Smooooooth!

I went and saw Michael Bublé in concert yesterday and that man is ridiculous.

He has a voice like velvet dipped in honey and he says the filthiest things.

It's glorious.

That mix of romance and smut is just perfect if you ask me.

Especially because I like to imagine various nannas and stuffy folk of various generations turning up to listen to the nice young man sing to them and being absolutely scandalised when he says things like "I like to think of the concert like it's a date, we start off nice and slow and romantic, me here and you as some kind of hermaphroditic entity, so we start off nice and smooth and sweet and by the end of the night... dirty sex in the back of my car."

I like the fact that the concert I saw before this was a double header with Queens of the Stone Age and Nine Inch Nails.
Some people have specific genres that they like to lurk in but I'm kind of all over the place.
Different music for different moods or for different reasons.

Metal for when I'm feeling energetic or sometimes when I'm feeling kind of shitty and antisocial.
Shit like Sigur Rós if I'm feeling kind of dreamy and thoughtful.
Michael Bublé if I feel like some powerful ballad action.
Lyrically irredeemable pop for when I'm exercising or driving or bouncing out of my skin*.

The sorts of jazzy torch songs Michael Bublé sings always make me feel like I should be walking through a big city in winter wrapped up in a warm coat and a scarf.
I've no idea why, the mental associations I make with various locations, words, songs et cetera cannot be explained.

The concert was opened by American vocal group Naturally 7 who perform entirely without instruments, achieving a sound that boggles the mind a fair bit.



And now here's a slew of videos of my favourite  rhythm and blues/jazz type songs that Michael** sang on the night.







And then this video because his reaction face is just priceless :-D





*You can pry my right to listen to Call Me Maybe out of my cold dead hands. Especially the chat roulette version, that shit is hilarious.
**We're on a first name basis after our big polyamorous concert date.

Welcome To My Nightmare...

I'm on a bit of a tight deadline these days.

Having spent most of my life believing that I wasn't 'that into music', only to discover in the last few years that it was because I wasn't introduced to the right music, I am now trying to see as many bands and performers as possible before they all retire and stop touring!

Luckily most of the new music I've fallen in love with is rock and metal and those guys and gals have a history of soldiering on like unbreakable leathery gods, hence today's post.

I've just seen Alice Cooper in concert and it was glorious :-D

Not only is Alice Cooper probably still fitting into just about the same size pants as he was back in the day, he is still 100% committed to his performance.

The sets. The costumes. The theatrics. The musicians he performs with.

All top shelf.

There's a difference between people who are touring because they're broke and people who are touring because they still enjoy it and it's very clear that Alice Cooper falls into the latter category.

And no matter what his age, or how much his face resembles a handbag, there is something rather sexy about a man resting a cane across his shoulders and draping his arms over the ends.


Classic power stance.

From the friends I went with to the people who have been Alice fans since before I was on solids, some of whom had brought their children and grandchildren, thanks for sharing the experience with me.

And for screaming just as loud and high as I did during the best songs and drum solos, that was a pretty impressive effort for the dudes.

Soundwave!

Just to round out this summer of music, I also went to Soundwave!

The highlights of which I shall now sing!

• Introducing my friend to Stone Sour, which she immediately fell in love with, and hearing her describe Corey Taylor as punk-rock Prince Harry.
  
  
  
• Seeing a guy in a wheelchair crowd-surfing, wheelchair and all, when Queens of the Stone Age were playing and Josh Homme ordering the crowd to pass him up on stage so he could rock out with the band.
  
  
• Rob Zombie singing a weird little song about how the big lads in the crowd should hoist the little chicks up onto their shoulders so that the 'Zombie girls' could see that had grinning guys turning to offer their backs to girls throughout the crowd.
  
  
• Being completely bewildered by the clothing and masks on the members of Primus.
  

• Rocking out to Slayer and being glad that I hadn't been at the Sydney show instead where Slayer had to cancel because Tom Araya had an ear infection or something.
  
