The Rest of Your Life (v3.0)

Listening To: Public Domain Vs Ultrasonic : Various Artists

Current Horn Factor :

Hi Gang, I know it’s been a while between updates – same old story- too busy at work, and just spending quality time with the quality girl. I guess you’re officially entitled call me a neglectful blogger !

Anyhoo, just thought I’d update y’all on a great gig I went to see with my fiancé on Friday night @ the Yallah Roadhouse in Wollongong. Paul Greene is an old friend of Lisa’s from her Glebe days via Jervis Bay, who moved back to the latter with his family a year or so ago I believe – hence I guess the focus on more country gigs on his website of late. Paul’s also a very accomplished singer/songwriter/guitarist, about to put his next album – so this gig was also about giving his fans a taste of what to expect from the new record.

I’d never been to the Yallah before, and being a city boy I have to admit I was expecting to be underwhelmed by the venue. I was very pleasantly surprised then to find the Yallah wasn’t the run-down tin-roofed shed full of surly country-folk that I was expecting it to be. Tin-roofed – yes. Run down – no. Think warm-hued, freshly varnished timber and high ceilings. The food was pretty good too. Granted, by the time we’d arrived from Sydney after our 3 hour drive the kitchen had run out of the ‘home-made pies’ and the tandoori chicken, but if the Buffalo Wings we both ended up settling for were anything to go by, their chef definitely knows what he’s doing. The bar staff and other patrons seemed pretty friendly too, nary a true ‘bogan’ in sight, at least not that night.

You’d expect the acoustics of a shed to be pretty poor, but I guess the Yallah’s sound-tech knows what he’s doing because the sound levels were fairly spot-on for the majority of the gig. On to the gig itself then. First up we had the support act, a little trio called Note To Self, consisting of two female vocalists and a guy on guitar who looked like someone out of Radiohead but had the unfortunate (at least to my mind) name of “Dusty”. I’m thinking to myself “oh great … a guy called Dusty and a few chicks from Wollongong … this is going to be country-and-western cheese for sure”. Not so I’m happy to report, friends – not so at all. I’m not usually a fan of acoustic music, and the majority of these guys’ set consisted of deceptively simple arrangements utilising only the two vocalists and one or more acoustic guitars (the girls occasionally sharing playing duties with Dusty).

Nonetheless I have to say they blew me away, managing to sound in turns like Bjork, Alanis Morrisette, Hole (Unplugged) and … well I’m not sure really … at least to me, their sound was pretty unique (as I’ve said already, I’m not usually much of an acoustic fan). Expect big things from Note to Self, that’s all I can say.

Next up of course came the stars of the show themselves, namely Paul Greene & his band. I’d heard them play once before @ the Vanguard in Newtown so I knew what to expect, and they certainly didn’t disappoint. Paul’s voice and playing were both in fine form, as he and the band treated the audience to a mixture of old songs from Happy Here With You, This Way and one or two from The Miles. As already mentioned, we also got to hear some of the new material which is going on the latest album. They didn’t strike me as much of a departure from Paul’s previous material, but I don’t see that as much of an issue given that when you’re onto a good thing you should definitely stick to it !

The trio from Note to Self also got up to help Paul & the guys out on a few numbers, and by the end of the night they had the whole pub (including the girl trying her best to look like Shania Twain, complete with cowboy hat, figure hugging midriff top and pointy boots) dancing away to the ‘big sell’ tunes (if they were with a major label, which they aren’t – just another reason you gotta respect Paul) like Work Love Dance Trust. All in all, a fantastic gig !!! Well worth the $15 cover charge and 3 hour drive

OK … so I haven’t updated in ages. So what else is new ? It’s been fairly busy at work, and the other day my boss had a dummy spit about my “always” being online. Granted, I was surfing W1K looking for some new wallpaper for my desktop, but that was only because I was waiting for our dog-slow system to finish running one of my jobs. Regardless, posting to the blog during work hours has become somewhat problematic. Nonetheless, I’ll try my luck today, and hope the boss doesn’t come back early from his meeting !

So anyways, what have I been up to between updates , I hear you ask ?

Well first off, IG and I went to see a band called “Transit Ink” play a gig Friday last at some dodgey pub in Petersham. We got there at about 10:30, and the boys still hadn’t come on. So we saw the last half hour or so of the support act, whose name I didn’t catch. The support band played standard Indie-Rock, nothing very original – all in all, pretty lame. Got to meet some of my girlfriend’s cousins and old mates in the meantime – a bunch of guys from Liverpool who had stood her up on several previous occassions. Talk about testosterone city !

I was definitely the ‘slightest’ individual sitting at that table, with the exception of IG herself. Perhaps this was the reason one of the mates of mates seemed to take an instant disliking to me, and spent most of the night alternating between giving me daggers and staring intensely at my girlfriend from half a metre away – without talking to either of us all night ! I was also conscious of the fact there was a little bit of ‘history’ between her and one of the other dudes at the table, so it didn’t help my state of mind that that particular guy looked like he could have easily squeezed the life out of me with one hand and still have enough muscle power left over to lift a small ute with the other. Bloody Italian-Stallions … they’ll be the death of me, I swear Granted, he came across as a decent enough bloke, I hear he’s marrying a nice Italian girl, and HE wasn’t giving me daggers … but still, it’s a bit weird meeting one of your partners ex’s, especially when looking at them makes you feel a little inadequate ! Strictly my problem mind you – I know IG has no interest in this guy anymore.

