a scrapbook dedicated to various ruminations over the years, including versions of unreleased and unrealised songs. chaotic for a reason, this is a collection of random moments, deliberately impulsive, slovenly, headlong & honest
october 2017
|
i have this habit when it comes to writing music. it's akin to a slowly enveloping disease created from self loathing, doubt and fear. it doesn't start that way. no, it starts entirely opposite. i pick up a guitar and write another obstreperous song, choc with fire and lust and greed and love... and it feels great!
i bring the idea to one of my bands, in this case, the nordeens. the band that handles fire and lust better much than the others. and they roll with it. they make it intense. they add their musical cleverness. their magical trinkets. and on and on it grows. until we have scored another rollicking pop rock beast. i love it. i live it. it defines me for a while. i walk around town thinking i know the answers to a question people haven't even thought of asking yet. it gives me identity. it gives me ego. a sense of achievement. creation. arrival. survival. and, you see, all too often, that's enough for me. the writing and the recording. that's all i need. the rest just feels like filler; marketing, promoting, treading the boards, greasing the wheels. but that is not for me any more. it never really was for me. that side of music was always an act.
so i leave it there. it truly is enough. and then life rips it's claws in, the doubt rises and slowly consumes, i disguise one of my true loves by focusing on other pointless or less angst creating activities. only to return to an album i started recording twelve years before, a little shy, a lot sheepish. but we finish it. and we love it.
then at the last minute the nausea creeps back... we drop two songs from the record for no reason other than that pernicious disease. as if somehow, for some reason, the opinion of an unknown and never seen collective, who may not like it, suddenly matters. it suddenly consumes me. maybe it isn't as strong as the other songs. but who defines strong? i let the disease define it. i let the disease take over again. and now the album is out and it feels like it has a hole punched in the middle of it.
i may take longer than most but i am defeating it. and that's why i'm posting this song. because i love this song. it's me all over. the shitty'est version of me. the guy who gets angry because other people don't love like he does. the guy who over thinks things. the guy with a bomb in his belly. the twenty six year old version of me; always testing. always wanting depth. always asking questions that have no answers. actually, nothing much has changed!
can i ask you how you have been, can i ask you where you are staying
you know that you're the last voice i thought i'd hear today
wish i could calm down before i break, you can't hide a smile
i thought you said you were never coming home if i don't bring you back
for five years we had no answers, i never knew if you loved me anyway
lock it in your heart, before you're forced to let out, some compassion
forever trapped here
no nice way to say this, you're not worth it you'ghre heartless
some compassion is all i'm asking
i bring the idea to one of my bands, in this case, the nordeens. the band that handles fire and lust better much than the others. and they roll with it. they make it intense. they add their musical cleverness. their magical trinkets. and on and on it grows. until we have scored another rollicking pop rock beast. i love it. i live it. it defines me for a while. i walk around town thinking i know the answers to a question people haven't even thought of asking yet. it gives me identity. it gives me ego. a sense of achievement. creation. arrival. survival. and, you see, all too often, that's enough for me. the writing and the recording. that's all i need. the rest just feels like filler; marketing, promoting, treading the boards, greasing the wheels. but that is not for me any more. it never really was for me. that side of music was always an act.
so i leave it there. it truly is enough. and then life rips it's claws in, the doubt rises and slowly consumes, i disguise one of my true loves by focusing on other pointless or less angst creating activities. only to return to an album i started recording twelve years before, a little shy, a lot sheepish. but we finish it. and we love it.
then at the last minute the nausea creeps back... we drop two songs from the record for no reason other than that pernicious disease. as if somehow, for some reason, the opinion of an unknown and never seen collective, who may not like it, suddenly matters. it suddenly consumes me. maybe it isn't as strong as the other songs. but who defines strong? i let the disease define it. i let the disease take over again. and now the album is out and it feels like it has a hole punched in the middle of it.
i may take longer than most but i am defeating it. and that's why i'm posting this song. because i love this song. it's me all over. the shitty'est version of me. the guy who gets angry because other people don't love like he does. the guy who over thinks things. the guy with a bomb in his belly. the twenty six year old version of me; always testing. always wanting depth. always asking questions that have no answers. actually, nothing much has changed!
can i ask you how you have been, can i ask you where you are staying
you know that you're the last voice i thought i'd hear today
wish i could calm down before i break, you can't hide a smile
i thought you said you were never coming home if i don't bring you back
for five years we had no answers, i never knew if you loved me anyway
lock it in your heart, before you're forced to let out, some compassion
forever trapped here
no nice way to say this, you're not worth it you'ghre heartless
some compassion is all i'm asking
july 2017
|
i love this song. we recorded it for the third college fall album, but it didn't quite fit - a little too ominous and sombre. this is a rough mix of our effort. i did a heap of field recording to get the harbour sounds. i really like how the mix is randomly loud and soft and weirdly put together. it was a raw, in the moment effort that could only have happened by jodie, cam, brendan, anna and i being in a studio together.
a boat can take a chance, but the tide will not return for me
and the consequence awaits, predictable
you cruise away i'm with the waving kids
grew an ocean out of your seeds, the motion helps your breathe
i'm soaking in my old creek, we're lost in what it all meansfgkn
the further you float away, the less the weeds will stick to you
while your decadence remains, irrational
you cruise away i'm with the waving kids
you turn around and see this for what it is
and you don't turn, no you don't turn around
a boat can take a chance, but the tide will not return for me
and the consequence awaits, predictable
you cruise away i'm with the waving kids
grew an ocean out of your seeds, the motion helps your breathe
i'm soaking in my old creek, we're lost in what it all meansfgkn
the further you float away, the less the weeds will stick to you
while your decadence remains, irrational
you cruise away i'm with the waving kids
you turn around and see this for what it is
and you don't turn, no you don't turn around
april 2017
|
Like many of the close friends I resonate with, I have spent extensive swathes of my existence, sitting in the deep, mostly alone, waiting to be seen. This, in isolation, I have gotten used to, and actually learned to accept and love. After all it's where you find true, deep connection. However within that isolation there has come a risk, a risk of interminable sadness, loneliness, depression.
