Of all the things I saw and did in Africa two years ago, the most meaningful and important things I took with me were the friendships I made whilst being there, in particular those I shared with Sarah, Becky (although by reading this you wouldn’t know it) and probably most importantly David. Similarly, of all the good times I shared with my housemate Dave and all the trouble we found ourselves in, the one area in which he influenced me most was in music. Although I would like to think that I had a healthy musical taste before meeting him, I have Dave to thank for broadening my musical horizons more than any other individual I have ever met (excepting possibly my parents). He introduced me to a plethora of British music that would otherwise have been ignored, as well as various bits and pieces as far afield as baroque and marimba. Although clearly Dave was more than just a jukebox to me (he was also a photo gallery) the most tangible and readily accessible impression he made in me was definately his music.

Anyway one of the dozens of artists he introduced to me during our stay overseas was Muse, a three piece alternative rock band who at the time of introduction were relatively unknown outside of England, but have since been raised to glamorous heights in both mainland Europe and the US, as well as modest success here in Australia. When I first arrived back home, the 2003 album ‘Absolution’ was almost all I listened to for weeks, but for a long time they’ve dropped off my radar. Anyway, the band is releasing they’re 4th studio album ‘Black Holes and Revelations’ in early July, but turn on your radio and odds are you’ll hear the band’s first single ‘Supermassive Black Hole’ playing right now. To be honest, I don’t know if I’m such a fan of the new song, but it has started me listening to the older albums more. However it took a 1-in-3211 chance on Tuesday morning, when the opening track to their 2001 ‘Origin of Symmetry’ started playing on my iPod while I had it set on random that I realised just how good the old music is.

The particular track that I’m speaking of, ‘Newborn’ remains one of my favourite songs ever, for pure sonic experimentation and epicness. The 6:07 monster, which opens with a haunting piano melody and finishes with the same simple melody on an even hauntier augmented organ, has all the hallmarks of an exceptional song (as far as the Pete-o-matic music-o-tron is concerned) from a pumping bassline to an eery, strained falsetto and distorted guitars. The song ‘starts’ somewhere between 0:00 and 2:08 (I can’t pinpoint it) and by the time the minute counter hits six, it’s almost time to hit the back button and replay the whole experience. I’m not lying when I say that this song caused my neckhair to stand on end when it started, while walking from Huntingdale station to the bus stop on Wednesday morning. If any of the songs on the new album manage to do that to me, I’ll buy five copies of the CD. Hell I’ll fund a Muse tour here. Or even sponsor their permanent immigration!

Anyway without waylaying any longer, I present to you an oldie but a goodie: Newborn, by Muse. Click play in grannytunes and let your speakers do all the work for you.

Pete

I had a wonderful time last night playing several rounds of poker with a whole bunch of people at Kelly’s house. However, although I enjoyed myself, I could tell from the very first moment I arrived and was told of a stranger who had been invited by Kelly to come and play with us that financially the night was never going to be peachey. Sure enough Matt, the man I named ‘The Shark’ within minutes of meeting him lived up to his name and took the majority of the winnings comfortably, but that particular whinge is for another time. It was actually late this morning, when we all arose from various places around Kel’s living room that the fun really started.

Although I always try and be polite, courteous and good natured (people often used to call me a suckup) when visiting or staying anywhere other than home, I always – without fail – manage to cock up in some mammoth way. Several years ago in year 11 I managed to basically repaint Sam’s hallway in a few short seconds, from a warm and quite pleasant cream colour to a less pleasant carrot, sausage roll and bile coloured goop after a particularly nasty underaged boozing session. I’ve never lived that down, nor have I ousted that moment as my most embarrasing ever but I have broken windows, stepped on animals, blown up swimming pool filtration systems, and generally caused mayhem at pretty much every private home that I’ve been invited to. You may call it being unlucky or severely cursed, but I simply call it Petecentric goofiness. With the best intentions in mind, I can bring any situation to its knees.

Anyway the Mitchell residence has remained (much to my relief) one of the lasting strongholds of friend’s houses that I have not demolished. Infact Kel’s parents (and kid brother) as far as I could tell are fondish of me. That is, they will be until they get home tonight.

At about 11am, after everyone had gotten up and was starting to think towards feeding themselves, I thought it would be a nice idea to clear up for Kel. This involved fairly simple, hard to screw up sort of stuff – taking the mattresses that were on the living room floor and moving them back to whatever room they came from. Not what you’d call difficult or complicated, and sure enough, a couple of minutes later the matresses were all stacked away and the quilts and sheets that we had used were in a neat pile in the spare room. Success, I thought as I walked back into the rest of the house, feeling fairly pleased with myself and closing the door behind me. CRAAAAASH. Game over.

