Melbourne I love you but, Drum circles?

Just because you have dreadlocks and can play guitar reasonably well, does not give you permission to sing songs about taking drugs in the bush. We’ve all been camping. We’ve all dappled in hallucinogens. It does not make you an alternative musician. It most certainly does not make you unique. In fact, it is the most un unique topic of conversation. Thanks for making my ears bleed. I can’t help that my eyes prefer to look at the inside of my brain than listen to another hip-hopping jukebox regurgitate their alternative lifestyle into a monotonous predictable “song” that suggests their insatiable appetite to prove that those dreadlocks serve a purpose. I know you live in Melbourne. I don’t need to hear predictable lyrics about what it’s like to walk down Sydney road, or to sip chai in Fitzroy, or to be on Centrelink and living off tuna tofu meat. I’ve done it. We’ve all done it. Get a bit more creative, or don’t call your self a songwriter. Yes your songs take me to another place. That is the ultimate duty of a song-writer. But you take me to la-la land in a Homer Simpsonesque thought bubble where I’m chasing a circus monkey and giggling insatiably at his antics. Monkeys are cool. This one time I saw a circus monkey dressed like an ancient Indonesian mythological dragon in a market in Malang Java. He was tied to a fence and demanding money from passers by. He was starving and had unusual welts on his legs. That was not cool. The monkey was still cool. He looked a bit like the monkey in my head. His name is Albert.  Albert in my head would never wear a jilbab because he’s not Islamic.  Nor would he ever have dreadlocks- he’s not a Rasta. He would never join a drum circle because he hates the sound of bongos. He does smoke weed. But he’s not Californian so he smokes it with tobacco. He uses tally-ho’s if they are around because at the end of the day all rolling papers are the same. He can roll a mad 3 paper like a seasoned big mama would roll White Widow with her eyes shut in a cafe in Amsterdam. He keeps his eyes open though because he’s only got small hands. It would be like one of us trying to roll a scoob with 3 sheets of A4 and having our eyes closed. He’s a good monkey. But he’s bounded by the limitations of Darwinism.

Melbourne I love you, but leggings are not pants!

I was reading MX and I saw a camel toe. I'm so sick of camel toes. Even hot girls don't look good in leggings. Just wear a longer singlet. Especially do not wear a little singlet so we can see overflow and cameltoe. Even super skinny girls look shit in leggings as pants. Everyone, and listen close, everyone looks shit in leggings as pants. I know its been said before. There is a Facebook group about it. But I don't think anyone in Melbourne uses Facebook because there is a lot of leggings being worn as pants in this city. I wrote into MX. They never published it. Its okay to yell abuse out of your car window to lants (legging pants wearers). Its the only way they will learn. Some people call them mumble pants. Thom told me. You can see the lips moving, but there's no sound coming out. My other friend Tom wanted to get a tattoo of a camel on his toe is Byron. I thought it would be funny. The tattoo artist thought he was a dick head. I met a dickhead once who had a shit tattoo, but he was from Canberra and his favourite band was Nickleback. Fuck he was a cock bag.

Melbourne I love You, but whats with all the shit on your face?

Its on facebook. Myspace. Everywhere. You see it when your out. You see it on the street.

Girls putting shit on their face. And Pose. Oh this is just me, holding a flower to my cheek. And pose. Oh this is just a cut out of a heart which I'm holding to my face. And Pose. This is me near a guitar, near a brick wall, looking the other way. And Pose. This is me and my friend doing all of the above. Posing. This me and my friend doing all of the above, one of us has a fringe, the other has red lipstick, we are wearing actual leather jackets. Mine has a hood. She bought hers at a vintage store.

You wouldn't know where it is though. It's really underground and indie. This is me and her shopping at the vintage store. I'm holding a vintage retro oldschool bow to my face. And Pose. She's wearing the vintage dress that I picked out for her, looking down with her hands byt] her sides. Her hair is so messy and indie. Pose. So when we put shit on our face, its really unique because it reflects my love for art. Its really creative and inventive. Plus we look really hot. I bet all the boys go onto our facebook pages and look though our photo albums that we take of ourselves at home holding shit up to our face. I bet they go through every photo, even though they are all really similar, and look at how creative and artsy and indie i can be.

