crop circles of the heart

So when is this alt.country thing going to hit the big time?

I saw a couple of bands and singer song writers play at The Roxbury last night. The pub is not the movie, but it almost is, because it is a favourite haunt of inner-west dwellers who are not university workers or students. However, last night there was a dude wearing a Bonde Do Role t-shirt so it must be cool or at least accidently so every now and then. (Baile funk.)

One fellow, Chris Gillespie, had an awesome track called “M2 Cockatoo” about the Cockatoo birds on the M2 freeway. The song follows the Cockatoos as they mobilise against the M2 and start up their own political party and corporation. I spoke to him after the gig and bought one of his EPs (although it didn’t feature “M2”). It does have the qwirky track “Ed” about a cricket playing dog.

Like I said we talked after the gig. I told him about how watching and listening to him play it was the first time I had really appreciated the fact that for every note played on stage was not just a note being struck at that point in time, but it was the result of many years of practice and dedication. When I had seen other, probably as equally dedicated people playing in public concerts or open air events or whatever, there had never been a real sense that this was not just some immediate event right here-right now. These other events were like background music for what was really happening in my life or somewhere else. However, Chris’s musical skill in playing and performative skills evidenced in his laconic, often humourous interactions with the intimately assembled (ie packed) crowd was where he really shone. I am on his email list now and I will be going to the launch of his next EP featuring “M2 Cockatoos”.

Some of the other performances were pretty cool. The last group who I can’t remember the name of folded metal into country, so they had like evil violin solos cascading into double-kick drums and stand-up bass and banjo rhythms. It was all amplified acoustic, but I reckon it would’ve sounded tops with some electric affects.

Before ending up at The Roxbury we were at another pub down the road where we were meant to be having a quiet drink. Yeah. Played some pool in the opulent “Sherlock Holmes” furnished mezzinine level amongst all the Mad Marx pastiched paraphernalia. Asahi’s were like $9 and that’s not right.

Sarah and Jayde playing pool:

Cliff tells me the Hard Ons are playing next Friday @ The Gaelic Club. I’m scared. From the band’s about page:

“Being misunderstood is half the fun.” Ray once told B Side. “It’s such a shit stir. I mean, calling a band, The Hard-Ons. When you think about a hard on you think of big macho men with bulging muscles and a big hard on between their legs. We’re not a macho band. We like taking the piss out of macho people. In Punchbowl, where we come from, every second dude’s got a Ford Falcon with mag wheels and burns up and down the street impressing the girls…We’re not like them. We’re puny migrant kids into punk.”