Leaning up against the wall inside the room, propped up by the previously open door were several glazed and framed prints. As I closed the door that they were leaning against, they all toppled forwards, breaking all over the floor, and also jamming the door closed, rendering any attempts to reenter the now apocalyptic room useless. Eventually I was able to squeeze back in to the room which was now completely embedded with glass, but not before slicing my hands on razor sharp glass fragments protruding around the corner of the door, and more annoyingly getting glass dust all over my hands, acting as a dermatological irritant that has continued all day.

After some time whining about my itchy and bleeding hands and being laughed at by my now less shocked cohabitants, I was given a dustpan & brush with a cardboard box, and was able to properly clear up all the glass. The final damage bill was two 50 x 30 inch poster frames that had had their glass fronts smashed into tiny tiny little fragments, with a third very, very lucky to have escaped a similar fate. Fortunately for me the artworks which had had their glazing broken were only framed ‘Dragonball Z’ posters or something equally silly and not as I had feared some irreplacable masterpiece oil painting.

Nonetheless, I can’t see myself being invited back to Kel’s in the next couple of years or so. I think that was about how long it took Sam to let me back to his place, and even now all these years later he still puts plastic up whenever I come around.

Pete

WARNING: This blog does from time to time assume many things, however this particular post makes a fairly large assumption that is, in all likelihood incorrect. That assumption is that you, dear reader are a cultured individual – specifically that you have seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail. If this is the case, well and good: please enjoy the rest of the post. However if this is not the case, please for your own sake pop down to your local video store, jump onto amazon.com or find a movie downloading site pronto. This is one of those farcical must-see films that, although slightly dated is truely a masterpiece of British comedy. Also, modern medical research has proven that by not seeing it, you WILL GET BRAIN TUMOURS AND DIE. Trust me – I’m a scientist.

Righto. As mentioned in the little shpeel above, I’m going to be pythonising today. After a comment thrown my way last Saturday night regarding my head and a certain transexual doctor from the Rock Horror Show, I decided it had been long enough between drinks and indeed it was time I should watch the film again. Fortunately for me it was one of the earliest DVD’s dad bought, so it was no stretch to get hold of the movie – as long as I could count on my family’s pristine and highly logical DVD ordering system. Sadly, this was not the case.

Several hours later, trawling through the family’s collection of weird comedy and sci-fi (I had by this time forgotten my original intention) I stumbled over a newly acquired Python boxed set that piqued my interest. I must mention the fact that we had previously owned the ‘Life of Brian’ and the ‘Holy Grail’, so the appearance of this boxset must mean that someone thought it was high time we got them both again with ‘And Now For Something Completely Different’ in a decorative box.

Anyway having noted that the boxset DVD’s differ significantly from the old standalones (both movies have been digitally remastered, are presented in 5.1 surround and are bursting with extras in the new version) I forgot even more entirely about the Rocky Horror Picture Show and popped in the Holy Grail extra’s DVD. And what an absolutely wonderful suprise greeted me! The Camelot song-and-dance scene has been reshot by some amateur filmmakers/animation artists USING NOTHING BUT LOVE AND LEGO. I almost died of joy and laughter. So much infact did I enjoy the particular cutscene that I ran upstairs, computerised the DVD and compressed the 1:27 feature. So anyway without any further ado, here are both version of the same segment of the film. First the original, with subtitles for those less English/Pythonesque of us, and the second, legotastic variant. Oh the joy.

EDIT: I can’t figure out how to stream both files next to each other, so I’ll instead provide the less high-tech option of a downloadable link. I can however promise that it is still worth your time to see them…

Original ‘Knights of the Round Table’ avi (xvid) format, 3MB.
LEGO ‘Knights of the Round Table’ avi (xvid) format, 3.3MB.

Pete

Oh am I one supremely satisfied eurovision nerd or what? The longest running trash competition has finally been won by the sort of people most deserving of 15 minutes of fame – Finnish rock-freaks. Lordi, a latex-monster-mask-wearing metal outfit from Finland crushed the rest of the field with their fists of demonic wrath on Saturday night to win the longest running televised music competition in the world. I must admit although ‘Rock Hallelujah’; ‘Would You Love a Monsterman?’ and ‘Devil is a Loser’ don’t sound like the titles to typical metal songs (I’d be thinking more along the lines of ‘Death Death Death’; ‘Burning Shades of Black in the Pits of Hell’ and ‘Cocksucking Demons Under your Bed’) I am so glad that the typical Eurotrash entrants like paedophile-pop Daz Sampson from the UK got completely shat on. Hooray!

