Taking The Throne: cooling down

So, the Taking The Throne tour is over and everyone survived, everything intact bar a touch of dignity, terrible hangovers and some embarrassing bruises in strange places.
Highlights included:
Late night after party in Newcastle with Brothers Grim & The Blue Murders and Kira Puru & The Bruise. Let’s just say that I bit off more than I could chew, lost my favourite kicks, Slim’s iPod and a few hours of my memory. How BZ and me made it back to Sydney in one piece, I’ll never really know. I don’t think that I want to.
Selling out The Vanguard. Okay, there was more to it than that. I think we finished the rider well before Kira and her boys even went on, but luckily, that is a venue that knows how to look after its acts. Needless to say, everyone was well liquored to hell and by the time we hit stage, the people of Sydney obviously in the same sinking ship. You can check photos of that gig over at FasterLouder.
Katoomba hooked us back up with our sister/brother band, The Snowdroppers. Far and away our best time in the mountains so far, it was just a bummer that we had to leave early to swing back to Sydney for an early morning film clip shoot. May the Morning Star preserve all who took part in that evil, evil day.
Catching a plane to Melbourne instead of driving and having a surf rock loving cab driver get us to the airport. What a guy!
Opening for BG&TBM in their home town. Great sound, great sound guy and watching James Grim shake his centaur sized ding-a-ling. Unfortunately, this was also the night that my nocturnal/slumbering wanderings and ramblings were at their most disturbing.
After picking up my little sister, KL Conroy from Melbourne airport, we drove to Ballarat. Gangsta rap and the road only gets better when she begins with her whorish ramblings. What a time! The Yard Apes packed out the venue and we got to really give it to the ladies and gents before we grabbed Blue Murder, Devlin and under the instruction of James, undertook a post midnight, booze and truckstop food fuelled race back to Melbourne for a ‘shirts off, pants off’ rave. Ironic dancing has never felt that good.
Wow. What a fucking final gig! After James dropped some Public Enemy styles the night before, we hit back with our ODB cover. That was good to get off our chests. Not only that, but the bar was packed well before doors opened and the place was ready to party. Nothing changed all night and it was great to catch some dudes and chicks that we haven’t seen in years. I even saw my old ‘zine editor. We’re going to resurrect something that should have stayed dead. Stay tuned.
Tour AwardsLeast Sleep: Ol’ Blacktooth Marks
Worst Jokes: KL Conroy
Keeping Shit Together: BZ
Most Money Spent on Food: Smokin’ D
Most Money Spent on Booze: BZ
Most Booze Consumed: BZ/WH
Most Rhymes Dropped: WH
Night Rider Driving : Slim Pickin’s
Best Hosts: Ham, Damien and Charles Barkley
Craziest Legs: Slim Pickin’s
Most Showers: Ol’ Blacktooth Marks
Biggest Power Playa: BZ

Taking The Throne Tour

Time to Take The Throne, sucker.
That’s right, folks, we in camp Gay Paris are riding out into the sunset (read as anywhere that the booze is cheap and ‘love’ comes easy) with our sleazey grime family, Brothers Grim
Joining us for the NSW dates will be long time lovers, The Snowdroppers and new additions to our hot spots, Kira Puru & The Bruise.
For the VIC dates, we have grabbed The Yard Apes, Marshall & The Fro, Little John and Plague Doctor (with more TBA) to give you something to drink, think and thrust to.
Don’t thank us yet. Wait until we’ve got more intimate.
Thursday February 10 – The Lass O Gowrie, Newcastle NSW w/ Kira Puru
Friday February 11 – The Vanguard, Newtown NSW w/ Kira Puru
Saturday February 12 – Baroque Bar, Katoomba NSW w/ The Snowdroppers
Friday February 18 – The Evelyn, Melbourne VIC w/Marshall & The Fro
Saturday February 19 Karova Lounge, Ballarat VIC w/ The Yard Apes
Sunday February 20 Old Bar, Melbourne VIC w/ Plague Doctor and Little John
Sunday Febuary 20 – mystery special event!!

