Saturday 23rd April

RocKwiz (Live)

We all stopped to check out the live show principally because it was in full swing on the first stage we came across (Jambalaya) upon entering the site. I am an occasional viewer of RocKwiz on SBS. I love the host and the format, but do find it a bit nerdy (read: the questions are too hard for me!).

Good choice. The show is very engaging live, and had guests like the brilliant Tim Rogers doing a pretty fine Bowie impersonation with his cover of Fame to close the show. A Karaoke segment got one of the regular panellists (Giovanni) out of his chair for a burst of April Sun: his abandonment of the lyrics sheet to share the tune with the crowd was the envy of everyone there who has dreamt of ever getting a shot at being a rock star. A vibrant, energetic welcome to Bluesfest.

Jeff Lang

I’ve long been a fan of Lang, and saw him years ago at the intimate Basement venue in Sydney. His guitar playing is finger pickin’ goodness, and his songs tell beautiful, sometimes haunting stories. He held a full Mojo tent of at least 10,000 people spellbound for a full hour and if I ever manage to learn to play guitar, this set will be one of my inspirations.

Mavis Staples and her band

Believe! Believe! Mavis believes (and rocks out). A little bit gospel, a little bit rock’n'roll, Staples is in the Hall of Fame and was a joy to experience. She beamed a smile of passion and love, she shared her voice with us, and we ate it up and felt good inside. She closed her set by inviting Trombone Shorty, who was next up, to join her on the Crossroads stage. It was a taste of things to come.

Trombone Shorty & Orleans Avenue

Built like a track athlete, adorned in a white singlet and black jeans, Trombone Shorty is long on talent. And confidence. He sings, he swaggers, his trombone spreads an infectious joy over us all and we get our groove on. One of my friends declares that she’s moving to New Orleans, the rest of us marvel at his energy, his showmanship, and his circular breathing that holds notes throughout an entire chorus. During their last number everyone swamped instruments, with Shorty jamming on the drums, whilst the beat went on. We loved Trombone shorty.

Wolfmother

Being acquainted with Aidan Nemeth on guitars, I was pretty curious to see these guys, and also see what a Blues & Roots crowd would make of them. I loved the set, it was a real rollicking Zeppelin-esque jam, and I loved their inclusion of ‘Joker & The Thief’, written as something of a tribute to Dylan’s ‘All Along The Watchtower’. A nice touch.

The crowd seemed a little cautious at first, but Andrew Stockdale up front soon had everyone rocking out, and even the doubters seemed complicit by the time the boys got to ‘New Moon Rising’ late in the set.

Michael Franti & Spearhead

“Everyone deserves music, sweet music”. These were the first words from Franti when he hit the stage and it was a powerful opening that set us all off on a 90 minute celebration. Loved it that he sprinkled the hits through out the set rather than holding them back to milk an encore (Hello Cat Empire!), that he ventured into the crowd for a jam, and that he invited a tonne of people up on stage to dancer with him for the closer, ‘Say Hey’. I had urged some new friends to stay for this set and one of their kids (James) stole the encore with his moves on stage. we all left the first night on a huge high.

Sunday 24th April

Irma Thomas

The soul queen of New Orleans mooched on stage after mavis on Sunday and sang like a warm southern breeze.  i got myself a little music education here, learning that her cover of  ”Time Is On My Side’ pre-dates the Stones memorable edition, recording it as a B-side before the Stones copied her version, wound up the guitars, and made it a top 10 hit later the same year. Irma lacked a little punch, but so does your nanna – she’s a graceful 70 years old.

Blind Boys of Alabama featuring Aaron Neville

Aaron Neville – “the voice of an angel!” The Blind Boys are an inspiration, I was transfixed by both the voices and their ability to communicate on stage. Some incidental slapstick occurred during the latter parts of their set when several blind boys, seated, kept rising to join in harmonies that were meant to showcase others on stage. One of the guitarists (later to appear with Robert Raldolph) would put a kind hand on their shoulder and help them sit, only for another to rise and join in. Each time the guitarist would ease over and guide them back to their seat – this went on unabated for several minutes until the guitarist conceded defeat.

