of course the first building I discovered was the "Rose Seidler House", in the Sydney suburb of Wahroonga, with it's flat roof, it's elevated walkway, and large steel windows - it's a landmark dwelling, and one that is thoroughly modern.


Rose Seidler House

Further research led to the discovery of an open day at this Mecca of Modernism, so obviously, I had to visit. But it is so much more than an open day, but an actual fifties fair, with folks dressed in period costume, vendors selling fifties collectables, and even a fashion show & dance contest.



How great I thought, a chance to browse some stalls, tap my toe to some fifties tunes, but best of all, visit the object of my desire. Many emails were circulated, and I managed to gather quite a posse together of like-minded punters, all keen to check it out. A few of us traveled up from Melbourne, and it gave us the chance to catch up with mates from Sydney too, whom were largely ignorant that this event even took place, let alone that the house existed.

What a fabulous day we had, with film crews shooting the event, great food, friendly folks, and some real bargains to be had at the market stalls, with the only negative being the house itself. Now I should explain, the house is fabulous, and has been kept pretty much as Harry Seidler first built it back in the late forties. It had the wonderful stone fireplace, and massive windows, the elevated pathway, and the abstract mural which Seidler painted himself. It was indeed the time capsule that I had hoped for, and I took many photographs to capture the memory.

So what's the negative? The place was crawling with people, and I don't mean crowds, I mean a multitude! What made it worse was that I was competing with people whom seemed oblivious to the significance of the building, and were just there to "have a squizz". Fair enough I guess, but please people, when in a historic house, keep your kids off the furniture! Don't complain that the furnishings are a bit drab, and worst of all, don't get in my frame when I'm taking photos.


The swarms of people

The upshot of all of this is that I will make another pilgrimage to this place another time, but even though it was difficult to get a real feel for the house with all of those people scowering every inch of it, it was well worth the trip.

So people, if you hear someone use the expression "modern" in the coming months, think not "What a tosser!", think of the past.

Let's face it, the Marketers will be finished with the word in a few months, and then we can have it back again...

Lisa Miller

Regret is such a powerful emotion - is it even an emotion? Well it was regret that filled my heart as I stood in the Spanish Club last weekend, nodding to my buddies, as I tried to convince them I was listening to their inane conversations about their working weeks, but all the while, I was training my good ear (the right one) towards the stage, where Lisa Miller performed.

I'd seen her perfom very briefly at The Forum a month or two back during the Comedy Festival, as she filled a gap in the taping of Rock Wiz, and this was my first opportunity to catch her in a full show (well as full as a supporting spot can be I guess).

And Lisa did not disappoint.

But why regret? Well, it was with regret that I had not seen her perform before - in a word, she is fabulous.

The salubrious Shane O'Mara helped proceedings along, with his sensational guitar work, and between the entire ensemble, Lisa & her band transported us from light into shade, and back again.

If Lisa comes to your town, go. And take your mum - she'd love it too...

How a Laptop Saved Music, and Unlocked an Electronic Maestro...

If technology has proven one thing, it's that a great spirit, a fertile imagination, and a little know-how, when mixed with the right hardware, can be the catalyst for genius.

Case in point - a few years ago, I really got into the Jack Planck album, "To Hell With You I'll Make My Own People", a musical cornucopia of great electronic sounds, put together by Garret "Jacknife" Lee. This sounded like it had been lovingly put together piece by piece, all the while remaining true to it's inner sense of humour, and good time ethic. It sounded like Kraftwerk on acid, improvising a live soundtrack to The Benny Hill Show, and put many smiles on the faces of the various folks I played it to, all the while tapping their toes to the beats.

So, I was very pleasantly surprised to hear of Goyte, a fellow Victorian with the same vision, awesome song writing skills, and a fabulous artistic vision. Perhaps instead of it being a spaced-out-but-groovy soundtrack to The Benny Hill Show, it's more like it was designed for Blankety Blanks or The Paul Hogan Show, with a bit of The Penthouse Club thrown in for good measure.