For those that relentlessly occupy their mind denying the existence of depression in this world, I am compelled to slap you in the face with a simple truth: it is not the act of facing big difficulties and being sad for a while as you are fighting them (most people that suffer depression handle life's big problems with aplomb).
No, depression is the price paid by a loving soul, trying to stay loving, as they face a seemingly uncaring and disingenuous world. It is the relentless malaise that slowly develops and envelops your eyes, filtering, obscuring, and inevitably blinding every vision you have. Changing your relationship with the world, inevitably and more tragically, with yourself, in a way that at the time, feels irrevocable.
And when you combine these two states; living in the honest depths and living with depression, well for many of us, it literally feels like there is no escape. Even suicide seems pointless. The loneliness corrupts you, but it's the emptiness that ultimately destroys you.
Well I am writing today to say that in my experience, there is an escape. And in words it is simple; removing all your pathways of denial, then accepting the truth and yourself within it.
In action it is a lot harder, but the pathway itself isn't that difficult to find - it's right at your feet - but there is a simple choice to make; you can take one step toward acceptance or one step away from it.
It is the decision I face as I rise daily from the deep to meet a world, that in many ways, continues to hurtle down a different path. A path designed to reward denial, reward the lies, a world designed to mis-understand me, to not accept me, to not embrace me, or any of our true selves.
Stepping out on to that pathway, I need help taking a few steps here and there, we all need help. And reaching out with truth and honesty, like some of my closest friends have lately, has not only helped them, but helped me learn and grow further in my own journey of acceptance. Speaking the truth when you are in that deep, genuine place, there is nothing more pure, more relevant, more important. I say bring it on!
So to my friends: when you need an arm to lean against, as you take a step toward acceptance, I am here. I can give you words, I can warm you with an embrace, I can simply give you a knowing glance of support. I can give you love. If you can reach down deep and then stretch out your heart, you will find me, and you will find you. It's a solemn promise.
I am lucky enough to currently be realising my life long dream: to build and share a home in the bush. A retreat. A place to rest, a place to work and toil, to replenish, to nourish, to write music, regenerate the wilderness, care for animals so cruelly and pointlessly punished by humanity, to care for my loved ones and those people that need support, and, resonantly, to build a family. And this place, you are welcome to visit, whenever you need to. Whenever you need a loving ear, an understanding voice and an open soul.
I'll be available, out there in paradise, and also, when immersed in the chaos of this difficult "real world", I'll still be available, in the best ways that I can be.
For those that relentlessly occupy their mind denying the existence of depression in this world, I am compelled to slap you in the face with a simple truth: it is not the act of facing big difficulties and being sad for a while as you are fighting them (most people that suffer depression handle life's big problems with aplomb).
No, depression is the price paid by a loving soul, trying to stay loving, as they face a seemingly uncaring and disingenuous world. It is the relentless malaise that slowly develops and envelops your eyes, filtering, obscuring, and inevitably blinding every vision you have. Changing your relationship with the world, inevitably and more tragically, with yourself, in a way that at the time, feels irrevocable.
And when you combine these two states; living in the honest depths and living with depression, well for many of us, it literally feels like there is no escape. Even suicide seems pointless. The loneliness corrupts you, but it's the emptiness that ultimately destroys you.
Well I am writing today to say that in my experience, there is an escape. And in words it is simple; removing all your pathways of denial, then accepting the truth and yourself within it.
In action it is a lot harder, but the pathway itself isn't that difficult to find - it's right at your feet - but there is a simple choice to make; you can take one step toward acceptance or one step away from it.
It is the decision I face as I rise daily from the deep to meet a world, that in many ways, continues to hurtle down a different path. A path designed to reward denial, reward the lies, a world designed to mis-understand me, to not accept me, to not embrace me, or any of our true selves.
Stepping out on to that pathway, I need help taking a few steps here and there, we all need help. And reaching out with truth and honesty, like some of my closest friends have lately, has not only helped them, but helped me learn and grow further in my own journey of acceptance. Speaking the truth when you are in that deep, genuine place, there is nothing more pure, more relevant, more important. I say bring it on!
So to my friends: when you need an arm to lean against, as you take a step toward acceptance, I am here. I can give you words, I can warm you with an embrace, I can simply give you a knowing glance of support. I can give you love. If you can reach down deep and then stretch out your heart, you will find me, and you will find you. It's a solemn promise.
I am lucky enough to currently be realising my life long dream: to build and share a home in the bush. A retreat. A place to rest, a place to work and toil, to replenish, to nourish, to write music, regenerate the wilderness, care for animals so cruelly and pointlessly punished by humanity, to care for my loved ones and those people that need support, and, resonantly, to build a family. And this place, you are welcome to visit, whenever you need to. Whenever you need a loving ear, an understanding voice and an open soul.