Robert Randolph & The Family Band

Amazing slide guitar, a rhythm section that hummed for an hour, and a rendition of Hendrix’ ‘Purple Haze’ that raised the roof. This was the one moment of the festival that I found my body surging towards the front of the stage, locking arms with complete strangers, dancing with people I would never know outside this moment.

Randolph was a man in charge of his craft: he played to the crowd, he improvised with the band, and looked like he didn’t want to leave the stage (and made several guest appearances during the festival). My highlight of the whole festival.

Cat Empire

A festival favourite whose musical message is in simpatico with the ethos of Bluesfest. We were packed like tinned sardines inside the Mojo tent – as I made my way toward the centre where my friends were, a girl I squeezed by wryly whispered “Bold move”. Spot on, and before long we headed out of the mosh pit where we could dance to the latin rhythms streaming from the stage. They opened with the rambunctious ‘Sly’ , moved through a few more melancholic tunes, and went out on a high with ‘Hello’ and ‘The Car Song’. Disappointed not hear ‘Days Like These’ – my favourite!

Monday 25th April

Secret Sisters

Two sisters from Texas, discovered recently by Elvis Costello and taken on tour as his opening act. Sweet melodies, honeyed tones easing across an acoustic guitar that brought to mind the sirens in ‘O Brother Where Art Thou’- if there was an apple blossom tree and a patch of green grass I’d have laid down and soaked it in. But there wasn’t, so I moved to the Juke Joint tent next door.

Snowdroppers

These lads smashed out a dirty bluesy rockabilly set that had everyone asking ‘who are these guys?’ Lots of on-stage banter amongst the band that really embraced the crowd, highlighted by an on-the-shoulders ride the lead singer took around the tent late in the set, leaping back on stage with an apology for his indulgence that went something like “Look, I am a white boy from the middle classes in Sydney, but THAT was the best thing I have EVER done in my entire fucking life!” Musical highlight was ’Do The Stomp’, with a great big infectious beat and a great big catchy chorus.”I’ve been workin’ hard, all day, an’ all night …”

Buffy Sainte-Marie

Education through music: Buffy brought her Native American heritage to bear on a 60s folk sound. at times it felt like a peace rally, as she referenced current world politics with Universal Soldier (which she wrote about the Vietnam war). An honest and interesting performance.

Warren Haynes & His Allstar Band

The man can play guitar. Listed somewhere high up in the list of greatest ever guitarists so say the experts at Rolling Stone magazine, these guys were treated to a huge audience courtesy of being programmed in the slot before Dylan. The musicianship was brilliant, but for me it felt more like a studio jam than a live set.

Bob Dylan

The big screens went black, the stage darkened, the crowd went nuts, and the sounds of something approximating ‘Don’t Think Twice it’s Alright’ rang out. Three or four tracks later I made out the words ‘Tangled Up In Blue’, and the encore performance of ‘Like A Rolling Stone’ was momentous. I’m stoked to have seen a living legend do a live set – the quality of performance offset somewhat by just being there with great friends.  The greatest excitement in the crowd seemed to derive from just identifying what the fuck he was trying to sing.

That he sounded gravelly was understandable (and expected). That he didn’t acknowledge the crowd – not even a greeting – seemed insular, a behaviour exceeded by omitting any kudos to his excellent band. It really felt like he didn’t want to be up there. ‘Let’s just belt this shit out one more time’. There have been some glowing reviews of the same set, and there are people for whom a Bob Dylan fart would be a sweet sound.  One and the same? You can be your own judge of that.

Elvis Costello & The Imposters

‘I’ve been on tenterhooks
ending in dirty looks,
list’ning to the Muzak,
thinking ’bout this ‘n’ that.’