His album, "Like Drawing Blood" is a peach, and was introduced to me by a couple of friends whom although live a long way away from any city, are more on track in regard to the latest & greatest new sounds being created anywhere in the world. I guess that's our friend technology kicking in again. It has apparently been quite a hit with the "young folks" out there, with Goyte managing to have a couple of his tunes selected in the latest Triple J Hottest 100.

I used to listen to this record only whilst at work, as I found it's tunes to be great to tap away the hours to, but after catching a video of Goyte on the TV the other night, I am now listening to this quite a bit more often. When I found that particular performance on YouTube, I was compelled to write...

So here's the live-in-the-studio version of "Learnalilgivinanlovin", and the beautiful CGI video for "Heart's a Mess"...

...writing's on the wall

I heard on the radio yesterday that the Beastie Boys are about to release a fully instrumental album, with no samples, no turntables, and just full-on funk jams, so I thought I'd go to their site & check it out (pun intended).

I became very excited by what I found there, yet it had nothing at all to do with the Beastie Boys, although their own material sounds great. Founding member Mike D has posted the following clip because, as he puts it, "this clip is so damn good, I just had to put it here. Check it".

So who am I to question the advice of Mike D?



And by the way, this is live on Sesame Street! Does it get any better than this? Nup...

Hey Hugo - the Australian Style Council needs you!

Just finished reading a very entertaining piece in The Age re Hugo Chavez's advice to Fidel Castro :

"Venezuela's leftist President Hugo Chavez has urged his idol, Cuban President Fidel Castro, to resume wearing his customary military uniform instead of the tracksuit he has sported since undergoing surgery last year."

Now the way I see it, Fidel has a reason for wearing a tracksuit - he's old, recovering from surgery, and has lived in a country which has exiled itself from the Western world for 50 years, hence has been mercifully spared the anguish of fashion.



When I visit the local shops in my 'hood on any given day, all of those trackie-dack wearing bogans don't have the same excuse. Hugo Chavez needs to come to Australia and smarten up the locals.

Parachute-silk should be banned by the Geneva convention anyway - if anyone is seen outside wearing anything made from this evil textile, UN Peacekeepers should be sent in...

Hey drug dealers, Commodore drivers, young mums who've let themselves go, and middle-aged women who get foils in their hair and watch Big Brother - a change is coming!

Personally, I can't wait...

Ladies & Gentlemen - Sarah Silverman

At the Melbourne International Film Festival last year, amongst the Estonian screwball comedies, the martial arts extravaganzas from Turkmenistan, and the biting tension of Samoan horror films, a little gem sat largely unnoticed in the programme.
“Jesus is Magic” by American comedian Sarah Silverman is a concert film with a difference – it features behind-the-scenes footage, music video montages, and interviews with her friends, and is hilarious!

And highly offensive.



Prior to this, I only knew Sarah Silverman as the bitch girlfriend of the dorky housemate of Jack Black’s in “School of Rock”, but she has been no stranger to American TV, now with her own show on Comedy Central in the US, and hey, she’s pretty cute.

And she works blue – how could I resist!

But this is not meant to be a Sarah Silverman 101 – I found this clip of her from the weekend’s MTV Movie Awards (which has to be the most ludicrous of all ludicrous awards shows), where Sarah struck gold – here’s her little comment on the future president of the USA, Paris Hilton, and her impending prison term…

"though you're great, and you're brave, you still lack that which makes you a star"

I hope I'm not gushing, I mean, I really hope that I'm not.

Since the first time I heard the opening chords to "Detroit Rock City" filter across the sound effect of the car radio on the opening track on Kiss' "Destroyer" album, music has always had the ability to transform me from a regular guy, with an ordinary life and the usual array of problems, to whomever I wanted to be. I guess good music has always made me euphoric.

As each new year begins, the anticipation of what new sound, what new band, what new album will be released which will again refresh my stores of unmitigated joy begins. And over the last few years, the supply has slowly started to dry up, with only few breaks of sunshine interrupting an otherwise cloudy musical year.

