Archive for December, 2009

WH responds to BZ

Posted in Uncategorized on 10/12/2009 by gayparis

BZ is in the know, she knows what do to, she makes us tick and sometimes her methods confuse the hell out of me. Sometimes I blow a fuse, I think she finds it amusing. I hope you do too. If not, please go to hell. Bring me back a six pack of mid strength, low carb beer. You can’t have any.

Ok. I don’t get it. I read and just thought what the fuck.I have no idea how to get people to blog or mini blog about us. You’d think good music and a great live show would be enough. Obviously we suck.Or need to play shit soft rock indie electro and have banal lyrics and wear tsubi jeans and fuck boys and girls and have rich parents but still drink cask wine even though our rent is paid and we’ve deferred uni to start a shoegaze band but then again I‘ll do it next week.There.That’s my mini blog.

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The Decemberists

Posted in Uncategorized on 08/12/2009 by gayparis

Well, it been a darn long time since I got up on this and I wish that I could say I had an excuse, but I don’t. Put it down to rudeness on my part. I’ve been a very rude man.
We’ve been in the studio and it drags on like a great queen in 12″ heels with a boa constrictor slithering on fake breasts while we play YMCA at an outrageous volume – trust me, it very well could happen after some of the conversations I’ve been having with Ol’ Blacktooth.
Now, don’t think we’re one note guys, we aint just been in the studio with Mr D K Hammer, we been gigging with the likes of The Snowdroppers (actually, I think that we may be involved in a fairly serious cocktail war with them after the Lady Luck Weekend) and The Rumjacks – hopefully this continues into the new year.
We joined the Coopers choir to help out our favourite rock band in Sydney, you’ll never guess who, well, you may if you listen to the drivel that I dribble when I’m six light beers and half a bottle of gin deep.
As far as the album goes, it really just expands like the story arc of an unorganized speculative fiction novelist. I wonder why that is. Cello, percusion, grunting gorilla sex parties, we captured it all and put it in a cage for your gawping amusement.
Hope to see yall at the Gaelic Theatre this weekend to help us round out a year of fire, flood, famine, blues, bums, box cutters and boxes of otherworldy nature.
Much love

WH.