Anti-D

It's not generally advised for someone to sing at the top of their lungs, as a means of curing an upper respiratory tract infection. But I wasn’t going to lie in bed and miss out on The Wombats.

Perhaps it was thanks to the copious mugs of sweet tea and lemsip – or it could have been the utterly brilliant pop music, but I felt a million dollars at the gig.

Today is another matter. I feel more lackluster than ever. I can barely string sentences together.

Ugh, why does feeling sick entail feeling miserable?

Writing

I'm currently writing up my review of last night's gig and enjoying reliving the night. The dancing floor was heaving to the Perth indie pop, with OAF packed to max capacity.

This cover of Fleetwood Mac was definitely a highlight of the night. A synth-infused dream.

Tomorrow it starts, I suppose

[Tim and Jean]

It was my last day of work today. It may be lame to admit, but I keen (almost anxious) to launder my uniform, just so I can officially ziplock it away for the next year.

I fly out on May 28th and won't be putting my nose back to grindstone until March 2012. That is if I find a job.

But I will be keeping busy with my freelance writing. In fact I'll be reviewing these native Perth boys tomorrow night and I'm pretty damn excited as I feel like dancing. I do, I do.

Wordsmith

I adore words. I simply squirm in sheer delight when I read couplets of complete untimed perfection. Or pharsing so sharp and cunning it causes bubbles of saliva to sizzle and pop on my tongue.

[via: we heart it]

Yet I am a traitor.

I am incredibly guilty of rehashing the same words over and over again - “lovely”, “adore”, “delightful”, “swoon”, “tasty” or “delicious”.

Michelle Kerns of the Book Examiner condemns the heavy-handed use of cliches:

“In 1984, George Orwell created newspeak, a language "whose vocabulary gets smaller every year."

While newspeak exists only in fiction (or does it....?) an even more pervasive, destructive language-killer has infiltrated the newspapers, news sites, and literary blogs of the world -- reviewerspeak.”

So fed up with the plethora of book reviewers “parroting” clichés at the expensive of providing insightful critique, Kerns has developed a list of the 20 chief clichés. But after blogging the list, a whole bunch of readers left more examples of painfully stale descriptions that are liberally littered in book reviews. And so "The 2010 Reviewerspeak Awards" were born - Kern monitored 20 media publications each month (form The New Yorker to Entertainment Weekly) to calculate the number of cliches used per publication. Kerns ensured awards were judged on equitable merit, by going one step further and determined the ratio of number of cliches per 100 words.

There are "compelling" and "powerful" graphs to back up this "fascinating" and "complex" data.

Wow, it's true that cliched statements are devoid of any real meaning - as the above sentence sounds incredibly stark and sarcastic.

In the aftermath of the awards, apparently Kerns was inundated far from pleasant letters. This baffles me, as reviewers should be encouraged to stretch themselves and come up with innovative and most importantly informative interpretations. If the novelist worked so hard to produce the work in question, shouldn't the reviewer? I certainty feel like I need to pull my socks up and sidestep cliches in the future (last cliche withstanding).

Cabins, belles, lanes, magnets and cairo

Cabins, Belles Will Ring, Lanie Lane, Magnetic Heads & The Cairos @ OAF, Saturday 19^th March.

Generally brand endorsed music events are just thinly veiled exercises in product pimping. However any apprehension I had of being bombarded by ads was quickly dispelled when I was greeted by OAF’s bare brick walls. Thankfully free of a potential barrage of Jim Beam posters. There wasn’t even an MC to hurry the bands along and enforce a strict timetable of proceedings. The merch was displayed on a bare trestle table, manned by various band members, making the vibe less corporate and more bootleg.

With five bands on the lineup the night started early. Too early it seemed, with only a smattering of punters showing up to watch Brisbane natives The Cairos. The near empty room didn’t deter the band from letting loose with an energetic set. Singer Alistar Richardson led the charge with his stellar vocal range evident in “Shane” and “Listening Party”, jumping from polished 1960s pop to a half strangled scream.