I'll be available, out there in paradise, and also, when immersed in the chaos of this difficult "real world", I'll still be available, in the best ways that I can be.
december 2016
|
i was aways a sensitive person i was always in love with love. i always shy'ed away from anger and fear. i first went vegetarian when i was sixteen. it just made sense. i was vegan by eighteen. i was more butchered than the animals i resolved to save. it was a tough initiation, at that moment, in a world that refused to understand. my doctor told me i was going to die. seriously. i was not selected for a football final because they said i wouldn't have the stamina - i had the biggest tank in the team. there wasn't a restaurant within 2000 km of my home that offered anything more than hot chips or a fried rice minus the egg and beef. this was the early 90's. the era of who cares. the slacker generation. the hippies had died out, caring had died out. people gave up wanting to change things. malaise and irony was vital. it made us connected. just like the wonderful, broken, stunning, sad kurt and nirvana. the voice of a generation indeed. naming his band after the buddhist state of pure bliss and clear mindedness, while living the entirely oppositely. we all forgot how to care about anything. perhaps people thought i went vegetarian ironically. but i wasn't that clever. i was just never any good at hiding my earnestness. i jumped in between veg and vegan, depending on how much strength i had to keep fighting the good fight. it was an incredibly lonely time in my life. and it defined me.
watership down got me when i was seven;
'animals don't behave like men,' he said. 'if they have to fight, they fight; and if they have to kill they kill. but they don't sit down and set their wits to devise ways of spoiling other creatures lives and hurting them. they have dignity and animality.'
woosh. hits me like a brick wall, every time. i have a lot of animality. so much so that i can't think of living in another way.
i was in animal liberation for a few years. protesting. bringing attention to the cruelty. fighting fire with fire felt to too much like reading the first testament to me. i was doing the exact thing i was trying to stop. i was defeating my purpose and my heart was flailing. i felt even more alone then, because i lost myself in trying too hard. i tend to do that.
no one in my family understood. the few friends i had that "got it" were either so lost or so angry i only rarely connected to their compassion. then i was added to a watch list - a terror suspect list before there was such a thing as a terrorist. true fact: there are currently more animal activists on the american terror suspect list right now than religious extremists. yep, don't fuck with meat - the biggest money maker in the world, no matter how much horror and cruelty they impart. don't bring it to peoples attention or your life will be just like the lives of those your trying to save. i was followed home on at least three occasions and i was strip searched in every flight i took for the next five years. the price you pay for having an unpopular opinion. so i got out. i decided to continue my fight on the inside. with love. and take all the judgement in my stride.
so i fought on. conversation after conversation. question after question. and i researched and i researched. until i had answers for everything. i always knew that choosing love was going to be the best thing for me. i always believed that you are what you eat. and as time went on, the western world started to catch up. the last five years have been phenomenal for a culinary outcast like me. documentaries like what the health, conspiracy and forks over knives, are opening up minds and hearts to the harsh realities of peoples decisions. education and social tech connections are giving humans less and less lies to hide in. so more people are making changes. i am glad i held fast and didn't break. i am joyous that i can sit in one of melbournes 100 vegetarian restaurants today and feel that i am finally part of a movement of change. finally accepted for choosing to be loving. for choosing to care.
it's a beautiful life.
the soundtrack to this scrapbook post is rare college fall track called 'all of my flaws'. it describes the pointlessness of trying to sway people with your unpopular opinions.
life in a box full of opinions, i'm taking it all in my stride, living inside
i know it all means nothing to you, if i just get it to rhyme, and you're locked outside
you just cruise along, the luckiest person alive, until you get the door,
and you find, that you can't always know me or what i'm about to do next,
now you're on fire, i set you on fire
i hope you now i am a memory, i couldn't live this long
without fading to nothing, without getting it all wrong
i find ways to reinvent, this old story again
new words to hide in, another burn that you don't learn from
and i can't hold on here, to all of the panic i'm fearing without you hearing about
all of the flaws that i've got and all of the hurt that i'm hiding
when i'm so afraid you will get in, and destroy the lot
you drift away without you, and i watch you go
you keep your distance from me, and i might let you know
when i can not give you, one more day without this
i'll try to drag you there
and in return you blank me, i couldn't take your opinions, so i would break instead
I need a break in stead.
watership down got me when i was seven;
'animals don't behave like men,' he said. 'if they have to fight, they fight; and if they have to kill they kill. but they don't sit down and set their wits to devise ways of spoiling other creatures lives and hurting them. they have dignity and animality.'
woosh. hits me like a brick wall, every time. i have a lot of animality. so much so that i can't think of living in another way.
i was in animal liberation for a few years. protesting. bringing attention to the cruelty. fighting fire with fire felt to too much like reading the first testament to me. i was doing the exact thing i was trying to stop. i was defeating my purpose and my heart was flailing. i felt even more alone then, because i lost myself in trying too hard. i tend to do that.
no one in my family understood. the few friends i had that "got it" were either so lost or so angry i only rarely connected to their compassion. then i was added to a watch list - a terror suspect list before there was such a thing as a terrorist. true fact: there are currently more animal activists on the american terror suspect list right now than religious extremists. yep, don't fuck with meat - the biggest money maker in the world, no matter how much horror and cruelty they impart. don't bring it to peoples attention or your life will be just like the lives of those your trying to save. i was followed home on at least three occasions and i was strip searched in every flight i took for the next five years. the price you pay for having an unpopular opinion. so i got out. i decided to continue my fight on the inside. with love. and take all the judgement in my stride.