Stay Down In The Hole

Long time coming.
Wall fell down.
Well has been poisoned.
Cats are in the bag.
Lifeless.
But if you’ve been keeping up, you already know all of this.
I remember when Hell was cold and quiet, not full of young ghosts, rubbing their tits on any devil with ties to the blues community.
What a fucking scene.
Then it got hot and dark – that’s fine, for a while, but then someone busts in and flicks the light switch. No one is beautiful at four in the morning, especially in a bathroom stall under flickering glass tubes, make up smeared and gag reflex kicking in.
I tell them that I’m in love, nonetheless.
I’m a fabulous liar.
But it’s easier when they can’t look you in the eyes.
Buy two patches and stay ghost.
Get gone.
Get back to that silent ice box.
Stygian and still.
Chasms where the beasts loiter, cards on the table and bottles of cheap liquor spilling in gutters, roaches getting drunk too.
But everyone whispers.
Echoes of that now.
Savage nostalgia cannibals gnawing out the long intestine, stuff it with offal and make a real meal of us.
Candy cane legs running across the ceiling in stilettos.
I was going to grow up and be a dancer.
Plans change.
Everything dies, given time.
They’re handing out time like it was about to go out of style.
Gas light and good plumbing, that’s all we really need.
Put beer cans in a bucket of water on the front porch and they’re good to go in the morning.
Drink whiskey from crooked stills when the sun sets.
Night falls early in kind towns, falls fast and heavy when you crawl down far enough.
A long way to go.
New Hell is sun up, pants down around ankles and thrown from a slow moving car.
Roll down a hill and wind up in a rose bush.
I first met the wolf there.
It was 1985.
It was also 1767.
This hole is a special kind of wonderful.
Send help.

Get Your Box Off, Honey.

Boxing Day sales? Forget about it. In the spirit of giving, Sydney ‘swamp stomp’ act, Gay Paris has sold it’s collective soul for the sake of man, woman and child and will be shaking out the post-ham-and-turkey blues of Christmas at The Annandale Hotel on the day after the biggest day in the Christian calendar.
Joined by acts of the calibre of Front End Loader,Celibate Rifles, The Shake Up, Peabody and Dune Buggy Attack Squadron, Gay Paris will be teaching you all about cool as the weather heats up.
Smoke machines? The guys don’t need ‘em, they’re positively steamy to begin with.
Catch Sydney’s greatest shack rockers before they explode by getting down to The Annandale from 2:30pm on the 26th of December.
Tickets and info here: The Annandale

The Night Before Gay Parisian Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house

Gay Paris were drinking, but not passing out;

The booze was all lined up on the mantle with care,

Cuz eight bitches would soon be ‘ right up in here’;

Slim Pickins was dancing, both poppin’ and locks,

Cuz Slim is a B-Boy that loves to up-rock;

And with his bandanna on under his hat,

WH busted, the illest of raps,

Then from the kitchen, there came a great clatter
Smokin’ D emerged with a gourmet style platter.

“Quiet down, you bastards,” cried out Blacktooth,

“I’m watching Christmas Vacation, National Lampoons!”

The hos all arrived and exposed their large breasts

Belly shots of whiskey are what happened next,

And every one laughed and they drank and they ate,

Even Miss BZ, who showed up so late,

Driving a Benz right through the window,

With K. ‘Whoremouth’ Conroy and some powder like snow ,

Oh what a Christmas, Oh Lord, what a ruckus!,

They chanted ‘Wu-Tang ain’t nothin’ to fuck wit!’ ;

“Now, Hot Dick! Now, Slim! now, Blacktooth, WH!

When you throw a party we know they’ll be great!”

To the top it all of, they paid for the whores!

And drove away quickly, distracting the cops,

Who had recently received, an anonymous tip,

Most likely the Snowdroppers, who felt they’d been dissed,

Gay Paris though, had sent invitations,

Intercepted by Tenderloins, who had trepidations,

Of partaking in pleasures that veer to excess

They kept them at home, tucked up in their beds.

GP raised their glasses and drank it all down,

When down their Chimney came a wonderful sound.

Dressed like the 20s had never quite finished,

The ‘droppers arrived crying ‘Yo! Now we up in this!’;

A bundle of booze was strapped to their backs,

And Cougar and London were so high on crack!

Johnny and Pauly, were tell tale gin drinkers;

Their noses so pink, like prostitute nipples!

