Freewheeling...

It was with some trepidation I set out on my bike today. The weather was wet and only going to get more electrical.

Geez I'm glad I did. There was something on the ride in as the rain started to clear that was so idyllic that at the halfway point I started pedalling harder to remind myself of my own existence, as if I'd died and was in limbo like Patrick Swayze's character in Ghost. I must admit there was a close call turning off from Melbourne Street.

But the ride home was even more awesome. Like a computer game I was swaying out of the way of overhanging branches and through the gaps of puddles. The noises surrounding me were of possums rooting and of frogs rooting. The river was flowing like a proper thoroughfare of water which is uncharacteristic of the Torrens.

The freedom of riding also allowed me to stop in on the way home from work at the Wheaty - one of the world's great pubs. And to catch up with Myke and Myranda who, as friends of mine, I'm glad to say are amongst the world's great friends. The beers we drank were amongst the world's great beers. I tried Rogue on tap as well as few pints of Little Creatures IPA.

Our conversations were much more blogworthy than this post ever will be though I'd never be able to remember the gist much less recount them in sensical fashion. Conversations with Myke and Myranda make everything feel sufficiently complicated and simple, agreeable and controversial. Like a good camera lens that affords both zoom and wide-angle, our conversations are not without distortion, also a good thing. Maybe they're just too fucking likeminded but that couple of hours was a highlight of my day.

A car would've taken into the shallow world of the radio's DJ. A bus would've taken me into the deeper world of the author. The bike took me into the real world of my own existence. At least when I pedalled hard enough to remember it was happening.

The Latest News

Greetings fellow worklings,

In order to keep you in the loop of the latest gossip from our little corner of the world in one fell swoop I thought I'd post a blog entry.

So, the news: Gabba's up the duff!

Details I know so far:

• She's due in early January.
• I'm fairly certain I'm the father (thanks to those who have asked so far).
• We have a lot of house preparation to do which includes: babyfying Gabba's 'walk-in-robe' room of a million clothes; presumably buying a whole lot of crappy Chinese-made toys; and child-proofing everything that's not a crappy toy (my records and CDs!).
• There are a lot of books out there on child rearing which contain some fairly terrifying images of childbirth which curiously have been scaring me more than Gabba.
• "We have no idea how much our lives will change" (thanks to all you already-parents for hammering home that point).

Details I don't know so far:

• Gender of the baby.
• Name of the baby (though Gabba thinks perhaps Belle for a girl, and Sebastian for a boy).
• When we're getting married (I don't need to make Gabba any more an honest woman than she is already).
• Just about anything to do with child rearing, including how to change a nappy (I can't get past those child rearing books' images of childbirth, sheez).
• How much our lives will change (or so I've been told).

One can say I now have a legitimate reason to make Dad jokes, but since we're not married is that a 'legitimate' reason?

So what will the little one look like? A curious proposition and one presented as muse to

renowned anime artist, Scares-San, currently residing in Nippon. Please find attached his work on the matter:

As international art critic Rayleen Forester explains in her critique of the piece: “it's a kid with Don's beard and Gabba's good looks.”

Personally, I like the fact that two beers neatly frame the picture.

Yours in babylove (ewww),

Gabba and Don, or The Don, or Donorino if you’re into the whole multi-syllable thing.

Dinosaur Jr - Over It

Dinosaur Jr filmclips mostly rock (Get Me is pretty bad though). The young skater in me loves this:

Even though I am way too uncoordinated to cast even a sideways glance at a skateboard I wouldn't mind me one of those decks...

Just Beat It...

I'm masochistically reading other people's emotionally over the top responses to Michael Jackson's death, from those more interested in celebrity than music (commenters on your typical News Ltd site, especially it being a lazy Friday), to celebrities that didn't know him (Veronicas talentless floozy: "I wish I got to tell him how much his music and existence changed my life"; Peter 'himbo' Andre: "Michael Jackson dying is absolutely devastating. I am totally shocked. MJ, you're the best") and to those that knew him well (Uri 'can you straighten your forks? because that would be useful' Geller: "I'm still trying to hold on to the glimmer that it is not true.").

Nuggets alright, though not of wisdom.

OK, his story is sad and the shit he was accused of doing (though not convicted of) was much sadder. I guess we're all going to get bored reading news about did he or didn't he, etc. etc.

But what had Jackson done musically that was worthwhile since Thriller? Fuck all. Perhaps Bad wasn't awful but I never felt compelled to listen to it.

