DeVille’s

The singing made it even more hellish…

My social life has been stupidly busy lately. Well, stupidly busy for me which probably means it’s getting close to what a normal person would regard as the bare minimum of social activity to stop them passing into a coma. In any case I’ve been doing so much that I haven’t had the time to blog about any of it – a situation I plan to partially rectify by writing about my Thursday night, when I attended my good friend Katie’s birthday do at DeVille’s Pad.

DeVille’s Pad is a place I’ve been meaning to check out (in a vague and unfocused way) ever since it opened up in the old Polygon nightclub next to McIver railway station. It’s a bar/nightclub that attempts to combine a chic, somewhat kitsch 1950s tiki-bar style with a devil and hell theme – a synthesis that they actually manage to pull off quite well.

(The same people operate a smaller 1950s style tiki-bar near the cathedral, so they’ve had practise)

The interior is done up to look like someone transplanted a Vegas hotel from the 1950’s into a cave. The walls curve around into interesting organic shapes, there’s stalactites and wrought iron all over the place and a stage and a dance floor.  Ah! Here’s a convenient panorama that gives some idea. The place is very cool, frankly I’m astonished they let me through the door.

Katie had invited about 25 of her friends, very few of whom I’d met before so I basically just found somewhere comfortable to sit back and enjoy the show. And a show there was, as (it turns out) Thusday nights are Karaoke at DeVille’s!

The performances had their high points and low points. There was one woman in particular who – “performed” is probably the best word as “sang” would be entirely inaccurate – a number of songs in an off key bawl that could have cut metal. The guy hosting the show on the other hand belted out several numbers – notably The Final Countdown – really well. The big surprise was a somewhat diminutive staff member who did an incredible version of Twist and Shout. She was then joined by a six foot tall, black-clad apparition of doom with hair like Cousin It for ACDC’s Thunderstruck, which varied between her astonishingly powerful rock vocal and his truly impressive death grunting.

Another staff member briefly abandoned the bar to do a great version of Sexual Healing, which is not a phrase I ever thought I’d have cause to type. Then a Scottish couple did Build Me Up Buttercup – well, sort of, he just shouted the lyrics in his thick Scottish accent, while she looked embarrassed. But it was quite entertaining. Later on they broke out into a spontaneous sword dance, minus any swords (at least I presume they didn’t have any swords, I couldn’t see their feet from where I was sitting).

All of the food has either a hell or 1950s theme. After some consideration I went for the Royale with Cheese burger. I have to say this was a bit disappointing – it was a perfectly adequate burger, but there was nothing to make it stand out against any other perfectly adequate burger you could get elsewhere rather cheaper (I guess I’ve just been spoiled by Grill’d).

I said my goodbyes about 10 and got the train home. A good night all up and I’ll certainly consider heading back when I need somewhere impressively unique for a meal.

Save the Wombats Lord, Kumbaya

What would we do baby, without us?

In an attempt to fill up the vast, rolling plains of airtime that have recently opened up with the onslaught of newly launched digital channels, the various TV networks have been pulling anything they can grab out of their archives, dusting it off, and throwing it on air willy nilly. As a result shows that haven’t seen the light of day in decades are now turning up randomly all over the TV schedule, often in back-to-back double episodes or in odd timeslots such as 5:00pm Monday to Wednesday, followed by 12:20pm Thursday, then 6:30am Saturday for the early risers. It’s historic TV madness!

One of these shows that has been dragged kicking and screaming off the shelf is that old standby Family Ties, the show that launched Michael J. Fox to stard0m and ensured that we’d never get to see Eric Stoltz drive a Delorean. Ah, the memories! The maddeningly catchy sha-la-la-la theme song! The curiously craggy face of Michael Gross! Ubu the dog with his frisbee! Good times…

But the thing that struck me most forcibly during a recent viewing was a scene that showed just how right L.P.Hartley was with his lunatic ramblings about shadowy umbrellas, hooded eyes and the past as a foreign country where they do things differently (and how!).

So, the titular family are sitting around in the kitchen when Alex (played by Marty McFly) gets a phone call from a girl. From the half of the conversation we hear it’s clear that this girl has managed to obtain tickets for some event. Once off the phone one of the parents (honestly I forget who, they’re pretty interchangeable) asks if said tickets are for Barry Manilow.

