[Miscellany]

I didn't intend on the hiatus.  No, really I didn't.  All I can think of by way of explanation is that it became hard to breathe again.  Not that I need an explanation of course, except perhaps to myself.

The beginning of October saw the 19th anniversary of my father's death.  It was the hardest milestone to live through that I can remember. Some years go by with barely a thought but last year was different.  I felt his absence, almost as badly as I felt it 19 years ago. I felt it in every pore and every thought.  I felt it with a deep, intense sadness that sticks around even today. I wish I could let it go.  I feel that by hanging on to it, I'm hanging on to his ghost somehow and stopping him somehow from finding peace.  It makes me feel even worse as I try to extract myself and to loosen this grip that seems to be so strong around him.

The thing is, I don't remember much about him; I've lived more than half of my life without him and time only ever moves forwards, not backwards.  I will never know more than what I know now and what does a 16 year old know about her father anyway?  I have been thinking a lot about the things I missed out on though and the things I learnt too early but wished I hadn't.  Things like; men leave.  I know it's not a truth, but it is my truth and it's something I learnt the hard way.  That notion has shaped my adulthood.  I can't change it.  I can't take it back.  I can't bring back the lost years either.  Time is difficult to deal with and though I am conscious of the ridiculousness of some of the notions I have they are also not without basis and therefore all the more difficult to let go.

I'm not even sure why, but I've thought about my father every day for the past 3 months since the anniversary of this death.  I've thought about the funny things he would say, or his smile or his advice... none of it is real.  It's all nostalgia - memories changed and I'm sure some made up completely.  The dead take on a ripe glow; all the past mistakes forgotten.  You forget the things you hated and you revere the things you loved until they become an object of only love.  It's not real and it's unfair for those left behind but this is what happens. Meanwhile, I didn't know grief could still feel this bad but it does.  It feels awful.  I wish I could go back for one last hug.  A real one.  It feels like a long, long time since I had a real hug from someone who really loved me.

I suppose the other reason I've been absent is the perpetual elephant in the room An awakening of sorts for me.  But what an awakening - every piece of my heart sings or sinks at any given moment.  On the one hand it's lovely to wake up to it but on the other hand - tear my heart out why dontcha?  I'd forgotten about this part... I'm reminded of John Hughes' movie 16 Candles.  The dad gives a newly 16 year old Molly Ringwald some fatherly advice:

Sam: "I know, but it hurts..."
Sam's Dad: "Thats why they call them crushes, if they were easy they'd call 'em something else."

And so from someone who lost their father at 16 and who never had the chance to have a bit of fatherly advice; thanks John Hughes.  I get it.  It hurts.  Everything at the moment hurts.

Labels: boys, death, love, love or lust, memories, memory, nostalgia

posted by M at 1:39 am 5 comments

I'm a tourist when it comes to Alice in Chains.  I don't often seek them out but over the years I found myself accidentally encountering them on soundtracks, in clubs, on  the radio, while watching video clips etc. until I couldn't help but deny the obvious fact: They are brilliant. I can't help but be mesmerised by them.  Layne Staley has a voice to be believed.  I am a fan of screamers who can actually sing (Chris Cornell, Kat Bjelland etc.) and Layne was one of the best.

Alice in Chains definitely had a 'heavy' sound but there was something also very contemplative or melancholic in the strum of the string and the build up in many of their songs.  You can almost meditate to Rooster, for instance.

One of my favourite songs of theirs is also one of their best known: Would.

When I was a teen it was played on "alternative" radio and I can't remember loving it at first listen.  The song is a slow burn, or perhaps it was for me.  It took a while to love and by the time I did I couldn't imagine not ever loving it.  In fact, now can't imagine my personal musical history without this song in it. By the time we turned 18 and the friendship group graduated to going to pubs it always seemed to be the song that got everyone up on the dance floor.  I suppose this is indicative of the types of places we frequented (ie: dives) - grungy places where bands played and the music was so loud that you couldn't hear yourself think.  Let me make this clear; Would is NOT the kind of song one dances to but somehow we managed to. I listen to it now and wonder how we even moved to it.  I guess we were shitfaced and loved singing along while getting even more shitfaced.  I have a lot of very good memories with this song as the sole soundtrack.  It makes me smile to think of the mischief we all got up to.

What is it about this song?  I don't think I can quite articulate how the vocals bury somewhere in my sternum when I listen to it; hitting somewhere primal and deep.  Where does that voice come from?  Not this world I don't think. I'd put it in my top 100 songs of all time.

Would - Alice in Chains

Labels: grunge, loud, memories, memory, music, musical monday

posted by M at 10:37 pm 6 comments

I can't remember the first video clip I ever saw.

Labels: defining moments in musical history, memories, music, musical monday

posted by M at 1:18 pm 11 comments

It's the first time in about seven years that I've contemplated buying an umbrella. I've gotten used to not needing one, gotten used to the stability in the weather and the dryness in the air, gotten used to a belief that clouds do not equal rain and have become comfortable in the consistency of there being no rain. Lately it's been raining a lot and I'm always caught out. It always seems to happen when I'm too far from my car, or wearing something inappropriate. Why it can't rain when I'm already planning a day inside is beyond me?

