I'm a little bit in love with Beth Ditto

On Sunday night I had the immense pleasure of seeing The Gossip play the sold out Prince Bandroom.

The Gossip, aka. The Ugliest Band in Rock (have you seen their album
shots?), have garnered a lot of publicity in the lead up to this tour with
lead singer Beth Ditto in particular getting a lot of media coverage. She
is brash, outspoken and based on last night’s evidence, one HELL of a
performer.

From the moment Beth opened her mouth and belted out her first note I was
smitten. This woman can sing. She has a real presence on stage and her
personality and charisma are palpable. But it’s the voice that does it for
me. It was amazing. If you’ve heard any of their album tracks, multiply the
timbre, strength and energy of the vocals tenfold and you’ll get an idea of
the sound. Beth bantered with the crowd, had a wee sit down to take off her
shoes, and took great delight in learning a new Aussie phrase “pink bits”.
Here’s hoping it’s something she can include in a future track. She is not
shy, she is obviously enjoying herself and she has a great onstage
presence. This woman is a star.

The crowd obvious enjoyed the energy and skill of the set and the vibe was
electric. The band peppered their set with cheesy 80s tracks (such as
‘Simply the Best’ and ‘Addicted to Love’) as intros to their own which gave
everyone a laugh. Their best known track 'Standing in the Way of Control'
was saved for last and the crowd went OFF. Beth made her way into the front
of the audience for a bit but the track was somewhat marred by two dancing
idiots who distracted somewhat from the song. The band (and security)
didn’t seem to mind too much and were so relaxed that I thought perhaps it
was a set up. The Gossip came back for a single encore... bizarrely enough
they played George Michael’s ‘Careless Whisper’ – Gossip style (which was
far far better than the original in my opinion). My only criticism, if you
can call it that, was that the set was over too soon. I – and everyone else
I’m sure – wanted more!

I have liked The Gossip since I first heard their album 'Standing in
the Way of Control' but after last night’s gig I am #1 Superfan. This was
the best gig of 2007. It is rare to come out of a gig feeling as though you
were part of something big and last night there was an unusual sense of
elation at the experience. I feel privileged to have seen them play in
what is a relatively intimate setting and I will be first in line for
tickets to any future tours.

C*nts

Both of them.

During the web-cast, which was addressed by both Mr Howard and Opposition Leader Kevin Rudd, Mr Howard reminded Christian voters of his bid to prevent gay marriage by reaffirming marriage as being between a man and a woman. He also promised that under a Howard government, Christian prayers before Parliament would not be replaced with Hindu or other dedications.

Mr Howard enjoyed rounds of applause from the audience when he spoke about gay marriage and expressed support for one parent remaining at home during a child's early years.

Mr Rudd spruiked Labor's IR and housing affordability policies as better for families. He also committed a Labor government to boosting foreign aid and said he would set up talks about how to deal with refugees from the Iraq war, particularly Christian refugees.

He reaffirmed his belief that marriage should be an institution between a man and a woman, but said he supported relationship registers for gay couples. And while he did not rule out racial vilification laws, he promised to consult with the Christian community if a Labor government wanted to make any change to the law in this area.

So offensive on so many levels.

Read the rest here.

A phone call, this morning

Ring Ring

Me: Hello, Shazam! speaking...

Caller: (with a very good American accent but obviously calling from a call centre somewhere): Hello, my name is (insert generic American name) calling from Fed Ex Kinko's. We're doing a Customer Satisfaction Survey and were hoping you'd give us some feedback on the order you placed on 27 August 2007.

Me: ...Umm...

Caller: The survey will only take two minutes and I must tell you first that our conversation may be recorded for training purposes.

Me: ...Umm... did you say 27 August 2007?

Caller: Yes, the survey will be about the order you placed on 27 August 2007.

Me: Well we haven't reached 27 August 2007 yet.

Caller: What?

Me: Today's the 9th of August. The 27th of August isn't for a couple of weeks.

Caller: Huh?