The Magnetic Heads were next up and with six members they crowded the small stage. Jonathan Millar’s wry and nonchalant drawl makes it easy to compare the band to a whole gamut of 1980s predecessors including The Go-betweens, Split Endz, Simple Minds or The Smiths. But it became quickly apparent that the band isn’t one to mooch off of others, each song is incredibly well crafted. Their songs veer away from traditional song structure; long progressive builds are interspersed with unexpected flourishes of tambourine and upbeat jangly keyboard. These rapid tempo changes aren’t jarring to the ear; they sound smooth, polished but most importantly incredibly fresh and exciting.

Lanie Lane sauntered on stage in a leopard print leotard, high waist jeans and an evitable quiff. Lane has the rockabilly look down to a tee. Her music on the other hand doesn’t just stick to the one genre as the set skipped between jazz, blues and poppier numbers. Announcing to the now sizable crowd that she just quit her day job as a florist, its apparent that Lane’s got the goods to back up her decision, with punters twisting in time to “Bang Bang”, “Betty Baby”, “Hoochie Coochie Man”.

Belles Will Ring, didn’t bother introducing themselves, instead they served up a solid set full of new material including ‘Come North With Me Baby, Wow”, “Deepwater” and “The Coldest Heart”, which are less upbeat love songs of old (“Park benches”) and more introspective musings. Lingering lead guitar, solid bass lines, sedate singing and the occasional flute created a darker ambience to match the lyrics. Even though the songs are moody and evoke feelings distance and space, the band played with enthusiasm and vigor.

The crowd tapered off during the interlude, but Cabins shook any sense of music fatigue from the reminding punters with hammering kick-drum beats. The consistent heavy beats in “Hounds” and “Mary” are trance like and the brooding vocals swim through the layers of off kilter guitar, causing the listener to feel in equal parts hypnotic and manic. “Foes & Thieves” and “Oceanic Blues” are more pared back and are driven by Leroy Bressington’s softly yearning vocals. Making it a more sedate, but nonetheless pleasing way to finish off the evening.

The bootleg tour succeeded in not succumbing to corporate shenanigans but showcased five cracking bands, which deserve to be hyped.

Nanna naps and late nights

I’m getting my grandma groove on tonight – early to bed and early to rise. Unfortunately the early start isn’t for something fun like jog or coffee; rather it’s for inoculation. I’m rolling my sleeves up and getting jabbed. Multiple times. Ouch.

Hopefully the mix of inert bugs won’t send me off my chops, as I’m covering a gig review at the OAF. Which sounds like it’s shaping up to be a cracker of a night, with a saucy selection of up and coming indie bands.

Belles Will Ring

Ps. I think that this post is all sounding a bit ocker, as I saw a news item about Prince William’s bemusement over the Kiwi’s choice vernacular.

House party

An artist I know became so frustrated by being “constrained by the parameters of canvas”, she started experimenting with light installations. It seems that most people present at Garden Music on the weekend felt similarly frustrated They didn’t start brandishing light bulbs, but they did ditch the free canvas on offer, in favour of slathering their limbs in paint.

Floral sundresses, high waisted short shorts, hula hoops, trilby hats, bare feet, parasols, suspenders and rockabilly attitudes were also favoured attire. All of which are not befitting the typical standards set by Government House.

Needless to say the Historic Houses Trust can throw a heck of party.

The Trust kindly opened the doors and grounds Government House, for a Sunday afternoon Garden Party. Constructed between 1837 and 1845, Government House “is the most sophisticated Gothic revival building in the state (NSW)”. To put it plainly – it’s jaw droppingly beautiful. The cavernous rooms are lit by natural sunlight from enormous bay windows and lined with bespoke carpets, so soft it puts my new sleeping mat to shame. The furniture and textiles throughout are a delightful blend of contemporary and Victorian styles.

When you’re having a house party it’s important to get the right vibe. To achieve this, there were garden games including croquet and badminton.

For the less competitive there were hula hoops, free newspapers and ‘Art en plein air’ (free art supplies so you could capture your impressions of the day). To keep the energy levels up, after lounging in the hot afternoon sun, a selection of French pasteries, tea and iced coffee were available.

This was all lovely, but what is a party without music?

There were performances throughout the day by – Ngalire, First Flight Crew, Lanie Lane, Deep Sea Arcade, Jinja Safari and Jonathan Boulet. In between sets, the very witty Gramophone Man kept the beats going on his beautiful brass gramophone.