On Friday afternoon I stood outside talking to a parent after school when suddenly the sky opened, interrupting our conversation and dropped a motherload on us. We all ran for shelter; children, toddlers, grandpas, parents and teachers - screaming and laughing and commenting on the rain. Then we stood in silence and watched the fat, heavy raindrops blanketing the playground in sheets and sheets of water.

Some children ran into the puddles, stomping their feet and smiling up at the sky while others twirled and danced and laughed. The boys, of course ran for the drain pipes, soaking their legs and arms in the heavy waterfall that rushed down onto them. No one tried to stop them. No one called them back. This was a rare moment we had all shared when we were small but was foreign to this new generation. Let them play. Let them try to catch rain in their mouths. Let them get completely soaked.

The adults smiled and watched and remembered their own Melbournian childhoods, filled with days of unpredictable rain and of not being allowed outside to play, savouring the nostalgia of a forgotten memory, finally unlocked.

These are the first children that will grow up knowing the sound of rain hitting a hot tin roof as they fall asleep. The drought is broken. Welcome to Melbourne.

Labels: childhood, kids, melbourne musings, memories, nostalgia, rain

posted by M at 1:21 pm 4 comments

I was reading through some of my old handwritten diaries and came across my first mention of cyberspace. It went something like this:

I'm finally on the internet and chatting to ppl [sic]. It's great to find other people as apathetic about life as I am.

Seriously.

Reading back over your old diaries is always a painful experience in some form or another. The online diary is a much more sanitised and pine-o-cleaned version of one's life. The written diary has guts and tears splashed all over it because, bottom line, you never think that anyone will read it. It's petty, it's raw, it's completely pathetic and always embarrassing. It's complete ego. Unedited ego at that. I've come to realise that the only online diaries that are true representations of ourselves are the whiny, badly written and always self-centered posts written by 16 year old Emo freaks who feature bad poetry (but think it's good). Sorry, but you know it's true.

Reading back over the unedited ego of a younger me I feel a small tinge of shame and also a strange urge for 30 year old me to reach out to 20 year old me and give her a hug. God knows she needed it. Who knew that such a boring life could have so many dramas? I dredged up a lot of memories about things I swore I would never forgive (but did) and events I told myself I would remember forever (but didn't) and pacts I'd made with myself (but broken, many times over). Funny how that happens.

Back then I was rather bitter about the blossoming relationship between my friend E and her partner L. I was quite happy for them to be in love mind you, but not of where that left me (ie: without my friend). I featured a good many entries on the subject of times that were supposed to be best friend time but were horribly ruined by the boyfriend tagging along. E was very fond of making plans with me and then changing them at the last minute to include L. I really resented it.

I wonder why he agreed to tag along? Do boyfriends really want to spend time with their girlfriend's best friends or are they just doing it because they were bullied by their girlfriends? These days the girls are dying for time out from the husbands and babies! I don't see the husbands all that often these days (unless of course I'm at their houses). It's funny how things change.

Maybe it was incredibly ego-centric of me to be so concerned about my own feelings on the matter of boyfriends encroaching on best friend time but I have to be honest and say that if it happened now I'd still be pissed.

Maybe things haven't changed all that much.

Labels: boys, girfriend, memories, nostalgia, old, silly rabbit, wonderings

posted by M at 8:07 pm 19 comments

(I just realised this is my 500th post - probably should have prepared something more poignant oh well)

By the time this band hit the scene the music industry was in the middle of a change. Grunge was dying a slow death and pop was coming back in a big way. In terms of Weezer, people started calling it geek rock, which I supposed was a reference to their attire but apart from that, there wasn't anything particularly geeky about them. If they had gone to your school they probably would have been pretty popular don't you think? Real geeks don't form bands and end up with multi-million copies of their album sold. I'm just sayin'. But despite the inconsistencies with image and sound I loved Weezer. A squishy; close my eyes and imagine myself floating in between the quavers on the music staff, kind of love.

I don't know where the time goes but I never get the chance to listen to whole albums of music anymore like I did back when I was a teenager. To be fair, I don't think the industry supports the art of a balanced and beautiful album anymore. They are few and far between. The iPod and iTune generation picks and chooses the songs they want from a line up and the rest fall away - unlistened and undiscovered. But that's only part of the problem anyway. Way back then it felt like I had all the time in the world to really fall in love with an album. I'd get it home, slip it into the player and spend hours playing the album back to back while pouring through the liner notes. These days the liner notes get a courtesy flip and quick read - back then I'd memories the 'thank you' section. I really can't remember the last time I put on an album and listened to it all the way through - waiting for the secret track at the end like I used to. I don't know where my priorities went but "growing up" is surely overrated if it means that I don't listen to music the way it should be listened to anymore.

I listened to Weezer's blue album like it was my best friend and we were settling down to a really long chat on the telephone where EVERYTHING was discussed. I put it on, I read through the notes, I imagined myself in the music. It was the first album in a while that I identified as happy music and that was something else entirely to what I'd been doing previously. Until then the musical landscape was inspiring but a little depressing - Kurt was dead, Eddie was mournful, Courtney was being bitter, Nick was - as always- deliciously black - but Weezer was just...fun and charming.