And that's why I hope I'm not gushing.

A month or two back, I got my mitts on the "Sound of Silver" album from LCD Soundsystem, and like their previous releases, I immersed myself in the sonic scape created by James Murphy et al. This new release was a slow grower, but I'm now smiling all the way.

Shit this is good.

I downloaded a bootleg of LCD Soundsystem's performance at this year's Coachella Festival a few weeks back, and although the sound quality was a tad on the crappy side, the spirit of their set shone through. Even though I'm in a self-imposed retirement from attending live shows at present, I will definitely leave the house to see this band play if they come to Melbourne. And I might even go to all of the shows they play here. They're that good.

And this track is amongst the best on the new album.

But I don't want to gush.

I Nerd it through the Grapevine

I suppose the fact that I write my own blog is testament to the fact that I am a geek, which is second-cousin to the mighty nerd, so it was with delight that I stumbled across "Aural Text" on triple R this afternoon (http://www.tripler.org.au), and heard a hilarious interview with the creators of "Nerds Gone Wild!" magazine (http://www.nerdsgonewildmagazine.com).

Now, as any self-respecting person whom grew up in the era of the John Hughes teen flick, I am of course no stranger to, at the very least, the first "Revenge of the Nerds" film. Not that I remember much other than thinking that "Booger" wasn't that nerdish at the time. But then again, that probably says more about me than Booger, but anyways, my point is that Nerds were the anti-heroes of my day. I guess based on that I developed my whole sense of anti-cool, but that's a concept that requires more time & space, so we'll leave that as is. But suffice it to say, I am no stranger to the concept of nerd.

With all of that said, I checked out the "Nerds Gone Wild!" site, and downloaded the four issues available - the magazine is free, so put yourself on their mailing list, and you will have a hot-straight-from-the-oven copy in your inbox immediately upon release, and let's face it, if they're real nerds, that's a promise you know that they'll keep!

Anyways, I'll keep this short, as the magazine speaks for itself, so point your browser to their site, and do what I did - you won't be disappointed!



My Little Borg Pony - Genius!

In Defence of Being Retrograde

I remember back in 1989, which now seems like a lifetime ago, that I had a particularly obnoxious friend. If I found him obnoxious, was he really then a friend? Sure I had known him since high school, we'd had some good times, some bad times, and many drunken times, but what promoted this person to friend status? I guess that's irrelevant now, but at the time I considered this person to be one.

Now this guy was named Paul, and he was a dweeby, thin, not particularly tall guy, but what he lacked in stature, he made up in volume. He was also the front man of a semi-known punk rock disco band here in Melbourne, in the same ilk as Pop Will Eat Itself, or Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine (God, remember them?) ie. it was punk rock with a drum machine.
The band put out a couple of records, and toured Melbourne & Sydney quite a bit back then, and their shtick was just how obnoxious Paul's lyrics were. They covered Wire, Black Flag, Devo and had a bunch of their own ditties that had real potential, but I think the fear of success was the greatest obstacle Paul and his band mates faced. There's a sad by line to this story, but I won't go into the tragic details of his personal life, but it fuelled his bravado, and powered his biting, smart-arse tongue.

Paul also had an abundantly healthy taste for beer, specifically Melbourne Bitter, and it turned him from "this-guy-is-kind-of-irritating", to completely unacceptable. He had the ability to go from hero to zero in about three cans, and his brittle sobriety was always questionable given the volumes of alcohol we all seemed to knock back then, ie. shitloads.

Anyway, in 1989, some of our friends went to see Neil Young perform - I didn't really know Neil Young's stuff, he was just the old guy on MTV protesting about music videos becoming ads for beer. As far as I was concerned, he'd had some hits in the seventies, and was a favourite of aging hippies, and anyone over thirty whom still drove a Combi van. My peer group, of whom Paul was a large part, was as punk rock as all get out, so it was outrageous that a few of "us" would subject themselves to this, how did Paul put it? Oh yes, that's right.

Hippy drivel.

