"Oh wow.... but... fuck you"

Where The Dirty Hipsters Are...

Karen O, Monster Children, Urban Outfitters... it seems all the cool kids are frothing at the mouth over Where the Wild Things Are...

They certainly were when I was in LA... you couldn't turn a corner without a billboard glaring at you with oh-so-cute monster eyes.

And yes, I am totally on board with this Hipster phenomenon. My notorious hatred of children is being tested... I want to borrow someone else's child and dress them in jumpsuit and crown. If February wasn't so unbearably warm, I would make an adult sized version of the costume for Playground Weekender.

Alas, until December 3rd, I must be content with truly awesome pisstakes, and engage in that classic hipster dialogue of self-denial of status....

Lust for Life

Song of the week: Lust for Life by Girls...
It's summery, San-Franciscan Sixties pop with devilish lyrical content. Oh so wrong, but oh so right.

Oh I Wish I Had A Boyfriend
I Wish I Had A Loving Man In My Life
I Wish I Had A Father
And Maybe Then I Woulda Turned Out Right
But Now I'm Just Crazy I'm Totally Mad
Yeah I'm Just Crazy I'm Fucked In The Head
And Maybe If I Really Tried With All Of My Heart
Then I Could Make A Brand New Start In Love With You

Oh I Wish I Had A Sun Tan
I Wish I Had A Pizza And A Bottle Of Wine
I Wish I Had A Beach House
Then We Could Make A Big Fire Every Night
Instead I'm Just Crazy I'm
Totally Mad
Yeah I'm Just Crazy, I'm Fucked In The Head

And Maybe If I Really Tried With All Of My Heart
Then I Could Make A Brand New Start In Love With You

Girls Who Play Guitars

Here's a tip. If you're feeling a little stressed out by life, and hanging for Friday, maybe don't listen to Maximo Park for hours on end.

You won't feel so sunny...

Maybe don't watch Freddie and Effy episodes either... It's a Brit-pop culture cocktail for not so happy times...

Thanks cyber/bear Gods...

Ed Droste and I have a date for January. It's a platonic date. That's alright. He can serenade me... I'll keep an eye out for sexy Argentinian men we can oggle together and lament that it's such a long way to South America...

boy and bear

It's days like today which are living evidence of perfection. Ok, so the weather was at times rotten, but you can't have everything.

Sunday started slowly with a gentle amble to Newtown Festival, where we ate our way through the festival, and retired to a friends' courtyard for sangria. To a soundtrack of Gotye, we relaxed in the humidity discussing the merits of Britney Spears lip-syncing being front page news. Our sleepy idyll was interrupted when an insane German friend of friend burst into the house wielding a knife in one hand slashing the air with a cake in the other, imploring us to join her in dessert, simultaneously swearing at us in a combination of German and English....

Deciding that it was a case of "I don't want what she's having", we passed up the chocolate fudge and marijuana rippled cake pleading the need to drive as justification for our passing up sweet treats.

Escaping her slightly psychotic clutches, we found a quieter spot in Surry Hills. Over gin and tonic, I swapped A and T for Lisa and we popped across to Low 302 for some Sunday evening music.

Low 302 is a brilliant little venue- devoid of pretension, but still in the heart of Crown St. It was quite an amazing feeling to have bar staff actually smile genuinely at you as you enter and order drinks. And with a food and cocktail menu to match this vibe, the venue is certainly a winner.

However everything that had passed throughout the day was eclipsed by the band we saw. Up and coming Sydney group Boy and Bear performed an acoustic set complete with utterly spine-tingling harmonies and guitar interplay.

My oft-maligned verbosity lacks the necessary adjectives to provide sufficient description of this band. They are, quite simply, superb.


The standout moment was most certainly an acoustic re-interpretation of the buzz single which has the indie music world rhapsodic, Mexican Mavis.

An extended stripped-back introduction is almost unrecognisable, with the first few minutes of the song featuring perfect vocal harmony delicately balanced over the bare bones and chordal progressions of the original melody.

Finally, after a tense beginning, we are delivered the track we have come to know and love by virtue of its adoption and high rotation on Triple J.

Quite seriously, this band is incredible. They are delightfully charming and interactive with the audience, making us feel included rather than extraneous observers.

I am torn in advocating everyone see them, as I would almost like to keep them as my own little secret. In just weeks, it will be impossible to see them in a delightful wine bar with twenty other like minded folk...

So, I am resigning myself to join the masses, and follow their gigs across Sydney in order to get the maximum possible fix of Boy and Bear. They are my musical therapy...

www.myspace.com/boyandbearmusic

www.triplejunearthed.com/boyandbear


PS.
Just putting a little bear-themed request into the cyberspace atmosphere...
Please, please pretty please can we be successful in booking Grizzly Bear tickets tomorrow... Grizzly Bear, Middle East, Becks Bar.

Please cyberspace gods? Here is an offering.. of a bear...

gratuitous video i find compelling...

I somehow doubt this will appeal to anyone at all. It makes me smile. Borrowed from The Scare twitter feed. Ta lads.


Stay tuned for more gratuitous postings which I shall attach in my own whimsical time.

Dear Sydney Morning Herald,

Look, I know Grizzly Bear aren't exactly indie these days.

I GET that they are the Kings of Leon of 2009. I understand this. Good for Ed Droste. He deserves it the delightfully talented little poppet.

I am fully aware that it is going to be an absolute online dogfight to get tickets to their three shows on Monday. In particular, their show with the Middle East at Becks Bar.

I am gearing up and gathering the necessary strength to participate in said dogfight.

Therefore, I really don't need you listing the Grizzlies as one of the Top 6 attractions of Sydney Festival in Saturday's Spectrum liftout.

That's just rude.

Furthermore, please stop alerting people to the likelihood of it being a rapid sell out. We all know that by 9.05am they will be gone.

Stop rubbing it in.

Yours Sincerely,
Abby.

It's all about me (and a bit of Kiss Reid).

We like little internet quizzes. They keep up our quota regularity, and they're awesome, as everyone loves to talk about themselves. I can write this, and you don't have to read it, but that's ok, as for five minutes, I was entirely self indulgent.

Oh, and I tag L.

What are the last three things I purchased?
1- Pepsi Max (maximum taste, no sugar… also on special for cheaper satisfaction of caffeinated dietary requirements).
2- cucumbers and organic baba-ganouj- my final meal! Truly…
3- The Scare’s Ooozevoodoo album- it’s quite good. Totally not my type, but you know, expanding boundaries and whatnot.