SIA is my favourite example. She doesn't pose so much like those facebook indies. But boy is she creative. I've taken it upon myself to suggest a  couple of designs for her new album. Guess which ones were done by yours truly.

Melbourne I love you, but Washington?

Music is good. Music as an idea is good. It is a positive word that symbolises our imagination of and creation of sounds interrelating to evoke a positive response from within. Music helps to shape our model of the world; our percieved view of our own identity can often be constructed around our particular taste in music. We identify with singers, songwriters, guitarists, bassists, drummers and so on because it helps drive our youthful disillusions that we too can be somebody great. And also because we feel a foreboding sense of attachment to sentimentality. Thus we hold on to those artists and bands that impacted on people in such away that their lives were never to be the same.

Whether you listen to folk, rock, punk, reggae, or whatever. I'm talking about the songs that make you stop. The songs that make you close your eyes. Throw your fists in the air in time to the music. I'm talking about lyrics that are meaningful, or atleast passionate. I'm talking about people whose were driven to innovate. Artists who were drawn to change the face of music. Bands who were motivated to change the way people understood music. Music that evoked energy and life from within the listener. Who is doing that in Melbourne right now? Everyone is looking for the new sound of Melbourne. The next big thing.....??

People like to guess. People like to feel like they have some kind of knowledge that is unattainable to everyone else. People say that disco may be the new sound. Disco does not, and never will reach a large enough audience to actually define and reflect the identity of a city let alone a generation. There are all kinds of theorys out there... How about this one......

Look at yourself Melbourne. You decided to give up on thinking for yourself.. You only do what Triple J tells you to. Are you even aware that there are local radio stations. Have you heard of RRR? So you decided to forget yoursel because a radio station has forgotten its roots. Your fed bullshit songs like, barbara streisand and magic fountain and you lap it up. You actually call up and request to hear those songs again! Your new sound is Washington, Art Vs Science and other acts that lack back bone. Thats right! Here's your new fucking sound! Poetry-Gone. Innovation-Gone. Talented musicians like the boys from Art Vs Science have to resort to repetitive gimmik songs in order to actually make money. And musicians are actually caring about making money. The want to be products, they want to have there balls ripped out... And it works. Washington just made the record for selling out the most shows at the Corner. There you go melbourne- your new sound- CRAP.

Melbourne I love you but, Everyone is a fucking dj.

So my friend who's a dj rang me the other day to see if I wanted to spend 25 bucks to see him dj. And I asked him if I could get in for free because I can't afford to spend ridiculous amount of money just to watch my friend. So he said he would ring his friend who is a dj and ask him if he I was allowed to go on the door list. He didn't get back to me for several days. I guess he was working on some new mix cds.

Meanwhile another friend of mine who is a dj messaged me to see if I want to come and watch him dj on Friday night. I told him I already had plans with my other friend who is a dj, and I was going to watch him dj, but only if his friend who is a dj could get me on the dj doorlist. If he could not, I would then agree to go with my second dj friend and watch him dj. He agreed and said that he too would ask his friend who is a dj and see if he could get me on the dj doorlist.

One time at a music festival two years ago I made friends with these two guys and we spent hours hiding in bushes and jumping out of them. One of them turned out to be a dj.

So my friend who is a dj rang me back and said his dj friend could get me on the door. I would have to get the night off work. which means that I miss out on money, and have to pay for booze to enjoy watching my friend the dj, dj. So i told him I would think about it. I then spoke to my other friend the dj and told him that I couldn't come because if I did decide to take the night of work then I would be going to support my other friend dj at Roxanne. And he was shocked. Roxanne was where he was djing too. What a coincidence that  I would have two completely seperate people friends that were both djs and they would be djing at the same place with guess who. The dj from the music festival. We just got cdjs at my work which I can use. I'm gonna burn some sweet mix cd playlists and become a dj too. Then I'm gonna get a djing gig at Roxanne. Then I'm gonna buy a mac, use garage band, download some samples made by other people, add some of my own original combinations of samples, talk really fast so it sounds like I know what I'm talking about and impose my samples onto nice people who won't tell me they don't like it so I can get a confidence boost.And I'm an artist. No wait, I'm a DJ.