The guys partied down with their hookers and blow,

With beer, wine and spirits, did I mention the hos?

They all got crunk and down like South West,

Slim battled Cougar and came out the best;

Johnny and WH talked of some books,

But in between notes, they did bourbon shots.

Blacktooth and Pauly were so busy riffing,

They never realised the fun they were missing!

London and Hot Dick were mixing bad drinks,

And drinking them down before they could think;

Then God appeared and spoke of his works,

But WH said, “bitch, I’ll battle you, jerk”;

And running his hand up the face of a ho,

He smote God with fury and the dopest of flows;

YHWH, Adonai, Jehovah and Christ,

You created the world? Nah, but what what about science?

The Devil appeared and tried to make nice,

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”

RESIDENCY DETAILS

OK, for those who don’t know (and you damn well should by now), we have a month long ‘residency’ of sorts at the Supper Club on Oxford Street in Sydney – oh, you droll bastards</em>, Gay Paris, you are thinking, what a way to out yourselves! But what we’d really like is for you to climb into the closet with us – it’s full of a hell load of wonderful shit!
Wonder shit? Sounds like something out of a China Miéville novel – but enough of that (for now).

Here is the complete list of what will happen each and every night – OK, I don’t really know who the Djs are yet and if that is important, check back in a bit, or stay home and watch old Kung-fu flicks in your underpants, drinking orange drink and rotting your teeth. What a life!

FRIDAY OCTOBER 8 – PARISIAN SPRING BREAK!

BANDS

Gay Paris It’s us, so trust it.
The Beards That’s right, if their drummer’s arse is healed and they aren’t scared off by our hirsute dominance, we’re teaming up with these gentle giants of the Beard-folk scene.
Brothers Grim Considering that they’re so damn attractive, I don’t see why they’d have the blues, they probably get more ass than rap guys.
Contraban Hot to def , so young, so fresh, get your glam with a bang!

ARTISTS

Mitzi McKenzie-King I call her Mitzapooh, she calls me Lukey-doo.
Mikey Hamer Dude did our film clip and photos for the record, so you know he is money – plus he is about 6’ 9” and has flaming red locks that would make a Scottish hero of folkloric legend weep into his whiskey and haggis in pure envy.
Rhonda Quinane Trust me, I live with her and the house is so full of art that I’m becoming more cultured by the nanosecond, or it could be this bottle of Merlot (yes, Merlot, you fucking wine snobs).
Paul Tooth This guy? Designed our new merch and has the smoothest game this side of Snoop Dogg circa 1993.
Craig Slater

DJ SETS BY MEDIA PERSONALITY AND FAMOUS STAND UP COMIC, ANDREW P STREET

FRIDAY OCTOBER 15 – SALOON DOOM BAR BRAWL!

BANDS

Gay Paris No, I don’t get sick of typing that
Jack Nasty Face Just when you thought no one had any style, BOOM!
La Mancha Negra Oh my! God made dirt so dirt don’t hurt…
Dirty Lindy Sometimes, you just gotta smooth it out, these cats know what we talking about.

ARTISTS

Felter Skelter (Anna Christoffersen & Emily Parsons-Lord)
Leigh Rigozzi
Bec Cook
Belinda Dipalo
Danielle Sullivan & Carl Gobey

DJ SETS BY BLACK CHERRY DJS

FRIDAY OCTOBER 22 – LADIES NIGHT!

BANDS

Gay Paris while most get better with age, we started out fantastic and have now transcended mortal comprehension. By this point, it will be religious.
The Rumjacks think they can drink us under the table but the real point of interest is going to be what happens once we’re all under that rotten, beer soaked trestle.
Betty Airs This is a bonafide super group consisting of dudes who have been in Run! Hide! And Gerling.
Mother &Son Two dudes doing the job of a whole band – yeah, it normally only works in hip hop, but this is dem real razor blade blues.

ARTISTS

Lisa Bowen
Anastasia Freeman
Anni Linklater
Sarah Gleeson
DJ SETS BY THE GOOD FOLK WHO BRING YOU TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT

FRIDAY OCTOBER 29 – HALLOWEEN THRILLER!

