At the watercooler

A product of a lazy Wednesday night.

Binary Heart

Missing the Point

A Room Called Remember

The name I name it by

"Mrs Taylor was the one who vastly increased my dominion over the earth and its creatures by teaching me the art of naming them. It wasn't until years later that I learned what a fatal art that is. Because if on the one hand to name a thing is to be able to address it, to appropriate it, to have a way of understanding it, it is on the other hand to erect a barrier between yourself and it that only on the rarest, most inspired occasions, you are able to surmount again.

Now that thanks to Mrs Taylor I can name a tree as a tree, what I see when I look at it is less than it actually is, than simply, the name I name it by.

When I was a child, what I saw when I looked at a tree was something as naked in its mystery as I was naked in mine. Yet I thank her anyway, if she hadn't taught me the name, somebody else would have, and probably not half so well."

Looking Back and Looking Deep

"Memory is more than a looking back to a time that is no longer", says Frederick Buechner. "It's a looking deep into another kind of time altogether."



I have recently spent a fair amount of time on buses, in particular, traveling the three hour journey up and down the road between Canberra and Sydney. As strange as it may sound, I have always loved lengthy trips. Whether it be the six hour bus ride between Montréal and New York, the four hour train trip between Paris and the Hague, or the twenty-four hour plane journey from Australia to Europe, I've never resented these journeys. Much less, I've cherished them.

You might be thinking, "Big deal, I love traveling too. It doesn't mean we all have to blog about it." And you'd be right. But when it comes to these trips, it's not so much the act traveling, but the "being travelled" aspect that I love. It's the passiveness of it, the idea of sedentary movement. In a world in which we so often place ourselves at the centre of things, where being in control is a virtue, we are for once momentarily forced to sit still, while the world moves around us.

I love listening to music as I gaze out the window on these trips, the passing scenery creating my own unique and personal music video. Most of all though, I love the fact that, for the duration of the journey, no one can get to me. When the doors to that bus/train/plane click shut, it signals the start of a period of "time out" from the world.

Perhaps it's the perfect tonic for a restless mind. Normally, any time spent pondering the hows and whys of the way we are is accompanied by a strong sensation of indulgence or idleness, of ignoring things that need doing, practical things with measurable outcomes. But somehow, on these trips, I can escape that feeling. Sitting in my seat, I have permission to stare into space, to reflect without guilt, as if were anyone to challenge me as to what it was that I was doing at that moment, I could confidently answer, "I'm going somewhere."

So its during these trips that I invariably find myself thinking about the past. Thinking back on where I've come from and taking stock of it, and wondering where that past might lead me to. Lately, I've been thinking about certain people who've influenced me along the way - particularly my family, grandparents that have since passed on, teachers I had at school... It's funny how our memories can take on new found importance as we grow older, as if our growing older has unlocked in them, and in us, a hidden level, enabling us to see something from our past as if for the first time.

Frederich Buechner touches on this in his writing. Of course, he puts it more poetically than I ever could.

"How they live on, those giants of our childhood. And how well they take even death in their stride. Because although death can put an end to them right enough, it can never put an end to our relationship with them. Wherever or however else they may have come to life since, it's beyond a doubt they live still, in us.

Memory is more than a looking back to a time that is no longer. It's a looking deep into another kind of time altogether, where everything that ever was continues not just to be but to grow and to change with a life that's in it still. The people we loved. The people who loved us. The people who taught us things. Dead and gone though they may be, as we come to understand them in new ways, it's as though they come to understand us, and through them we come to understand ourselves in new ways too. Through them, something of the power and goodness of life itself not only touched us once long ago, but continues to touch us to this day.

One imagines all of us on this shore, fading for them, as they journey ahead towards whatever new shore awaits them. But it's as if they carry something of us on their way, as we most surely carry something of them on ours. That's perhaps why to think of them is a matter not only of remembering them as they used to be, but seeing and hearing them as in some sense they are now.

If they had things to say to us then, they have things to say to us now too. Nor are they necessarily always the same thing."

Scandinavians

The Polar Music Prize is regarded as Sweden's foremost musical honor. Founded by former ABBA manager Stig Anderson, the prize is awarded annually to one contemporary musician and one classical musician. In 2010, it was shared by Ennio Morricone and Bjork. You can watch the ceremony here, which basically consists of Swedish artists being given the quite daunting task of performing the greatest hits of both Morricone and Bjork whilst the prize recipients watch on. If you can spare the time, it's pretty special to see Ennio Morricone and Bjork's reactions as their music is played.

Check out Ane Brun's cover of the Bjork classic Joga from last years prize ceremony.

I have always loved the lilting sound of Scandinavians when they speak English. If you don't know what I mean, ask a Danish person to say the word, "little".

"You push meeeyupto this stay-tov emergency."

I believe in fairies

It was my niece's 5th birthday on the weekend. My sister organised a birthday party in the local park in Berry. It was a beautiful day.