Melbourne I Love You, But I'm Too Hungover to Drive.

Sit in my backyard. Shit all over the backyard. The reminants of a soup party I didn't attend. My car is in Hawthorn. I live in Brunswick. Just ate tuna. Tuna was a bad choice.
Look at a poster for a raffle that was painted by an old housemate. She couldn't spell very well. She also called Beetroot-Beetfroot. I miss her. But I don't miss that. It was annoying.

Think about what it would be like if I did a 10 silent meditation retreat. Surely I would turn insane if I had 10 days to contemplate my life. I would think about money I owe, and think more about money that I owe. Then I would think that there is nothing I could do about it because I'm stuck in silent meditation for 10 days. Then I would think about people in my life, this funny cartoon I drew the other morning when I woke up and this website I was shown the other day which was created by a Graphic designer in Melbourne who is hilarious. Then I would think that I would like to be that funny. Sam Simmons is funny, I saw him on a tram once. He asked me what I did, I told him. He told me he worked in television and radio. I didn't tell him that I had been to see his show on my birthday for the last 2 years in a row, so I already knew that. I used to row in year 9. I didn't continue that for very long.

I would ponder over memories of rowing, Erin as the cox, and the other three girls. And the first time I worked out on a rowing machine. That was hard. But I had good form. So I quit.

I would think about all the things I had quit in my life. There was tennis with Pete the tennis teacher, piano lessons with Miss. Burch, guitar with hawaiin shirt long hair man, singing with musical notes for earings, Norah Jones loving Gale. University in 2006, several jobs, a relationship, and University again in 2010 with a whole bunch of right wing dougebags who still lived with their parents in Geelong and favoured going to the library to debate the days lecture, rather than going to the bar to discuss it.

I love a good debate/discussion; however, not with douchebags and second, over coffee or beer.

I would think it's hard not drinking. And then I would start actually missing it. I would try to convince myself that it's healthy and better for my body to eat lentils and water and pray and be silent. But my heart would tell me beer. And my mind would tell me beer. And then I would think about all the beer I could of bought if I didn't pay for this retreat. I could be getting drunk right now perhaps. I could be going to see a gig, or a friend, or both. I could be attending soup parties, fun parties, even shit parties....

And speaking of shit parties: I would think about what happened to me last night at this small party in Carlton full of late 20's early 30's Ash Grunwald wannabe's. And I would call it:

Melbourne I love you but your peeps don't have any street cred (working title)

At last nights party we got rapped at.

I said "how are you".

She said "Fine, fine, I rap all the time, I'm here to get fucked up so give me some love". I said "oh ok cool. Thats a nice rap you've got there".

She said "They tell me the rules, I dropped out of school, I'm fucking cool, she's fucking cool, them cunts they hate us, but that's what made us, I'm a freestyler and I know hows ta holla".

And I was drunk. I egged her on. And on and on for ages. My friend dragged me away. Later on slappy rappy was kicked out of the party for macking some bird, and licking her tits on the kitchen floor infront of everyone.

There were a few people dancing inside. M.I.A-Paper Planes was playing. Which suggests an awkward room of people with no taste of their own playing what they think is "alternative". Anyone who actually likes M.I.A would never play paper planes, because we all know that Arular is by far her best and only good album. Seeing as I was the drunkest person there, and didn't know anyone except for 2 people who were busy in the kitchen. I thought I would make some mates on the d-floor. "Hay! great d-floor!"

Then a song change. And before I knew it I was caught in a dry hump circle, and I was the only one not dry humping anyone...Damn you Jamie Foxx and Kanye West!!! Damn you!!!

And as I stretch into my Vipinassa something or rather yoga pose- I would think that I don't like any kind of dry hump dancing. There's no place for it in this world. Especially not in Melbourne.