That is not to take away from the art. Every. single. song. on their blue album is a prize. I'm not really all that interested in Weezer's other stuff to tell you the truth. THIS album, THIS one is the one that really captured my imagination and heart. It's not serious, political or complex - but forget all of that. It's just a GOOD album and that in itself is an awesome thing. It made me laugh and imagine and my heart skip a beat.

This album also spawned what is in my opinion the best video clip of all time.

Buddy Holly - Weezer


Please, try the fish.

My Name is Jonas - Weezer

Labels: geek rock, ipod generation, memories, musical monday, the death of the album

posted by M at 7:33 pm 12 comments

Finally. FINALLY a politician has come out and said what needed to be said re: education. It's so simple and full of common sense that I'm surprised it isn't said more often, or quite frankly done more often.

Barak Obama would have my vote (if it counted), based only on this speech, if nothing else. Surely a man who is so practical in this area must be practical in other areas too.

Here's the taped footage..



But for those of you unwilling to watch (oh it's an eye opener alright) - he hits gold at about the 3 minute mark with this gem:

“It’s not good enough for you to say to your child, ‘Do good in school,’ and then when that child comes home, you’ve got the TV set on,”

“You’ve got the radio on. You don’t check their homework. There’s not a book in the house. You’ve got the video game playing.”

“So turn off the TV set. Put the video game away. Buy a little desk. Or put that child at the kitchen table. Watch them do their homework. If they don’t know how to do it, give ‘em help. If you don’t know how to do it, call the teacher.”

“Make ‘em go to bed at a reasonable time! Keep ‘em off the streets! Give ‘em some breakfast! Come on! Can I get an amen here?”

“You know I’m right,”

“And, since I’m on a roll, if your child misbehaves in school, don’t cuss out the teacher! You know I’m right about that! Don’t cuss out the teacher! Do something with your child!”

HELL YES! FINALLY the truth is out. Parents, need to parent. Weird idea I know, but the way I see it is if you have them, then you should raise them. Education doesn't stop and start at the school gate.

I can't remember any time when any politician has made such a statement about individual responsibility - that is, even though it's true. The students I see succeeding are students who:

1) come from money (I don't necessarily mean rich but I do mean they don't have many worries about money for instance; they DO NOT have to worry about the basics, food, water, shelter - and by extension emotional support - yes it's related)
2) come from families that INSIST, hard line, on all those things Obama talks about in his speech.

It's not about catering for gifted and talented children. Or blaming teachers for not teaching properly and thus creating a panic about our test results (for the record Australia has one of the BEST education systems in the world, backed up by world data (OECD - PISA). However the way the media carries on you'd think we were failing). Bottom line is that we need to start being practical about this stuff.

How do we expect kids to learn, if they aren't getting any support at home? Any teacher in the world will tell you that it is a FACT that children who don't get home support by and large struggle. If they don't then they are doing so against the odds. We see exactly how home life helps and hinders children in the classroom. Thinking a child turns the home switch off when they enter a classroom is a mistake politicians have made for far too long when it comes to making policies about in classroom curriculum. This is not the way to improve the way kids learn. We can't ignore the influence of the most important people in a child's life: their parents! It's time a mirror was held up. I'm glad the day has come.

------

Enough ranting, onto Musical Monday - which takes me back to the early 90s waiting for the school bus on windy spring afternoons with my friend Gil. The bus stop was in front of this charming, well maintained art deco house inhabited by a lovely elderly gent who would always wander outside to chat to the youngsters stepping all over his roses with scruffy black shoes and socks that just wouldn't stay up. One day - and I remember it well for some reason - Gil told me about this band she'd heard about called The Sundays - and they, along with Ratcat were her new favourite bands. I thought it sounded like a whimsical name for a band and later discovered they really were rather whimsical sounding in music as well.

Whenever I hear The Sundays I think of Gil and springtime and how we impatiently waited for the bus every afternoon, and how often I'd just pack it in and walk home instead - stopping every few meters to pull up my socks and adjust the volume on my walkman.

I heard the old guy died not too long after I finished high school. I drove past that art deco house the other day but it was graffitied and condemned. I wonder why no one has bought and renovated it? It's a sad sight and a ghostly remainder from a more glorious time.

Here's Where the Story Ends - The Sundays

Labels: memories, money, musical monday, nostalgia, political musings, school, stressed teachers, yes I am taking politics

posted by M at 9:25 pm 18 comments

Meme

Ms Diane tagged me and it was an interesting meme which I am going to ignore the rules of. And you know... I don't really tag people so if you like the meme then do it, if not then don't.

Archive Meme Instructions: Go back through your archives and post the links to your five (err...or more in my case) favorite blog posts that you’ve written. … but there is a catch: Link 1 must be about family. Link 2 must be about friends. Link 3 must be about yourself, who you are… what you’re all about. Link 4 must be about something you love. Link 5 can be anything you choose. I think this is a great way to circulate some of the great older posts everyone had written, return to a few great places in our memories and also learn a little something about ourselves and each other that we may not know. Post your five links and then tag five other people. At least TWO of the people you tag must be newer acquaintances so that you get to know each other better….and don’t forget to read the archive posts and leave comments

1. Family: photos is about coming across an old photo of my father one day and my feelings about that. Nonna which was a post about my childhood and my grandmother who lived with us, her strained relationship with my mother and the powerlessness of being a child.