And without further ado Elvis Costello walked on stage, cranked it up to 10 for a rousing version of ‘Pump It Up’, and everyone went ‘holy shit, that is really quite good’. When he closed the opening number with this:

Johny’s in the basement
Mixing up the medicine
I’m on the pavement
Thinking about the government

we fairly roared with delight. And that’s how Bluesfest wrapped for me. Elvis Costello playing gem after gem, including ‘Watching the Detectives’, ‘Everyday I Write The Book’, ‘My Aim Is True’, ‘Alison’, and an encore performance of ‘Oliver’s Army’. Wonderful.

How do the airlines make money, if they offer a free flight??? In two ways:

First, only a few seats on any given flight will be at the cheapy cheap rate.

Second, it’s simply a lie. Across the board the travel industry inflates this “taxes and charges” amount to produce an airfare. Example: ABC airlines has a sale, reducing their economy airfares from $1,200 to $800. Awesome. But magically the taxes and charges have risen by an equivalent amount. Your $800 airfare might not be as cheap as the XYZ fare for $999.

Travel agents get rorted because they get commissions based on the airfare. If the far gets halved, and the taxes double, their income take the hit. It’s dodgy, but clever too, in a mildly fraudulent kinda way

The ACCC is about to start policing the new legislation. It means travellers can more accurately compare “sale” fares. That means the market will be transparent. It means less false advertising. It may not however put a stop to airlines rorting the commissions of your local or online travel agent.

Check out prices at the better travel agents around town – Flight Centre, Best Flights, STA – suddenly the seemingly $400 – $800 discrepancy between fares when an airline releases a “sale” fare has dissipated. Same fares, just with the marketing strategy removed. It’s now a more genuine comparison between what airlines (and travel agents) are offering.

Broadcasters lapped it up. Game after game on Channel 9 and Fox Sports. So desperate are broadcasters for more content, and NRL administration to receive blanket coverage, the compact schedule forced a quality City-Country match to be replayed at 10pm on Friday night to fit it all in. Players from North Queensland and St.George-Illawarra needed special charter flights in order to be able to do it all again 24 hours later.

Players and coaches make pleas every year for a revised schedule that allows elite players recovery time and a better opportunity to perform at their best. Administrators listen instead to the pressure applied from broadcasters seeking more content, and the result is that the game suffers.

Fewer people are attending matches: NRL Attendance 2008 for the Home and Away season 2,993,518 , averaging 15,591, down from 2007 which was 3,024,040 averaging 15,750. Clubs are struggling for both memberships and sponsors. Maybe less is more. How about less games, but more blockbusters. Less games makes memberships cheaper, and more affordable. Less games means that more is on the line with every match. Less games allows recovery for the elite rep players, and turning out for their clubs more often.

Administrators elect to play representative games and club matches on the same weekend because to do otherwise would unreasonably lengthen the season. Currently 16 teams compete across 26 rounds of the NRL, with 4 weeks of rep footy thrown in. Each team gets 2 weeks off. How does that work? More randomly than you’d hope.

Occasionally a couple of teams get a week off. Sometimes the draw favours you, sometimes not. All stakeholders acknowledge that the Premiership has become attritional.  It is acknowledged that the current system creates an unfair competition.

The solution is elegant, effective, will make for more focus on rep footy, and more emphasis on club football.

16 teams. You play everyone ONCE. Simple. Every time your team plays, you know this is the one shot you get at this opposition during the regular season. Fewer home games, it’s true. But every game will more of an occasion. The product will be better because players will be fresher. A better product is likely to bring more media, more crowds, not less.

4 weeks of representative games. Each of these weeks dedicated to rep footy. sometimes that means only one or two games for the entire weekend. A bigger build-up to each game, every fan watching, everyone talking about the same event at the water cooler on Monday morning. It’ll be compulsory viewing. Clubs will get the same weeks off, when the spotlight shines on the rep games. 

A shorter season. Fewer injuries. Bigger crowds per game. A greater spectacle. More sponsor interest. Cheaper memberships. A better product.