What are the last three songs you downloaded?
Well I bought The Scare from itunes? So that? And some Bridezilla? I was very disappointed. It offended my principle that ‘any music with a violin/viola in it is awesome’. Why would you do that?

What were the last three places you visited?
1- the gym! For weights and cardio induced death with D! She clearly hates me.
2- Paradise Beach, Avalon. My favourite place to do readings… it almost makes law tolerable.
3- I’m going to list somewhere not chronologically correct, but more interesting: Mexico! A month ago. It was amazing. Go to Mexico. Get fat on tortillas (they are really fatty! Hurtful truth).

What are your three favorite movies?
1-The Mighty Ducks trilogy (ok three movies). It takes me back to my childhood.

2- Cool Runnings (see above for justification). Most exciting moment of late: seeing the original bobsled used in the movie in a museum in Calgary, Canada. Oh, and then seeing the track used in the movie, and quoting “feel the rhythm, feel the ride…”
3- I kind of loved (500) Days of Summer. Mind you, I only saw it for The Smiths references and art deco Los Angeles architecture, so I was always going to be satisfied.

What are your three favorite possessions?
1- my ipod touch- all the functions of an iphone, but not a phone. Therefore not a wanker device.
2- my viola. I love it to bits, even though the bridge is broken and it needs restringing. It’s been with me for so long…
3- my little car which gets me everywhere in Sydney I could ever need to go, costs nothing to fill and gets about 600km a tank. I love you jellybean car.

What three things can you not live without?
1- Um, well practically: food. Ha no, um tomatoes, garlic, onion and chilli. The founding ingredients for any dish I cook.
2- Gin. Good gin. With lime, and plenty of ice. And no, this doesn’t make me an alcoholic.
3- Music. My ipod/computer/stereo/radio tend to be blaring whenever I am home. All at the same time. It’s a cacophony of tuneful joy.

What would be your three wishes?
1- a passionate love affair.. yeah truly. A destructive, painful, awful, beautiful romance which inspires poetry, hateful lyrics and stories dripping with regret, painted with rose coloured glasses and retrospect.
2- a job which makes me excited to wake up every morning.
3- to sing on stage, in front of an audience with an amazing band (I have a shortlist of favourites). Singing in my house just won’t suffice anymore.

What are three things you haven't done yet?
1- My masters degree.
2- Lived in Melbourne (soon soon!)
3- Lived in a hovel in Shoreditch (also soon soon. Hovel is indeed necessary).

What are your three favorite dishes?
1- Any combination of chilli, garlic, onion, tomato and a some bacon for good measure.
2- Carb-tastic spaghetti. Mmm…. Fat!
3- Any Mexican interpretation of pork dishes. They get pig… Swine Flu was Babe’s revenge.

What three celebrities do you want to hang out with the most?
1- umm so he’s not really a celebrity, but I have an unhealthy desire to get to know Kiss Reid, lead singer of The Scare. See them live, then try and argue with me. Kiss, if you see this, send off an email and all? Yeah- I recognise my profile picture is ugly, but it’s a bacon and pork shaped into a pig. As if that’s not awesome?

As if that isn't amazing? Dare to defy me... go on...

2- Russell Brand. We’d have all kinds of vegetarian, non substance based fun. It would be the opposite of my fun with Kiss, but perhaps more fun? I don’t know. Hey Kiss- PROVE ME WRONG!
3- I suppose Noel Fielding? Mainly so he and Russell can kiss, and I can watch. Is this wrong? Oh for sure. I don’t freaking care. I don’t think anyone is going to disagree with me after they’ve seen The Big Fat Quiz of the Year 2006 (youtube it).

Raper capes are genius.

Name three things that freak you out...
1- lateness. I despise lateness. If I am not ten minutes early, I am late. Terrible.
2- Midgets. If you know me, you know my fear of midgets.
3- Beetroot. The devil food. It’s pink. Food is not pink. It stains and taints everything it touches. It also turns my hair pink. Which does tend to happen when your hair is white.

Name three unusual things you are good at.
1- Being on time. Always.
2- Getting in trouble at airport customs. I am always the subject of 'random' searches. Stripsearches in Singapore, bomb searches in London, confiscations at the Mexican border and private life searches flying into San Francisco.
3- Naming pets. I wanted to name my ex-boyfriend's kitten Darcy after the Austen character, as he was a little prim and stand-offish, yet eventually loving. He also had black and white markings which looked like a tuxedo. They named him Dodge. Ugh. I succeeded in naming the other kitten Bailey. Brilliant, as the ex is Irish, and the cat was the colour of the drink. My skills shine.

What are three things that you are coveting?
1- A ticket to Grizzly Bear at Becks Bar for Sydney Festival. Truly covetworthy I predict. Ebay is going to go MENTAL on Monday at about 9.05am.
2- A sexy electric violin. Yes please, thanks.
3- A plane ticket back to LA. I really kind of love LA. It’s dirty and gritty and superficial and horrid. Yet isolating and compelling. It’s an enigma I wish to get to understand.

tuesday Velvet Underground

Here she comes, you better watch your step

She's going to break your heart in two, it's true It's not hard to realize
Just look into her false colored eyes
She builds you up to just put you down, what a clown
'Cause everybody knows (She's a femme fatale)
The things she does to please (She's a femme fatale)
She's just a little tease (She's a femme fatale)

See the way she walks
Hear the way she talks
You're put down in her book
You're number 37, have a look
She's going to smile to make you frown, what a clown

Little boy, she's from the street
Before you start, you're already beat
She's gonna play you for a fool, yes it's true
'Cause everybody knows (She's a femme fatale)
The things she does to please (She's a femme fatale)
She's just a little tease (She's a femme fatale)
See the way she walks Hear the way she talks

Nico with John Cale on viola... musical perfection

twipot

aka Installment Two of 'Lisa and Abby's Amazing Adventures"...

Exam time does a funny thing to us all. It makes us a little loopy to say the least. Last night, the pressure of study seemed to get to Lisa and I, and via a facebook chat conversation, we contrived the following winning idea (and bear with me)....

Capitalizing on the mass hysteria for all things tweeny Vampire, we proposed creating a fanfic tale which fused Twilight, and Harry Potter. In doing this, it spans the collective memories of two sub-generations and taps into about 50% of the total retail fiction market for the past ten years.

