Listening To: Binary Religion : A Cat Called Monty

So, last Friday I went and did something I haven’t done for a fair while - went to see a live band (Peregrine) with IG @ The Empire in Annandale. FYI Mark - sorry, I thought this was the Annandale Hotel going under a wankier name, but it was actually a different venue, so I hope you and your tan courderoy pants had a good night anyway !

Now, speaking of the venue I must confess I thought this place was a bit ‘divey’. Not as bad as the Century Tavern on George St. of course, but certainly not as nice as The Annandale itself. They didn’t even have Carlton on tap, so I had to settle for a few schooners of Becks. At least they had real schooners and not schmidis !

Ann Vraynd, the opening act was ‘interesting’ in a Canadian “I’m trying to be Isabella Rossellini in Blue Velvet” lounge-singer-kinda way, although she didn’t quiet make it (Ms.Rossellini is attractive … Ann Vraynd, alas, is not). Peregrine on the other hand did indeed wrooock, leading me to fruitless ponderings of the “what is my girlfriend doing with a talentless bum like me, when her friends have been on Triple J” variety.

Yes … I conveniently forgot to mention earlier that the lads from Peregrine all know IG from their Glebe ‘Sydney Acoustic Movement’ days. Like me when I was living in Melbourne, I guess IG went through an intensely creative phase a few years back when she was living in Glebe. Unlike me however, she made a bunch of friends sharing a similar head-space, and has managed to keep in touch with them.

I on the other hand, managed to make about 4 mates while living in Melbourne for 2 years outside my ex-girlfriend’s small circle, and I’m not in contact with any of them anymore. Seems like IG’s friends are all talented and successful in their creative endeavours too … while out of my Melbourne friends, only Dan was a successful short-film producer/writer. Damn ! So anyway, into this slightly insecure head-space walks a man called Andy …

Now as I’ve already said, the venue was a bit divey, but the music was good. I guess the regular punters and die-hard Peregrine fans knew to expect this, so the place was pretty packed when we arrived and continued to fill up as the imminent appearance of the crowd’s heroes got closer. IG and I managed to score ourselves a couple of stools near the stage, and this was updraded to a whole table after the unfriendly lads who’d scowled at us taking the stools in the first place left. We’re sitting there having beer, listening to the tail-end of Ann Vraynd’s Canadian stylings, when this dude wearing jeans and a grey t-shirt (?) comes up and asks us if the stool next to me is free.

He’s in his late twenties or early thirties, short brown hair, ordinary looking, and strikes me on first impression as a bit ‘camp’. He seems pretty harmless, so I reply “yeah sure”, and he sits down next to me. He introduces himself as Andy, and over the next 90 minutes or so in between watching Peregrine perform, and scabbing multiple cigarettes from people, he proceeds to build in me the conviction he’s a bit of a wanker. He shares his theories on music and the song-writing process, lets us know he plays guitar, regals us with tales of travels I can only vaguely remember now, and generally comes across as someone who, for whatever reason, is desperately trying to impress me and IG.

Herein boys and girls, lies the danger in two attractive people becoming romantically involved. If you’ve already read IG’s account of the night, you’d know she was convinced the reason Andy was being so ‘pally’ with us was that he was trying to hit on yours truly. Granted, I thought he was a bit camp, he did sit awfully close to me, and brushed his leg up against mine a few times ‘accidentally-maybe-on-purpose’.

However, Andy also told us point blank at one point “I’m straight” (in response to IG’s queries about his apparently misogynistic comments on female musos), and spent the majority of the time talking to my girlfriend, only occasionally glancing my way in what seemed to me to be a “I’ll include him in the conversation for politeness’ sake, but I’m only really interested in her” gesture. So ja, my take on events was that Andy was being ‘pally’ with us on order to hit on IG, and not on your humble narrator !

Towards the end of the night, after Peregrine had finished their set, I stumbled off outside to find a convenient alley in which to drain the lizard - the loos at the Empire being rudimentary, and full of drunken indie-yoof. I remember thinking “ok, this is the point at which Andy is gonna make his big move on my girlfriend … I hope it doesn’t take me too long to find a good pissing spot !”

Alas, it took me bloody ages to wander up the street and back again in my somewhat-drunken state, and although at one point someone’s car-port looked promising, I walked a bit too far in during the process of unzipping my fly and set off their motion-activated light, tragically ruling this out as a strategic pissing location. My quest to find a good pissing-spot fruitless, I headed back to the Empire, only to run into my girlfriend coming out the front door, mobile in hand. Quick glace at my mobile confirms two missed calls from IG.

“God honey, where weeeere you ?” she asks me, appearing a bit distressed. Oh man, Andy really MUST have made a move ! “Umm, just looking for somewhere to pee, coz the loos were full … sorry baby” I reply lamely. “I thought you’d gone off with Andy …” she starts. What the ? “Que ? With Andy ???” I’m confused now. It transpires that Andy got up and followed me out of the pub about 30 seconds after I barged out the front door, although I don’t remember any foot-steps behind me, leaving IG to the tender mercies of a couple of punk-kids who pounced on the vacant stools like they’d been eyeing them all night.

So essentially, our night at the Empire concluded with my girlfriend busy worrying about Andy making his big “move” on me outside, while I was outside worrying about Andy making his big “move” on her in the pub. Although he had ostensibly followed me outside, it appears Andy evaporated into thin-air because neither IG nor I had seen him since he’d stepped out, and he didn’t re-materialise as we stood there on the Empire’s doorstep, working all this out and exchanging mutual apologies and commisserations.

Finally, IG asks me “should we go ?”, to which I reply in the affirmative, and we walk off in the direction of Parramatta Road hand-in-hand to hail a cab. We pass a couple of dodgey wog-boys parked by the kerb in their beat-up Ford Laser, and they ask us where we’re going. They offer us a lift when we tell them, which we decline, after which they offer us a lift again only it’s “well, we’ll take the girl, but you’ll have to stay behind homeboy”. We decline again and keep walking, finally managing to flag down a cab. We get in, and as I sit back and let my tired head fall back against the seat, I wonder just what the hell Andy’s story was. The wog-boys while tragic, at least make sense to me. Andy on the other hand … well I just don’t know !

Anyone got any clues for IG and me, dear readers ? :)