2. Friends: country/city is a favourite of mine - a trip taken one afternoon with a group of girlfriends. It was a fabulous day. How to Make a Pre-Wedding Quilt - girlfriends on the eve of a marriage. Today Is - #1 and I take a trip to visit our friend F just before she's about to give birth.

3. I rock: Open Letter to myself and to you - about me and a promise I'm making to myself. The Personal Ad Experiment Well, I had fun, learnt a bit about myself (and men) and had a laff.

4. I love: Recipe of Me is exactly that - you are what you eat, so therefore I am what I watch, read and listen to too. These are some of the things I love. Hugs I also love hugs - but not ALL kinds of hugs. Fly on the Wall Melbourne, you know I love her.

5. My favorite post(s).
* Cinema Under Stars on a Balmy Night - a picnic with a twist.
*Guest Post - who can forget when Mark Philippoussis wrote an guest entry on my blog! Wow.
*Cowboy Wave Riders of Torquay where I stood and watched the surfers for a while one evening.
*I'm Paid Good Money not to be Ignored My Musical Monday on Courtney Love. I loved writing it.
*God is a Dum Cunt and the follow up

Musical Monday

Today's musical Monday comes via inspiration from the tele - in particular dance on the tele and if you like more specifically boys who dance. Now being a girl who danced when younger I can appreciate the heartbreaking determination and soul that goes into dance. But girls who dance are everywhere. Boys who dance, however and those in particular that pursue it as a career are not. They face a lot of obstacles. At the school I work at we have a very strong dance ethic. We have a fabulous dance teacher who inspires her pupils. Indeed almost 1/3 of the school gives up 2 to 3 lunchtimes a week just to dance. A large percentage of that is made up of boys who dance. In promoting the activity we spent a couple of years really selling the idea to boys. I had a few in my own class back then who I recruited. These boys were football playing, sport loving, cool beyond words boys - but they gave dance a go for a laugh. Their involvement in the arts gave other boys a reason to come along too. These boys did not stick around for one dance routine...indeed they were still doing it five years later when they left the school and even if they never take it any further than that - they still got a lot of out it. Hopefully, if nothing else they learned that's it's okay to be a boy who has rhythm and be a boy who can express himself through movement.

I guess boys who actively take up dance are often thought of as sissy or weak. They might be picked on by other boys who are exclusively into sports or be ridiculed by their own fathers or brothers who are afraid they might turn out "gay". The truth is that there are a lot of men who dance who ARE gay, but there are also a lot of men who dance who are straight too. Just to add some perspective - there are a lot of rugby players who are gay too. I'm not sure why male dancers get such a raw deal. They aren't weak or sissy - if we're looking at adults then men who dance are among the most athletic of ALL sporting professionals! They are also in many cases stronger and fitter. They have stamina and bloody hell do they have courage and heart. You don't go into dance without suffering enormous blows to your ego (like every time you audition) as well as have your body beat up especially your knees, ankles, feet etc. The arts is also a difficult area to pursue for men and it actually takes a man of integrity and passion who is going to do it properly. These are people who have fought tooth and nail to make it. They know what it's like to work hard against the odds and to work for their goals even when everyone in the world is against you. I have amazing amount of respect for men who dance.

So in celebration of Billy Elliot which is on the tele tonight and all those boys who have the courage and determination to go against the grain here's a couple of favourite songs of mine from the film soundtrack (which incidentally is one of my favourite film soundtracks for many reasons)

London Calling - The Clash



Town Called Malice - The Jam (I've already featured this one in my "T" musical Monday but yeah, worth a reprise).



Children of the Revolution - T-Rex



(yes, you read right, T-Rex! <3<3<3<3)

Labels: meme, memories, musical monday

posted by M at 6:17 pm 11 comments

Lately, and by lately I mean the past 10 years, there has been a bit of a backlash against Nirvana's Nervermind. When Triple J first started their infamous hottest 100 countdown it was an "of all time" countdown. Love will tear us apart - Joy Division was at #1 two years running - and understandably so. The song is nothing short of masterful. In 1991 - two things of consequence happened:



1 - Nirvana's Nevermind was released.
2 - ummmm... ???

Okay, perhaps a few other things happened but trust me these were the biggies. The next year, in the hottest 100 of all time Smells like Teen Spirit - Nirvana topped Love Will Tear Us Apart - Joy Division to become the hottest song of all time - according to Triple J listeners. That's a pretty big deal, considering LWTUA had been around for a good 11 years and SLTS only for a few months. The next year the countdown became more localised - songs from one year only.

Nevermind was soon touted as a classic album. Various - hell pretty much ALL - music magazines around that time and beyond have put Nevermind at the top (or near enough) of their best ever rock albums lists. The backlash began a few years later when people started saying 'it's just another grunge album - I don't see what's so good about it'.

