I was about to feel sorry for myself, but then my friend called from prison. Back there again, again the circle that's never ending, the same things over and over, the circle curling this way and that but still a circle. If our existence was a slinky we could just send it over the edge of some stairs, off the palm of a hand, then down the stairs, into the black slinky silky milky way.
Anyway, there was a great show on saturday night at the navy club. What a treat it is to play shows like that where you're at a venue that has some other purpose than drinking. Or perhaps its purpose is even more just about drinking, but at least there's carpet and tables and chairs. Or maybe its because there are names and trophies around. Maybe all the bars should have names and trophies of people who belong there and cool things they've done over the decades. Musical prizes. Musical name plates on the walls of Mojos or the Bird in simple font scratched with a mechanical tool into metal, metal from the earth, hand from the earth scratching into it.
Anyway, however, whatever, there was a great show. It was a pleasure for the people playing to be there. Shit Narnia, Last Quokka, Rabbit Island, Doctopus and Good Morning, all pretty great names if you ask me, and all people playing who had some age and/or sincerity behind their music.
Shit Narnia hurt my ears and nicely filled my heart at the same time. It's a strange mix but turns out a great cake, Sam's technical guitar, Alby's cymbal heavy nice drums, Wills being neat and honest, Hugh pulling on his shirt and heaving the words out, and the great thing is they talk about how to not make trouble in the world - how to be nice. A heavy noise all about being good people.
And that was the same with the Last Quokka. For once it's not up to womens to talk about being good to womens. They're doing it for us and it's such a treat. It was my first time seeing them, and I thought I'd just love them as friends but I loved the songs, Trent leaping about and all of them putting effort into singing about not being dicks in the world. Big cool thing!
Well, Doctopus played after Nick and I still have the best time watching them of any band in the city. Why, it's not difficult to say - the songs are great, to know/see Stephen, Jeremy, John is to love them and it's just so straightforwardly real. So simply cathartic, emotive in a jangled 3 piece way.
Everyone danced, but the MOST amount of everyone danced when Good Morning played. They're from Melbourne of course, but they belong here. They always come and hang out with Amber Bateup the photographer, Bedroom Suck Records man Jo Alexander brings them over, they go on walking adventures to find coffee or a beach to get burnt at and all that, and they bring the good time straight up onto the stage with them and it makes you feel good. Bapbap.
I was watching everyone swaying while they played with a growing ball of love inside me. Maybe not a ball, a big fat glowing slinky, slinking around my chest and puffing it up under my lace shirt while I looked at the various styles of the various people moving to that music. One woman with a soft body and a shavy dark haircut moving with her head on a swivel, another woman behind me with a little bliss in her face jiggling and singing along with the words. Alby swangling his arms everywhere and grinning despite sadness of the past. You know, all of that. Free people dancing to great music on the carpet. In the band there's one man with the best voice - Stephan, and one man with the best guitar solo style - Liam, and the others backing them up as best friends. I think they were playing one of their songs in Centrelink the other day when I sat there with mix-up m&ms and a Harry Potter book feeling proud of myself. The song that goes da-da daa da-da da, you know what I mean.
Well it was great fun you know, being there in a lacy shirt and tassly earrings. The men all made me happy with their songs and sounds, as the one lady who played on the night I was the only one who the sound people decided couldn't check their own instruments for soundcheck, the nice soundmen playing on my keyboards to get the levels right instead of me playing on my keyboards - strange world! My love said "I would have liked that!" but really, if he were me he wouldn't have. Sometimes getting patronised is nice, but sometimes it's a crick in the neck.
But yeah the one more serious thing I was thinking was When is the call out culture going to swing back around towards us, and someone writes on the internet "I saw Amber Fresh DRIVING A CAR fueled by fossil fuels that come from a land of violence, created by the industries she is supporting, and what she is pumping out is killing all the things we all love", or "My friend is living on STOLEN LAND, buying and selling and renting stolen land, when the people whose families are dispossessed from it are languishing in prisons alongside her other friend languishing for other reasons." One day that will come. For today, it's nice to think back to that great show with all our friends, on carpet as I said, unless my memory has totalled failed and it was lino.