BANDS

Gay Paris time for the wolf dance, people, cuz we’re bringing him with us to this show
Hell City Glamours yeah, they’re way too big to be in a supporting role but then they lost the dance off. Suck it. Oh and they’re playing new songs.
The Smokestack Orchestra down to the nitty gritty, these guys have supported Clutch and nearly got us drowned, so you know it all good.
The Watt Riot these sweet bastards don’t play nearly enough shows, so we’ve got it in blood that they will show up.

ARTISTS

Steven Nuttall
Alice Amsel – She’s probably a fox queen too.
Richard Gurney
Melita Wrathall
Jay Tansley
Paul Tooth – It’s that guy again!
Leigh Rigozzi
DRINK SPECIALS!

So we got our sweetheart Weezy to whip up some monstrous concoctions

Deadrie’s Dogpark Caprihina has cachaca, blueberry liq, limes and berry pure

The Holy Sucker whiskey, Benedictine, lemon and lime juice with a touch of sugar syrup

Big Bleeder vodka, pomegranate liqure, cranberry juice and fresh lime

Green Devil Green Tea, Madori topped with either soda or pineapple juice

SHOOTERS!!!
Death To Spring Break Cointreau with Red Bull

A Goddamn Body Bag Scotch Whisky & Amaretto

Pre-cum Tia, Ameretto and amarula

Wormtongue Apple Liq, Absinthe, Apple Juice and sugar rim

if you haven’t checked out the clip and new songs, head over to our myspace and if you haven’t got tickets yet, head over to http://www.moshtix.com.au

BRISBANE PT II – Furious Vengeance

Last we were up there, God tried to stop us with rain, now we return with unholy fire to help our horrible friends, The Smokestack Orchestra launch their album. When is ours coming you ask? Fuck, I have it right here and it is great. Much better than The Smokestack Orchestra’s (I feel safe in saying this never having heard their record, even though I do not doubt their skills or artistry, you know that when you are laying all your money on the table, bet big and drink everyone elses drinks).
Bring money.
Buy us gifts.

The Only Good Abbott Is RZA

PrinceRakeemfoPrimeminister

Ah, the Catholic Church – is that wine or blood on your vestments? Really, they both wash out, right? Not like the taste that a certain Mr. Abbott is leaving in my mouth, hell, bring ME the wine, Australia, let’s commiserate that for some reason, a lot of people over here think that this dude is a viable leader for the nation – the only Abbott I have any time for is one Robert Diggs aka Bobby Digital, The Abbott, The RZA!
When Tony gets with a tight ass clique and goes all out, dropping pearls of wisdom over Kung-fu samples, maybe I’ll give him the time of day – but not my vote.
I know that we have a freedom of religion and speech here, but don’t we have a little something like Separation Between Church & State? Nah, not good enough for T.A. (shit, T& A should equal tits and ass, not terribly antiquated). Compulsory Christian Studies for school students in State schools? Righteous? Well, as a matter of my own interest, this would have been dope, but the compulsory aspect makes it seem like dude is trying to create some kind of holy empire – what next, Australia re-does the Crusades? Well, at least beards and shaved heads will be back in, as well as rapine and murder in the name of YWHW.
Really, dude calls his homeboy, one Jesuit priest and to paraphrase, is all; “word life, son, I gotta go for this PM thing, drop some knowledge to Hashem for me,”
And such is the hubris of his one time mentor (and apparently greatest male influence in TA’s life) that it is inferred that the great man(?) of Heaven can’t say no to his mortal servants? Makes sense, right?
If we’re going to be expected to believe these ghost stories, please, assholes, make them consistent.
If dude is going to run so much game about the benefits of his chosen faith ( free will, it makes you morally culpable, remember that shit), then why is Money letting on that the ‘poor will always be with us’ and that there is little that the government can do for the homeless – yes, we have the poor and homeless, it’s a tough situation, let’s give it up. Christian mercy. What makes it worse is that dude is quoting Jesus. Now, I don’t have to believe in water walking and wine based thaumaturgy (though I would dearly love to witness these miracles), to believe in the more merciful qualities put forward in the new testament. Abbott is using the merciful words of J the C to defend a less than humane view on the housing crisis in Australia. This isn’t the dark ages, we have enough money to go to war, we have enough money to give government sponsorship to sporting events that equate to international masturbation and jingoism promoting competition – so why not help these cats out?
With the multiple causes of homelessness being a huge factor in the moving from not having a house to being part of a ‘homeless culture,’ dudes like Abbott throw out shit like “it’s a choice…” Luckily we have a choice too – Don’t vote for this dude.
Let’s abandon medical research that can save lives, let’s all marry and have 2 or 3 kids (sorry, gay people, you’re not included and in a few years, we’ll probably see you in shock therapy or some other medieval shit) – oh and don’t worry, when you’re married and it turns out your spouse is a violent drunk or habitual practitioner of adultery, you’ll only have to wait five years to apply for a divorce. Solid.
Really, I don’t love Gillard, but in a two party preferred system, I know that I’d prefer a soulless atheist with no fashion sense than a bible thumping asshole.