Okay, personally I think if you can't see what's so good about Nevermind then you might have other developmental problems too. Either you are stuck in the 60s or you listen exclusively to Celine Dion. The album is nothing short of a masterpiece. It's a package. You don't buy Nevermind listen only to Smells like Teen Spirit and then put it back on the shelf. This is an album you listen to the whole way through - on repeat - not just because you're a fan but because really it's that good. Relatively speaking, if you look at all the music made in the last 50 years there are really only a few hundred albums that you could truly say are worth listening to all the way through - repeatedly and without irony. This is one of them. Being popular, doesn't make it any less special.

My first memory of Nevermind was of my friend E telling me that her younger sister had left her Nevermind tape (yes tape) in full sunlight on a 40 degree day in the car and now it wouldn't play anymore. S was apparently driving the family nuts - E in particular. I hadn't heard the full album by this stage, only the big hits. I knew of Bleach which was mine by proxy, courtesy of the my local library's borrowing register - which I thought was okay, but only in parts. A few weeks later and because of that conversation I had with E I bought Nevermiind for myself and have never looked back.

I don't think I can accurately explain the excitement and vibe created by Nirvana back in the early 90s but I'll say that you could smell something different in the air. This was a new beginning for music fans. Until that stage music had been going the way of a pop wasteland extravaganza - not in a good way. The late 80s and early 90s mainstream was littered with Technotronic, Whitney Houston, Wilson Phillips and Roxette. Things were really bad. Nirvana's music was pop don't get me wrong but - it was also incredibly sincere. I remember being relieved to finally hear *real* instruments again - ones that weren't warped by overproduction like other bands around that time. I think it woke a lot of people in the music industry up and from then on music made a big shift for the better. It was an exciting time - literally the most defining musical moment of my lifetime thus far - and surely of a whole generation of musical artists.

Nirvana defines my first drunken moment, my first kiss (or rather my first drunken kiss, ha!), my obsession and my sadness. When Kurt died, it broke my heart. I know it sounds trite and melodramatic but that's just how it was. It was like that for a lot of people of my generation who had suffered their lives with a soundtrack of Nirvana songs too.

Sometimes I hear people say "I just don't see what's so good about Nirvana" or that old favourite "they're overrated" and I'm reminded about this quote from the movie Clueless:

TRAVIS: The way I feel about the Rolling Stones is the way my kids are going to feel about Nine Inch Nails, so I really shouldn't torment my Mom anymore, huh?

Exactly. Maybe everyone that comes after my generation (that is people who were 13-28 when Nevermind first came out) - yes all those little ones that were born post 1984 who I think of as still not quite out of their nappies and on solid foods yet don't get it because they simply weren't around for the music to have a real effect.. Maybe those kids will one day understand how important Nirvana was and just how utterly magnificent this album really is. How long does it take for perspective to turn an album into a classic anyway?

Then again, maybe I'm the one lacking perspective. Maybe I'm too young to really understand the artists that came before Nirvana, those big guns - like Pink Floyd - artists that I wasn't there to witness for myself either. I like to think I'm pretty well rounded though, and my MM choices have included a range of musical styles and eras. Then again, who knows? Maybe I've been charmed by Kurt's twisted pain, his quirky rock hero reluctance, his apt Neil Young quote; it's better to burn out than to fade away scrawled for the world to see in Who Magazine after his suicide. And I have to say yes, it's all part of it. Either way with my recommendation or not - this album may only be a blip on the musical radar relatively speaking but it was a blip that defined musical change. It was a great moment in music. You don't have to like it for that to be true, but I think you do have to respect it.

I guess you just had to be there.

Two from Nevermind




In Bloom - Nirvana



Lithium - Nirvana



And two from other albums....

Aneurysm - Nirvana



Heart Shaped Box - Nirvana



...and one random.

Marigold - Nirvana (which funnily enough, was all Dave Grohl - but I just adore this song)

Labels: defining moments in musical history, kurt smells like teen spirit, memories, music, musical monday

posted by M at 10:25 am 20 comments

 # posted by M @ 10:25 am

Australia day was served up to me this morning via a smallish flag atop a lovely dish of breakfast in North Melbourne as the sun beat down from the bluest sky. My post today is actually one that was from the old blog. I wrote it a few years ago but haven't posted it here and it's one of my favourite posts I've written about Australia day.

You might not get all the references and you know what? That's a good thing.

As Australian as..