  
• I got to see Iron Maiden again! Iroooooooooooooooooon Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiden!
  
  
  
• Giggling like an idiot when Dimmu Borgir were on because of Dimmu Burger on Metalocalypse.
  
  
  

Iron Maiden!

Even though I've listened to a bunch of Iron Maiden, I wasn't quite sure what to expect when I went to see them live.

I was excited to have the chance as I'd only just started listening to them when they came out for their last tour and thought I might have missed out on ever seeing them live.
So when they put tickets on sale for this tour I jumped right on it.

I'd never really watched any footage or any video clips of any of their performances and I was figuring that maybe they would be winding it back a little bit as they've been knocking around for decades, throwing in a little less of the old stage acrobatics in favour of a bit more stationary posing and concentrating on their instruments.

Not. A. Bit. Of. It.

Bruce Dickinson jumps around that stage like a monkey who has managed to chug a couple of triple espressos and has then found some pills in a long-haul trucker's glove compartment.

Janick Gers was practically doing the splits up against speaker stacks, his long thin legs clad in tight jeans and topped off with an almost Skwisgaar Skwigelf-esque belt.

What you could see of Nicko McBrain was going completely mental behind the drum kit.

Dave Murray was doing this cute smile and nod as he bobbed around playing that wouldn't have looked out of place during a folk song.

Adrian Smith and Steve Harris were charging about like mad men, grinning the whole time.

One of the things I liked the best was the sheer range of people there.
The classic black shirted metal fans, people in bright colours, people in summer dresses, people in their work gear.
And the ages! There was at least two families I saw that had turned up with three generations of Maiden fans - the grandparents in their late 60s/early 70s, parents in their 30s and kids about 10 years old.
I saw one dad with his son on his shoulders in the mosh pit and the kid was going off tap :-D

Unfortunately for me I'd had a cold for a couple of days before the concert and just as my friend and I were driving into the city to go to the concert, I completely lost my voice.

I lost my voice!

Here I am at an Iron Maiden concert unable to sing along or roar with the crowd or respond in any way to Bruce Dickinson's cheeky banter!

It was so frustrating!

But even without my voice it was a fantastic night.
Surrounded by other people singing along and grinning and doing all the gestures during Two Minutes to Midnight, I felt right at home.

And if they come back I'm going again because my theory with tours is that every one might be the last one and if you like the band you do NOT want to miss out!



P.S. As we were driving to the arena we went right past Janick Gers taking a pre-concert walk and we yelled G'day to him and he waved and my mate almost lost his mind :-D

Big Day Out!

Yesterday I went to RAMMSTEIN the Big Day Out RAMMSTEIN and I saw a whole bunch of amazing RAMMSTEIN bands.

This included RAMMSTEIN!

Before Rammstein I also got to see:

• Iggy and the Stooges - Iggy Pop is people jerky, aging skin over defiantly toned muscles. His crowd banter is a bit contrived but his performance was worth the wait.
  
• John Butler Trio - I don't really listen to a lot of their stuff when I'm out in the wild but they have a great energy and are a lot of fun to see live.
  
• Deftones - I'd been hanging out to see them play, enjoyed the set immensely but spent the whole time thinking 'Hitch up your pants, Chino, we can see you underpants. Your pants Chino, they're sagging at the back! PULL THEM UP!"
  
• Birds of Tokyo - I had never heard any of their stuff before yesterday but all the people who went on about Ian Kenny's adorable dancing weren't wrong and they were decent to listen to as well.
  
• Airbourne - The lead singer scaled the stage frame and played guitar from above the lighting rig before clambering back down and using his head as a beating stone to open a beer can. Enough said :-D
• And probably some others whose names I've already forgotten...
  

And then it was Rammstein time.

I cannot stress enough how fantastic Rammstein were.

They were excellent.

I... just... wow.

The stage show, the pyrotechnics, the well-greased German men in leather, the musical perfection.

If I could only see one live concert over and over again for the rest of my life it'd be this one.

