Work And Music

"I was looking for a job and then I found a job ... and heaven knows I'm miserable now" - thus spake the Prophet Morrissey. Never a truer word crooned - Sponge Bob on the left there can laugh his stupid poriferan arse off, having a regular slot on Cartoon Network, but the options for us two are more limited. Being back in a relatively expensive country inevitably means living like stigs or finding gainful employment. As it turns out we've had to resort to both. After a few unsuccesful attempts to find bar or shop work, I had to fall back on a much more daunting prospect ... office temp work. Ohhhhhhhh no. It's true, I'm back to the situation is was in when I was 18 ... doing the sort of monotonous, pointless tasks that nobody who usually works there wants to do, with a 6-month backlog to boot. If you ever have to get temps in to your office, please try to talk to them. They are human too, and probably as miserable as sin. The only thing that got me through the week was suddenly remembering how Yakety Sax, the incidental music in the Benny Hill Show went - so I hummed that to myself all day long. Dan had it worse though - instead of call centre noncommunication, he had to put up with people banging on about how they were too mad for Big Brother. Get the hell out !



However, radness was just around the corner. Two friends of ours, Dave and Jodie, from home turned up last Sunday - this cheered us right up ! They are also on a round the world trip at the moment and getting inspirations for their design business, Peskimo. We are all currently living in St. Kilda, a suburb of Melbourne and one of the main backpacker areas. Today we went to the Maurice Sendak exhibition at the Jewish Museum. Then, because it was Art Day (sunday), it was on to Short Sighted at The Metro to veg out and watch some particularly confusing / disturbing stop frame animations. Enjoyed it immensely.














There is an upside to working of course, aside from paying the rent. It means we can go completely nuts outside of work (not as nuts as I'd like, but still a bit nuts). And that means MUSIC ! Indeed, the first thing I did on learning that I had a job was to procure a six pack of Stella and a new Leonard Cohen CD. Here's Dan checking out the listings and planning our assault on the town. We've spent the last couple of Friday nights at a club called Panic, over in Fitzroy. We found our way into a free gig completely by accident, and saw a set by top disco-rockers The Minority. The front man, Ross, was a total lunatic on stage with a good line in stage-mannerism, and an unexpectadly down to earth and nice chap off. Coincidentaly he also used to live in Reading. Here's some of their music. Then it was off to Panic to spend a good few hours drinking the troublingly cheap wine and lurching around to the strains of "I Wanna Be Sedated" by The Ramones, The Smiths and Belle And Sebastian. There I got yelling to a bloke called Kenny from the band Goodnight Combat Fighter, a local indie-rock outfit. And quickly learnt that the done thing was to scream "RIIIIGHT AWWWN !" at whoever was near. This being the Myspace generation, and self promotion of course being a big thing these days, he told me that they were playing a gig at our favourite venue, The Espy - naturally we obliged. This was exactly the sort of rawk that makes you want to kick in the door, turn over the table, smash the overhead projector on the floor and then straight out the back again. A bit like GCSE French, but for different reasons.


First on were an incendiary post - hardcore - elements - of - math - rock outfit named Chester's Black And White. They completely blew me away, and were thoroughly nice blokes to talk to as well. I like the pullover and trucker hat combination.


















One of the best drummers I've ever heard. Even Dan was agape at his perpetual fills.


















"Dr. Kenneth Noisewater", our contact in Goodnight Combat Fighter. Note the gleeful expression of their drummer, Pat in the background. Studying 'drumming faces' is an integral part of gig going.
















Kenny and Joe, the two blokes I met at Panic.


















The rest of Goodnight Combat Fighter.






































I'm a sucker for slide guitar. Which is the only reason I stuck around to see the rest of this band, I can't remember their name, they were mostly terrible.










Anyone for Clash-inspired-Mandolin-punk ? I think this band were called The Live Room. Strange thing, mandolins seem to crop up all over the place in contemporary Aussie music.