Stay cool
Much Love
WH

Smokin’ D – Beards, Wines and Food.

Since we haven’t updated this in a little while i thought I’d add something on here from our recent NSW tour with our new good bearded buddies, The Beards. We played our first show with them up in Newcastle on a Saturday night not too long ago, on a little stage in a little Irish pub called The Northern Star (do go there if you’re passing through – great pub, great staff). I woke up on Sunday morning a little worse for wear after quite a few too many wines the night before and after checking out half an hour late we decided to wander down the street to get some breakfast.

We walked past a few places, looked at a few menus and kept going until we stumbled across one that we all agreed sounded good. A waiter spotted us eyeing off the menu at the entrance and came out to greet us by telling us they didn’t have enough room to seat a group of our size. (All 7 of us?). Thanks Newcastle, you jerks. I was looking forward to seeing if it was really “The Spot” but I guess now we’ll never know.

We moved along to the next cafe and quickly glanced over the menu outside, we reached a unanimous verdict and were approached almost instantly by a waitress who seated us inside on a long table with bench seating. She quickly ran off to grab us menus and returned ready to take coffee orders to get things rolling. It had been a fairly busy breakfast service by the looks of things so I was fairly impressed by how quickly we had been taken care of.

I ordered a chai latte to start with and quickly added a can of coke to my order as I slowly realised how horribly hungover I was becoming. Everybody else ordered assorted tea or coffee and while they were being made the waitress returned to begin taking our breakfast orders. I ordered Two Eggs and Bacon on Toast. Luke ordered himself a nice Vegie Breaky while Kimba ordered an Omlette, Lach and Dean both tried the Big Breakfast on for size and my girlfriend was simply craving roast tomato and mushrooms on toast, which could be arranged.

While we were waiting for our coffees an older couple sitting next to us started receiving their food. It looked good. I began eavesdropping and heard the guy mention that he ordered some mushrooms along with his breakfast and that they weren’t on the plate. The waitress apologised and was about to return to the kitchen to get him some but he insisted not to worry and that it didn’t matter. He was quickly interrupted by his wife as she informed the girl that it did matter and that they had been waiting for their meal for an hour, it still came out wrong and she wanted her husband to have the damn mushrooms. I found this slightly amusing at first but quickly became worried that I was infact as snooty as this woman. Then I remembered I’m Smokin’ D and that that’s OK.

I’m normally quite skeptical about situations where people complain about the amount of time they have waited for a meal, because in my experience 80% of people who complain about the length of time they have waited for a meal are dishonest or genuinely couldn’t tell you how long they have been waiting. As this woman seemed a little worked up I decided not to pay attention to her and assumed she was exaggerating out of frustration.

Back to our table. A different waiter started bringing over some of our coffees. He was remarkably under-dressed compared to the other staff, wearing a daggy blue faded T shirt and jeans with an apron over the top. Here’s a tip for those of you playing at home: If you’re going to get your kitchen-hand to help run food and drinks to tables, make sure they dress appropriately. Actually… Just don’t. He was soon joined by a different waitress who was quite focused on the coffee she was carrying toward us. Closer inspection revealed she had spilled it all over the saucer. “Umm, a long black? I think? … I think it’s a long black anyway. haha”

Lach immediately commented that I was probably thinking “You think, or you KNOW?”

I am definitely as snooty as the mushroom lady.