Imagine: Harry and Edward coming together to battle an enemy.

Imagine: two major money spinners being unwillingly fused in one almighty pisstake.

Imagine: Lisa and Abby finding another way to weave crude sexual innuendos into everyday life. A way to further the status of the 'glitter wand' as a phallic euphemism in the minds of our friends. A way to further poison the minds of the corruptible (corrupted?) youth of today with thinly veiled tales of sex and morality.

Imagine: the movie spin off. Imagine the money.... We decided we would have to include Cedric Diggory in our story, as that would mean double the character opportunities for R-Patt, and therefore double the attractiveness to tweens, and of course the merchandising potential.

Until now, our crazy scheme had seemed *almost* plausible. Until we considered possible plotlines.

Somehow, our 'brainstorming' devolved to this:
Lady Gaga comes to give a concert at the Yule Ball at Hogwarts. But it turns out she is really an evil midget who kills people with her disco stick.

Harry tries to stop him/her(?) but is cut in the process. The scent of the blood rushes to the nostrils of Edward Cullen, who is instantly turned on, as let's face it, they are both closet homosexuals aren't they?

He rushes to Hogwarts with his speedy vampire running and all to help out his 'special friend' H-Pott.

When together, they form some kind of tween super crime fighting team. Cullen uses his glittery body, and Harry uses his wand. This fuses to become the GLITTER WAND! It is an omnipotent, indestructible death stick of awesomeness.

****cue NOT VERY SUBTLE, NOR MATURE PHALLUS JOKES***

Gaga's disco stick battles the glitter wand whilst Muse's Supermassive Black Hole plays in the background...

** supermassive black hole? glitter wand? let the imagery continue***

But of course, the shiny Glitter Twins reign supreme. They overpower Gaga, but she relents as she realises that just like Harry, she also has a lightening bolt on her face. Although hers is from facepaint, rather than faulty curses. However she considers this enough of a bond.

And they all live happily ever after. The End. Cue big Bollywood-style dance scene involving whole cast including CGI double R-Patts to keep the kids happy.


Sooo... what do you think? Are we onto a winner?

Cassie: Do you know what hurts most about a broken heart? Not being able to remember how you felt before... try to keep that feeling, because... if it goes... you'll never get it back.

Chris: What happens then?

Cassie: You lay waste to the world, and everything in it.

vancouver

After an almost wintery escape in the Rocky Mountains, it was time to begin the search for Canadian cool.

Namely: Vancouver.

In my mind I saw a shiny, new city full of shiny, outdoors loving, nature fiends. Everyone I knew who had moved from Sydney to Vancouver had done so to appreciate lakes, mountains and parks and to take advantage of biking and skiing opportunities. So, once again, I was out to have my expectations washed away.

And like every other time, my preconceptions were wrong.

Or, more that what I had seen as a potentially negative aspect of Vancouver ended up being what I embraced.

For all those who have not yet experienced the utter joy that is Vancouver- a run down. Vancouver is a city set on the Western coastline of Canada a couple of hours north of Seattle. It is protected from the harsh winters tolerated by inner Canada, and instead is based around harbours, inlets and urban beaches.

The heart of the city to me feels to be Stanley Park- an immense zone of green where cyclists and bladers mix with racoons, squirrels and skunks (apparently even bears!). Unlike any other major city, the CBD is devoid of hustle and panic. Instead, immaculately dressed workers and students ride single gear bicycles complete with wicker baskets.

The city truly is a collection of quite independent villages, each with their own spirit. From the relaxed vibe of Kits Beach, the truly unique carnival feel of the hamlet under the bridge Granville Island to the more traditional foodie district of Yaletown, and night-zone of Gastown, Vancouver has so much to offer.


It seems to be a city very content within itself, rather than striving to be something else to everyone. This strikes me as something quite different to Australia, and indeed very pleasing. Whilst Sydney defines itself with reference to Melbourne, and Brisbane strives to find its own spot, Vancouver accepts its diversity quite willingly.

This contentment allowed us to experience truly diverse aspects of the city. Highlights included cycling through Stanley Park, where we hand-fed a family of wild racoons we spotted on an ice-cream detour.

As we cycled along the sea wall path, we spotted a series of hundreds upon hundreds of stacks of rocks. It seems that it was an unpronounced tradition to gather your own pile of pebbles and leave your own mark upon Vancouver, in the most fantastic way imaginable. So of course, we obliged.

Other stand out experiences included mixing it up with attendees at the Vancouver Fringe Festival, held at Granville Island. Granville is not actually an island as such, but a district that exists under a bridge in a sort of chaotic, carnival sort of way. Also, watching a local ska-funk night in a tiny jazz club with about six other people…

Vancouver is filled with the hipsters we have come to know and love around the world, but unlike the ones which occupy Surry Hills in Sydney, the Valley in Brisbane, the Mission in San Fran or Silver Lake in LA, they are positively inoffensive in BC. They walk around the streets with smiles on their faces, engage in conversation and display none of the intellectual arrogance the wannabe musos and poets of Sydney wear as a badge of honour.

Indeed, my travel companion S and I nearly started a dance off in the middle of Urban Outfitters. Whilst gazing lovingly at their collection of witty t-shirts and Where The Wild Things Are merchandise, Cut Copy began playing throughout the store. We had a momentary pang of homesickness, and proceeded to begin crumping inelegantly in the middle of the store, much to the amusement of the more subdued Canadians.

Vancouver is amazing. I love the Canadian government for making it so easy for young Australians to get a working visa. I intend on doing this the moment I have finished university. I feel Vancouver may be my spiritual homeground.

And my head told my heart
"Let love grow"
But my heart told my head
"This time no"
Yes, my heart told my head
"This time no
This time no"

On days such as today, it's probably not best to identify with Cassie...

But sometimes people deserve a water-pistol to the face...

oh canada (pt 1)

So my NAFTA trip began with Canada, and ended up with a drive through California and into Mexico. In all honesty, Canada was what excited me least.

Promises that Vancouver was ‘just like Sydney, but colder’, and depictions of Calgary as a cowboy bumhole town did not exactly tickle my travel bug. Similarly, as a lover of architecture, history and culture when I travel, the idea of 1000km of mountain, snow, forest and farming left me feeling dim over the prospects of ten days oot and aboot in Canadia.