a pot of cold beer (letting the kids drink the head), sunday cricket in the street, licking sunny boy dribble from down your arm on a 40 degree day, the insriparional words of Dorothea McKellar, fractured conversation in broken English from migrant women wearing black mourning clothes, souvlaki on the beach, Ned Kelly's last stand, the stolen generation, drinking good Italian coffee outside a busy trattoria, fluro zinc on the tip of your nose, drunken singing along to the Hunters and Collectors, fear of red backs, slip slop slap, playing under the sprinklers while the sky turns pink above you, stubby holders in your football team's colours, water bomb fights in the school yard, good yum cha, Cathy Freeman's two Australian flags, free settlers, European Migrants, Bloody stupid wogs, Indian accented Australians, Indigenous to the land, Aussie, Aussie, Aussie.. oi oi oi, a friendly smile, a rude joke, heavy rain after a scorching day, Bert Newton's hair piece, Ray Martin's hair piece, Aboriginal Art in New York City, "My home lies wide a thousand miles in the Never Never land", Tim Winton's famous waves breaking on the West Coast, Uluru; sacred heart of the red centre, the dichotomy of Steve Irwin; both ridiculous and knowledgeable, picnics by the Yarra, having a bet on the horses, staying up late to watch the world cup, watching the 7.30 report on Auntie, revering Parkinson as god of interviews, holidays in Bali, drug running in Indonesia, American sitcoms on the telly, listening to the crickets loud song reverberate well into the night, Australia shaped car aerials on a VWs, vegemite on toast for breakfast, matzah ball soup for dinner, Burka's adourned with beautiful broaches, duty free Bundy, coupling with GW, lamington drives, Dawn Fraser's magnificent trifecta, Foreign News on free to air telly, The First Fleet, swatting the flies from your face, "you call that a knife?", Holocaust survivors settling in Bondi, Whispering Jack, Kamahl, beaurocracy, Kylie Minogue's fake British accent, Jason Donovan gone bad, Greek Greengrocers who know their shit, really bad perm jobs, Fashion Week, bush fires leaving a black trail across the parched land, twisted gum trees reaching their spidery fingers towards the sky, Kebabs outside night clubs, the gay and lesbian mardi gras, Making fun of American reality television, Opera House tea cosies, Eiffel tower calendars, learning another language, watching old men play bocce at the local park, blogging, David Helfgott's mastery of classical piano, Baz Luhrman's quirky reappropriations on celluloid, leaving European history behind for prosperity in a new country, Mabo, Mambo, surfing, skate parks, homeboys holding their pants up yo!, Koala Bear (but it's not a bear!), embarrassed at ourselves, race riots at the beach, moshing at The Big Day Out 'till you pass out from heat exhaustion, Making fun of the politicians, men in suits wearing Burberry, men in stubbies wearing metho, arse not ass, shiraz, "Australia don't become America", a Maccas run at 3am, roast on the spit in the backyard, Buon Natale!, Happy Hannuka, a gift of dyed red eggs on Greek Easter from your neighbour, The Southern Cross; mother to us all, Waltzing Matilda; father to our theiving hearts, "not happy Jan", Pauline Hanson picking at the scab, the myth of Australian ethnicity?, performing ethnicity Helen Demidenko style, drinking Grappa and singing loudly until the neighbours call the cops, weird busking spacesuit guy on the corner of Burke and Swanston, Bluey, the Packer media empire, 8-up doc martins with pink laces, gothic babes in pleather, plumber's cleavage, Carlotta, Germaine Greer, Asian-Australian football league, Midnight Oil's heartfelt political diatribes, Schindler's List (yes Australian!), click go the sheers boy, "Hello Possums!", fighting against conscription, beatlemania, ABBA Down Under, John "bloody" Laws, Making fun of the Eurovision Song Contest, playing Scopa while drinking Fosters, absolutely refusing to go near Fosters, Molly Meldrum's hat, of course I can use chopsticks!, Multiculturalism, White Australia Policy, dole bludgers, Mandawuy Yunupingu, "I say Arthur", tai chi on the beach, raves at the docklands, muck up day, Truganini's determination, Rolf Harris' wobble board, Come on Aussie come on!, Fish and Chips, suishi in a classy restaurant, Aussie battlers, bloody whinging pomms, the reclaiming of the word 'wog' in order to make fun of Skippys, Shakespeare in the park, Sidney Nolan's historical accounts without using words, The big Pineapple, bush polka, ballet recitals, Macedonean wedding dances, the Japanese Gold Coast, still a Monarchy?, "you little beauty!", making and bottling your own spaghetti sauce for the year, "there was movement at the station for the word had passed around..", the Amercians poisoning Phar Lap?, Bicentenial coins for Australian children in 1988, take away curry, dim sims, The Rainbow Serpent creates land and life, bi-lingual families, European roots planted firmly at home (everywhere), working visa, dual citizenship, detention centre hunger strikes, diaspora; "from all the lands we come".

It was never really one thing, was it?

Labels: memories, oz, pop culture, the list

posted by M at 5:31 pm 15 comments

I was introduced to the Sneaker Pimps through my friend D who played the album Becoming X for me one afternoon over 10 years ago now, as I sat in her living room sipping a cold coke and she enjoying (not) the heady come down of a different kind of drug. When I first met her in high school she was completely horse mad and one of those people I thought was going to grow up riding dressage or owning a racehorse and saying "tah-tah" a lot while sipping champagne (I imagine anyway). If you'd have told me in year 9 that by the time we had our drivers licenses she'd be sporting an Astro Boy t-shirt, colourful plastic bracelets and a nose ring I'd have laughed my head off. As if! But there we were, in the mid-late 90s admiring her newly pierced navel ring and avoiding the topic of why she looked so bloody thin. Funny how things change.