A joke of course – clueless parents totally out of touch with the music young people are into, assuming that Barry Manilow is somehow cool enough that their son would be clamouring for tickets. But no. No canned laughter rings out. The Manilow comment is passed over without comment, the actual joke is that the tickets Alex is so excited about are to a lecture by a famous economist.

The only logical conclusion is that in the early 80’s cool kids went to Barry Manilow concerts! Or at the very least TV scriptwriters thought that cool kids went to Barry Manilow concerts. Madness!!

Ancient TV aside, the old black dog has been stalking me quite efficiently recently, to the point that I’d very much like to spend my days curled up in a fetal position, weeping quietly under my bedsheets. Unfortunately it’s been too hot for that, so I’ve had to pull myself together and come into work instead. I’ve been doing my best to deal with it by subverting my angst into fantasies of extreme violence against everyone who has ever crossed me. This is startlingly effective but hardly qualifies as a long term treatment plan. I did manage to get my bike fixed however so I’ll try some needlessly aggressive bike riding instead and see how it goes.

That’s all for now folks!

Watching the Numbers Trickle Past

The JJJ Hottest 100 2010

Well it’s Australia Day, and I’m slaving away in the office. This sounds bad, but I actually decided to take Monday off instead and come in today and get a good slab of work done without distractions. Well, apart from the Triple J Hottest 100 anyway.

They’re up to number 88 and so far I’m not too impressed. Of course this could very well mean that all the really good songs have come in in the low numbers, which would be great, but we’ll see.

Only one song I voted for has come in so far, the Bedroom Philosopher at number 91. I’ll update the post as the results continue to trickle in…

Hmmm, according to the Wikipedia page we should all “seriously get to Jimmy’s” in Victoria Street in Brunswick, Melbourne. It also informs us that Jimmy is “a knob jockey”, although someone else thinks this is “unnecessary slander”. Fascinating…

Megan Washington at 84? I thought she’d get much higher…

Number 82. This is the music you tighten up to!…

Number 76. Ah, so that Kings of Leon song is named Radioactive. No wonder it makes me nauseous…

Ah Rosie Beaton! My long-time radio crush! Yey! 🙂

Number 74: I’ve always wondered what would happen if you put Tame Impala in a room with Leader Cheetah…

Number 71: Gypsy and the Cat have now popped up twice. No Jona Vark yet though…

Number 64: Ah! There it is. Should have got much higher if you ask me…

You know, there have been no songs yet that I really really hate? Interesting…

Number 56: Bring Night only got 56? What’s wrong with you people?!…

Ambling Alp at number 51. That takes the total-so-far of songs I voted for to 4…

Number 42: Gorillaz! Yey! (there were also at 78, just for the record)…

Number 36: Chiddy Bang! And they’re pretty much amazing!…

Number 31: Bloodbuzz Ohio by the National. So much for no songs I hate…

Did I mention that my prediction for number one is Cee Lo Green?..

Number 22: The counter-curse is “Unjellify”…

Number 15: Never thought I’d see the day that Barbara Streisand got into the Hottest 100. Well, live and learn…

Number 11:I also never thought the ABC News Theme would get a look in. Awesome!!…

Number 10: And now Boy George. Curiouser and curiouser…

Number 7: SEVEN!? Cee Lo only got number SEVEN!? Wow! Wonder what piece of crap took number one then?..

Number 5: Crowded House at five. Sort of :)…

Number 3: Ou Est Le Swimming Pool. It’s a great song, but I can’t help but wonder if it’s ranked so high due to sympathy votes…

And Number One….. Big Jet Plane by Angus and Julia Stone. Well, I certainly didn’t see that coming. But then it did win song of the year at the ARIAs, so I suppose it’s not that surprising.

OK, I’m out of here. More nuanced analysis will appear later (maybe :D)

Straits of Canada

See the small person I don’t like wearing jewellery and makeup.

Reading my feeds this morning I stumbled over the news that a regulatory body in Canada has banned Dire Strait’s Money for Nothing from the airwaves for reasons of being offensive.