so i fought on. conversation after conversation. question after question. and i researched and i researched. until i had answers for everything. i always knew that choosing love was going to be the best thing for me. i always believed that you are what you eat. and as time went on, the western world started to catch up. the last five years have been phenomenal for a culinary outcast like me. documentaries like what the health, conspiracy and forks over knives, are opening up minds and hearts to the harsh realities of peoples decisions. education and social tech connections are giving humans less and less lies to hide in. so more people are making changes. i am glad i held fast and didn't break. i am joyous that i can sit in one of melbournes 100 vegetarian restaurants today and feel that i am finally part of a movement of change. finally accepted for choosing to be loving. for choosing to care.
it's a beautiful life.
the soundtrack to this scrapbook post is rare college fall track called 'all of my flaws'. it describes the pointlessness of trying to sway people with your unpopular opinions.
life in a box full of opinions, i'm taking it all in my stride, living inside
i know it all means nothing to you, if i just get it to rhyme, and you're locked outside
you just cruise along, the luckiest person alive, until you get the door,
and you find, that you can't always know me or what i'm about to do next,
now you're on fire, i set you on fire
i hope you now i am a memory, i couldn't live this long
without fading to nothing, without getting it all wrong
i find ways to reinvent, this old story again
new words to hide in, another burn that you don't learn from
and i can't hold on here, to all of the panic i'm fearing without you hearing about
all of the flaws that i've got and all of the hurt that i'm hiding
when i'm so afraid you will get in, and destroy the lot
you drift away without you, and i watch you go
you keep your distance from me, and i might let you know
when i can not give you, one more day without this
i'll try to drag you there
and in return you blank me, i couldn't take your opinions, so i would break instead
I need a break in stead.
july 2016
|
26th April 2003, three heart-worn rock soldiers ventured to Marrickville NSW to start recording tracks for their second LP. Eleven year later not a single note has been heard by the public. As with everything that related to The Nordeens, the experience was absolutely incredible but also extremely volatile. Three guys with a lot of chemistry and a fuck load of baggage, barely able to get through the week let alone keep a band together. Life changes, people move on, but chemistry is chemistry. When things naturally work, nothing on the planet can better it. And this year the boys have finally been able to lift and let the storm out of the teacup one last time. By June this year the album tracking should be completed. By the end of the year it should be mixed. Who knows if it will ever see the light of day. Frankly it doesn't matter. The satisfaction is in the doing.
we talked it over one last time and i walked around the room
we talked it over one last time and i walked around the room
june 2015
I got chatting to an incredible human being at a gig today. I won't go into the details, it wouldn't do the conversation justice, but one sentiment has sat with me for hours now:
"This is the last place I drank a beer with my brother before he died. Every time I drive past I stop and come inside"
Love is life is love. You've just got to keep an eye out for it.
this was his favourite song: (record never get there acoustic)
"This is the last place I drank a beer with my brother before he died. Every time I drive past I stop and come inside"
Love is life is love. You've just got to keep an eye out for it.
this was his favourite song: (record never get there acoustic)
may 2014
|
"The reason why this world is so fucked is because every person, every single one of us, thinks that they're right"
It may be a simple and all encompassing statement, but I doubt anyone can honestly prove that it's not true. After all, she even thought she was right when saying it and I thought I was right in agreeing with her. So I took a drive and sat alone on a hill cleared by 19th century farmers who thought it was right to clear the entire landscape of endemic vegetation, overlooking a catholic church that stoically thinks it's right to undertake centuries of persecution of people who don't believe in their doctrine. I thought about all the bad things that have happened to me when I've been adamant that I'm right and all the good things that have happened when I've been prepared to admit that I might actually be wrong. And I realised, it is this, our self righteousness that ultimately leads to an unhealthy level of self worth and entitlement that in turn leads to belligerent reactions and a lack of real empathy. And that is the source of all of humanities problems.
It doesn't matter if your beliefs are out and out racist or if you believe all the whales must be saved, we all ultimately think the same way, that we are right. And that thinking will ultimately destroy us. Perhaps it's because love, true love, can only really happen for a person in those very rare moments when they are prepared to admit that they might actually be wrong most of the time. And perhaps that is why there is an unprecedented level of sad people in our 'first class' western society. Yet perhaps we have gone too far and we're doomed to an eternity of stomaching self congratulating humans who create their own websites and ramble on them as if they are the custodians of a secret theory to save humanity, as if noone else has ever thought of it before. I certainly hope not. But then again, I'm probably wrong.
It may be a simple and all encompassing statement, but I doubt anyone can honestly prove that it's not true. After all, she even thought she was right when saying it and I thought I was right in agreeing with her. So I took a drive and sat alone on a hill cleared by 19th century farmers who thought it was right to clear the entire landscape of endemic vegetation, overlooking a catholic church that stoically thinks it's right to undertake centuries of persecution of people who don't believe in their doctrine. I thought about all the bad things that have happened to me when I've been adamant that I'm right and all the good things that have happened when I've been prepared to admit that I might actually be wrong. And I realised, it is this, our self righteousness that ultimately leads to an unhealthy level of self worth and entitlement that in turn leads to belligerent reactions and a lack of real empathy. And that is the source of all of humanities problems.
