Spitting Wicked Randomness

I’m super amped about going to West Coast U.S.A. Tickets are purchased, car hire sorted (Mustang convertible – GET OUT!), vague plan, kinda, sort of mapped out. All happening real soon. To think, in less than five months I’ll be eating fried clams with Moms and Pops is simply too ace!

Saturday I was at the desk like Dash Hammett scribbling a criminally short short story about Sir, an only slightly sleazy Melbourne synth act, who are extreme professionals, pure class, depressing and a hell of a lot of fun. Imagine a man in the mind frame of the dude in The Last Tango in Paris making a record about using pleasure as a tool to tweak his grief. Sounds dreadful, I know, but I love that kind of shit and find Sir’s sardonic craft so very winning. Oh yeah, album’s called The Brando Room. Buy two copies for your neighbour Jimmy.

Saturday night, De Campo, Outward Obtooce and I danced so hard at the Old Bar the DJ awarded us a beer each — thus making our night a bit specialer. She spun fifty years of obscure musical flavour and at one point, leap-frogged from some weird soul city like Cleveland in 1966 to Melbourne in 1973, for a fistful of Balls, Coloured ones at that, and in its own way the night served as a glowing tribute to the fallen colossus, ah Mista Loyde, who died last week just before I saw him on Rage midnight Friday in black and white doing a version of Guitar Overdose (G.O.D.) with an earlier outfit, The Wild Cherries, Lobby with scraggly Magwitch hair and a greasy moustache, it was one of the best things I had ever seen. I love the man and the DJ at the Old Bar, did too, she’s like the best DJ in town and when she saw my jubilation during ‘Flash’ she followed it with ‘Human Being’, her personal favourite, and explained how she was up front at the Corner at the Coloured Balls reunion and Lobby almost bopped her in the head with his guitar neck. Whole Lotta Shakin’.

Guested at a Whisky Club on Sunday night, and an enchanted evening it was, sitting around consuming whisky, listening to Goblin.

Got a copy of Steve Miller Band’s first album with my haircut today. How cool is that? Well I didn’t get the album for free exactly I had to pay for it, but the shop sits above Dr. Follicles, so in some way, I left the shop with it, get it? Volume 3 is there too, hope to pick it up next time I need a snip, but it could be awhile because a solidly bearded Craig, cut it quite fine.