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459 Fitzgerald Street
North Perth, WA, 6006
Australia

The Amber Fresh Chronicles

Crema, Foam

Andrew Ryan

 

I'm such a dog. Friends on the internet were having a discussion about milk to coffee ratios on facebook and I chimed in with the fact the lids on the takeaway cups will last longer than any discussion or feelings about crema and foam. Dog move. Because then I go back to looking at my computer screen, driving my car, etc. 

The world is going to be very different soon. That's something you could say at any point along the time space continuum and you'd be right. One thing that'll change soon is gigs being able to be described in the headline "white men play songs". That's sometimes a game I play now, watching telly and seeing if I can describe the show as "white men". Heaps of times I can. 

The show at mojos last sunday was "white men play songs", and it was great. First was peter bibby, doing the magic thing. I saw someone else writing on the internet, "who is this peter bibby and why is he on every bill in town?" Well, it's because you can go watch him and be guaranteed there'll be strangers there watching with their mouths a bit open or their eyes fixed and glassy right on him, for the whole thing. 

That's what it was, he opens his mouth and truth pours out, he extends his renderer's hands to the guitar and a mix of skill and emotional surprise pour out. 

Playing pool though is the best thing to do at mojos. Nick beat pete, I beat tom, tahlia beat tahlia. A couple were very drunk and very making out by the table. They were leaning on pete as he played, they were grinding on nick. They were collecting each other's mouths inside their mouths and combining their denim, and the woman's lace and the man's leather into one sucking denim slug, gross and cute and incredible like all other slugs. Lonesome brothers - talented white men - Moon puppy blues band - talented white boys, I call them a cute underwater lounge band from duncraig, don't know if they're from duncraig - and then emlyn, revealing too much about himself and western civilisation, a masterpiece. 

I still think about the guy who's not going to be at any gigs again, unless the spirit world means people stay, in which case he is probably near his family anyway, not mojos. I saw a tiny clip of laurie anderson's new movie about the death of her husband, her dog, everyone, and she says she finally realised the point of things dying which is the release of love. 

another way to release love is to sing songs. white men can do it, birds can do it, even the bees and bacteria can do it. just put your fingers to your cheeks, plug the guitar into the amplifier while we still have amplifiers, and sing.