Gotta love it.

Pete

Is this not the best idea EVER? Saturday afternoon saw the city of Melbourne host a zombie march! Due to spending the better part of the day in bed or at breakfast in South Melbourne, I decided I should do a little bit of study in the afternoon with the radio to keep me company, and this is all I heard about! I think the premise of the event is similar to flashmobbing, that flop of an internet craze from a year or two ago which was amusing but far less interesting than the thought of marching zombies. Supposedly the rounds were done on teh interweb, hype was built and the event just materialised. Oh if only I had known about it before Saturday afternoon – what I wouldn’t give to dress up in blood and crap, then stagger through an unsuspecting city with Dave Callan….

I’ve been accused of not putting enough personal stuff in this blog anymore, so here we go. After the novelty of a zombie march wore off, the focus of the day shifted from the undead to tarting myself out for dual-eventness. I had to look sophisticated and suave enough to be accepted into a soirée at Jake’s while being casual enough so as not to be stabbed in Ferntree Gully trying to get to Tegan’s 21st. Oh how I worried about the latter.

Jake’s gig revolved around a central idea almost as awesome and revolutionary as the zombie march: because he and his mum are moving house in a few weeks, they’ve decided to cut down on the extensive wine cellar they’ve accumulated over the last 20 or so years. How would you go about doing this, if several hundred bottles of wine is too much for one or two people to drink in a couple of weeks? Easy. Invite people around one night, give them a glass and let them go nuts on whatever wine they want. We were instructed to basically pick a wine, open it, drink and be merry! Interestingly although some of the wines were over 20 years old, very few of the opened bottles ended up down the sink due to vinegariness or age. The food on offer was exquisite as well, it’s just a shame I didn’t a) get there early enough and b) stay there longer, due to a neccessary lift to aforementioned 21st departing at about 8.

Tegan’s was….. a long way away. The party itself was in the clubroom of the Ferntree Gully bowls club, which actually served its purpose quite well. Unfortunately there were no lights out on the bowling green (it would have made the party instant best-ever material if there was a game of bowls involved) but the shindig was quite decent nonetheless. The so-called ‘limited’ tab didn’t run out, and there was entertainment a-plenty – from a very, very sick Kat (with very, very pretty eyes) who has apparently been christened the new Cadbury of the group, to awesomely lesbianated kisses and being likened to Dr Frank N Furter by Jess. Then there was the footy on in the sideroom, an excruciatingly kitchy (but god I loved it) playlist and being able to give Tegan back her own CD’s for her birthday. I did at least wrap them…

Pete

P.S. For those still shocked and horrified about me giving Tegan her own CD’s for her birthday, there were other presents as well – the cd’s were a joke.

Melbourne is a wonderful city to live in. We have weather that’ll leave the most seasoned traveller scratching their heads, we’ve one of the best sports fixtures in the entire world, we have twice been labelled the world’s ‘Most Livable City’ by The Economist magazine based on cultural attributes, climate, cost of living, and social conditions and Melburnians are a bloody modest bunch to boot. One of the better aspects of the city, that until recent years I hadn’t really taken full advantage of is the Melbourne Interenational Comedy Festival, 20 years old and now the 3rd largest comedy festival in the world after the Edinburgh Fringe and Montreal festivals.

This year it stretched almost 4 weeks from April 12 to May 7, and I attended a rather paltry four shows, but each was highly enjoyable, and I did end up seeing Lano and Woodley on Saturday night, which at the time of booking was their last ever Melbourne show together. Of course since that time the rotten buggers announced that they will be returning to Melbourne in November after their national tour ends, whichs means I may have to see them again. Oh the agony!

The first show for the year was Akmal Saleh, for Theresa’s birthday. Supported by a very unfunny Australian/Canadian guy in some dingy hotel’s basement was not a great start, and the fact that my view of the stage was blocked a) by the lovey-dovey couple infront of me that were not far off from dry humping each other, and b) the big, steel lighting scaffold set up in the small crack of view not taken up by aforementioned couple meant that the visual humour, particularly towards the end of the show was totally lost on me.