Of course in the last couple of decades Jackson was much more well known through his vilification by the press (and implicitly all those who purchased those rags for stories of him in it), fueled by him being very eccentric and doing some bizarre shit. Those who defended him were all seen as pretty weird. The same press and their followers are now mourning his passing as if they always thought it was 'someone else' calling him weird - holding up Jackson as a hero is now all of a sudden not confined to the weirdos.

Another thing I've thought strange for a while now: Who the hell are the million people in the UK that were planning on going to his shows? And what other music do they listen to? This particularly freaks me out!

Thriller was pretty cool, though, and also the first album (OK, cassette) I bought with my own money. Everyone in my year at Primary School had a copy but listening back to it these days I'd say while it's still good and I'm proud of it as a first album it's not a desert island disc by any means. I haven't felt obliged to listen to much more than Beat It in the last twenty years (the Van Halen solo is the most sublime wanky solo, perhaps ever!).

I also remember family moments huddled around the TV, watching the latest video of his. Bad was just fucking scary to me because of his skin whitening and plastic surgery - he really started to look strange. And what was that other one with him bashing the car? That was shit - I remember Molly Meldrum 'analysing' its significance which was embarrassing to watch. Black and White can hold its own as a tune. I sort of wanted the computer game too because it just seemed weird that you could throw your hat, spin and moonwalk and I remember playing it in an arcade in the Lakes District when I was 14.

Jarvis Cocker is a more inspiring figure and yet his stage rush while Jackson was playing 'God' with the child audience hasn't been mentioned so far. I like to think that this is a moment that should be memorialised - rejecting the notion that wealth can buy you whatever whim you so desire.


The world likes to watch a train-wreck. And MJ's is about as much of one as I've seen in my lifetime.

Desert Island Discs of a Broader Scope - Who Do You Stalk?

What if you could only limit yourself to the creative output of a certain number of bands. OK, the extreme version would, of course, see you as some type of stalking creepy groupie / weirdo dude / lady rather than simply a music obsessive, drunk and in front of a keyboard.

Thinking what I might 'limit' myself into (past, present and future output):

• Sonic Youth (shit, does anyone need further justification)
• Neil Young
  
• Bob Dylan (this option and above not purely for prolificity of output - I dig their fucking shit too)
• David Bowie
• Animal Collective (definitely for the past but the future could have quite a potential in it too - would like to include side projects in criteria)
• Mouse on Mars (only really understood them in the last year or two and am coming to terms with their oeuvre)
• John Coltrane (bookended career but limitless).

So I've narrowed it down to seven and they're not even necessarily my fave seven of all time. I don't even have the Pixies there. And I'd like to edit and put them up there. Nor Pavement. Shit. I will add these actually.

• Pixies (big call - only 5 albums but they're all cool
• Pavement (likewise but loads of B-sides and if side projects are included I get Steve Malkmus, Spiral Stairs / PSOI). BTW, how cool is it that Mark Ibold plays bass for Sonic Youth these days?
  

And seeing as I've only got nine so far, it's only decadent (pun intended) to round up to the ten:

• The Go-Betweens

I'm including side projects now and I don't know all of Grant McLennan's nor Robert Forster's solo stuff so some revisiting to do on that desert island / limbo's eternity / self-imposed limitations.

Don't know how Gabba'd feel swanning about (desert island? limbo? my own limitations?) with no Belle and Sebastian, especially since they've had her up to dance onstage and also have had their own part in getting us into a soft fight of words and pizza with a douchebag from Brooklyn in Brooklyn.

She's not real keen on Jazz either. Man, what a selfish selection I've made when I consider where I crank up the stereo. I'm going to have to sacrifice some heavy shit to get B&S back on board:

• - John Coltrane
  
• + Belle and Sebastian
  

So I've sacrificed jazz (a perfect embodiment of it) in favour of more indie / electronic music (admittedly to appease my girlfriend who'll be happy with just B&S and the Gobies). I'm eyeing off everything in my list now to get Coltrane back in.

Fuck this. I'm making it eleven! Coltrane - your music's back in my Noah's Ark:

• + John Coltrane

So go on and make your own eleven - it's a nice prime number oft overlooked. If you give a shit about your eleven and think I might, tell me about it.

And if you're that douchbag in Brooklyn, please tell me (and the rest of our crew) what your problem was and why you were having your beeriod?