I didn't/don't really have any friends who take drugs heavily so when D went the way of the raver crowd we were all rather worried about her. She introduced me to a lot of very cool music during that time though - the Sneaker Pimps being but one band. After the new Millennium ticked over she left the ravers behind, moved to India for a few years, joined a peace loving, well respected human rights organisation and became hell bent on saving the world. A noble cause. She met a like-minded man on her travels, who coincidentally shared the male derivative of her name - himself also into charity work and of course, saving the world and together they rode into the sunset living a rather immaterial sort of lifestyle filled with freedom, travel and ...saving the world.

I have no idea what we were so worried about. Sounds perfect to me.

I bought Becoming X not long after hearing it at D's house and it was a constant in the CD player for a few years. Every time I hear any of the songs from it I'm reminded of D and of being young and laughing at how far away adulthood and responsibility was. As I said, funny how things change.



Low Place Like Home - Sneaker Pimps

Labels: friends, memories, musical monday, nostalgia, troubleshooting

posted by M at 11:16 pm 9 comments

Earlier this year when #1 and I heard that Crowded House were reforming for a concert tour we decided that we'd risk the dreaded 'old band getting back together and they might not be as good' syndrome that seems to be taking over the world and go see them anyway. I'm glad we did - yes it was a throwback to better times but it was also sincerely a magical night. Back in 1996 when CH had their farewell concert in Sydney, #1 and I conspired to go but since I had no car (or license for that matter) and there was no way in hell her beat up car would make it up the Hume Hwy - we had to miss out. Flying up was a no go, with both of us struggling with weekend jobs and a poor uni lifestyle. I sat on my living room couch and cried while watching it televised on the tele instead.

Years later when drummer Paul Hester tragically took his own life I had the same reaction. He was my favourite member - purely for the quirky humour he carried with him, in a public sense if not anywhere else. I remember being very young (about 9 or 10) and just adoring him. It's always the funny guys that get me where it counts. It broke my heart when he died. It still breaks my heart. I suspect that there may be a few differing opinions on this - and maybe some stories to the contrary (I don't want to know if there are) but all the good ones seem to go early.

So last week, leaving the bub behind #1 and I made our way through a perfect spring evening, no clouds hanging over the domain; yes only one season to contend with - and had a few emotional heart strings tugged by an otherwise forgotten favourite band. Who knew they could still do that? We were also serenaded by a drunk guy sitting in front of us but that's another story (I love freaks).

I think Crowded House will always hit an emotional chord with me. I remember feeling so excited by the song Sister Madly, which caused me to bounce around joyously from lounge chair pillow to pillow as a little one. I thought they were singing about me; after all I was a sister and sometimes I did step on bro's head, just like the lyrics mentioned. Not long after, I remember watching the video clip for one of their better known songs Better be Home Soon one morning on Video Hits and feeling the tears fall down my face. I still don't know why that happened but I remember it clearly, as if it was yesterday. One second I was watching the television and feeling normal and the next I was ambushed by a state of desperate sadness - the song was so true of things I didn't even know about yet - which sounds weird I know, but I understood the song on an emotional level even though I hadn't experienced that kind of longing Finn sang about yet. I remember arguing over the correct lyrics to Don't Dream it's Over on the phone with #1 (obviously this was before the internet and thus all the information we could ever want at our fingertips was in every household) and laughing like a maniac at the song Chocolate Cake - which I can't stand now but loved the ridiculousness of back then.

Nowadays it's these two songs that do not fail to give me goosebumps.

Four Seasons in One Day, for its sublime Melbourne references that you only understand if you live here and now forever Paul Hester's tribute (the Melbourne boy). For the little lump that catches in my throat every time I hear it and the gorgeous imagery in my head.


Four Seasons in One Day - Crowded House


Private Universe, which always starts with a tingle at the back of my neck, floating down my shoulders and finally settling in the pit of my stomach. This one, is really my song. I just get it.

Private Universe - Crowded House


It's funny how that works - when songs mean something to one person only and no matter how hard you try to make someone else feel the significance as deeply as you do, they can't because they simply aren't you.





(don't worry, I haven't forgotten Split Enz)

Labels: endless summer lift the curse, feelings, finding out wherever there is comfort there is pain, memories, musical monday, nostalgia

posted by M at 1:08 am 15 comments

Back in the 80s, when I was a wee child, (wearing board shorts with fluoro colours, rolled down long socks and a groovy sideways ponytail) there is one band I remember everyone in my peer group loving. A ubiquitous little band called Icehouse. In fact as I recall the Australian government threatened to take away your citizenship and ship you back to the motherland if you didn't love them.

Unfortunately the problem was that I HATED Icehouse. I loved the album Man of Colours of course but only because it had the song Electric Blue ("help me baby, tell me what can I do?") on it. Electric Blue was a big hit for us 11 year olds living in the burbs. Apart from that one hit it was a little hard for me to try to relate to the rest of the Icehouse loving freaks out there in the big wide world.

Bro was a big Icehouse fan - in fact to this day I'd say Icehouse remains one of his all time favourite bands. I remember making fun of him for it, mercilessly. I'd "neh, neh, neh - you're a dork" him. He'd insist that Iva Davies made good music and then he'd slam the door and turn "Great Southern Land" up on 11. Yeah, I was a bitch.

