… oh, here and there. Sorry for the lack in posting lately, but things have been uber-busy, both on the professional front and on the personal front. If you’d like an idea of what kept me busy last week though, then I’d suggest you head here: SMX Sydney 2009 Recap & Review.
And yes, this is a test. We now return you to your regularly programmed viewing… 
Simply because it’s very, very, very cool… and because Vincent Price himself narrates. So really, it’s the ultimate coolness barometer.
I’ve just found out that the Daniel Johnston DVD, “The Angel and Daniel Johnston - Live at the Union Chapel”, is now available for purchase in Europe.
Daniel is an artist who has always intrigued me, ever since his infamous shot to fame when Kurt Cobain wore a t-shirt featuring a picture of Johnston’s “Hi, How Are You?” album. For those who aren’t aware of Daniel’s background, I’ll let the below trailer for “The Devil and Daniel Johnston” speak for itself…
It’s not easy to always watch Daniel Johnston. Throughout his live performances, it was always clear that there were demons with which he was struggling to deal. Diagnosed as bipolar, Daniel’s mind always appeared to be one step away from breaking completely. So when news of “The Angel and Daniel Johnston” DVD reached my ears, I was quick to start looking into it.
The below video is one of the trailers for the DVD. It features Daniel Johnston singing one of my favourite songs of his, “Grievances”. It’s clear that Daniel still struggles, and it breaks me every time I watch the man… but the key thing is… Daniel’s still here. Despite all else, the dude abides. And that’s f*cking awesome.
It’s coming on to rain, with perfect timing. The first drops running down my face so that from a distance you could mistake them for tears. Don’t you believe it, mate. Don’t you fucking believe it.
- John Constantine, “RSVP Part II” by Mike Carey.
Sometimes we just balls things up, you know? Sod it.
Well, seeing as Kal tagged me about a week ago in her “7 things…” meme, I suppose it’s about time that I got onto it.
So, here you go… seven absolutely riveting things about me, that I’m sure will make a difference to your day (grrr… can you see how these memes always make me feel uncomfortable?)
1. I was born with some wonky hips.
No, that’s not the medical term for them, but I can’t remember what it was (hey, I was a bit young to be paying attention), and my mom isn’t around for me to check. I think they were just severely dislocated or something. Anyway, the end result was that I couldn’t walk until ridiculously late in life, comparitively speaking… it was only somewhere after my 3rd birthday that I managed to stop crawling everywhere and walking. Of course, everything is all good now, and the only time I used to get some residual problems was when I played rugby.
Heh… check out the long hair there. Man, I was cool. I loved those sunnies too.
Yep, we were pretty cool and got all the girls with our non-offensive brand of melodic-rock and pseudo-punk-wannabe tunes. We actually weren’t too bad, and did some country-wide tours and got some fairly extensive coverage on the radio. I started out on this musical road in the Durban Boys Choir, which I ended up quitting a week before they announced the choir was going on an all-expense paid trip to Vienna. The bastards. Of course, with that kind of background, it’s no wonder I now run a music blog.
3. I’m originally from deepest and darkest Africa.
Ok, ok, that’s not exactly true. I was born in South Africa, towards the tail-end of the bad old Apartheid days (yes, I hate linking to Wiki too, and I disagree with several of the statements in there, but it’s probably the most comprehensive review you’ll get). My age group was pretty much the first generation of kids that grew up in South Africa in a mainly non-segregated community, with equal opportunities slowly becoming available for all. It was an interesting time to grow up in South Africa, particularly given the fact that I was blessed with fairly liberal parents, and a mother who owned *shock* *horror* previously banned music by artists such as Bob Marley and The Wailers. Back in the bad old days, they had to keep records like that hidden in the floorboards. Crazy to look back on it now. It was also the days of enforced conscription and the South African Border War, and I well remember the army sending trucks through to our neighbourhood to pick up all the fathers in the street, including mine (my parents were still together at the time). It was a really weird time… the kids would be playing cricket in the street when the rumble of the trucks came over the hill; and everyone would bolt back inside and watch these behemoths pull up from the window. They always used to send two men out from the trucks to escort each conscript back onto the truck, in case there was any trouble. There never was, in our street, but it was still a strange display of military power.
When I was really small, we had a gardener that came round to our place a few times a week. Because he travelled far, he slept over at our place on the days where he would work at a few houses in the area. We were lucky, as we had a separate “granny flat” that he could use. Back in those days, people called men that worked in your gardens, “garden boys”. We called him Orman, because that was his name… and he wasn’t a “garden boy”, he was a friend. And looking back at it now, I miss the hell out of Orman. It was like a Disney special, where he was the wise older man that said little but told you much. After we moved, I randomly saw him a few years after. He had grey hair, his kids had all grown up and left him… and he was still tending to people’s gardens. I really wish I hadn’t thought of this now… and I really wish I knew how he was.
4. After travelling around the world for a bit, I eventually moved to Brisbane, Australia about 3 years ago.
It was a difficult decision to make, as I still have the majority of my family back in South Africa, the band was doing well, and I really will always love the place… but eventually I caved and became one of the despised turncoats, that left the country of my birth for what I hoped were brighter shores. With crime running rampant, and after the third of my friends was involved in a shooting/robbery/murder case (these are friends… it doesn’t include the countless friends of friends), I decided to uproot. As one of my favourite artists from South Africa once said, “Africa is not for sissies…”.
(side note… if you’re at all interested in South African music, or even South Africa in general, please watch the trailer for “Africa is not for sissies…” below. Syd is everything that is right in this world, and a shining light for Africa. And he was a major inspiration in my life in terms of what music should be).