My initial reaction was “WHAAA?”, however on reading the article this was revised to “Oh, yeah – that bit”. The problem is of course the third verse – not one of Mark Knopfler’s best moments – where the song repeatedly uses a rather nasty pejorative. Someone complained – quite justifiably in my opinion – and away we go.

There seems to be a lot of outrage floating around over the decision, but personally it doesn’t bother me that much. I’m as big a Dire Straits fan as the next guy (assuming the next guy is also tragically out of step with modern music) but the verse really is in rather poor taste. More importantly there’ve been versions of the song without the offending verse available ever since it was released – as long as these versions are still allowed on the radio, what does it matter? You don’t listen to Money for Nothing for the words, you listen for the durn-d-d-d-duuuurn! durn-durn-durn – durrrrrrn-durn! d-durn-durn-durn! d-d! (and for Mr Sting wailing about MTV).

The people who complain about this sort of thing are typically the ones who want to keep on using the offensive terms in question. They hide behind a facade of second-person artistic integrity, but fundamentally they want to keep the word ‘faggot’ in the song because they want to keep calling gay people – or simply anyone they don’t like – faggots. The idea that their apparently God given right to hate and belittle others is under threat is what upsets them – not that a song from 30 bloody years ago will now have to be played in slightly modified form.

Sheeze. You might as well complain about not being allowed to sing that verse from Tie Me Kangaroo Down Sport.

The Scoliosis Bus

Making light of a serious medical condition.

Had a very enjoyable Boxing Day lunch at Rebecca and Dom’s yesterday. As is usual the postprandial conversation wandered all over the place, and happened to light upon a government funded bus that used to travel around from school to school testing children for signs of scoliosis. Our collective blood sugar levels being all over the place we found the concept of “the scoliosis bus” quite hilarious, and laughed like drains for a good five minutes.

Rebecca kindly gave me a lift home and on the short walk from her car to my apartment my brain insisted on whipping up a set of lyrics, which I now – shamefully – present to a candid world…

The Scoliosis Bus (to the tune of Jingle Bells)

A day or two ago, I thought I’d go to school,
And as I studied there, what vehicle up did pull?
The Nurse jumped out the bus, and measured up my spine,
She said “put on this truss and you will soon be feeling fine!”

Spinal cord! Spinal cord! Spinal chordate truss!
Oh what fun it is to ride in the Scoliosis Bus!
Spinal cord! Spinal cord! Spinal chordate truss!
Oh what fun it is to ride in the Scoliosis Bus!

I am so, so sorry.

Make Mine Music

Too much musical information.

Well it’s that time of year again, the voting has opened for the Triple J Hottest 100. Naturally I’ve jumped straight in and voted for my favourite 10 songs of the last year and shall present them here for the ridicule of all – but before I do I have to comment on the website they’ve thrown together to take the votes.

I ain’t impressed.

OK, I’ll qualify that. Overall the site is good, but it has a couple of critical bugs that made my voting a bit of a trial.

(For the record I’m using Firefox version 3.6.13)

Firstly, they appear to be using AJAX to add songs to the shortlist. This is fine – except they appear to be using the same XMLHttpRequest object each time you click a song, rather than spawning a new one.

What this means is that if you click to select a song, then click on another song before the result of the first click has been returned, the first click is effectively cancelled, and only the second song is added to the list. So you need to click, wait, click, wait, and so on, which kind of defeats the purpose of using AJAX in the first place.

The second bug is on the submission form you go to once your songs have been selected. I use an extension called CookieSafe to control the cookies on my machine. This allows me to block or modify cookies on a site-by-site basis. On the Triple J site I allow cookies, but have them all rewritten to be session only (ie: they evaporate when I close the browser).

Voting for the hottest 100 appears to require a long term cookie to be set – which is fair enough, I guess they’re using it to stop people voting multiple times. If this cookie is tampered with (or blocked) the form won’t submit. Also fair enough. But – what does the form tell you if this situation occurs?

It tells you that you haven’t filled out all of the fields.

Even when you have.

That’s bad. Really bad. An inappropriate error message is worse than no error message at all. I’m net savvy enough to figure out what’s going on and adjust my cookie settings appropriately, but plenty of other people aren’t, and could easily get so frustrated that they’d give up on voting altogether.

So, the ABC’s web department seriously needs to raise their game.