Lenny Bruce is widely recognised as the father of stand-up. He was certainly the most notorious, arrested frequently for obscenity, and once for impersonating a priest. Bruce came to Australia in 1962, opened his first gig with “What a fucking wonderful audience” and was arrested and banned from performing.

Bruce’s recalcitrance inspired the new wave of stand-up comics, led by Woody Allen, Richard Pryor, George Carlin, Bill Cosby, and Mort Sahl. The increasing popularity of the genre allowed these stars to parlay their stand-up gigs into both live and studio album releases, in turn attracting the interest of film producers, who cast the likes of Pryor, Allen, and Cosby in leading roles in film.

The term “stand-up comic” was formally recognised by both the Oxford and Webster’s dictionaries in 1966, and the conventions of stand-up are little changed in the ensuing 43 years. It’s an industry that sits at the centre of the world’s biggest festival, the Edinburgh Fringe, and that continues to develop superstars in the field of entertainment: Steve Martin, David Letterman, Robin Williams, Eddie Murphy, Adam Sandler, Jerry Seinfeld, Ricky Gervais, Billy Connolly, Chris Rock, Jon Stewart.

Who are the best stand-up comedians?

I have seen a live performance/listened to an album of these comedians:

Bill Cosby, Chris Rock, Brendan Burns, Michael McIntyre, Tim Minchin, Richard Pryor, Bob Newhart, Jerry Seinfeld, Margaret Cho, Joel Ozborn, Arj Barker, Adam Hills, Wil Anderson, Dave Hughes, Carl Barron, George Carlin, Woody Allen, Dane Cook, Denis Leary, David Spade, Mitch Hedberg, Steve Martin, Robin Williams, Rich Hall, Jimeoin, Danny Bhoy, Daniel Townes, Daniel Kitson, Stephen K Amos, Bill Hicks, Dylan Moran, Mort Sahl, Steven Wright, Andrew Maxwell and Jason Byrne.

I’ve restricted myself to only listing artists who I’ve seen/listened to a complete performance of, so if your favourite comic isn’t on the list, point me in the right direction!

My top 5:

1. Richard Pryor: Live in Concert

Here’s a link to an excerpt: Richard Pryor: Live in Concert

2. Chris Rock: Bigger and Blacker

I knew little about Rock as a stand-up performer prior to this show. If you like this excerpt, the whole show is available at youtube.

3. George Carlin: Jammin’ in New York

Carlin passed away last year. He was most famous for a while for his bit Seven Dirty Words, which is more controversial and pioneering than it is funny. But this album is a biting and riotous riff on American culture. Again, the entire show is on youtube:

4. Jerry Seinfeld: I’m Telling You For The Last Time:

Okay, that’s 4. I wanted to include a recent or current show in the list, since all the above are at least 5 years old. They’re classics which will stand the test of time. For the No. 5 slot I have three current shows in mind, but I can’t split them. So I’m putting No. 5 on rotation, shared by three currently touring shows, each of which I loved:

Stephen K Amos: Find The Funny

Danny Bhoy

Tim Minchin: Ready For This

If some of the clips in this post make you want to get out and see a show, you’ll love these three gigs.

Finally, since no-one’s reading, it’d be on the down down down low if I wrote that Flight of the Conchords were planning an Australia + New Zealand tour this October … shhhhh.

Dave Hughes (stand-up comedian, bantering with the crowd): “How are you going mate – you’re with your girlfriend? How long have you guys been going out? Five years – wow. How long you got to go?”

Sometimes I ask that of myself. How long to go? It’s a longer view internal monologue, the thumbnail sketch of which is ‘what am i doing with my life?’. Despite my righteous atheism, I do envy the aspect of religion that gives the indoctrinated a sense of purpose in life; that when they roll up the curtain and join the choir of the invisible, they’ll be more than just food for worms.

For the rational amongst us, we answer these internal rumblings with projects. Projects fuel a sense of purpose about life, they create a path for improvement, and a goal to be scored, achieved, reached.