Me: We haven't reached 27 August 2007 yet.


...beat...



Caller: Oh. Okay. Just a sec.


...beat...



Caller:(hurriedly) Okay bye. (hangs up)


WTF?

My Mother Always Told Me...

My beloved Significant Other (SO) yesterday had a meeting with our Financial Advisor*. At the pub, but of course. Financial Advisor is considered one of the best in the state, and also happens to be a friend. Which is handy, as we wouldn't be able to afford her services otherwise. Hence the need for the financial advice. Oh it's a vicious circle...

Once the official business was out of the way, myself and Financial Advisor's beloved joined the party for a few drinks followed by a yummy Japanese dinner (where, incidentally, we were served by a very cool fellow who sounded just like James Earl Jones).

Several karage's later our esteemed Financial Advisor divided up the bill, we all threw in our share and she sent her credit card over to pay.

Back came the credit card, declined.
No problem, she pulled out a second card.
Declined.

Should I be concerned?


* This sounds much more impressive than it actually is.

No They Can't

Gold.

Gutful

That's it. I'm moving to New Zealand.

I'm confused

On an excursion to the supermarket today (oh yes, I lead an exciting life) I found Kahlua-flavoured and Tia Maria-flavoured percolator coffee. I know my booze and, unless things have changed (very) recently, Kahlua and Tia Maria are coffee flavoured. Does this mean the coffee is coffee-flavoured coffee? Or is it liqueur-flavoured coffee?

If anyone knows the answer, please enlighten me.

(Of course, I could have purchased said coffee and answered these questions myself, but then I'd have nothing to blog about, right?)

Sun Dirt Water

The Waifs are one of my favourite bands and last night, despite a shocking cold, I ventured out to see them play live once again.

The Waifs are true musicians and they have an easy-going stage presence. Last night Donna spent much of the show bantering with the crowd, telling us why she was in a bad mood (the airline had lost her sister Vicki's luggage so they'd spent all day shopping); how she was jealous of Vicki (because the crowd goes wild whenever she pulls out the harmonica, plus she gets to sing all the happy songs); and how she hoped their new album would be a success because Josh still didn't have a roof on his house. She also took the unusual step of claiming not to particularly like one of the new tracks they'd just played, suggesting it was "music to clean the house to".

I've seen the Waifs play a few times now, and they always put on a good show. But last night's gig was a little flat. It was perhaps partly because they played a lot of new material which the crowd wasn't familiar with. This is fair enough, especially given these are warm-up shows before the release of a new album in September. Additionally, from the stage banter, I gather the trio had just landed after a long-haul flight from somewhere and were suffering the numbing effects of jet-lag. Vicki apologised for the "funny gig" and jet-leg with a "it's not your problem". Perhaps next time they need to give themselves a day or two to recoup before they play.

But the biggest problem with the gig was the venue. And not only because I was charged $5 for a 350ml bottle of water. It was the wackiest music venue I've ever been to. And I don't mean wacky in a good way. The band are playing four small gigs in the lead up to the release of a new single (Sun Dirt Water) in August, followed by a new album in September. The gigs are meant to be intimate affairs for true fans. Last night, at the Factory Theatre in Enmore (which is miles from anywhere, mind you), the gig was anything but intimate. The venue was like a cross between an RSL and a reception centre, with chairs set out theatre-style so punters took their seats and stayed in them. It was the sort of place I'd expect the piano accordian trio from Grandad's retirement village to play. The room seemed only half full, which was a blessing and a curse. It was great because it meant we were able to sit down (on comfy couches, with a great view of the stage, yeh!) but it also meant the gig lacked atmosphere and the crowd passion. At one stage Vicki commented that it was "a bit like a conference, almost". And she was right. I can't help but think the band must have been a bit taken aback by the reception to their new material, especially as this was their first show spruiking it. I can imagine the gig at the Corner will be much more passionate and exciting.