Luke reluctantly raises his hand and receives the slightly unappetizing long black.

As the only person yet to receive a coffee I begin looking around at everyone else’s. I notice that 3 of us ordered teas. I also noticed that none of them had their milk served in the same type of jug. This is not a big deal by any means considering we are hungover bastards having breakfast in a café, I just like to think that uniformity is something that should be of importance when serving a group of people. If something is good enough for one of them, it should be good enough for all of them, so don’t give someone a shitty jug when someone at their table gets a nice one filled with the same thing.

I know. Snooty.

A couple of minutes later our original waitress returns to inform me that they only had enough chai syrup left for one chai latte and Kim scored that one. Not that she scored much, it was almost entirely milk. I changed my order to a mocha and glanced outside just in time to see mushroom lady leaving. Her meal was untouched while her husband had finished everything on his plate, including the side dish of mushrooms he later received. He was at the counter paying and after catching the look on his face, obviously slightly embarrassed by his wife, I reminded myself again how much of a jerk I can be when eating out, not getting what I am paying for/expect and getting poor service. Speaking of which, where’s my fucking mocha? I’ve been waiting 45 minutes. I’m not even exaggerating! And apparently neither was Mrs Snooty-Mushroom lady. Anyhow, I figured I’d let it slide and drink my coke, feel sorry for myself and wait for my hangover to subside.

Almost an hour after we ordered our meals started to arrive. Things were going well until shaky coffee girl brings us an extra vegie breaky. Luke is already eating his and he is the only one that ordered one. “Oh… hang on” she says looking confused “one of you ordered it” – We insisted that we only ordered the one and Lachlan informs her that it was two of the big breakfasts rather than two of the vegie breakies. Simple mistake, easily fixed. She returns to the kitchen. I started having flashbacks of a visit to a tiny café in Picton when she returned with the plate, docket in hand.

“No, It says here…” – she got that far. That was all I could take as I raised my voice over hers before she told us that we were wrong. Here’s another tip, kids: If there’s a mix up with an order and the customer is sitting there telling you they ordered something different to what was written by the waitress DO NOT tell them they’re wrong. ESPECIALLY IF YOU DIDN’T TAKE THE ORDER YOURSELF.

Obviously we had caused a little bit of a scene because another lady came over and asked what the problem was. The younger girl quickly disappeared and (I’m assuming she was) the manager quickly had things under control. She apologised for the mix up and returned to the kitchen to organise the replacement. She came back and noticed that myself and my girlfriend were still waiting for our meals and asked what it was that we had ordered. I slipped my coffee order back in there and my girlfriend re-ordered her tomatoes and mushrooms on toast which was met with a surprised expression and then “I’ll arrange to get that done for you” – That’s what they said an hour ago? Are you guys growing the mushrooms on site?

Within 2 minutes I had my mocha, my girlfriend had her Tomatoes and Mushrooms and I had my Bacon and Eggs. What the shit happened? All of a sudden someone in charge gets angry and everyone does everything STRAIGHT AWAY?

I wish she took our orders initially. We would have been on our way to Maitland already and I probably would have had a chai latte. My Mocha was outstanding though. The nicest I’ve ever had. So much so I had to ask what type of coffee it was they used; Segafredo. A beautiful Italian blend. I’ve had a cappuccino of since at a different place and it wasn’t anything special, which indicates the manager here looked after her coffee and her coffee machine… and she knew what she was doing.

Similarly, my breakfast was excellent. Nothing was overcooked. Nothing under seasoned. My girlfriends was the same and from what I heard, everyone else was happy: With a little more organisation this would have been an excellent cafe, which I would visit every day given the opportunity, just for their coffee. Unfortunately, Sunday’s seem to be the day uni students waitress while they’re hungover.

My verdict: Get rid of the driftwood and they’re onto a real winner.
6.5/10 – Even though we waited too long for our meals and had a disagreement with staff and certain aspects of our order were incorrect, they recovered well and we were not let down by the food/coffee/manager.

If anyone is interested, I’ll find out what the place was called and let you know. Otherwise, just enjoy reading what a snobby prick thinks of a cafe when he’s hungover.

– SD.

Katoomba! We Cometh (Again).

Mountain Lovin' Mother Lickin'!