At the back of my head, there is a constant disappointment that I wasn’t a stronger, braver person. I tried to make a difference in my time there, and stayed on for 5 years past the time that I was accepted into Australia, in the vain hope that I could ride it out. But in the end I accepted defeat.
5. I can’t ride a bike.
I used to be able to, when I was a kid, but I think when I was around 5 or so I crashed it, and we couldn’t afford a new one… so I just never rode a bike again, for years. Then, when it came time to, when I was around 16 or so, it turned out that I’d forgotten how. The old “It’s like riding a bike… you never forget how to do it” adage? Absolute codswallop. Take it from a non-bike-riding guy.
And yes, this is embarassing.
6. I’m painfully shy when I first meet people.
(Image credit: Tim Davies)
Remember this if you ever meet me at a conference. It can lead to awkward silences, as Jane can probably attest to.
7. I’m really into graphic novels.
I’m just throwing this one in there, just… you know, in case you’re ever stuck for a gift for me or anything…
Ok… so now it’s time to tag some people:
Neil (why not shoot for the stars, right?)
@neilhimself
… at the Bon Iver gig. It was, in a word, sublime.
Head over to my music blog to read the entire review, with videos of the performance: Bon Iver, live at the Tivoli in Brisbane.
… ie. possibly the cutest thing ever.
One of the best articles you will read this week. Without a doubt.
The multiple failures that beset the country, from our mismanaged economy to our shredded constitutional rights to our lack of universal health care to our imperial debacles in the Middle East, can be laid at the feet of our elite universities. Harvard, Yale, Princeton and Stanford, along with most other elite schools, do a poor job educating students to think. They focus instead, through the filter of standardized tests, enrichment activities, advanced placement classes, high-priced tutors, swanky private schools and blind deference to all authority, on creating hordes of competent systems managers. The collapse of the country runs in a direct line from the manicured quadrangles and halls in places like Cambridge, Princeton and New Haven to the financial and political centers of power.
The nation’s elite universities disdain honest intellectual inquiry, which is by its nature distrustful of authority, fiercely independent and often subversive. They organize learning around minutely specialized disciplines, narrow answers and rigid structures that are designed to produce certain answers. The established corporate hierarchies these institutions service—economic, political and social—come with clear parameters, such as the primacy of an unfettered free market, and with a highly specialized vocabulary. This vocabulary, a sign of the “specialist” and of course the elitist, thwarts universal understanding. It keeps the uninitiated from asking unpleasant questions. It destroys the search for the common good. It dices disciplines, faculty, students and finally experts into tiny, specialized fragments. It allows students and faculty to retreat into these self-imposed fiefdoms and neglect the most pressing moral, political and cultural questions.
Seriously… read the entire article by Chris Hedges here: The Best and the Brightest Led America Off a Cliff
Quite possibly the coolest thing I have ever read. Or, quite possibly the most heart-breaking, depending upon your point of view. It’s always hard to tell, with Bill Murray.
At around 3:30 on the morning after Halloween, two dozen twentysomething hipsters linger at a loft party in East Williamsburg. The kegs are dry, but die-hard stragglers are still dancing drunkenly in the main room. Dave Summers, a 29-year-old grad student at the Bank Street College of Education and one of the party’s hosts, has dressed as a cloud for the night—his baby-blue T-shirt and baseball cap covered in dozens of white cotton balls. While several guests have come as Sarah Palin, one is in a furry yellow duck costume. Another is Bill Murray’s character from the 1980 film Caddyshack.
Suddenly, one of Dave’s guests runs over to tell him: “The real Bill Murray just walked in the door.”
“You’re joking,” Dave scoffs.
“No, really, he’s here.”
Still not entirely convinced, but worried the actor might leave if there’s no booze, Dave runs to a nearby bodega to grab some beer. When he returns, the shopping bag breaks in the hallway. As errant bottles roll across the floor, suddenly there’s Bill Murray—leaning down to help collect the beer and even sticking one in his shirt pocket.
Soon the 58-year-old actor—dressed as himself, Dave and his friends presume—is trading quips with fresh-faced Ivy League grads in the loft’s hallway, while drinking a bottle of Modelo Especial. Eventually Bill even hits the dance floor and displays some decent moves. “It wasn’t like he was John Travolta or something,” said one observer afterwards, “but it wasn’t embarrassing.”
The whole scene is kind of goofy and light-hearted until a young male guest approaches Bill, who is probably his dad’s age, and says, “I think you’re making bad life choices.” It is as if someone has told the emperor he isn’t wearing any clothes. After the dancing, and the beers, and a weird conversation with Dave about the joys of sweet potato casserole topped with marshmallows (inspired by the cotton ball cloud costume), the Oscar-nominated star cordially thanks his hosts and slips away into the night.
Read the whole article here. For some reason, this seems like some kind of beautiful fairytale to me.
You know, it’s been quite a few years since I heard much from Speechwriters LLC. But word on the street is that they’re working on some material, so here’s hoping.
Anyway. I’m busy reacquainting myself with them, and you should too. And “Naked and Stoned” seems as good a place as any to do it. In fact… it’s damn near perfection.
Listen: Speechwriters LLC - Naked and Stoned
Well I have been searching for something in the mouths of strangers
I have been looking for love in dark, unholy places
Under covers there is rarely more than senseless entertainment anywayAnd we have all left things behind us that we surely didn’t mean to
I have been trying my best to piece my way back home to you
Well I know the love between us is not as desperate as it always seems to be
- Speechwriters LLC, “Naked & Stoned”