Once again, my preconceptions were entirely incorrect. I was proven to be a fool, and I am ever so grateful for this.

Calgary is presented as the Canadian oil capital, run by barrens dressed in boots and cowboy hats. Picture the Texan Oil magnate character in The Simpsons. Depiction=wrong.

Whilst the CBD is awash with Texaco, Caltex and other such logos which would enrage the environmentalists, the city itself is more a collection of villages determined very much by their geographic location along the river. Kilometres of parkland and bicycle tracks mean the city is very much one of outdoor pursuits.

But, it hardly forms the peak of Canadian experiences. From a personal perspective, there were certainly fun times, but let’s move on to more interesting events…

Armed with one shiny, sexy black car complete (and one not so sexy blue one), six of us made our way from Calgary, eagerly heading towards Mountain country.

It is truly impossible to capture or depict the Canadian Rocky Mountains with either words or images. The vast nature of the landscape, the sheer size and diversity renders it utterly unfeasible.

But hey, I’ll give it a go.

The view from the car driving out of Calgary towards Banff is much like rural Australia- flat, endless pastoral territory dotted with sheep the sole witnesses to a single lane highway. But suddenly, you follow a bend in the road and rising out of nowhere are mountains, forests and the beginnings of snow-capped peaks.

As you continue climbing, the entire environment begins to change. Arid, rocky outcrops are interspersed with pine tree clusters clinging to the sides of peaks. The windows become noticeably frosted as temperatures drop in the space of an hour from a balmy 28 degrees in Calgary, to -10 on top of Sulphur Mountain near Banff.

Driving through the picturesque chalet tourist town of Banff, we question the prevalence of people attired in winter ski gear, when we are comfortable in the car wearing just tshirts and Havainas. As our gondola climbs Sulphur Mountain, we see that the temperature is now in negative territory, and the need for inclementally appropriate attire is made obvious with the first blasts of frost, ice and snow we encounter as we exit the comfort of indoors.

Needless to say, S and I are the subject of much laugher and derision as we climb mountains in thongs. I lost count of how many times I heard “bloody Australians”.

The Rocky Mountains truly are days upon days of continually mind blowing scenery. Icy lakes and streams, colours you could never imagine, layer upon layer of peaks emerging as you follow the twists and bends of the road.

Indeed, the vista is so surreal, that the much awaited Lake Louise seemed a disappointment. After the rugged, untouched beauty of Lake Moraine, Louise is a tamer sister, with high tea, manicured gardens and paved walkways diminishing the sense of unreal. But truly, disappointment is relative- it’s all still incredible.

Our group spent three days tucked away in a log cabin in the middle of the Canadian wilderness. We ate, drank and relaxed in a Jacuzzi with open window… such was the location, that wild deer popped their heads in to see where the heat and steam came from- much to our surprise and theirs.

All in all, the three days I was least excited about turned out to be highlights of our trip, and I was extraordinarily disappointed to be continuing back into civilisation and Vancouver…

But that’s another story…

Freddie: We'd be good together don't you think?
Effy: No.
Freddie: Why not?
Effy: Because I'll break your heart.
Freddie: Maybe I'll break yours.
Effy: Nobody breaks my heart.

LA I <3 U

So I promise to upload accompanying photos, but in the meantime I am sorting through thousands of them... stay tuned, I'll make it pretty

As I traversed across the great North America, I made little notes, and I now attempt to compile them in some way to depict, detail and record my experiences so I don’t forget them three weeks later… So here’s my first….


Halfway through our trip, we flew out of the truly phenomenal Vancouver ready to begin our American adventures in earnest. We were intending to live and breathe Yankee clichés as we roadtripped to the cultural cataclysm that is Los Angeles.

Our first stop: San Francisco.

To say that I was excited was an understatement. Everyone I had spoken about my trip planning could not manage to find the words to describe San Fran, such was their reliance on hyperbole. I had been told that San Fran was ‘my city’ such is my status as a walking, talking character personification of stuffwhitepeoplelike.com

So I rolled into town, anticipating blissful days spent in Castro and the Mission District feeling ever so hip and culturally special. And whilst San Fran certainly provides these experiences (a truly phenomenal Richard Avedon exhibit at the MOMA and an intimate performance by The Drones for less than 100 people at the amazing price of $10 both highlights), it seems that the old girl has been hit unfairly by the GFC.

Whilst poverty is rife in any American city (indeed it is one of the primary striking features to any Australian used to our glorious state of social welfare), San Francisco was suffering the unfortunate juxtaposition of comparable numbers of tourists and beggars. Indeed, there seemed to be an absence of any real locals, and hence the city has been (temporarily) rendered a mere fusion of haves and have nots.

With this is the state of affairs, it becomes hard to appreciate the truly beautiful architecture and history of the city. The city is reduced to tourist destinations… the F-train connects Fishermans’ Wharf with the Union Square. We can part with money for overpriced food and entertainment, and shop to our hearts’ content, stepping over sleeping bodies as we do so. Haight-Ashbury becomes not the historic heart of the Summer of Love, but a borough benign with stoned hangers-on. The Mission District is not a melting pot of cultures, but a queue of shoppers searching for the nearest Thrift Store to make their purchases in a context devoid of the hipster search for ironic, sustainable fashion.

So indeed, San Fran was a bit of a disappointment. Though not without its merits, I look forward to returning in a few years when it (hopefully) re-establishes to its truly glorious self.

From there it was onwards and upwards (or downwards as our GPS and general geographical principles would have it) to Los Angeles via a brief sojourn to San Diego and Mexico for a few days R&R.

I shall skip these, as that’s a whole other post, and go straight onto LA.

Well, I expected to be disappointed. I expected to be disheartened by a concrete vacuum packed solidly with plastic people. I expected tack.

I was wrong (and pleasantly surprised).

A caveat: LA is what it is. A fake town based on a false economy of false hopes and dreams. I didn’t investigate this, but I’m fairly certain their CBD is in fact Universal Studios, with the majority of economic productivity derived from entertainment industries and associated enterprises. That, and suckers like me paying money to come and see said false economy.

It’s is an incredible mix of shiny plastic faux-reality mixed with the dirt, grime and smut inherent in a city built on looks and egos.

For all the ill-advised aspirationalists, there is a history of previously failed hopes, as well as evidence of success. There are markers of a golden Hollywood past nestled along a strip rich with spray-tan salons, bottle shops and acting studios.