But attend they did, and love was what they experienced. Even the tour shirts my buddies had bought were tie-dyed, almost sealing the deal that they had sold their souls to the music Gods of the evil hippy drivel past. Whilst the majority of us came to respect the choices of our friends, Paul remained steadfast in his opinion that they were F.U.B.A.R. He was incensed that members of our group could possibly appreciate something that had never seen the light of day on his state-of-the-art hifi system, and in his impressive record collection (impressive if you collected the works of 4AD records, and found Laibach to be toe-tappin' dance hall favourites).

I brushed this off as being merely another symptom of Paul's acute assholism, and forgot about it, and then eventually lost contact with him, and then with most of the guys in our pack. I guess that's part of growing up, and growing apart. I started mixing with different people, replaced beers for joints & pills, and discovered a new world outside of Melbourne, and outside of my head.

A decade and three quarters have passed, and along the way, life has dealt me some tough but not unexpected hands. There's been plenty of joy in there too, but as Miles Davis would testify, of late I've been "Kind of Blue". It has been during this introspective period that I have discovered what my learned buddies had back in '89.

I had become familiar with Neil Young in the early nineties through his "Ragged Glory" phase with Crazy Horse, and through his tour with Sonic Youth, but had never looked too far back into his back catalogue. All of that changed when I came across a download of his "Decade" collection. It struck a really deep chord.

That chord struck hardest when I first heard "A Man Needs a Maid". It's so melancholy, and simple and beautiful, but I don't want to turn this into a fan piece about Neil Young, but more about returning to 1989, and defending the freedom of choice that my friends had displayed back then. Paul had been labelling Neil Old (as he had put it) as "Retrograde crap", so this is for you Paul. Youtube never fails me, and this clip is amazing in both the quality of the footage and sound, and also in the performance itself.

I miss Paul and those times, but I don't miss the vulgarity and mean-spirited nature that dominated my relationships at that stage. I missed many opportunities back then because of it, and it's time to make amends.

Ladies and gents, Neil Young - anything but retrograde...

I've got a fever...

Comedy Gold...

ok, I've calmed down a little...

Just trickin'...

Am STILL peaking from the Pixies show the other night, even though I had an Easter away to help me recover.

It's no use, as it's just like falling in love with yr high school sweetheat all over again much later in life. I had neglected The Pixies back-catalogue at la casa Pleasantville of late, and ever since the word got out that they would finally play in my M-town, well that was it. I hit the books, and got all geared up for the greatest hits sing-a-long I knew that it would be. By matchday, i had most of my fave lyrics down pat, and had got my pre-match drills down to p.b.'s.

And yes, I'm still peaking!

The show at the V Festival last week has snuck into my top 10, but that's a whole other story for a whole other post.

The following clip is not form the Music Bowl gig I attended, but from the week before at The Palace in St. Kilda, and is truly sensational (sorry 'bout the val) - be moved...

I'm Not Worthy...

Wow! The Pixies rocked my world last night, and I can't believe how freaken' good they were! All hail the Pixies...

Personalised (vanity) Plates - part # 2

Check this out - downtown Coburg, February 2007.



This fella gets bonus points for adopting the ever-popular "backwards e / 3"...

But what's he telling the world? He has a cleft palette, and elongated brow, and an overbite? A relative of the Peacock Family (thanks X-Files)?

Either way, I'm sure there's a better way to spend $495! Yep, these sorts of plates cost $495 - go to http://www.vplates.com.au/index.htm if you don't believe me.

What's that old saying about a fool & his money?

Maitreya Festival February 2007

This pretty much says it all.



But then again, so does this...



...and this



and I couldn't possibly exclude



or fail to include



Actually, words fail me...

Gerling - Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me?

One night, many years ago, I found myself watching one of those late night music video TV shows, and amongst the angst-ridden teen anthems, the bling-fest-booty-shaking-gangsta-r & b clips, and the introspective, black & white, singer-songwriter videos, I came across the following promo for Aussie band Gerling's dance floor favourite, "Dust Me Selecta".

