Archive for July, 2009
After a month of searching (and a couple of months abusing Ol’ Liquorice Lover’s hospitality), Jazz Hat and I have found a new residence.
Grand times ahead, as we create bluesiest, prowler friendly, lover love love residence in Sydney.
Stop by if you’re in the neighbourhood – bring wine.
In other news, tonight is the final night of recording for Dean’s Surprise Wasp EP – they are bringing in cheerleaders, a known mormon and possible liars to round things out. I cannot begin to tell you how good this little bastard will be – with one David Hammer riding high on things, you really can’t go wrong.
Next week, we do the local bang bang boogie at The Sandringham Hotel in Newtown, so come get down and welcome me back to the neighbourhood – I now have an official capacity.
Monday : Black Books, Entourage, JT Leroy, long walk in the night air, aggressive old cat and a whole lot of James Booker and New Wave.
Sunday: Forgot to book the studio. Bad man. Writing session in ‘my room’. Fox Queen is saved, Granpappy got the porch blues. Young Podmore off to Newcastle with the Surprise Wasp fellows. Took a bottle of Black Tooth Spritz out for a walk in the night air and worked over some changes with Mr. Marks until we were happy. Studied flesh eating, urine drinking religious sects. Possibly lost my sparrow (which I think may have died years ago anyways).
Saturday: House hunting with Jazz Hat. Meeting with Ms. Alice Amsel re: album art and a thorough explanation as to what I am actually raving about all the time – as it turns out it is this: abortion, eating wolves/cellists, string theory, corporal punishment in a mean and medieval sense, weird love triangles, liars, liars and more liars. Headed home with The Black Tooth Spritz ready to ride and watched films with Mr. Marks and Ms. Bell (unless the spritz destroyed my brain, it was Blindess, Footloose, Monster Squad and Dick Tracy). Possibly should be banned from the internet after four or more drinks.
Friday: Dinner and drinks (or just drinks) with Eliot Prob, KL Conroy, Mr. Marks, Jazz Hat and an assorted cast of ne’er do wells. Bailed early due to ghost related issues. Apparently, things got a little out of hand after I left and many of my bossom chums felt worse for wear the next day. Good times.
Thursday: Rehearsal – went over time, but we really got Pom Pom Laroux in a good position: She is beautiful.
Wednesday: Vocal pre-production with Hammer. Things are developing nicely and each song is stronger than the preceding track. Two more to go and then I’ll do it all again.
Future: We have a full day of pre-production on August 13.
We hit BJB to track drums on August 31 – the real thing.
Film clip production is underway.
We have began writing album number two – expect even more obtuse references to French folklore, Japanese mythology and the nature of a certain time travelling wolf.
Monday shouldn’t hold this kind of terror -I can work at home (or at least at Lachlan’s house) with a greyish tom cat on my lap, listening to The Atomic Fireballs, making decent dollars per word.
I’m nearly sticky and ill with fear. What the hell was that? A weekend? Certainly not in any human sense of the word. Sure, there was some good ol’ fashioned fun and productivity (we had a meeting with Nicole BZ and Dave Hammer re: album schedule… things are moving very quickly now), but there was a definite undertone of over the top savagery and teenage lust moving through everything.
Starting Thursday, it was a long haul through the deepest of holes, Dean’s other band, Surprise Wasp gave us all something to dance to and think about and the only reason I actually went home at all was due to Lachlan’s sage advice – “You aren’t going to get sex here, come home.”
Thankfully, even in the throws of rampant deviant behaviour, I listend to that advice and probably saved quite a bit of money, if not dignity.
Friday was to be quiet, but my old, dear friend Moon Head invited me out for a few quiet drinks with her and Mr. Springtime. I think that I possibly consumed two buckets of wine and several cocktails.
Saturday saw me and Black Omar aka Jazz Hat out and about, both nursing serious hangovers but intent on finding a new place of residence. After a whole lot of love and junk, we stopped in at a nice little place for an eye opener and killed time in a guitar store, where Black Omar got some serious grooves going – look out for The Walking Pace, coming to a dive near you.
When the house hunt was over for the afternoon, we connected with Mr. Green and began the slow crawl back into depravity, watching over 3 hours of Michael Jackson footage but listening to rough and ready music, discussing the nature of women musicians; not in any mean or sexist way, but merely as a way to ignore whatever other unclean thoughts we may have garnered.
Out on the streets and all over the town we spent our money and reason, encountering such fine fellows as Eliot Prob, Mr. Tooth, KL Conroy and an assorted cast of drunks, jerks, swell cats and bonafide crazies.
Sunday morning saw me stumbling in after sun up and out of bed two hours later. Business as ususal.
No real gaps, just the feeling that maybe the latent creep in my brain has rose from it’s reptile crouch and taken over the furry parts of my thought process.
This week in Gay Paris: Film Clip production meeting part 105, Vocal Pre-Production w/Dave Hammer part 2, Thursday night rehearsal, Sunday morning rehearsal, house hunting part 3, writing about Fox Queens and Granpappy’s Blues.