For those of us more accustomed to the tall poppy culture of Down Under, this unbridled ambition is jarring, but compelling nonetheless. Every person you meet has a dream that extends beyond their current position. The waitress dreams of celluloid stardom, the retail worker of musical immortality. The hip kids of Silver Lake punch away on their aluminium cased i-technology awaiting their unique literary genius to be discovered whilst sipping a soy decaf free-trade organic macchiato.

And we are conditioned to shun this raw determination as shallow star chasing. We deride the palm tree pop culture and highways to nowhere.

But why? I must admit I see a certain charm in this difference. It is a refreshing change to the diffidence which marks the youth of Sydney. Sure, we are aspiring musos/poets/journalists/artists and curators, but this drive is hidden from public view. We are too cool to try. A public statement of dreams is a precursor to failure, as lets face it- self awareness is unattractive to us.

And whilst I’ve settled back into my state of nonchalance, I could certainly envision a stint over in LA. I could feel quite at home residing in Silver Lake, catching the latest up and comers trying their trade in the dive bars, or living just a hop skip and jump away in Venice Beach, hanging with the tattoo artists and perpetual stoners, enjoying a beer watching that iconic sunset over Santa Monica.

But first I have to find a dream to chase…

thisiswhyyou'refat...

I'm sure we all know the website... features daily gastro-inventions which most commonly involve a combination of bacon/processed meat/cheese/chocolate/syrup/sauces/salt in some form of appropriated cholesterol binge.

I have a similar feature on this site, although the contributions are admittedly far tamer. I have moved on from my obsession with Woolworths Select Honeycomb Swirl biscuits (complete with yellow chunks!), however I do note they are on sale again for $1.98 at Woolworths Avalon for all those in need of a sugary study fix.

My latest obsession is one I gained whilst in Canada. Staying in wilderness retreats in the middle of the Rocky Mountains, our group developed the very civilized habit of wine, cheese, dips and Kokanee beer. From this, I have my own speciality: Baba Ganoush with sliced cucumber Oh my goodness, the combination of eggplant, tahini and lemon juice smeared on cucumber: its fat-tastic!


I highly recommend it... especially if you are seeking rapid weight gain, as I experienced whilst travelling, hurrah.

And now I leave you with a song...
It's an oldie but a goodie. Born Ruffians 'Hummingbird'. Think back to Skins, Season 2... the episode where Cassie runs away to New York and goes to the bar... LCD Soundsystem segues into a cameo appearance by the Ruffians boys playing this track. It's pretty awesome...

the night is young at heart

So Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist is a fun little film. Set to a fairly solid soundtrack of Bishop Allen, Devendra Banhardt and Band of Horses, it details the life and loves of some excruciatingly hip kids gallivanting across Manhattan and Brooklyn in search of a ‘secret gig’. Cause that’s what we all do with our nights: go to gigs in people’s warehouse residences.

OH HA! Maybe we do…. Prepare for a tale with only minor creative licence applied.

Faux-indie filmmakers get ready, because there is a spin-off in the works: Lisa and Abby’s Amazing Adventures.

Basically, Lisa and I tend to have nights out together which start out with the best of intentions: a quiet dinner, some drinks, maybe catch a band or three then drive home. But like all of the best plans, they fall by the wayside.

Last night was the latest instalment in the long running saga of freaking insane, but ridiculously fun adventures.

Deciding that a night of pizza and beer at K’s place in Marrickville wasn’t the best option for avoiding the 83 000 men named ‘Ben’ plaguing our lives, we strolled down Fotheringham Lane to the utterly delightful CAD Factory, a studio-cum-performance space tucked in a warehouse which doubles as some lucky fellows’ residence…

However before enjoying the sweet strains of the talented Adrian Deutsch, we sought nourishment to sustain our evening. Word from the wise: backstreets of Marrickville lack the abundance of Pho we had come to expect from the Vietnamese hamlet. Our options were limited to the neon glare of a decidedly dodgy Thai takeaway, or pub food.

Thinking a schnitzel was the safer option, we entered the bar only to be greeted by a handful of sun-weathered gentlemen and….. a woman dressed in only bra and g-string. At 7.30pm. In a suburban pub. As you do.

A form of perverse fight or flight kicked in…. do we go with the stripper flow, or retreat in favour of rice noodles?

We decided to solider on with stripper meals, however the taunting leer of our fellow patrons ushered us out. Curry puffs and Pure Blondes in hand, we trotted off to watch some truly awesome Adrian Deutsch which tickled me pink as I have tried in vain to catch a solo set for a good year now…

Adrian was followed by a Jack Ladder set complete with electronic beats supplement, which was certainly interesting, however the tone for the night was really set by a Kirin Callinan new creation ‘The Toddler’ with words not safe for blogging, the absolutely insane little ditty made us feel a little crazy, and let’s just say, craziness certainly ensued.

Without giving too much away, highlights (?) of the night included:

• Standing on benches to watch music (how positively unladylike of us!)
• A certain individual handing my phone number to a musician without me knowing (I die, I die! Haha),
• Only just avoiding an invitation from a Black Rebel Motorcycle affiliate to become girls three and four in his orgy (Amazing the people you meet at Cad… truly)
• Spending some time in a gutter with the singer of a band recently mentioned in this little blog, before offering him a lift home,
• Dancing to Girltalk in a service station in Rose Bay
• Making facebook friends (Because isn’t that just what life is all about?)

Tonight is Lisa’s birthday drinks, and I am oh so intrigued to see what King Street has to offer us…. Newtown has never failed me before. Oh dear. Stay tuned for Part 2.

'hiatus' sounds like a skin condition...

Oh hello, A here. You may remember me from other blogs, such as.... well actually, this one.

Back in the day when we used to write. We appear to have gone on hiatus, although I am loathe to use this term, due to its immediate association in my mind with skin diseases. Truly. I apologise if I have henceforth forever burdened you with the same association.

This little omission was brought to my attention by the ever fabulous, oft mentioned LG, who complained that her ritual web browsing had long included this little blogspot, and that as authors,we had been letting her down. I apologise profusely.

I shall endeavour to make more of an effort, which I fear shall not be so difficult now that I am being forced to stop gallivanting across the nation states presently signatory members of NAFTA, and instead spend more time learning about thrilling issues such as incorporation of companies, constitutional protections on speech within the media, and the right of same sex couples to Medicare for IVF treatment.

All these form part of the thrilling notes I shall be composing for law exams. woo.

