yeah. driving down the freeway a friend’s song came on the radio. the window was a little bit down, i was a little bit down. but then the pvc pipes started clacking.
they clacked in such a melodic way, such an alacritous way. all of them smacking on each other, sending their beat notes out, freely onto the freeway. yeah, i wound the window right down, and for the length of the song, they played along to my friend’s music, an extra postmix track, full of spritz and full of sugar. yes, just plastic pipes in the back of a landcruiser, hitting melodically against one another as they sped along the freeway.
i might have been like a poodle with my soft curly haired ears, enjoying the sun and the sound of the pipes singing along to the radio. my friend mei said in a text message that she’d been singing in the shower about my hair. something about smooth moments eternally happening. this was a smooth moment in the car, eternally happening.
i went with some friends to a show of experimental music in a bunker in mount hawthorn, under a little set of shops, through a car park, next to an underground pizza place. when we got there the room was all buzzing. all the music was over, we were so late, but we could still feel it. everyone’s face glowed or something, even though the light in the bunker was super low. especially because the light was super low.
we looked in the bunker “this is the best place EVER,” we said, and then sat out in the dim lit pizza bar while people slowly left, around a big wooden table. and one by one a few friends came to talk and we asked them to tell us about the show. when they talked we hung on their words. somehow we had a hunger to know exactly what we’d missed. “what was the music like?” “how was it made?” a few of the friends tried to explain: “it sounded like concrete” “it sounded like a field” “it sounded like the leftovers of techno” “it was just percussion, but it was melodic” “it was like light darkness that made your heart go warm” “it was like the moon, with a dog looking at it, and you got to understand how the dog would feel.” i made some of those up, but i didn’t make up our hunger to be told about what we missed.
looking back, i can see us there at the table. a group of plastic pipes waiting to get filled up with descriptions of the thing we missed, clacking on each other and asking for more. it felt like we were back in those times where someone had to tell you, mouth to ear, you couldn’t just look it up.
everyone was holding the records and cds they’d bought. we turned them over and over in our hands, trying to get more about the music from the minimal text, and the minimal descriptions. we nearly went to someone’s house to drink hot chocolate and listen to the records. we nearly went to the beach to look at the moon from the sand.
you get some things, like pipes in a landcruiser, and you miss some things, like chris cobilis, patrick quick and austin buckett at the bunker, but as long as somebody heard it and they’re willing to tell you, mouth to ear, you’ll be ok.
quote from avey tare, dedicated to the pvc pipes in the back of the toyota landcruiser (pictured) “i have a disease that makes my hearing imperfect but at least i make some wonderful noise.”
quote from the facebook event, dedicated to next time there’s a show at the bunker:
“The Bunker: 7 Anvil Lane is the bunker next to Neighborhood Pizza which shares the same carpark as the Mt Hawthorn IGA (cnr Scarborough Beach Rd and Coogee Street). If you are in this carpark, look for the giant metal chimney shoot and follow the brick wall to the dark red door. Phone x if you cannot locate the venue on the night of concert. Please note the pizzeria will not be open on this night.”