Stunning.

My favourite part was when they sang Pussy from Liebe Ist Fur Alle Da...


It was a... special... moment for all of us.

As hard as it was, I walked away partway through the Tool set because I'm seeing them next week at the sidewave and really wanted to catch some of the Grinderman set because Nick Cave has a voice made of sin, velvet and dark chocolate.

Grinderman was a nice way to finish off the night as my feet were caning and I ended up sitting on the grass under the stars and the odd bat with a gathering of other folks staring up in wonder at the group of bearded weirdies and enjoying the crowd around me enjoying the eccentricity.

The venue itself was bigger than I had expected which meant that you didn't hear any of the other acts when you were trying to hear the one you'd picked but which meant you had to make some tough calls during the day if you weren't able or willing to run from one end of the place to the other.
There were a lot more stalls and things than I'd expected which were completely wasted on me because not only did I somehow turn up looking like I was dressed to hitch-hike around Latin America*, I'd packed enough food and water to do just that.
Essentially I looked like a huge dork** but I had a GREAT time.


*Big I-have-come-to-bring-the-good-word-to-the-natives missionary's black hat, red singlet, white overshirt to fend off the sun, black jeans and boots.
**Not terribly uncommon for me to be fair.

Amanda Fucking Palmer

I don't often type swears but that is in fact her middle name - ask the internet - and even if it wasn't... Amanda Fucking Palmer!

Friday night I rushed out of work, gathered a friend up in my whirlwind of excitement, stopped only long enough to have dinner and then tumbled headlong into the Forum and an amazing night of music.

It started off great and only got better from there.

Anyone who has gone to a few concerts will know that some performers pick their support acts to make themselves look better by comparison *coff Nine Inch Nails coff* but Amanda Palmer picks amazing artists she admires and wants to share with you.

The Jane Austen Argument played lovely, humorous and deeply Aussie songs. They drew more laughs and applause in a short opening performance than some top billing acts I've seen have warranted. I hope they get great crowds at the Adelaide Fringe Festival because they deserve them.

Mikelangelo and his band for the evening - The One and a Half Night Stand - introduced me to a particular brand of sleazy, Eastern European reminiscent style cabaret that I want to immerse myself in, roll about in and never tell my parents about. The lyrics are shocking, the music divine, Mikelangelo's hair perfect.

St Clare and her Go Go Gadget Girls added some flavour and awesome 60s dance moves to the night.
Lindon Chester led a four piece string quartet* to provide the strings which made songs I already found beautiful almost painfully breathtaking to witness in person.
Then all of a sudden Paul Kelly appeared to duet his song 'Winter Coat' with Amanda closely followed by Mick Harvey from the Bad Seeds joining the growing crowd of musicians to play on a song my brain was too busy geeking out to recall.

This was one of the best night's out I have ever had and I am telling you now, life is too short to say no to live music, some of the best experiences I have ever had have come from taking a chance.
No matter how the night turns out you will always have a story and sometimes those stories are glorious.

Here I leave you with just one example of why I will always adore Amanda Palmer.
Oh beg pardon, Amanda Fucking Palmer.





*I'm sorry ladies, she introduced you all so quickly that I missed your names, you were all superb!

Don't Dance On My Boots And Tell Me You're Raving

I went to a Nine Inch Nails concert on Wednesday and even though Wednesday is not usually considered the ideal night to cut loose and get down it was still amazing.

There seemed to be a certain amount of confusion amongst elements of the crowd on the function of doors and how you need your ticket and ID to get through them and into the licensed area so we were still standing outside when the support band started up.
Well, the support two dudes.
The support band – Jaguar Love – was… wait a second, I just want to savour the name Jaguar Love… Jag-uar Looove… Heh heh heh… OK, no I’m back.
The support band Jaguar Love was supposed to feature three people but one of the guys, I’m guessing the drummer, was mysteriously missing. So it was a very brave guitarist working through his set, the haunted keyboard playing some backing electronica all by itself and the singer going completely batshit insane with his hair in his eyes so he didn’t have to see where he was going or what he was doing. He did have a rather impressive vocal range though, no idea what he was saying but he could say it in a range of tones.