Please, watch along with me :



I remember feeling a twang in my loins after watching it, totally due to the hotness of the female protaganist featured dancing about in a train during peak hour. She was brunette, with dark eyes, and a "come hither" stare, all slinky tank-topped, and with a cheeky grin - in other words, she was the Pad Thai of dance floor foxes, ie. never failing to satisfy on all counts.

My too many bourbons/bongs 2am gaze was so transfixed by this image of funky loveliness, that I felt moved to do something I had never done before - I was going to contact the band, and pursue this pixellated spunk rat!
So, I hit the gerling website (http://www.gerling.net.au/), navigated to the "contact us" page, and wrote them a heart-felt plea for this vixen's number.
I was due to see them at the Big Day Out which was only a matter of weeks away, so made the simple request that they randomly provide me with her mobile number between songs in their set. I suggested that they just yell it out between songs instead of randomly mermerring something about the next song's position on their new album, or telling the audience how good it was to be back. As this would be "our secret" I figured that only I would know what this meant, and thus her privacy would remain intact. Surely not a big ask.

So come the faithful day, I ditched my friends in the Boiler Room (aka the doof tent), and made sure I positioned myself close the stage in plenty of time, but not too close nor too early to make my intentions appear obvious to my fellow punters. I stood there transfixed, completely filled with the absolute electricity of anticipation, that I would soon hold in my grasp the means in which to woo this tantalizingly lovely object of my desire.

Gerling hit the stage soon after, and for 44 & a half minutes, rocked the house (albeit it at an outdoor rock festival, or as I had fashioned in my imagination, my very own B & B Ball, amped to eleven) with hit after hit of electro pop punk rock. As the sampled opening for "Dust Me Selecta" commenced, I thought I was going to explode, as the anticipation grew to a crescendo, and as some mighty pills kicked in, I was showered in a waterful of endorphins and sheer blind lust for this gyrating godzilla of gorgeousness. Sonically-charged blood raced through my veins, and as the music took control, I found myself in a soft-focus-Sybil-Shepherd-lensed lucid dream, no longer in the pit at the front of a stage at the Melbourne Big Day Out, but in a tribal fertility ritual, with the sacrificial virgin, about to be offered to he most deserving (that'd be me). As the song ended, the three bards of Gerling all moved towards their respective microphones, and shouted, "Thank you - you've been great!", and ran off the stage.

I think I stood there oblivious to what had just gone down for a quarter of an hour or so, as the realisation dawned on me that my plan for a destination with this Goddess had gone awry, so I turned my back on the stage, wandered back to the doof tent, and lost my mind to some thumping prog tunes.

Gerling, you let me down chaps. I wanted the pot of gold at the end of the rock 'n' roll rainbow, but instead, you delivered me the equivalent of a glass of flat coke, some stale chicken twisties, and a piece of fairy bread, picked up and served after falling in the dirt.

Don't let me catch you on the street either gents, as I'll ignore you as you pass, then spit in your hair.

The Shadow

Many moons ago, I stumbled across a comp cd which a buddy had put together, and on it was a tune by DJ Shadow called Building Steam with a Grain of Salt.

There was something very Sonic Youth about the piano loop at the beginning of the song that hooked me from the start, and when the big kick-you-in-the-balls beat started, well, I knew I'd found a new musical home. The drama, the emotion, the soundtrack-like quality mesmerised me, and still does today.

One of the highlights of my gig-going life was seeing Shadow perform at Melbourne's Forum Theatre at the end of 2004, on my own, but side-by-side with a thousand or so devotees, all transfixed by this man's amazing turntable skills.



His most recent album, The Outsider, has left me pretty cold I must say, but there is one killer track on it, that will feature on many compilation I put together for at least the next few years at least I'd say - "This Time (I'm Going to Try it my Way)".

So before you I present this tune in all it's glory - enjoy!

DJ Shadow - This Time (I'm Gonna Try It My Way)

Minilogue

Will be catching Minilogue at the Maitreya Festival in a few weeks and can't wait! Check out this video...