It doesn't matter if your beliefs are out and out racist or if you believe all the whales must be saved, we all ultimately think the same way, that we are right. And that thinking will ultimately destroy us. Perhaps it's because love, true love, can only really happen for a person in those very rare moments when they are prepared to admit that they might actually be wrong most of the time. And perhaps that is why there is an unprecedented level of sad people in our 'first class' western society. Yet perhaps we have gone too far and we're doomed to an eternity of stomaching self congratulating humans who create their own websites and ramble on them as if they are the custodians of a secret theory to save humanity, as if noone else has ever thought of it before. I certainly hope not. But then again, I'm probably wrong.
february 2013
|
So I've been writing music for twenty years. And yeah, like every other person on the planet, I love it. But that's not the honest story is it. Fact is, love has nothing to do with it. My story is all about choosing the right river to drift on. My first stream was all sadness and solis, I'd listen to men capture their lives with rare emotional openness, it just didn't exist in the desert around me. I felt closer to artists like Tim Finn, Justin Currie and J Mascis than I did to any of the chaos that spewed at me from the left and right. Classic male teen angst? Probably, but that's how passion begins. And it grew as I wrote and wrote and wrote songs. So my Amazon got wide. It always flowed, a hundred songs a year? No problems - unstoppable! For me, a self righteous indie kid with more bolsh than talent, it was never about about time signatures, fermata's, or legato's. I was more concerned with intuition, feel and getting drunk. I soon fell for the oft under rated 90's, lo-fi, four track in the basement, indie rockers, where those traits appeared to be all that mattered. Pure. Free from the creative drains of corporate fucktards.
After eight years of self indulgent bliss I made a decision: I'll leave this bountiful Amazon and try my luck in the real world. I heard that on the other side of the desert there was an even bigger tributary, leading to an ocean paradise that could give me everything I could ever need. So I saved up and bought myself an ego, navigated the desert and quickly located this super waterway, lined with excitable types at every turn. I snapped off a branch, sat down awkwardly and pushed off the banks. Soon enough I was rushing up and down the rapids of my own rock and roll dream. The ride made me nauseas but all the while I was sure it would be an honourable journey - I'd make it one! Fight the good fight. I tried to filter the flow into my own safe angles but wondered why it never really felt like I was moving at all. Stoic, I kept striving, diluting my own bad taste with their bad breath. And I kept crashing into other vapid branches muddling my head further. Openly scorning a new wave of hipsters floating past as they refined their “I'm better than you” attitude and deriding the used car salesmen with their maniac ego's and an undying need to tell me I had to change.
Inevitably this once unstoppable gush dried up, chock with weeds and nothing moving at all. I was lucky to write a song a year. Sitting in the dirt just hoping for rain. So I looked around and I finally saw what I was looking for; there are people out their just like me, defined by a mish-mash of their actions and their dreams. Perhaps I can band together with some of these kindred spirits! We'll build a little raft and carry the weight of the world downstream. We can destroy these industry captains before they pump their high pressure effluent all over us... Deluded and degraded, the brown tide just strayed me off course again, stuck in a muddy creek, watching helplessly as others float out into the ocean. Shit in their hair, salt in their eyes, and polluted fish in their bellies.
It's not a long walk back home.
After eight years of self indulgent bliss I made a decision: I'll leave this bountiful Amazon and try my luck in the real world. I heard that on the other side of the desert there was an even bigger tributary, leading to an ocean paradise that could give me everything I could ever need. So I saved up and bought myself an ego, navigated the desert and quickly located this super waterway, lined with excitable types at every turn. I snapped off a branch, sat down awkwardly and pushed off the banks. Soon enough I was rushing up and down the rapids of my own rock and roll dream. The ride made me nauseas but all the while I was sure it would be an honourable journey - I'd make it one! Fight the good fight. I tried to filter the flow into my own safe angles but wondered why it never really felt like I was moving at all. Stoic, I kept striving, diluting my own bad taste with their bad breath. And I kept crashing into other vapid branches muddling my head further. Openly scorning a new wave of hipsters floating past as they refined their “I'm better than you” attitude and deriding the used car salesmen with their maniac ego's and an undying need to tell me I had to change.
Inevitably this once unstoppable gush dried up, chock with weeds and nothing moving at all. I was lucky to write a song a year. Sitting in the dirt just hoping for rain. So I looked around and I finally saw what I was looking for; there are people out their just like me, defined by a mish-mash of their actions and their dreams. Perhaps I can band together with some of these kindred spirits! We'll build a little raft and carry the weight of the world downstream. We can destroy these industry captains before they pump their high pressure effluent all over us... Deluded and degraded, the brown tide just strayed me off course again, stuck in a muddy creek, watching helplessly as others float out into the ocean. Shit in their hair, salt in their eyes, and polluted fish in their bellies.
It's not a long walk back home.
august 2012
|
wednesday 2 august - in transit
fifty eight hours, seven in flight meals, five flights, four in flight movies, three run ins with airline staff, two trains, one piece of luggage, zero energy, minus one degrees celcius and minus two musical instruments. We have arrived at our destination. sverige!
thursday 3 august - gerlesborg
en route from stockholm, in predictable style i leave my phone charger and headphones at the best western. so i spend the next five hours fretting about how these two actions will no doubt lead to the end of the world. but not just yet, i must first be punished with fifteen gigs in fourteeen days. we are picked up by the laconic comic (and new tribelars cajun player) martin wennerberg at the uddevalla train station and head straight to the udevalla kassetten head office and spritual enlightenment centre (ie - lars's place). with just seconds to meet the lovely jenny qvick, martin ushered the wafting jetlag balloons out the door. on to meet kent andreasson (resident bass genius and beautiful giant) out in the boon docks, before racing off to our first gig; in gerlessborg (think margaret river with more rocks and less surf) playing to a crowd full of intellectual anti nuclear activists. setting up in the art school, jodie got a little teary at the sight of a grand piano and i was similarly gratfeul to see our dear friend and promoter lars wallin, holding up his washburn guitar for me. no time to relapse - we've been in sweden's west all of one hour and we are playing our first gig. we tried our best to inform the crowd that australia offers the world more than 60% of it's uranium deposits. not sure how convincing we were. post gig pizza, an ego shattering skinny dip and then filming a 'musto's scrapbook' video in front of that lovely abandoned fishing warehouse. we were were done for the night.