After our two-thirds serve of Jaguar Love had vacated the stage and we were waiting for the main event to begin one of the people I went with decided to pass the time by having a self-indulgent quasi-elitist grumble to his partner, my mate R, that half the people there wouldn’t know which album any of the songs had come from and had probably started listening from With The Teeth and had never bothered to check out the back catalogue.
As I am one of those people who is hard pressed to put song to album I ignored this with my usual good grace, waited for the lights to dim again and then just listened to Trent Reznor straining and hating and emoting and hoping like a professional.
And it was great.

The band was a well-oiled note-remembering machine, Trent put on an excellent performance and I am reliably informed that he spoke more to the audience in that one night than at many of the previous concerts combined, and the atmosphere was excellent.
Except for this one dude who seems to have gotten lost and apparently accidentally bought a ticket thinking this was the city’s most expensive rave party.
And he stood right in front of us.
Well I say stood.
It was more an explosion of syncopated elbows and knees than anything else.
I will never have that guy’s level of rhythm or coordination but I also hope that I never have that many people hoping that I either bugger off or quietly OD and fold up into a much less obstructive heap on the floor.
By virtue of his much lauded elbow-action he was taking up the space of five people and made it dangerous to attempt to stand still and impossible to see the band.
He definitely appeared to be enjoying himself but I got the distinct impression he would have enjoyed himself just as much if the two of you were standing in a deserted warehouse and you had kept pulling the string on a soft toy that played Pop Go The Weasel. Or even if you’d got bored, ditched the soft toy and bunked off for a beer, leaving him in silence.
What’s the point in that, fella?
Couldn’t you think of something else to spend the ticket price on?
For instance, more drugs as you were obviously somewhat enhanced already.

After a short amount of time and several near misses with the elbows I took life by the ho-jos and just pushed in front of him. If he managed to hit me in the back of the head I vowed that things would go badly for him but he seemed to be capable of avoiding that which was in front of him, just not that to his rear or sides.
That left the people behind me to deal with him but it’s every person for themselves in the concert world and given I’m a maximum of 5 foot 2 in flats I tend to be a bit more mercenary than some about this rule. I have to use all my swaying and jumping and toe balancing skills to get a good view and that’s when things are going my way.

Luckily partway through proceedings two girls, to whom I shall remain forever indebted, started making out right next to me and suddenly I was in the centre of a circle of men standing very still and staring and I could finally see the band without having to jump up and down. Thanks ladies!

The lessons I learned from this particular concert are fourfold:

• Next time I see any gig at Festival Hall I will be on the balcony - the vertically challenged must seek out high ground!
• Support acts are very gutsy - standing up in front of a crowd who is there to see someone else and putting on your best performance (I assume) when missing a band member has got to take chutzpah.
• Guys who have waited years to see their favourite band will still completely ignore it just to watch two girls kiss.
• Nine Inch Nails put on a phenomenal live show.

I'm Doing This As Hard As I Can!

It is a commonly accepted fact that it is still the weekend until the sun comes up on a Monday.

Therefore it is still the weekend, I am not posting this late and could you all keep it down a bit?

The beer buzz is giving way to proto-hangover and my neck is killing me.

The week started out innocently enough, with me sitting in my office, tissue boxes on my feet, the evicted tissues jammed into the gaps around my closed door, effecting a self-imposed quarantine. Not because I was sick but because everyone else was* and I couldn’t afford to get any of their dirty dirty germs as I had tickets to Opeth and Disturbed.
In Adelaide and Melbourne respectively**.
Within two days of each other***.

Whatever doesn’t kill you might in some instances make you stronger but I didn’t appreciate the timing of this potential bout of viral empowerment. I had riding and rawking to do and didn’t want to be bubbling phlegm whilst I did it so I spent Monday and Tuesday eating meals comprised primarily of garlic (for both health and coworker repelling benefits) and mainlining orange juice and Echinacea.