Anna had wanted to put on a show so she asked everyone to bring some dress up costumes and musical instruments. Anna's friends didn't disappoint. They came as pirates, they came as princesses, they came as fairies, they came as vampires. And woe betide the man that failed to recognised which was which. There's nothing quite like being given the cold shoulder by a five year old.

ME : Oh look at you! Great costume. What have you come as?
CHILD stares at me mutely like I've stolen his lolly bag.
ME : Oh I know! You're stuntman!
CHILD stares at me in disgust.
ME : No? Wait, I got it! You're... batman!
CHILD now looks like he might vomit on me.
CHILD's OLDER SISTER : He's a vampire.
ME : Oh... yeah... Silly me.
The children run off and I'm left to wonder how I was meant to get "vampire" from a cape and a tshirt that says, "I'm a stuntman".

This little guy was my favourite though. He was obviously someone's younger brother who, in return for being allowed to tag along with his older sis', had been made to wear the only remaining costume in the household, which just happened to be a red and green fairy costume. Far from letting the costume get him down, he worked it, charging around the park, getting some sweet fairy milage out of those wings.

wipe your face

It All Starts With One

I've posted about Norwegian-born/Swedish-based singer Ane Brun before on this blog. I can't help but have a soft spot for her. Well, she has recently finished a tour of the US, including a magical performance at the iconic Red Rocks Amphitheatre in Colorado, which took place in the middle of an electrical storm.

Brun is now back in Sweden and looking forward to the release of her new album, "It all starts with one". This clip is the first single from the album, "Do You Remember". The video is directed by Brun's partner, Magnus Renfors, (another creative couple!) and is the first chapter of a short film featuring four songs from Brun's forthcoming album.

Silver Cinder @ The Vanguard

Some shots of our recent gig at The Vanguard. Thanks very much to Peter Pigott for these photos. Thanks also to everyone that came down to see us. We had a great time!












www.myspace.com/silvercinder

Mr Little Jeans covers Arcade Fire - The Suburbs

If you've ever listened to Guy Garvey's Finest Hour, you'll know that he has a segment called, "It was moider" which essentially involves him exposing the criminal act of bad musical covers. Every week he provides an example of a beautiful original song that has been criminally abused by a band trying to cover it. As the offending song starts to play, Guy always growls in his worst Brooklyn cop accent, "IT WAS MOIDER!" The worst offenders always tend to involve boy bands covering old soul numbers and it's usually at this point that I find myself wondering why we don't yet have a statutory death penalty provision that is applicable to all current and former boy bands members.

Anyway, if there were an opposite version of that segment, maybe this song would feature on it. Every now and then a band puts out an album that you think pretty much nails perfection. For me, Arcade Fire's The Suburbs was that album. So trying to cover perfection is, in my opinion, pretty ballsy! But the mellifluous strings and underwater sub give this song an extra sense of regret/sadness/nostalgia.

Every time I hear this song, I want to be back in my apartment in Paris, the lights down and the volume up, with a glass of red in my hand, as I watch the moon bounce off the sea of silvery-grey roofs from my sixth floor window.

Turn up the bass.

Gotye - Somebody that I Used to Know

This song has exploded in Australia recently. I don't think I've ever heard a song and so instantly thought, "this will be massive." The album isn't out until August 19, but it's so catchy that it already feels like a bit of a classic. In fact, I hesitated posting it here, because even though it's only been on the radio for the last couple of weeks, it has received so much airplay that it already feels a little "old news"! As much as I love it, it did feel very poppy, very quickly. It seems Gotye felt the same way when he wrote it.

Anyway, I'm posting it here because it's Australian music and because this is the third album from Gotye, so any mainstream success he gets is, in my opinion, thoroughly deserved.

I played this song to my mum, (the ultimate critic) and when the chorus kicked in she simply nodded and said, "Hm. Good song". You know you've got a mainstream hit when you can get a head bob out of a 65 year old woman who grew up on a stiff music diet of The Beatles, The Seekers and Bob Dylan.

Anyway, I digress. Enjoy!

Ps. If you're interested in listening to the whole album, it's streaming here for free until 22 August

Silver Cinder play The Vanguard

Tam and I are playing The Vanguard on Wednesday 10 August as part of our official Silver Cinder EP launch. Keep an eye out for some of our posters around town, and maybe even some airplay on FBI. If that doesn't excite you, the 10th also happens to be my birthday. So there'll be double the reason to celebrate!

We've got some old friends to play with us this time (Matt Chee on trumpet and Tegan Yue on violin and tambourine) and singer-songwriter Michael Pigott is playing support. If you haven't heard him before, he's awesome.

It might be our last gig ever as SILVER CINDER, so if you haven't seen us yet, or even if you have, we'd love to see you there.

Tix are $12/$8 conc. and are available at www.thevanguard.com.au. Otherwise they'll be $15 on the door.

If at this late stage you still need incentives, can I just say that there may be aspects of drum kit involved. And I might even crack open the electric guitar. That's right. We've officially gone to a little town called MAX!

Hope to see you there.