And also, I hope that pizza got you good...

Hold Music

Fifteen years ago I would never have thought that in 2009 we would still be listening to Kenny G or tinny piano solos while on hold (doesn't matter how virtuosic the playing is - it still gets piped down a crappy phoneline). There's a whole genre of non-threatening electronica out there built for and tested on shit computer speakers. Is it time to update IVR culture?

A Brilliant Post on Ian Plimer's Logic

I just finished reading and I'm very impressed by the following well researched and even handed repute to Ian Plimer's logic on Stu's blog:
Ian Plimer on the Science Show

In 1984 I was Hospitalised for Approaching Perfection

Stu informed me last night that the Silver Jews are no longer. Hopes held that they would tour Australia have been dashed.

My efforts to get them play our shores extended so far as to buy a t-shirt from Drag City with an accompanying (acknowledged by the Drag City dude) note pleading for them to play Adelaide. Stu's more ambitious plan was to advocate for a statue of Dave Berman to be commissioned and built somewhere in the alley that houses the Jade Monkey obligating them to play our fair city. But truth be told he's in that exclusive league of artists that a trip to the Eastern states would be justified.

Dave Berman's revelations about his father and the nefarious occupation he won't back down from make for an interesting story, not to mention the Silver Jews own career path, not so much a trajectory but a series of wayward paths.

If you haven't already, go to your nearest independent record store and buy American Water when you've next got a couple of pennies to rub together. Not in stock? Any of them will do but I'd recommend, in order, the Natural Bridge, Bright Flight, Tanglewood Numbers, Lookout Mountain Lookout Sea and Starlite Walker. Never heard the Arizona Record - it's never been re-released.

Silver Joos Forever!

For those wanting an online introduction, this won't give an accurate representation but serves as a more than adequate snippet in time:
http://pitchfork.tv/juans-basement/silver-jews

Robert Forster Looking Dapper (as Defined in his Contract)

I don't normally take paparazzi shots, you know. Robert Forster and Glenn Thompson in the crowd at ATP.

We Call Upon the Curator to Explain

Some funny moments at ATP:

• Mystery Act Grinderman's frontman, curator Nick Cave, mentions to the crowd that the sun is fierce. Without skipping a beat someone in the crowd helpfully throws up a pair of sunglasses which Cave catches. Putting them on he comments: "These are gay." Throws them back. "I'd rather go blind." A pause. "I mean that in the nicest possible way."
• The reformed original line-up of the Saints pulpable tension between Chris Bailey and Ed Kuepper. Bailey ensured the spotlight stayed on him, both figuratively and literally. He made some mention about Kuepper lining up groupies for after the show and, during a guitar solo no sooner would he walk towards Kuepper looking to possibly reconcile with a friendly gesture would he immediately turn on his heels and turn the attention to the bass player and drummer. Was Bailey's dance taking the piss?
• Not very funny but I still contend that the Saints cover of Mountain High River Deep wasn't fast enough.
  
• As Michael Gira takes to the stage a group of (dare I say shifty looking) fans start to gravitate to the stage en masse. Gira looks back and quips "Who are you...and what do you want?"
• In song break, Gira asks the crowd the crowd: "What's with all of these flies? Are flies your main export?"
• A dapper Robert Forster, after playing a song that was met with rapturous applause, raises his arms and states: "I just don't know how I do it".
• Forster explaining how German Farmhouse is about 3 years of his life condensed to 3 minutes of song.
  
• The irony of German Farmhouse being requested by a persistent heckler which, either because it was already in his setlist or just because he was gracious and charming enough to include it, talks about the pleasures of living in Bavaria where he wasn't recognised or bothered.
  
• Forster just generally being unable to avoid the adjective 'dapper'.
  
• During the Bad Seeds set whilst conversing with a heckler asking for a song (though I don't know which one) Cave suggested that the song "wasn't very good. I was quite stoned at the time. I was having a good time, but the song I wrote then, it wasn't very good."
  
• A car with 'The Don' as its numberplate. Sadly I guess that also implies I wasn't the only Don at ATP.
  

Bonus road-trip story:

• On the way to Mt Buller, Stu and I took the wrong turn-off to Euroa. Driving back through the town to get to the road to Mansfield we were wary of this kid, about 11 or 12, on his bike riding in the middle of the street by himself being careful not to hit him. Just as we were about to pass him he looked at us and it turned out he was wearing a false moustache!