And the verdict on the new tunes? The band has apparently spent much time in the US over the past couple of years and it shows in their music. The American influence in their bluesy-folk was apparent and in some tracks so obvious were the derivations that I wondered whether they were pulling the piss. Equal measures of upbeat tracks (sung mainly by Vicki, much to Donna's chagrin) and slower ballady types made for typical Waifs material. Of course a few old tracks (Highway One, Lighthouse, London Still) were thrown in for good measure, as was a new interpretation of Without You which has also been included on the new album. I'm a big fan of the Waifs, and I am willing to give them the benefit of the doubt after last night's show. I look forward to hearing the new album and seeing them play again in a few months time, at a better venue, when they've hopefully put the live polish on their new material.

Hot

This post is in honour of one of my best friends, who has just found out he's been accepted into the Firies on only his second try. He worked so hard and wanted it so badly and I'm so pleased for him. And really, really proud of him.

There also just happened to be an article in the Big Paper today about female firefighters. I work across the road from a station in the centre of Sydney and it seems there are an awful lot of female firies in there. Which is a good thing. They're strong, fit and capable. They can drive trucks and wield axes. And that's hot.

That's when good neighbours...

A couple of weeks ago I did a double-take when I noted that young Lance from Neighbours had turned up on a St George ad as a baby-kissing banker.

This weekend I did another double-take when young Lance sold me a ticket* at my local cinema. It's a long way from Ramsay Street to Oxford Street, but not necessarily a bad move if you ask me.

Lance was sure Toady said they were going to
the Coffee Shop for a hot beef selection

That said, the Neighbours page on the network website looks decidedly grown up. Perhaps I'll have to pick up where I left off as a tweenager and start watching again.

* In case you were wondering, I finally saw The Lives of Others. It was wonderful.

About time

Having been implemented years ago in California, Ireland and from what I'm told, Italy, all I can say it that it's about bloody time smoking was banned in pubs in Melbourne and Sydney. I don't know why it's taken so long.

As for the Sydney publican's comment that 18 year olds won't know what they're missing, my second response (after "Idiot!") is that I couldn't be happier that our youngsters won't know the joys of passive smoking/lung cancer/etc. That said, this fellow does later redeem himself by mentioning that he's started a Quitter's Club in his pub.

Best.News.Ever.

This has just made my day.



UPDATE: It gets even better. They're coming HERE!

I'm a rockslut!

In a move somewhat (very) out of character, on Saturday night I attended a Guns n’ Roses concert. I do like the rock n’ roll music, but I’m not generally what you may consider a rockslut. I prefer pub gigs to stadium spectaculars, independent Aussie acts to worldwide superstars.

That said, I’m a fan of the nostalgia. The Gunners were big in the late 80s, and their music reminds me of my late-primary school years. Other big-haired rockers also take me back to this time – Poison, Bon Jovi, Warrant. Back then I had a friend who was keen on harder music – her black pencil case was covered with band names like AC/DC, Black Sabbath and the Gunners, of course. My pencil case was more likely to be scrawled with Bros, INXS and NKOTB.

So when I was given a ticket to the Gunners concert, I was a bit indifferent. I suppose I was a little excited, in an ironic kind of way. And really, it’s hardly the ‘Gunners’ anymore. Axl Rose is the last man standing. The original band has been replaced with a seven-piece outfit (creative differences, anyone?), although they’re still all long hair and guitar solos. Axl too, has changed. No longer the whippet-like frontman in white bike shorts, he now more closely resembles Meatloaf.


The Gunners haven’t released an album for years. Their as yet unreleased Chinese Democracy album gave the theme for this series of shows, with huge banners of Chinese characters framing the stage. Why Chinese Democracy? Since when have the Gunners been political? Is Axl doing a Bono? I doubt it.

The gig itself was littered with all their classics from the late 80s. The crowd loved these tracks, lapping it up. But unfortunately there was also a fair share of duds, tracks we’d never heard before (from the new album, perhaps?). There were also guitar and piano solos every three or four tracks, mostly to give the frontman a break. This added to the length of the show, which hadn’t started till after midnight as it was. Suffice to say I was a tired little rockslut on the way home.