But, on to the fun stuff. The songs.

Whittling down my list to just 10 songs was a real challenge this year, especially once I realised that I was forgetting a bunch of really good tracks. But I laboured mightily and ended up with the following list, which I present in no particular order (apart from alphabetically by artist).

(Note: Helen and Ali, a bunch of these songs are on a mix-cd that shall shortly be winging your ways, so if you want to be surprised, stop reading – or at least clicking “play”- from this point on :))

The Bedroom Philosopher – Northcote (So Hungover)

The puntastic tale of a pretentious Emo riding around on the number 86 tram. I particularly like the concept of Sad Sanderson performing at the Fitzroy Anti-Social Club.

Cee Lo Green – Fuck You!

I don’t mind profanity in a song, as long as it serves a purpose. In this case the purpose is to form an integral part of a seamless, catchy, funky, brilliant motown track consummately performed by Mr Green. This is my confident tip for the number one spot. Those who find the lyrics offensive may prefer this bowdlerised version performed by the cast of Glee and (for some reason) Gwyneth Paltrow.

Chiddy Bang – The Opposite of Adults

A remix/reworking of MGMT’s Kids. And what a remix/reworking. Just as good as the original, although wildly different.

Grinderman – Palaces Of Montezuma

Ah, Nick Cave! Scary, growly Nick Cave who can make a song about JFK’s spinal cord sound like a visitation from the heavens. OK, it’s not exclusively about JFK’s spinal cord, but believe me, it’s in there, and it’s romantic as all get out.

Gypsy and the Cat – Jona Vark

Gypsy and the Cat were discovered by Triple J Unearthed, and you can just imagine them sitting around giggling saying “we’ll call our song Jona Vark, and everyone will think it’s Joan of Arc, and get all confused! Hurrah”. Normally this kind of tomfoolery would condemn one to a life of complete obscurity, but Gypsy and the Cat seemed to have made it work.

Kate Nash – Do Wah Doo

A few years ago I listed one of Kate Nash’s songs as the worst of the year. Possibly she heard about it, because she’s now come up with a 50’s inspired track that I’m totally in love with. It sounds like something put together by Phil Spector before he went mad and started killing people. Fantastic.

Marina and the Diamonds – Shampain

How to describe Shampain. Like falling into the pit of hell accompanied by a herd of rabid synthesizers? Perhaps, except that it’s awesome.

Philadelphia Grand Jury – Save Our Town

Some good, old fashioned Aussie rock/pop, without which no Hottest 100 list would be complete. Put your money down people!

Sia – Bring Night

Catchy and astronomically accurate! If you travel in the direction of your shadow the sun will go down a little sooner.

Yeasayer – Ambling Alp

A song about boxers from the 1930s. Or something. Certainly they get mentioned in there. I don’t really know, or really care, because it’s energetic, catchy, fun and puts the boot into fascists.

So that’s my ten. Here’s some others that only just missed out on making the cut…

So there we go. Roll on Australia Day!

Hearts and Parks, Bows and Crows

Vale

Two great losses this week with the passing of author Ruth Park and musical-oddity extraordinaire Captain Beefheart.

Playing Beatie Bow was on the year nine syllabus when I was at school, so I read and studied the crap out of it. A lot of books suffer when you’re forced to do that to them, but Beatie Bow stood up. I haven’t read it for the better part of twenty years but I still recall vast swathes of it – it’s one of those books that gets into your head and changes it a bit so you’re never quite the same person after reading it.

More recently I obtained a copy of Ruth Park’s Sydney which provides a brilliantly written (if it wasn’t so pretentious I’d even say “sparkling”) history of the city via a series of walking tours. It’s clear that she had an incomparable love and knowledge of Sydney, and the book is going to be the first thing going into my case when I pack for my (Sydney departing) cruise in early 2012.

Captain Beefheart – well, what can you say about Captain Beefheart? A musical genius and provocateur without compare (unless it’s to his buddy Frank Zappa). I’ll let him speak for himself with the 1982 video clip of Ice Cream for Crow – a film so weird that a terrified MTV refused to play it, and the Museum of Modern Art in New York rushed to add it to their permenent collection.

Vale Ruth Park and Don Van Vliet. We’ll miss you both.

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