set list: melbourne the waving kids bijou model no never we can never be friends
friday 4 august - skälebacken and uddevalla
skälebacken is a little village about tweny minutes from uddevalla. A group of close families have put on a yearly music fesitval weekend called elinorspelen on their communal farmland. it is awesome. like i imagine meredith festival (west of melbourne) was like in the early days. we played in a barn. our first ever gig in a barn. in fact our first ever gig on a farm. the horses were ushered away and the place packed full of expectant swedes. it was a great show. one of our best. and the locals seemed to love it. we found out a few days later, out of twenty bands that played, we were voted the best band at the festival. our prize: a pig (made of vegetarian friendly porcelain). such great people and a beautiful vibe. I'd love to play their again one day.
set list: melbourne all but lost door prize bijou model the flood built an empty home perish union we can never be friends blankets
this break neck tour exploded to tendon shredding velocity as we motored away (leaving behind leads, sunglasses and a little part of my soul), straight back to uddevalla to play at infamous rock club Mortens Krög. we played outside in the cafe in 2009 and it was incredible. tonight we were set up in the stadium rock bar. a little more difficult for an acoustic duo to get their intimacy across from a stage that's about three metres above the head of the nearest punter... but, fuck it, we tried our damnedest! but it was a strange vibe, like meeting the hottest girl in town then finding out she previously dated your father. with a few tech issues rearing their ugly head, we didn't quite pull it off. But we didn't make any enemies or cop a tubörg bottle to the face.
set list: all but lost the waving kids melbourne door prize bijou model the flood we can never be friends built an empty home to where you are blankets
saturday 5 august - mora
i spent the five hours of the morning in the tour van dog box, fending off guitars and amps as martin and kent treated the highways of central sweden like their own personal silverstone. destination mora. the traditional heart of sweden. famous for dhala horses and every house looking exactly the same. we are here to perform at the wedding of david and elin qvick. the ceremony was in a church made of limestone. a highlight was the musical saw, violin and glockenspiel combining together for a beautiful rendition of hopipolla. the ceremony featured two very interesting local customs - one being that every time the groom leaves the room every man has to kiss the bride (and, i imagine, every woman who has the potential to find the bride sexually attractive), and vice versa. the other custom being that the family is obliged to perform a primary school style comedy skit to take the piss out of the newlyweds. it made no sense to me but i think it was funny. perhaps you had to be there (and be swedish). our performance was late, so i retired to recover from jetlag and played some uno with jodie and the tribelars rhythm section. the gig was great. lars killed it with his how to play didge 101 class and we threw together a mix of some of david's favourite songs of ours and some covers to keep the grannie's bootscooting.
set list: melbourne door prize bijou model the flood built an empty home killing in the name dancing in the dark perish union time after time go your own way gravity mr brightside
sunday 6 august - stockholm
a morning walk to mosquito lake brought back fears of my year 2000 dose of ross river virus. so i retreated to the van. primed for the four hour journey to stockholm. i love this city. i always wanted to say i played a gig in stockholm. today i finally can. the venue, engelen, is located on the foreshore of the old town, right near famous live club debaser. kalle, our sound engineer, was simply the most lovely person you could ever meet. it was a great vibe and lars and the tribe started up ripping into a killer set, including his new cracker: rue de memoir - a song about drinking wine and mulling over your memories. upon the arrival of some familar faces and a slightly more constricted feeling to the room, we played a more sombre and introspective set. it was very us: depressing and self depracating. the crowd loved it. post show we walked around the island called sodermalm, looking for a party, or at least a veggie burger. exhausted within the hour, we retreated back to our lodgings; a boat, on the harbour. a very strange night, but still, very enjoyable.
set list: melbourne door prize bijou model to where you are the flood no never work the corner gravity killing in the name perish union we can never be friends blankets
monday 7 august - stockholm
sleeping on boats doesn't agree with me. so i got up early and wrote this diary. then we spent the day walking around sodermalm. godfather lars had planned out a perfect day involving the very best this town has to offer: the best gelato, the best record store; pet sounds, the best restaurant; hermans vegetarian restaurant, the best chocolate. and to my immense satisfaction, the best outdoor hammocks. i spent a good three hours on that swinging cloth, drifting in and out of jetlag and reading zen and the art of motrocycle maintenance. i think my life changed forever in those one hundred and eighty minutes. philosophy and jetlag are a lethal combination. with no show tonight we made the late night drive back to uddevalla, allowing me more time to contemplate the definition of quality and to understand the level to which i am truly insane.
tuesday 8 august - göteborg
today we played göteborg. sweden's gritty rock and roll city. it was an amazing venue; henriksberg. on the fourth floor of an incredible art deco building looking over the harbour. the night is put on by local luminary eddie wheeler and was choc full of lovely people interested in australia. our show certainly doesn't offer the audience the quintessential nature of the country we happened to be born in. but in a way that's what australia is all about and they seemed to really enjoy it. our set was compromised by my pedal board having a missing power converter (aus to europe) which admittedly left me flustered and angry pre show - at myself more than anything - i've got to stop fucking losing things!! but it wasn't entirely my fault - stockholm intoxicated me... but we powered on. jodie was brilliant tonight. funny as fuck. post gig, feeling the effects of such a heavy schedule; the jetlag was being taken over by some bitter flu demon. the tribe played after us and nailed it with an explosion of post punk rootsy didge mania, their best show of the tour so far.