But just to get the ball rolling, I will use this thus far entirely pointless post to cross promote an upcoming post by my good friend L, detailing the ins and outs of pneumonia medication and its effect upon a good night on Oxford Street.

Needless to say, they render you somewhat deluded... I remember believing I was some sort of musical demigod whilst undertaking a course of antibiotics whilst working off a bottle of moscato. In short: banging wine bottles and woks with spoons in your kitchen will NOT result in you being crowned the next drummer of the year, no matter your skill in Guitar Hero World Tour.

Until then, tot siens! Promise some substance, and here's a picture of Noel Fielding to keep you happy. Remember: it;s all about the glitter wand (hey LG?)

Oh that's right... we have a blog!

So we at SIDAR kind of forgot about this little blog. Oops. Sorry. But I promise we shall rectify this negligence, omission and general poor form in the coming weeks.

Taken by my lovely travel buddy J- Moraine Lake in Canada. Hard to believe this is real

IOU some stories about Canada, America and Mexico. They shall not be stories of retardation, as the group I travelled with were just fabulous, however I will endeavour to share some observations on the mating and dating cultures of the NAFTA signatories as well as general tales.

In the meantime, here is a little something something to get the ball rolling again.

1. Along with the amazing LG, I attended the launch of the Virgin Mobile Metro Theatre last night. Aside from another exercise in pointless corporate rebranding, the night had quite the odd feel to it. Just 24 hours prior to our attendance, the venerable old gal (and personal favourite) the Hopetoun Hotel had shut its doors, shrouded in a veil of mystery.

Disregarding concern for corporate mismanagement and the allocation of blame, it is a great shame to lose (even temporarily) such a giant player in the local music scene. Some of my favourite nights were spent mixing it up with the eclectic bunch that frequent the Hoey.


So, in some ways I am putting aside my natural mistrust of the commercial world becoming involved in independent music venues, and I hope that the Branson alliance will provide a much needed injection of liquidity and guarantee, thereby allowing the Metro greater sway in the music scene, and thereby avoid a similar fate to the Hoey.

2. Playing at the launch were none other than the delightful lads from Dappled Cities. Whilst I have previously alluded to LG's long time love of Dave Rennick, I was positively won over by Tim Derricourt and his endearing fusion of guitar skills and a personalised hot shoe shuffle.

These boys truly are the real deal. They mix lush and unique sounds, consummate skill and a total lack of arrogance or assumption which makes it absolutely impossible not to love them all. To see a band actually smile and enjoy themselves on stage was a refreshing experience. Dappled, Bluejuice and Yves Klein Blue all achieve this, and it is a delight to see.


3. I am obsessed with this track. Check out the whole clip, and focus on the keyboardists expression following the final build into the refrain. Oh it is special. I love Mumford and Sons.

***I promise we shall resume the regular updates sooooooon. I'll post some pretty pictures of mountains, lakes and oceans. Oh, and some tequila tasting too***

Banff...

Hello lovely blog lovers....

I promise a preper update of my little travelogue soon, however right now I must admit I am having far too much fun to bother updating.

In the meantime.... noteworthy information:
1. spreading swine flu throughout Calgary in the best way possible... oh yes.
2. driving through Banff and various quite incredible lakes... I will try and post photos to indicate sheer brilliance. Sadly anyone who knows me is aware of my complete lack of photo ability.... hence I will poach them from others.
3.Extraordinarily overexcited to catch up with friend in Vancouver very soon (Hi O!)...


Peace, Fucking and all that to everyone... I promise proper posts in the not too distant future
xxx

Cowboys... Calgary Style

At around 1am today, I suddenly decided it would in fact be a really great idea to accompany a bunch of Australian and Kiwi boys to a bar called Cowboys in Calgary.

I really should have thought this through. Check this to see what I mean.

Ya huh. It's just like that. Girls in lingerie serve beers from buckets around the club. Cheerleaders perform dance routines for no apparent reason. Barmaids grab guys heads, and motorboat them.

Please urban dictionary this if you are unsure. I'm not clarifying.

Yeah, it was pretty much the most frightening thing I have ever seen.

I would put pictures to accompany this, but I don't really want to defile this blog with naked women...

Greetings from Canadialand

Helloooooo from Calgary!

So I kind of forgot to tell you, little cyberworld, but I shall be spending the next three weeks or so jaunting across Canada, America and Mexico, in search of new bands, men and awkward stories to bring to you.

No, in truth I'm just having a mission toward obesity. Truly. I'm going to be freaking enormous. It will be great.

So I figured I'd jot down some stories of my first 24 hours in Canadia and amusing travel anecdotes that no one actually gives a shit about. So feel free to skip this if it bores you. I won't mind.

"Awesome" stories: (you decide)

1. Was nearly swallowed whole by an American family on the flight to LA. Pretty much. They spent the whole flight complaining about how there wasn't enough food on the plane... and after a while they started looking at me oddly. Was I their very own Breakfast Bob? I think I'd make good bacon...

(In absence of a successful google image search for 'Breakfast Bob', I give you a Noel Fielding doodle instead. Same effect)

What made it even scarier was that all five members of this family were dressed in head to toe Ed Hardy. This offended by 'Stuff White People Like' sensibilities. That, and I didn't want to be eaten by douchebags.

2. Upon arrival at LA, I was attempting to find the check-in for Air Canada. Upon approaching a rather large, responsible looking gentleman to get directions, I was oh-so politely informed that no, he had no idea as he was a bodyguard working on the NCIS shoot which was happening on location, and yes in fact I had just walked through a scene as they were filming, but that's ok.

So I turn and see Mark Harmon (total dish!) and feel very Hollywood...

3.Canada has squirrels! I had a massive tourist moment when I first saw one running across the road. I stopped, stared, pointed and guffawed. Locals rolled their eyes at me. I don't care. It was awesomes />Ok, so that's about all the news I have. I have spent the first 24 hours eating and drinking with crazy French, Dutch, Swiss and Finnish folk. Off to a football game to have a proper Canadian experience. However, I have a question: what football shall I be watching?

I thought perhaps gridiron? Better known as American Football? But we are not in America? Hence what is Canadian Football? I suppose I shall find out tomorrow.

Monday is off to Datarock by myself (I'm cool like that), at a venue called Broken City, described as the 'favourite hipster hangout'. Considering this city is full of people in cowboy hats, trust me with by absolute hatred of hipsters to sniff out their little hangout... ugh.