One of my mates (whom I will call Awesome) was coming to Adelaide to see Opeth with me so Wednesday morning Awesome and I rocked up to the coach terminal for our trip to Adelaide and after a very short time came to this simple conclusion:

DON'T TAKE THE FREAKING COACH!

It’s 10 hours crammed into a recirculating box of smells, there are people loudly reenacting episodes of Days of Our Lives into mobile phones**** and they will try make you watch Nancy Drew on the coach’s AV system.
DO NOT WATCH! Close your eyes and listen to The Downward Spiral or something.

Adelaide may be a smaller city than Melbourne but it has some truly award winning nerd stores (everyone, go visit Shin Tokyo! Go now!) and we sacrificed a respectable amount of moolah at the Altar of Geek before washing up at the Opeth gig Thursday night.

OPETHIAN OBSERVATIONS

• Windmilling guitarists' heads look like adorable tennis balls whirling about on rubber bands
• Samantha Escarbe from Virgin Black(the support band) is pretty damn good
• Mikael Åkerfeldt is a funny bastard
• Martin Axenrot may look like Legolas but Legolas could never drum like that
• Opeth are freaking unbelivable live

The atmosphere was great, everyone was there for the music and even though Awesome and I are both quite short we had no problem seeing the show and didn’t get stepped on once!

When we surfaced on Friday there was recovery time and then I took the overnight coach back to Melbourne. A word of advice:

DON'T TAKE THE FREAKING OVERNIGHT COACH!

There is less foghorn mobile talking than the day coach but it can be bloody difficult to get any sleep depending on a) whether you can get comfortable and b) what you think the likelihood is of the person next to you doing something to you whilst you sleep. Also they will try to make you watch Grace Is Gone.

DO NOT WATCH! Listen to Hitch-hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Radio Edit or something.

I rolled into Melbourne at 6:40am (blergh!), trolled around the city like a zombie splurging more cash on comics and sundries before realising that I am already not as young as I once was and catching a Nanna-nap at a mate’s place before the Disturbed concert.

DISTURBED OBSERVATIONS

• Yelling out the band’s entire discography in the form of requests/suggestions does not impress anyone, fella, we know the names of the songs too
• Hannibal Lecter gear is a simple and elegant choice of evening garb for a vocalist
• Boy I like dreadlocks…
• Disturbed are also damn good live*****

There were more shaved heads and ‘Hey, can your mother sew, pal?’ types about but the mood was still pretty decent. I did have to spend the entire P.O.D set standing in line for beer but then I bought double beer and was very very happy.So at the end of it all I have spent about 20 hours on the road, about 15 hours on the piss, about 7 hours at concerts, I have to turn my entire body like Robocop to look at anything on the periphery (as I may have overdone it just a tad with the rawking) and I’m pretty sure I’m coming down with something but that’s A-OK with me.
Everyone at work should have recovered from the last bug they tried to foist on me and I’ll be bringing them something exciting from interstate to deal with.
Now I’m just going to have a little bit of a lie down and try to stop grinning like a loon.



*Whenever one person gets sick at my work everybody gets sick in a pattern that could probably be excitingly depicted by toppling rows of dominoes, if as each domino recovered from its first fall it was knocked over again with decreasing frequency until all the dominoes had become immune to that current ailment in time to catch the next one.
**Opeth’s Melbourne show sold out in June and I do not take defeat gracefully.
***It seems like every couple of years every band in the world throws down rock-paper-scissors and they all agree to come to Australia at the same time (if you don’t believe me have a look at this year’s line up) and in previous years I have been too poor. Not any more capricious universe! I have some monies!
****Complete with vehement declarations that ‘You’ve got your f*cking money, don’t dare call me again!’
***** So now I am chock full of high expectations. Everyone I see must be awesome live or they will feel my wrath! Or be entirely unaware of it. Either/or.