There goes the weekend

I haven't watched The West Wing for over 12 mths. I have all episodes on dvd and I have only completed viewing the first three series. What is wrong with me?


I used to be a regular viewer. Every couple of weeks my flatmates and a few friends would get together, cook up a storm, and watch a few eps. It was great, a chance to catch up over some gourmet food and then sit in silence, and awe, to appreciate some of the finest scripting around. My West Winging friends, writers all of them, loved the show as much as I and we would argue at the end of each episode whether we could squeeze another in.

Back then, The West Wing was buried in increasingly bizarre and changable timeslots on late night tv here in Australia. It has now moved to our national broadcaster, where the program has a regular, primetime slot. This is great news for tv viewers. Me, I prefer dvd. No ads, and I can watch it at my leisure.

However my 'leisure' is ever diminishing. I have a lot of stuff on. It's one of those facts of life; growing up, working, spending time with friends and loved ones. For me these things naturally take precedence over tv. While living overseas for a while I could watch a couple of episodes each night. I could squeeze it in given the lack of programming in my native language - and my lack of much of a social life. But back home I get distracted. It doesn't help that the Significant Other has yet to be converted. She doesn't like tv much. But I know she'd like The West Wing if only she'd give it a chance. Just like The L Word, which she didn't want to watch either. She's funny like that.

To be honest, I'm a bit of a commitment-phobe. Twenty-two episodes, to me, is a big commitment and I have trouble making the time to regularly keep up. I certainly couldn't commit if I had to watch it in the old-school, broadcast way. No chance.

Anyway, today I took a day off work, a Mental Health Day. My emotional wellbeing has been strained by an unsupportive work environment over the past few days and I decided that a day off was just what I needed. So I have elected to use my time wisely and get back into The West Wing. I dusted of series 4 and upon viewing episode 1 it's all come back to me. What was I thinking, shelving it for so long? God I love this show. The writing is superb. The characters are intelligent and witty. I want to work with them. I want to BE them. I want these people to really be the leaders of the self proclaimed free world. If only it weren't fiction.

So now I'm trying to figure out a way that I can be professionally unemployed. I want to be able to stay home and finish watching the next 80-odd episodes of The West Wing and still get paid. There must be a way. I bet CJ could figure it out.

Go on...

Ask me. How good is this?

Image by Dorothy Surrenders

Very, very good.

Well done AfterEllen.

iWant

I so want one of these little babies.

Pink Pigeons

I like the sound of Pink Pigeons. Sounds a bit gay.

Age Shall Not Weary Them

I arrived home last night, just after 6.30pm, to find my 80 year-old neighbour from upstairs loitering on the front stoop of our building with one of her friends. As I got nearer I could see that my neighbour was struggling with the lock as her friend, of a similar vintage, sat on the step with her head in her hands. They were giggling and stumbling and I quickly realised that they were pissed.

As farts.

As I helped them inside I was assaulted figuratively by the smell of liquor and literally by my elderly neighbour, a great grandmother, who took it upon herself to slap me around simply because I had the nerve to accuse her of being a boozehag. When I inquired as to what the lovely ladies had been up to I was told "We've been out to lunch!". Naturally I commented on the length of the lunch (it was after 6.30... in the evening!), to which my neighbour responded "It was a nice lunch." Must have been. I hope I'm having as much fun when I'm 80.

Jesus Ate My Parma

One of the peculiarities about Sydney is its lack of appreciation for the Chicken Parma. As any Melburnian will tell you, a chicken parma (that's a parmagiana for you stuffy formal types) is a chicken schnitzel slathered in a napoli-style tomato sauce and melted cheese. Fancy parma-pubs will dazzle with the addition of a slice of ham. A parma traditionally comes with a serve of chips and salad.

A Fancy Parma - includes the addition of fetta

South of the border the parma is a pub standard, a classic across the board. Every Melbourne pub worth its drip tray will have a chicken parma on the menu, and people will flock from miles for a good one (ref www.superparma.com). Many pubs will do a $10 parma and a pot (beer) deal one night of the week - an egalitarian meal for all!