set list: bijou model the flood door prize work the corner built an empty home perish union
fifty eight hours, seven in flight meals, five flights, four in flight movies, three run ins with airline staff, two trains, one piece of luggage, zero energy, minus one degrees celcius and minus two musical instruments. We have arrived at our destination. sverige!
thursday 3 august - gerlesborg
en route from stockholm, in predictable style i leave my phone charger and headphones at the best western. so i spend the next five hours fretting about how these two actions will no doubt lead to the end of the world. but not just yet, i must first be punished with fifteen gigs in fourteeen days. we are picked up by the laconic comic (and new tribelars cajun player) martin wennerberg at the uddevalla train station and head straight to the udevalla kassetten head office and spritual enlightenment centre (ie - lars's place). with just seconds to meet the lovely jenny qvick, martin ushered the wafting jetlag balloons out the door. on to meet kent andreasson (resident bass genius and beautiful giant) out in the boon docks, before racing off to our first gig; in gerlessborg (think margaret river with more rocks and less surf) playing to a crowd full of intellectual anti nuclear activists. setting up in the art school, jodie got a little teary at the sight of a grand piano and i was similarly gratfeul to see our dear friend and promoter lars wallin, holding up his washburn guitar for me. no time to relapse - we've been in sweden's west all of one hour and we are playing our first gig. we tried our best to inform the crowd that australia offers the world more than 60% of it's uranium deposits. not sure how convincing we were. post gig pizza, an ego shattering skinny dip and then filming a 'musto's scrapbook' video in front of that lovely abandoned fishing warehouse. we were were done for the night.
set list: melbourne the waving kids bijou model no never we can never be friends
friday 4 august - skälebacken and uddevalla
skälebacken is a little village about tweny minutes from uddevalla. A group of close families have put on a yearly music fesitval weekend called elinorspelen on their communal farmland. it is awesome. like i imagine meredith festival (west of melbourne) was like in the early days. we played in a barn. our first ever gig in a barn. in fact our first ever gig on a farm. the horses were ushered away and the place packed full of expectant swedes. it was a great show. one of our best. and the locals seemed to love it. we found out a few days later, out of twenty bands that played, we were voted the best band at the festival. our prize: a pig (made of vegetarian friendly porcelain). such great people and a beautiful vibe. I'd love to play their again one day.
set list: melbourne all but lost door prize bijou model the flood built an empty home perish union we can never be friends blankets
this break neck tour exploded to tendon shredding velocity as we motored away (leaving behind leads, sunglasses and a little part of my soul), straight back to uddevalla to play at infamous rock club Mortens Krög. we played outside in the cafe in 2009 and it was incredible. tonight we were set up in the stadium rock bar. a little more difficult for an acoustic duo to get their intimacy across from a stage that's about three metres above the head of the nearest punter... but, fuck it, we tried our damnedest! but it was a strange vibe, like meeting the hottest girl in town then finding out she previously dated your father. with a few tech issues rearing their ugly head, we didn't quite pull it off. But we didn't make any enemies or cop a tubörg bottle to the face.
set list: all but lost the waving kids melbourne door prize bijou model the flood we can never be friends built an empty home to where you are blankets
saturday 5 august - mora
i spent the five hours of the morning in the tour van dog box, fending off guitars and amps as martin and kent treated the highways of central sweden like their own personal silverstone. destination mora. the traditional heart of sweden. famous for dhala horses and every house looking exactly the same. we are here to perform at the wedding of david and elin qvick. the ceremony was in a church made of limestone. a highlight was the musical saw, violin and glockenspiel combining together for a beautiful rendition of hopipolla. the ceremony featured two very interesting local customs - one being that every time the groom leaves the room every man has to kiss the bride (and, i imagine, every woman who has the potential to find the bride sexually attractive), and vice versa. the other custom being that the family is obliged to perform a primary school style comedy skit to take the piss out of the newlyweds. it made no sense to me but i think it was funny. perhaps you had to be there (and be swedish). our performance was late, so i retired to recover from jetlag and played some uno with jodie and the tribelars rhythm section. the gig was great. lars killed it with his how to play didge 101 class and we threw together a mix of some of david's favourite songs of ours and some covers to keep the grannie's bootscooting.
set list: melbourne door prize bijou model the flood built an empty home killing in the name dancing in the dark perish union time after time go your own way gravity mr brightside
sunday 6 august - stockholm
a morning walk to mosquito lake brought back fears of my year 2000 dose of ross river virus. so i retreated to the van. primed for the four hour journey to stockholm. i love this city. i always wanted to say i played a gig in stockholm. today i finally can. the venue, engelen, is located on the foreshore of the old town, right near famous live club debaser. kalle, our sound engineer, was simply the most lovely person you could ever meet. it was a great vibe and lars and the tribe started up ripping into a killer set, including his new cracker: rue de memoir - a song about drinking wine and mulling over your memories. upon the arrival of some familar faces and a slightly more constricted feeling to the room, we played a more sombre and introspective set. it was very us: depressing and self depracating. the crowd loved it. post show we walked around the island called sodermalm, looking for a party, or at least a veggie burger. exhausted within the hour, we retreated back to our lodgings; a boat, on the harbour. a very strange night, but still, very enjoyable.