I leave you with..... some truly rocking Datarock tracksuits. I may buy one on Monday and make it my uniform for the rest of the trip. Would go down a treat in Mexico I think...

few of my favourite things...

No, not raindrops on roses. Not even doorbells and sleigh bells. We at SIDAR are material girls, so here's a list of material things I would like to spend my hard-earned (non-existent) money on when I win the lottery and split my time between by Darlinghurst terrace and Northern Beaches bungalow...

1. Beautiful Waste- Poetry of David McComb

Like Bob Dylan and Jim Morrison, lead singer of Australian band The Triffids David McComb also wrote poetry. Now deceased, this book acts as a tome of beautiful words detailing everyday life, addiction, fame and other topics.

Introduction by John Kinsella... score! This is definitely one for taking down to Paradise Beach, forming a little nest amongst the tinnies and reading for a few hours in the sun. Positively delightful.

2. Declaration of Dependence-

The new Kings of Convenience album is due for release on October 2nd... this is a full month and a bit too long for me to wait.
Oh Erland Oye, why must you be such a charming wordsmith? You have already charmed the pants of me with your Whitest Boy Alive track Gravity. The line "she's the gravity my life circles around..." is fantastic. Absolutely brilliant.

And now you have to come up with track Boat Behind as a little teaser. Oh featuring a delightful cello melody I have already had a play with on my viola, this track is an exercise in simplicity and pure joy. It is a testament to the fact that folk pop does not have to be mediocre, but unabashedly beautiful.

www.myspace.com/kingsofconvenience if you want a little look. And to partake in the agonising wait for the release of this LP.

3. Dylan GPS-
Despite the fact that I contribute to this blog, I am vehemently anti-technology, and following a few glasses of Merlot will quite readily share with you my views on iphones.
Summarised, it's a little something like this: If you put too much technology in one device, one day it will become so intelligent it will seek to escape the slavery you subject it to, creep up on you in the middle of the night, and rape your face.

No one wants sexual assault via iphone.
However, this deep-seated aversion may be challenged following the announcement that Bob Dylan is set to return to the studio. Oh to have that drawl navigating my sojourns across the far corners of the earth....
Imagine blending philosophy with navigation.... "How many roads must a man walk down, before you can call him a man? Well for a start, hang a left in two sets of traffic lights...."

4. Uni Open Days-As the final chapters of my five years of an Arts/Law degree draw to a close, I am faced with the horrible realisation that at the conclusion of ones' university experience, one is expected to go out into the real world and get a job.

Oh the horror. Truly.

No longer can I spend my days lying on the Campus green in the sun, pretending to complete my law readings. I cannot sit in Surry Hills cafes and dingy Darlinghurst hole in the wall pubs discussing political theories with like minded folk. I am expected to bid farewell to the beautiful land of abstract, theoretical ivory towers and become a productive member of society, contributing, rather than detracting from our GDP.

Oh bugger this I say. I'm going to do a Masters degree. So it was with this mindset my friend and I popped on down to the UTS open day, so she could fulfill her dreams of being Legally Blonde (well, brunette in her case) and I could become a posey journalism student.

Upon arrival, not only were we greeted with an abundance of shiny young high school students not yet disillusioned with the reality of university-induced poverty, but free things! UTS tried to bribe our lovely HECS/HELP money from us with free fairy floss, pencils, lollipops, coffee, vitamin water and veggie burgers!

I had forgotten this annual joy, and wondered why I had not pretended to be a student every year in order to satsify my yearly stationary needs.

What simple joys...

And as M and I sat in the sun, enjoying our free food, we wondered if it was entirely inappropriate to find the 17 year old school leaving boys attractive? Probably. Oh well

few of my favourite things...

No, not raindrops on roses. Not even doorbells and sleigh bells. We at SIDAR are material girls, so here's a list of material things I would like to spend my hard-earned (non-existent) money on when I win the lottery and split my time between by Darlinghurst terrace and Northern Beaches bungalow...

1. Beautiful Waste- Poetry of David McComb

Like Bob Dylan and Jim Morrison, lead singer of Australian band The Triffids David McComb also wrote poetry. Now deceased, this book acts as a tome of beautiful words detailing everyday life, addiction, fame and other topics.

Introduction by John Kinsella... score! This is definitely one for taking down to Paradise Beach, forming a little nest amongst the tinnies and reading for a few hours in the sun. Positively delightful.

2. Declaration of Dependence-

The new Kings of Convenience album is due for release on October 2nd... this is a full month and a bit too long for me to wait.
Oh Erland Oye, why must you be such a charming wordsmith? You have already charmed the pants of me with your Whitest Boy Alive track Gravity. The line "she's the gravity my life circles around..." is fantastic. Absolutely brilliant.

And now you have to come up with track Boat Behind as a little teaser. Oh featuring a delightful cello melody I have already had a play with on my viola, this track is an exercise in simplicity and pure joy. It is a testament to the fact that folk pop does not have to be mediocre, but unabashedly beautiful.

www.myspace.com/kingsofconvenience if you want a little look. And to partake in the agonising wait for the release of this LP.

3. Dylan GPS-
Despite the fact that I contribute to this blog, I am vehemently anti-technology, and following a few glasses of Merlot will quite readily share with you my views on iphones.
Summarised, it's a little something like this: If you put too much technology in one device, one day it will become so intelligent it will seek to escape the slavery you subject it to, creep up on you in the middle of the night, and rape your face.

No one wants sexual assault via iphone.
However, this deep-seated aversion may be challenged following the announcement that Bob Dylan is set to return to the studio. Oh to have that drawl navigating my sojourns across the far corners of the earth....
Imagine blending philosophy with navigation.... "How many roads must a man walk down, before you can call him a man? Well for a start, hang a left in two sets of traffic lights...."

4. Uni Open Days-As the final chapters of my five years of an Arts/Law degree draw to a close, I am faced with the horrible realisation that at the conclusion of ones' university experience, one is expected to go out into the real world and get a job.

Oh the horror. Truly.

No longer can I spend my days lying on the Campus green in the sun, pretending to complete my law readings. I cannot sit in Surry Hills cafes and dingy Darlinghurst hole in the wall pubs discussing political theories with like minded folk. I am expected to bid farewell to the beautiful land of abstract, theoretical ivory towers and become a productive member of society, contributing, rather than detracting from our GDP.