This is great!

Mellow out children, mellow out!

As Mick Jagger said repeatedly to the crowd at Altamont Speedway back in 1969, "People, people! Why are we fighting?".

I saw the news this evening, and saw the report about the "outrageous" video posted on You Tube titled "Lebo Thugs", but you know what really offended me? Not the video which featured footage of a bunch of immature "my dick's bigger than yours" teenage gangster bravado, but some of the comments posted in reaction to it.

Now I realise that these represent equally immature comments, probably from a bunch of equally insecure teenage dumbarses, but the venom! Was my generation really this harsh? We always had wogs & skips at high school, but there was never any hatred associated with it.

With all the media attention in regard to the BDO trying to minimise dickhead behaviour by suggesting to patrons to leave their flags at home, not to mention the idiotic brawling by the Croats & Serbs (all probably born here) at the tennis, and now this, I can't help but wonder was I wrong to think that real rascism was something which only really existed in my parent's generation. Name calling is one thing, but this is another.

Check out the comments I've copied from You Tube here - it's horrible, hate-ridden stuff, and I really hope these are just the outcrys of a bunch of pimple-faced, frustrated virgins, who wouldn't have the balls to say any of this to any group of Lebanese/Turkish/whomever blokes.

Let's turn it down a notch shall we? OK, I'm an out of touch old bastard, but I don't care if you're from Lakemba, L.A. or Lebanon - we are never going to progress as a nation, and learn from the mistakes of our parents, if we keep acting just like them. This is not a Lebo/Aussie conflist we have here, this is just bogans being bogans. I don't care if their name's Ahmed or Andrew - they both love Tupac, driving shit box Commodores, and acting like they're bad-arsed hoodlums, but you know what they are? Immature knobs. Bogans through & through.

I have a message for my "gang banging" brothers out there in the mean streets of Punchbowl - go get yourselves girlfriends, get yourselves stoned or drunk, buy yourself a big-arse TV, and stay indoors where I can't see or hear you. Now switch on "Deal or No Deal" and piss off!

Guitar Hero II - OMG, I'm Addicted!!!!!!!

Last night, my buddy Dog Ramone (yes, the little known 7th member of The Ramones), introduced me to the wonderful world of Guitar Hero 2 on the Playstation. As a long time air guitarist, I can't express what a revelation it was to put down the old tennis racket, and pick up a dinky plastic Gibson SG rip-off, and thrash away at the fret board (of buttons).

Although this game has been around for some time, this was my first time attempting to pull off shredding riffs and face-melting tremolo carnage - and the set list! What a selection to choose from! I was 16 again as the opening power chords of Motley Crue's "Shout at the Devil" filled my ears, followed by "Can't You Hear me Knockin'?" by the Stones, and "You Really Got Me" by Van Halen.

My first effort was to have a go at the antipodean Black Sabbath, Wolfmother, and their anthem "Woman" - I felt at one with my audience, but as the opening riff started, I suddenly realised I had a lot to learn, as clanger after clanger was struck by yours truly. My virtual Marshall stack only made it worse, as I had everything switched to 11, but you know what? Who cares? I was having a ball...

Dog is an axe master on the Playstation, but still has a long way to go, as he battles through conquering medium level. Looks like all of those years listening to nothing but punk rock has paid off!!!

Anyhoo, I searched YouTube for Guitar Hero clips, and even though the following clip still contains some clangers, check out the five star performance in Expert mode of this cyber Yngwie Malmsteen! Motorhead never sounded soooo good!

For those about to Rock (albeit with a plastic guitar) - I salute you...

Exclusive - Proof that JT in NOT a Tool!!!

Like any man over 30 years old, of course I don't have a lot of time for Justin Timberlake, and not because he's young, rich, and the lady's seem to love their JT, but because he just makes crap music.

So you can imagine my pleasant surprise when I discovered the following video on YouTube, courtesy of Saturday Night Live. All I can say is "Good on ya Timbers!"

Looks like my gift ideas for next Xmas are already decided...