The Ship Song Project

I'm probably coming to this very late, but thought I'd share it nonetheless.

Make sure you watch the first linked video first. It's a "making of" doco for The Ship Song Project, a project which saw Australia artists collaborate to rerecord Nick Cave's indie classic The Ship Song as tribute to the Sydney Opera House.

If you're not Australian, this probably won't mean anything to you. But just imagine a video full of iconic artists from your country, performing a song you grew up listening to, as a gift to a much-loved national icon you grew up visiting. As one person who commented on the video put it, "I don't know how it happened, but when the song finished I discovered I was naked." Love it.

PREVIEW - The Ship Song Project Documentary - Play - Sydney Opera House Media Portal

'Tele'

Summer Skin

by Death Cab for Cutie

Squeaky swings and tall grass
The longest shadows ever cast
The water's warm and children swim
And we frolicked about in our summer skin

I don't recall a single care
Just greenery and humid air
Then Labor day came and went
And we shed what was left of our summer skin

On the night you left I came over
And we peeled the freckles from our shoulders
Our brand new coats were so flushed and pink
And I knew your heart I couldn't win
Cause the season's change was a conduit
And we left our love in our summer skin



I recently started re-listening to the album "Plans" by Seattle band Death Cab for Cutie.

I've been particularly taken by the lyrics of Summer Skin, a song that (as far as I understand, but happy to be corrected) tells the story of a summer romance. "Squeaky swings and tall grass
The longest shadows ever cast". I love the simpleness of the imagery in this song - shedding skin, sunlight, shadows and changing seasons. "I don't recall a single care". In three short paragraphs, the memory seems perfectly tangible.

I have been thinking a lot recently about the passing of time, and perhaps, in the midst of it all, that's another reason why this particular song has brushed up against me.

I love the way the lyrics manage to convey the passing of time, both in the sense that whatever romance it is that the song is about now seems a very long time ago, but also that, viewed with hindsight, the memories of that summer seem now to be somehow suspended - or endless - just as those individual summer days themselves seemed suspended and endless. They were timeless, in the sense that they were without time. Timeless, right up until we realised that, despite it all, time would of course continue to tick on. Endless, right up until the point that they ended, like the dying summer evening sun, that it seems will never die, until finally it does give in, and slips below the horizon.

Y2gay

Having been inspired by a recent trip to Melbourne, I'm keen to get a few more pictures/posters/photos up around the house of things that I've done in my life. I'm currently trying to make a poster for Y2GAY. It's slow going.

The Middle East

Firstly, I love the chorus of this song.
Secondly, these guys will be massive.
Thirdly, I cannot believe that they made it through high school in Townsville alive.

Jesus Came to My Birthday Party. Yes, yes he did.

Enjoy.

High Flight

I have been trying, largely in vain, to read more poetry this year. I recently came across this poem, High Flight, written by American aviator and poet John Magee. Apparently Magee's famous closing line, "put out my hand and touched the face of God" was largely influenced, (read: copied) from a poem entitled A Blind Man Flies by Cuthbert Hicks. I have posted both poems below.

By way of post-script, Magee died at the age of 19 (ie very young, but old enough to be described as "an aviator") when his spitfire collided with an RAF plane over Lincolnshire. He is buried in Scopwick and on his grave is inscribed the first and last lines of his poem:

"Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
- Put out my hand, and touched the face of God."


I visited Duxford airfields with Bram a couple of years ago and was fortunate enough to see the rare sight of 7 Spitfire planes flying in formation. It was magnificent! (It seems like only last year but it was in fact 2009!).

As 6 June rolls around for another year, I can't help but think of times spent at Bram's house in Schoten, some very inebriated, some less so, but always good fun! I can remember Till and Kiki (now Mrs Zimmermann!) driving all the way form Germany with the German flag jammed in the window of their car in preparation for the upcoming World Cup. I can remember David Gault tending to the BBQ and his SLR camera in between shots at the wicker Korfball basket. I can remember Bram's brother Jasper (who possesses possibly the coolest name on earth) describing the taste of different Belgian beers with the same fervour for detail as a champagne maker from Reims. There are lots of things I can't remember, and to be honest, that's probably for the best, but Bram, this post goes out to you my friend. Happy Birthday! Wish I could be with you!

High Flight

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air....

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.
Where never lark, or even eagle flew —
And, while with silent lifting mind I have trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
- Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.


The Blind Man Flies

I am blind: I have never seen
Sun gold nor silver moon,
Nor the fairy faces of flowers,
Nor the radiant noon.

They speak of the dawn and the dusk,
And the smile of a child,
Of the deep red heart of a rose,
As of God, undefiled.

But I learnt from the air to-day
(On a bird’s wings I flew)
That the earth could never contain
All of the God I knew.

I felt the blue mantle of space,
And kissed the cloud's white hem,
I heard the stars’ majestic choir,
And sang my praise with them.

Now joy is mine through my long night,
I do not feel the rod,
For I have danced the streets of heaven,
And touched the face of God.