That said the show was incredibly good. I’ve seen Akmal before, and a lot of his material was recycled, but he is very good at what he does, and the self-deprecating arab bashing would win over even the staunchest of crowds. One of the jokes that remains in my head weeks after the event (which for those who don’t know me is no mean feat) was a quip about the pope and in particular how the pope mobile could be put to much better use and enjoyment for all if various novelty features were added. He targeted mainly religion and race, which are easy targets for comedy but pulled it all together very well if not a little rehearsed. Definately worth a trip into the city for.

The second show I went would, on merit alone be the festival highlight for me. Ross Noble has been a hero of mine for years. His dribble with Terri Psiakis the past couple of January’s have been both hilariously funny and informative (did you know George Foreman has no fingerprints, and that the official Colgate method for brushing teeth is rinse toothbrush/apply toothpaste/brush, and not apply toothpaste/rinse/brush or rinse/toothpaste/rinse/brush) and whenever Ross manages to get on Spicks and Specks the show is half an hour of unmissable awesomeness. Anyway his show was an order of magnitude bigger and better attended than Akmal’s. A two week season at the Melbourne town Hall (then a solitary show at the palais in St. Kilda) was completely sold out and received an awful lot of hype. Rather awesomely, the huge venue and popularity didn’t dilute Ross at all, and the name of the show was the name of the game – Randomist. He went from Breaking his arm in a motorcycle crash 2 weeks earlier to Alex Lloyd blowing donkeys, to John So being shot out of a cannon to Phillip Island, to religious car races to ‘hanging shit’ on some woman who never showed up over a mammoth 2 1/2 hours of standuppiness goodness. The man went on, and on, and on going from tangent to tangent to tangent, and never once looked like slowing down. I have a feeling that if the price was right, he’d quite happily (and successfully) complete the 20 hour comedy lock-in BY HIMSELF. The show was stunning, and Tegan, Claire, Lachie and I ended up drinking around the corner at James Squires afterward so the night got better and better.

The third show I was dragged along to (without offering much resistance) was a fairly new Australian musical comic by the name of Tim Minchin. For anyone who watched the gala on television, Tim was the closing act with awesome hair, singing a song about canvas shopping bags. His show was almost all song, starting with a fantastic one-man ‘I am so fucking rock’ and ending with an even better balad comparing love to terminal diseases. I’m starting to like the Hifi bar as a venue (wanted to go see Augie March there on Friday but oh well), and Tim himself was great although the show was a touch short compared to Ross’s marathon a week earlier. I was also feeling decidedly under-the-weather that particular night, and as a result can’t remember the show in the detail of Randomist. It was still bloody good though.

Finally, last Saturday the festival ended for me. And did it go out with a bang or what? Lano and Woodley have been together for 20 years, entertaining crowds around the world and attaining cult-like popularity in their home country. Although I’m ashamed to admit having never been to a Lano & Woodley show before, I saw the Island on DVD early this year and was a huge fan of the Lano & Woodley TV show way back in the good ol’ days. As an aside the guys played the theme song by request at the end of the show and I almost cried! Anyway this farewell show, funnily enough entitled ‘Goodbye’ is a little bit of a best-of show, with a bit of new stuff tossed in for good measure and a lot of sentimentality. The show was absolutely incredible – it was nice and long but not tedious, side-splittingly funny throughout and they had the perfect mix of musical and spoken gags. The show was the standout bestseller for the Comedy Festival, selling out each of two dozen shows at Her Majesty’s Theatre – no mean feat for a couple of retards. Because the tour is visiting almost 40 towns and cities this year there is no reason whatsoever why anybody in the country can’t see the two fight and bitch for the last time ever. That is, of course unless you’re from Adelaide – although Adelaidians can just trek across to civilisation if they want. Flights are less than $100 these days.

Anyway at the end of it all, the entire festival was spectacular. However, unfortunately there are dark clouds forming. Thanks largely to the Commonwealth Games pushing the dates of the comfest back two weeks from it’s normal timeslot aswell as simply cluttering Melbourne’s first half of 2006 the festival actually posted a loss financially, and as a result may not continue to be a permanent fixture of the city’s calender if next year’s festival is similarly unprofitable. That however is an outcome I’d rather not think about. I’m still giggling like a girl afterall – and what sort of a person would I be if I stopped now?