The thing is - and this is just between you and me. I don't hate them so much anymore. In fact, I rather like them now - not everything they've done - but enough to care. Some of it has to do with being enveloped in that golden hue of nostalgia I enjoy so much. Play any song from Man of Colours and you will surely find me grinning and staring off into space with my funny hat of memories on. It's not all nostalgia though - some of it has to do with finally recognising that some of the songs really are rather good, and that maybe Bro was right.

The truth of the matter is though - and this comes from perspective and taste - Electric Blue though co written with Oates from Hall & Oats, is a really shit song. Icehouse have far better ones elsewhere in their catalogue, some dating back to when they were known as "Flowers".

With summer around the corner the days are getting longer now, warmer, tinged in an orange glow and coupled with long sighs and sticky icy pole residue running down one's arm. Or maybe that's just me.. It's always around this time of year that I dig Icehouse out, flick my shoes off, lay down, close my eyes and enjoy feeling the sunlight dance across my face with little soft kisses (stinging by the time I get up). Apt for these next three songs. Perfect, even.



Hey Little Girl

No Promises

We Can Get Together

Labels: bro, childhood, memories, musical monday, nostalgia

posted by M at 12:58 am 16 comments

It was last night's appalling "Britpop" episode on Idol that had me on my knees reaching into the darkest corners of the second bottom shelf of my cd library and blowing dust off those old cds looking for something to listen to. In my world you can't call The Beatles Britpop and I stand by that even if Noel and Liam disagree (oi!). In my world you also can't sing anything by Amy Winehouse while looking like you just stepped out the front doors of church on Sunday. No sir. It's only about Rehab if even the gentlefolk are calling you a crack-head, honey - and they ain't, no ma'am.

So, anyway I dig out the old mid-90s feel good albums and make my way through the ones that tickle my fancy - which of course instantaneously takes me back to better times. I'm not quite sure why they are better exactly but I do know that nostalgia plays tricks on old minds - maybe that's it. I come across a couple of songs I haven't listened to in years. I feel the excitement that I felt then - about life, love, learning etc building up in my heart and pounding through my veins. Music is wonderful isn't it? It's a time machine for emotions and memories long since buried.

I'm smiling even now at the lyrics to End of a Century: the mind gets dirty as you get closer to thirty remembering myself back then, wondering whether that would ever be true of me, wondering indeed if I'd ever get there - close to thirty, in this new century - and yet here we are: 2007. It seemed much too far away to be true back then.

Indeed, funny that the young girl I once was seems too far away to be true to me now. The ribbon that binds us together is now grey and fraying dangerously along the edges. I'm desperately tying knots to keep her close but she's all but disappeared that one. She was so untouchable and so ready for life to happen. She was ...unaware, and that's good - that's a very good way to be says the present older me, who knows a little too much to be so objective about life's little surprises now. The lesson has been learned.

I'm listening to the song and remembering her blissfully dancing at the Blur concert (for it was always blissful this kind of dancing, completely self absorbed) - some time in the mid nineties - and suddenly looking upwards and laughing as a turret of water is poured into the overheated crowd - indeed over her, drenching her to the bone in a shock of cold that is quickly enveloped and turned steamy by the dancing masses. She looks over at her friends and they all laugh and clasp hands and jump into the air, shaking wet hair everywhere and screaming whilst not missing one beat.

I wish I could get her back. I miss her.

End of a Century - Blur



This MM wasn't going to be about this, but I'll just leave it there anyway.

Labels: memories, memory, music, musical monday, musings, nostalgia, wonderings

posted by M at 8:56 pm 11 comments

As a child I spent a lot of time playing by the windowsill. I remember rainy days with my head pressed against the glass, breathing onto the window to make it fog up and then drawing happy faces, flowers and houses into the condensation there. Drawing idyllic domestic scenes was a favourite past time of mine, besides it seemed like it was always too wet to go outside.

I remember autumn days sitting by the windowsill, reading a book while the wind whipped the brown and orange leaves into a whirling frenzy outside. Pulling my too big jumper over my knees and right down over my toes - stretching it until it hung low and baggy. Too cold to go outside and who could be bothered anyway?

I remember setting up house by the windowsill for my dolls and lego. A windowsill is a perfectly straight bench with finite parameters and perfect for a temporary toy laden lodging. I'd play there while the sun shone outside, or even if it didn't just playing and always keeping my eye on the outside world, just in case.

I remember being a child waiting by the window, with my chin resting on the windowsill watching the sun disappear behind the rooftops of the houses opposite ours. Waiting for Dad to come home from work - always wondering whether he'd make it - always thinking that he wouldn't. My view from the windowsill a reminder that things don't always happen on time.

I remember sleepless nights, as a teenager awake way past the witching hour. 2am, 3am, 4am, 5am would see me with headphones in, and my cheek pressed firmly against the coldness of the glass as I watched the street light illuminate the corner block. Indie music on an obscure AM radio station blared into my open eyed dreams as I wondered about the sleeping world outside my window.

Spring now, a kaleidoscope of sunlit hues playing on the windowsill and tinkling brightly into the room. I'm still keeping my eye on the outside world from this windowsill. I'm just not quite ready to go there yet.

Labels: memories, memory, musings, stunted, window

posted by M at 11:24 pm 18 comments