Finally, at around 11 o’clock Transit Ink came on to the stage. Like Perregrine, these guys are old friends of Lisa’s, and in addittion the lead guitarist is the brother of a distant relative (gotta love those extended wog families !) – so she’s been to a fair few of their gigs. Apparently they’ve recently changed their sound – I have it on good authority they used to be a sort of Metallica/Van-Halen hybrid. If this is the case they’ve definitely done well at redefining their sound, because the songs we heard on Friday could best be described as ‘funk-influenced Indie-Rock’ … and they were pretty damned good ! Thus it was a bit of a shame that the pub management made them wind the set up after only 45 minutes at quarter to 12 ! Although on the plus side, it meant that once my girlfriend had made her various goodbyes, we could leave the testosterone zone and I could feel like a whole man again instead of a pipe-cleaner figurine. Not to mention, I didn’t have to feel death-stares aimed at the back of my head anymore

OK – that was the Transit Ink gig. Last Wednesday, we went to a pub in Surrey Hills to watch the State of Origin on the big screen. Free steak, cheap beer and a great night of watching the Blues thrash the Marones. It wasn’t a bad night at all, only slightly marred by me spilling some water on the patient IG when I accidentally knocked her glass over. I got a dose of instant-karma for that mind you, when I was sick as a dog later in the night from either (a) the greasy chips that came with my steak or (b) the steak itself. I’m not sure exactly what it was, but either way 1 a.m found me shaking with nausea and projectile vomiting in a handy laundry tub while my girlfriend slept undisturbed in the blissful cocoon of her own bedroom far away in Bondi.

More recently (i.e. the weekend just passed), IG and I went for a romantic trip down to the Hunter Valley. We left Sydney on Friday night, got to the Formula 1 Motel in Newcastle at about 9pm. Now my girlfriend had been putting shit on the Formula One for several weeks, due to the chains unfortunate reputation as a ‘shaggin motel’ in Sydney. A reputation, incidentally, of which I wasn’t aware until I met IG and she pointed it out to me – although since then, a number of other people have confirmed this is the reputation they associate with Formula 1 also. So I’m glad that upon arriving, the Newcastle Formula 1 proved to still be up to the excellent combination of affordability/cleanliness/non-tackiness that I’ve always associated with the chain, from staying at a few different ones in the course of various inter-state/inter-city travels. I think it was one of those very rare occasions where I’ve proved to be more right than my wonderful girlfriend. So I’m glad she was pleasantly surprised !

On Saturday morning we took off for Pokolbin, and spent the rest of the day driving from one winery to the next, admiring the picturesque wine-country views, sampling many delicious varieties of vino, and occasionally purchasing bottles to take back with us. Later we drove back to the motel, picked up some supplies at the well-stocked Wallsend Coles, and had a mini-feast of wine, cheese, crackers and cheese-twists in our motel room, along with some quality … erm … cuddling Not only was it wonderful to spend such a romantic day with my beautiful girlfriend, but it was also a bit of a nostalgia experience for me, having gone on a Hunter trip or two previously in my late teens with Mum & Dad.

Sunday morning found us cruising the streets of Newcastle for some action – or to be more accurate, for a shop that was actually open, for want of anything better to do ! Wearing a pair of bright-green ‘VB’ beanies we’d scored watching the Origin game on the Wednesday, we felt like proper ‘bogans’ – said fact confirmed when we spotted a number of local derros wearing the same beanie on our trip through town. We ducked in to a music / fashion shop called “Rock City”, which was suitably tacky, and also contained at least one other local in a VB beanie. We left after a bit of happy browsing, but not before the geriatric gentleman (sans beanie) hanging out at the front of the store had taken the opportunity to spend some time checking out my girlfriends norgs. Afterwards we went for a bit of a walk by the seaside, and checked out a surprisingly BIG cathedral at the appropriately named “Church Hill”. We followed this up with an exceedingly over-priced (and exceedinly sweet) Indian takeaway, and made our way back to Sydney.

Sunday night finished off with us crashing at my place for a bit, before I spent some time looking in the newspaper for jobs and my girlfriend watched hot lesbian action on tele courtesy of ‘Kissing Jesicca Stein’, then a version of the Cinderella fairytale starring Drew Barrymore. I was planning to make us some dinner, and we were going to settle down to watch BB, when my flat-mate arrived home and made it clear by her actions and her scowl that she was none-too-pleased to see us. Probably something to do with the fact she had her ex-boyfriend in tow again, and was probably counting on having her ‘wicked way’ with him (a mental image I don’t even want to contemplate, given neither of them is particularly ‘easy on the eye’). So IG and I made ourselves scarce and pissed off to her place instead, where we had some good (but rich) Indian takeaway and watched a bit of tele. Finally at around 11 I tucked my darling in to bed and bade her goodnight, and went home to crash.

All in all then – a weekend of pure gold !

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 ?