Pete

I’ve always wondered if this sort of thing ever happens to mice, considering they (at least pet mice) spend most of their days in close proximity to the spinning wheel of death and plenty of humans do the same thing with people-treadmills. Now I know.

clickaroonie

Bwahaha.

Pete

There is a certain peace over the world at the moment – one could say the planet’s zen is alligned and working properly. That may sound like utter bullshit to you all, and physically of course the planet’s zen is quite a far way off being alligned, with all the war and death going on. However the peace I speak more metaphysical. It has it’s roots deep in the very core of being. The very essence of humanity. This peace transcends all the human struggles and conflict we seem to constantly find ourselves in.

What I refer to of course is the phenomenon that blankets the world during the release year of a new Red Hot Chili Peppers album – an increasingly rare occasion. By The Way was released four years ago, which has resulted in four years of unease and uncertainty for all. However we can all breathe a collective sigh of relief, because in less than a week Stadium Arcadium, the new double CD epic by one of the more accomplished bands of the last 20 years will be released. Although I’m not what you would call a die-hard fan of the peppers’, they have produced some incredible music over their career, and, at least according to the band themselves, this is set to be the best thing they’ve ever done. According to Flea (the bassist, considered one of the best in the world and who by the way was born in Suburban Melbourne!) this is “by far the best thing we’ve ever done” and “If you don’t like this record, you don’t like the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Period.” Strong words.

Well as what seems to be a common occurence with the internet the way it is, the album was leaked a week ago. Apparently the band members are pretty upset about it, but all things considered (it was recorded and finished last year) to only leak a week before release is a pretty good effort in my mind. Anyway although I will still buy the record in due course, I couldn’t help but pinch a copy last week, and boy can I confirm that it is definately… an album. The funk is definately still there, and the music is extremely catchy but I can’t help feeling that this is no ‘Mothers Milk’ or ‘Blood Sugar Sex Magik’. The last couple of records have been too soft and a little too melodic for my tastes, and this one follows suit. I also feel that double albums tend to mean that either the artist spreads their creative juices too thinly over the two hours, or that the music is incredible but the performance too long, and you can never do justice listening to it. I think this fits into catagory two – every track I’ve listened to is good, but after three quarters of an hour (roughly a third of the total play time) it gets to be too much. Too monotonous. Too much Chili.

That said, the record is still a huge credit to the band’s writing and performance talent. The songs are slick, well produced and massively catchy. I’m 100% sure that the album will stand the test of time. I also absolutely love the video clip doing the rounds at the moment for Dani California, the first single. Watch for it on rage, look it up on Google video or buy it on iTunes if you want. Anyway I couldn’t talk about music without posting a song up too, so the second track on the first CD, ‘Snow (Hey Oh)’ is up on grannytunes. It’s an example of the softer side of the album that I was whinging about earlier, but it’s quite nice nonetheless. Click and play, bitches.

Pete

woah. Woah. WOAH.

I love those rare moments in life when supposedly concrete assumptions that we construct are blown away so totally that when the dust settles it seems like the whole world has changed in some fundamental way. I suppose that perceived change, although tangible is actually psychological, but in any case I’m not here to debate the wonders of psychology or discuss philosophical bullshit. Afterall, I’m better than that. I’m a scientist.

I digress. The earth shattering perceptual shift I’ve uncovered in the last couple of days is best described visually. Observe, if you will (or if you’re Will):

For those confused (ie. the lot of you), the man to the left is Rabbi Dovid Zucker of the Chicago Community Kollel and on the right is the late, great Peter Tosh – rastafarian, early guitarist of Bob Marley’s Wailing Wailers, and a highly influential solo musician in his own right.

Guessed the connection yet? No? I don’t blame you. Last week I couldn’t have fathomed the possibility of a Jewish Orthodox reggae musician, let alone a gold certified Jewish Orthodox reggae musician. But it’s all too true. A bloke that goes by the name of Matisyahu released his second studio album in March which has already sold half a million copies in the US. Anyway I don’t have a copy of that new CD, but I have been able to find a live release from last year which kickstarted the popular career of Matisyahu, and earned a very respectable #28 in the US top 100 to boot. Incredible stuff for reggae, and especially incredible stuff for Jewish reggae, which I didn’t know existed until the weekend.

‘King Without a Crown’ from the album ‘Live at Stubbs’ is up now on grannytunes. You know the drill – click and play. While you’re listening, check out the promotional photo below. Ten bucks if you get through the song without a) doubting it’s actually him and b) cracking up.

Bizarre.

Pete