This is a shot of one of the blokes from Jinja Safari scaling the scaffolding - gosh they are the bees knees and cause me to dance with wild tribal abandonment till my heart aches and my arm pits are swimming in sweat. Not the most attractive of descriptions, but look in the mirror if you happen to listen to their music - chances are you be throwing around moves that would make the Governor General blush.

Conviction

I don’t often make my way down to the cinema, but after watching the trailer of ‘Conviction’ I didn’t want to let it slip through my fingers.

When Kenneth Waters is sentenced to life in prison for murder, his sister Betty Anne is convinced there has been a miscarriage of justice. But without the legal aid to turn to Betty Anne works her way through the GED, a bachelor's, a master's in education, and eventually a law degree. Once she passes the bar she discovers that she still has many hoops to jump through before she can get her brother’s case brought to retrial.

True story.

Bam, it just blows my mine recapping it. Plus a film with Sam Rockwell in it how could it go wrong?

After watching it, I was left a tad bit underwhelmed. Sam Rockwell was fantastic, yet it felt like eating a stale ginger snap biscuit – dry and difficult to swallow.

Not only can Hillary Swank act her way out of a paper bag, she could play a paper bag. She completely embodies any character including Betty Anne, who is so consumed by the task of freeing her brother she almost becomes a robot. She studies insane hours, barely refuels, has no down time and just gets on with it without any emotion.

This made the pace of the film laborious to the extent it felt more like an extremely long television miniseries. A drab, monotone miniseries.

Betty Anne’s intense drive could have been explored in more depth, as while the film felt long, it glossed over so many fascinating plot points which would have helped humanise Betty Anne - the disintegration of her marriage, her foster care childhood, juggling children and studying for an undergrad, the stress of the bar exam, the mental decline of her brother in prison.

Even though I’m extremely biased as a bookworm – I really do think that it would work better as a book written from Betty Anne’s perspective. To get inside Betty Anne’s head would be a privilege, as it really is a series of fascinating events.

While I don't think it's a fantastic film, I do think it's worth the ticket price to see Juliette Lewis's bit part in the film, it's stale ginger snap and more like a chocolate coated coffee bean - peppery, oddball and explosive.

Eating my words

Oh Mercy have pulled their ingeniously titled new album "Great Barrier Grief" fresh out of the oven and they have me eating my words.

When I saw these guys warm up for Ben Folds a few years ago, I thought they were a bit underwhelming.

To brutally honest, I declared that they were boring and should be kicked off the stage because I wanted to revel in the magic of Mr Folds. But having nibbled on their album throughout the week, I realised that Oh Mercy create subtle songs that are very pleasing to the ear. In fact halfway through my first listen of the track "Let me go", I was overcome with chills and yelped out "classic! classic!".

Lessons learnt:

1. "Great Barrier Grief" is a nugget of aussie aural gold

2. Unlike Oh Mercy, I am not subtle in the least.

Ghost Train

Sometimes band names fail to capture the style of music they produce - Summer Camp got it right.

They got it so very right.

I feel like I'm swimming in a lake of sunshine and happiness when I listen to their EP.

Tuning fork

Architecture in Helsinki sound like a marching band who have been lost in the jungle for six months with nothing but their instruments, rain water and an endless supply of native fruit (with hallucinogenic properties). At times serene, other times hyperactive and bewilleringly delightful. The chaotic clash of ideas, hramonies and instruments, is always incredibly original and infectiously danceble.

I am excited for their new album. Yippee!

The Strokes you continue to woo me so with your jagged riffs, solid high hat drumming and delightfully messy audio production. Bon bon bon! Most music blogs are heralding the band's return to form - but I don't think they ever lost it, every release has made me dance like a cat on a hot tin roof or buy a leather jacket so I too can strike rock n' roll poses.

I'm also keen to sink my ears into Bright Eyes new release The People's Key.

Blood Buzz

[image via: modern nostalgic]

I've worked my way through some rip-roaring good reads this past month.

I plan to knuckle down and write some reviews. Unfortunately I keep getting sidetracked by High Violet.