Oh bugger this I say. I'm going to do a Masters degree. So it was with this mindset my friend and I popped on down to the UTS open day, so she could fulfill her dreams of being Legally Blonde (well, brunette in her case) and I could become a posey journalism student.

Upon arrival, not only were we greeted with an abundance of shiny young high school students not yet disillusioned with the reality of university-induced poverty, but free things! UTS tried to bribe our lovely HECS/HELP money from us with free fairy floss, pencils, lollipops, coffee, vitamin water and veggie burgers!

I had forgotten this annual joy, and wondered why I had not pretended to be a student every year in order to satsify my yearly stationary needs.

What simple joys...

And as M and I sat in the sun, enjoying our free food, we wondered if it was entirely inappropriate to find the 17 year old school leaving boys attractive? Probably. Oh well

your world is going to change nothing

Oh oh oh.... I like this song. It's been around for a while, but I have been indulging my youtube sensibilities categorically viewing the cover versions posted as part of the Okkervil River cover project.
Basically, last year Will Sheff and his magically musical bandmate buddies asked their similarly tunefully inclined friends to record a cover of one the songs featured in upcoming album The Stand Ins.

After watching the covers, I revisted the Okkervil River originals, and was reminded just how much I love this song.
Whilst it lacks the deep introspectivity of tracks such as Starry Stairs (wonderfully covered by our own Jack Ladder), the cheeky meaning permeates the cultural references.

The song has a fantastic Carly Simon quality to it. Confused? Allow me to explain. Okkervil River is seen as a musician's band- the strong fan base is generated not through massive airplay, but underground word of mouth. Therefore to be invited into their clique is somewhat of an indication of your worth in the creative scene.

Ergo, is Sheff having a bit of a go at himself? Someone specific? Or the generic throbbing mass of people who believe that their music tastes and fashion stylings render them unique and culturally valuable?

OR, is it a greater attack on creativity? After all, a world without Shakespeare, Stoppard and Sheff would undoubtedly be far duller, but at the end of the day, would history be fundamentally shifted?

If you choose not to follow my overly complex lyrical pondering, just enjoy the killer guitar refrain and Sheff's Austin-cum-Brooklyn vocal stylings.

And here's the David Vandervelde cover, as I cannot find a good quality youtube video of Okkervil. Maybe head over to elbo.ws for a sneaky listen. But don't tell them I sent you... go musical copyright and all that.

N is for Nose (aka an Open Letter to Dave Rennick)

Dear Dave 'Wiley' Rennick:

I feel compelled to pen a little letter to you. As this is a blog, and is hence inherently public, this note takes the form of an open letter.
Some of my readers may not know who you are (I KNOW- shock and horror Dave, shock and horror), so I will give them a background so we are all in a position to fully appreciate my grievances. Dave Rennick is a guitarist and vocalist in Sydney based band Dappled Cities. He also formed indie 'supergroup' The Curse of Company featuring none other than frequently blogged identity Mr Jack Ladder.
Ok, now everyone knows who you are, and we can forget they ever momentarily doubted you. On to my issue...

Dave, why oh WHY do you have to be so gosh darned cute? You have old world good looks accompanied by schoolboy charm. You write beautiful ditties and form fantastic little groups that make delightful filmclips including flags, recorders, tubas and Mr Ladder fondling seaweed. FONDLING SEAWEED!

Dave... what are you doing to me??

Furthermore, you sing delightful falsettos on crazy little keyboards, and dress up in suits adorned with lights. LIGHTS! Daft Punk costumes have nothing on you Wiley.

You talk about hunting buck in Mona Vale "where no one knows your name". Mona Vale is my town! You are speaking to me!

Alas I am not alone in this affliction. In fact, whilst I was taking a shine to your tall, delightfully dimpled Curse of Company counterpart, my good friend LG remained faithful in her love for you. Mine has increased incrementally with each youtube video I clicked.

My fondness of you was moderate, and I was coping with my everyday life..... until tonight. You see, I was supposed to be spending my night reading my Media Law textbook in preparation for my tutorial. I have not done this. Instead, I have spent the night on the ABC Childrens' Television website.
Why you ask? BECAUSE OF YOU! If I fail this subject, I shall blame you Wiley.

(for all those not in the know, THIS is what I am referring to)

Dave..... Wiley..... Rennick..... how can ANYONE resist a man who sings childrens' songs? How can LG and I go about our daily tasks whilst being distracted by such amazing songs as:
N is for Nose
K is for Kazoo
G is for Gong (when you bang it, the sounds goes BONG!)

Oh Dave. Why would you do this to me? I am paralysed by childrens' songs at the age of 22.

Hmm.... what are you going to do about this then Dave? Huh? Well?
I'm just going to sit here, watch youtube and await your call...

An Open Letter to Bob Dylan continued...

Dear Bob (or would you prefer Mr Dylan.... I don't mind),

Recently, my fellow blog contributor L contacted you asking why you had to go and be so gosh darn sexy and force women to swoon over men with somewhat odd appearances.

I concur, as I share this affliction. Whilst I don't suffer the same weakness for the 'ranga fro', my friends can all attest to my absolute and utter love for the lanky musician complete with tousled bouffant and Ray Ban Wayfarers. So I continue her angry rant...

Oh the wayfarer. Oh the musician in a suit complete with guitar and harmonica. Oh a bluesman, detailing the woes of existance.

OH F YOU BOB DYLAN! Why would you do this to me? I don't need to detail my contemporary troubador possessing all of these qualities as regular readers will know to whom I refer(it is an open letter after all).
But nontheless, YOU, Bob Dylan, have created this state of sexual attraction in my mind to awkward, arrogant but bloody sexy musicians.


Whilst I am complaining to you, I would also like to complain about the song Just Like A Woman. Rumoured to be written by you about Edie Sedgwick. This has sparked a related desire of mine to be forver captured in song by sexy musician. Why Bob, why?


Final complaint: Look, I know the character Hayden Christensen played in Factory Girl was meant to be a fictional character, but WE ALL KNOW IT'S YOU! It's a giant 'guess who, don't sue'.

Oh my goodddd...... Hotness personified. 5 points if you guess who it reminds me of?
He was sex on two legs. Seriously. Way not NOT help my little problem. Apparently you are born in 1941, which makes you quite old now. But I reckon you are probably still sex on a stick

F You Dylan. Way to make me angry.