set list: melbourne door prize bijou model to where you are the flood no never work the corner gravity killing in the name perish union we can never be friends blankets
monday 7 august - stockholm
sleeping on boats doesn't agree with me. so i got up early and wrote this diary. then we spent the day walking around sodermalm. godfather lars had planned out a perfect day involving the very best this town has to offer: the best gelato, the best record store; pet sounds, the best restaurant; hermans vegetarian restaurant, the best chocolate. and to my immense satisfaction, the best outdoor hammocks. i spent a good three hours on that swinging cloth, drifting in and out of jetlag and reading zen and the art of motrocycle maintenance. i think my life changed forever in those one hundred and eighty minutes. philosophy and jetlag are a lethal combination. with no show tonight we made the late night drive back to uddevalla, allowing me more time to contemplate the definition of quality and to understand the level to which i am truly insane.
tuesday 8 august - göteborg
today we played göteborg. sweden's gritty rock and roll city. it was an amazing venue; henriksberg. on the fourth floor of an incredible art deco building looking over the harbour. the night is put on by local luminary eddie wheeler and was choc full of lovely people interested in australia. our show certainly doesn't offer the audience the quintessential nature of the country we happened to be born in. but in a way that's what australia is all about and they seemed to really enjoy it. our set was compromised by my pedal board having a missing power converter (aus to europe) which admittedly left me flustered and angry pre show - at myself more than anything - i've got to stop fucking losing things!! but it wasn't entirely my fault - stockholm intoxicated me... but we powered on. jodie was brilliant tonight. funny as fuck. post gig, feeling the effects of such a heavy schedule; the jetlag was being taken over by some bitter flu demon. the tribe played after us and nailed it with an explosion of post punk rootsy didge mania, their best show of the tour so far.
set list: bijou model the flood door prize work the corner built an empty home perish union
june 2012
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Twenty-two days into tracking the College Fall album Lost and we couldn’t be any further. Yet somehow we’re still high. My euphonic colleagues are deranged to the point of finding my textbook gutter humour enjoyable. Now they’re trying their utmost to outdo me.
‘I fukn love it’
‘Well I hate it… it hurts like a baby tearing out my fanny’
‘Fuckoff, it’s hotter than a buff Christian Bale’
‘It’s a ship of shit’
‘Yeah whatevs’ Chicks in the studio man…
‘Glenn don’t look at me while I’m tracking… Jesus!!’…
‘Glenn look at me for fuksake, I need to know you like it!!’ At least they are really good looking…
I settle into the brown couch of disrepair and start paging through some lyrics I’m about to sing. Nothing makes sense. It all sounds like shit. How could I have been happy with these words when I wrote this? How could they ever have meant anything to me? Just rubbish:
“I’m all alone, and I wish you were here today”
I’ve heard Tony Abbott speak more eloquently. Completely non-memorable. What does it even mean? How could I have felt every word of this song two years ago, yet now it reads like a stack of stool a fourteen year old lummox just expelled? I remind myself of some wise words my friend Chuck once counseled:
‘When you are recording it is just a snapshot of your song on that particular day. It doesn’t have to be perfect to be brilliant’
True mate, but right now this song is just balls. I’m desperate now, so I sneak out my phone and dial up a random thesaurus and start writing on scrap:
“I’m completely partnerless and I am desirous of your attendance in my presence this morrow”
Yes. That’s much better. I sneak it into Jodie’s hands and she falls over laughing.
‘Fucking douche! The lyrics are fine. Just sing the damn song.’
I know she’s right. I hate being a songwriter sometimes. But I loathe being so unsure of myself even more. At least I have these ladies here to ridicule me out of my dickheadery.
So I sing.
‘Did you like that take?’
‘It was pretty koom’ says Anna.
‘It’s poomy in the catacoom koomy’ adds Jodie.
We seem to have invented our own demented studio language now.
‘I fukn love it’
‘Well I hate it… it hurts like a baby tearing out my fanny’
‘Fuckoff, it’s hotter than a buff Christian Bale’
‘It’s a ship of shit’
‘Yeah whatevs’ Chicks in the studio man…
‘Glenn don’t look at me while I’m tracking… Jesus!!’…
‘Glenn look at me for fuksake, I need to know you like it!!’ At least they are really good looking…
I settle into the brown couch of disrepair and start paging through some lyrics I’m about to sing. Nothing makes sense. It all sounds like shit. How could I have been happy with these words when I wrote this? How could they ever have meant anything to me? Just rubbish:
“I’m all alone, and I wish you were here today”
I’ve heard Tony Abbott speak more eloquently. Completely non-memorable. What does it even mean? How could I have felt every word of this song two years ago, yet now it reads like a stack of stool a fourteen year old lummox just expelled? I remind myself of some wise words my friend Chuck once counseled:
‘When you are recording it is just a snapshot of your song on that particular day. It doesn’t have to be perfect to be brilliant’
True mate, but right now this song is just balls. I’m desperate now, so I sneak out my phone and dial up a random thesaurus and start writing on scrap:
“I’m completely partnerless and I am desirous of your attendance in my presence this morrow”
Yes. That’s much better. I sneak it into Jodie’s hands and she falls over laughing.
‘Fucking douche! The lyrics are fine. Just sing the damn song.’
I know she’s right. I hate being a songwriter sometimes. But I loathe being so unsure of myself even more. At least I have these ladies here to ridicule me out of my dickheadery.
So I sing.
‘Did you like that take?’
‘It was pretty koom’ says Anna.
‘It’s poomy in the catacoom koomy’ adds Jodie.
We seem to have invented our own demented studio language now.
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you haunt me some days
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