So what is it with Sydney? Since re-locating north I have had incredible difficulty finding a decent parma. Most pubs will have a chicken schnitzel on the menu, many will also have schnitzel with mushrooms and/or gravy. But no cheesy, tomato-ey goodness. One time upon ordering a parma in a cafe on Oxford St, I was so disappointed when placed in front of me was a piece of grilled chicken covered in some diced tomato and a sprinkling of grated parmesan. What is wrong with these people? It makes no sense.

So why the dearth of parma in Sydney? The only possible rationale is the typical Sydney obsession with the body beautiful. Sydney is a physically beautiful city. It is blessed with a gorgeous harbour, stunning beaches and magnificent weather. Its residents like to cavort and prance for one another, often barely covering their pink bits. Perhaps because of this the typical Sydneysider appears to have an unhealthy obsession with their appearance. Not only is a parma deep-fried, but it's crumbed (CARBS!!) and slathered in cheese. One parma would mean a week of penitence - carrot sticks and 10k runs.

Up until yesterday I still held out hope. I have wandered past the Catholic Club, in the city, a number of times, eyeing off its menu board which proudly boasts a chicken parma. Thank God for the Catholics!

Yesterday some colleagues and I decided we’d give it a shot. Being a good Catholic I was ushered right in, whilst my colleagues were detained and questioned (what is it with having to sign in to clubs in NSW? You sign a piece of paper and then take it with you – they don’t even keep your details. Makes NO SENSE people!).

As an aside, the colleagues mistakenly headed up the stairs rather than down towards the club/restaurant – they were swiftly intercepted and sent on their way. Apparently God lives up there and was not to be disturbed during his lunch hour.

Finally inside the confines of the Catholic Club, we discovered that the place was full of old age pensioners who openly stared at our brazen youth and lack of reverence for their religion. Forgive us father, for we have sinned. I ordered my parma – assuming that God was finally smiling on me. I was excited. A parma was coming my way!

Then the order arrived. A schnitzel. No cheese. No tomato. A plain, dry, BORING schnitz. I was told they “ran out of parmas five minutes ago”. How do you run out of parma? All it requires is the addition of cheese and tomato sauce. How hard is it? And why, exactly, did I see an (obviously Catholic) senior citizen wander by five minutes later WITH A PARMA?!

God must know my secrets.

I think this might be my favourite news story, ever

Japanese fooled in poodle scam

Alarming News

What, he really has one?

(get the full story here, if you actually care)

F*ck The Pain Away

I went to a Peaches gig last night. I'd never seen her live before, and I was not disappointed. It was a guitar-tossing, bra-waving, drumstick-twirling, nipple-squirting, arm-wrestling, slam-dancing, knicker-dropping (4 pairs IN ONE TRACK!), glam-rocking, crowd-surfing, ass-kicking night of funness.

Peaches looks like the result of a dirty night of lovin’ between a 70s wrestler and a Vegas stripper – she’s all silver hotpants, hot pink capes and sequinned brassieres. Her band, Herms (an abbreviation of Hermaphrodites, obviously) were also hilarious especially the two boyish guitar/keys who seemed to be at their frontwoman’s beck and call when it came to all sorts of hijinks (80s glam makeup/patty cake/push ups/slam dancing/arm wrestling/dry humping etc).

There are some pics here.

Opening act Macromantics was pretty damn hot too.

Good Things Come To Good People...

... And Alcohol Comes To Alcoholics.

A friend/former colleague/object of lust moved overseas last week, and in packing up all her worldy possessions told me thus: "I have some leftover alcohol and for some reason I thought of you." I'm not sure what she meant by that, but hey, I'll take what I can get.

The Absinth & Cointreau have yet to be opened, the other two are half-full. Unfortunately I can't drink Black Sambuca due to a late-90s incident, however I'm sure it won't go to waste given my circle of acquaintences.