You’ve got a project. Right now, reading this, it’s moved to the forefront of your mind. It’s the next overseas pilgrimage, the new diet/fitness regime, you’re buying property/a car, you’re getting engaged/married, you just need to get laid, you’re building something, you’ve got a pretty big pile of laundry to get through.

My project last year was to participate in the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Tick. Pretty good wicket, that (thanks to the amazing Keith, Em, and Danne). Travel seems to be a recurring pet project. In 2006 two separate projects had me living in New York and Doha for months at a time. Maybe it’s a portal, or an escape hatch; a response to being less happy with my life in Sydney than previously. I dream about living in Italy, but my language skills extend about as far as being able to order a strong macchiato

For much of my adult existence, life has been great, and work has been a financing tool. Now I’ve found a career, work is great, but life is lacking any vigour or purpose. Or projects.

This year I’d like to learn to play guitar, grow a vege patch, join a gym (and attend more than once), start a new relationship, do some theatre. If ticked more than one of those boxes by December I’d give myself a pass mark.

And I should write. Someone who knows these things once said I write beautifully. It might take time for that to be true again, but I’ve made a start. Once a week, this space. Your time starts now.

Parramatta Girls is based on the experiences of girls who were committed to The Industrial School for Girls, a home created to care for troubled young women. The production’s inspiration is a reunion that took place at the school last year, and this is the setting for the play: afflictive tales are recounted in flashback as characters recall the abuse and neglect during their terms.

Many of the encounters retold are harrowing, the conditions reducing even the most strong-willed to their most primal instincts for survival. The stories are told with a uniquely local humour: the ballsy sarcasm, the ironic wit that distinguishes the Australian underdog perspective, managed to infiltrate even the most traumatic of recounts throughout the production. 

Unlike its celluloid compadres, theatre is a living thing. It is born at lights up every show, and breathes through the presence of an audience. When done well it is an amazing collective experience. And an audience has its own voice, rhythms, energy, and is unique to each performance. What moves them to laughter or tears one night might not the next.  

As an actor I’ve often worked with fellow performers who’ll curse audiences because they’re not responding as well as a more vocal crowd from a previous night. “It’s a shit audience tonight” is a common backstage barb regarding a less responsive audience (interpretation: ‘I suck out there tonight’). Mind you “Great crowd” gets thrown about too when the performers are in the groove, and the audience is in simpatico (interpretation: ‘they love me … err … the show’).  

The audience for Parramatta Girls was remarkable for the presence of many women who had been incarcerated at the school, and who had contributed to the play through their dialogues with playwright Alana Valentine. They received a warm acknowledgement when introduced by director Wesley Enoch prior to the performance, and it wasn’t long before they became participants. When characters gave a bit of lip to a warden, the girls roared with approval. When tales of abuse were told, they offered rousing endorsements – “You show ‘em girl.”  and “That’s tellin’ it like it was.” 

During one scene a girl discovers a gate unlocked in the perimeter fencing. Frozen under a cold spotlight, she measures the risk accompanying escape against the chance for freedom. The dramatic pause was pierced with a throaty hiss from the 5^th row –  “Ruuuuun, girl”. 

Being in the presence of these women, and sharing their story, heightened the events unfolding on stage. The girls’ flouting of theatre conventions was a delight, and added a unique layer to the performance. The intensity of their experience, as spectators to their own stories, surfaced throughout the performance. One left towards the end of the play. In a state of distress she was being consoled afterwards, apologising to friends – “Sorry love, too much, it was just too much” in between ravaging her pack of ciggies.  

She was a dead ringer for Queen Bea. I wanted to say something comforting, something about the indomitable spirit of the play’s characters, something that said ‘good on you for being here, for sharing your story’. But the moment wasn’t mine. It was the Parramatta Girls’. 

The tigers are in the care of an Abbott, and the temple offers the opportunity, for a small fee, to pet these felines and have your photo taken. For a larger fee an abbott will rest a tiger’s head on your lap. Whilst I am something of an adrenalin junkie, I’m also fond of keeping my balls on.

 The tigers are chained, placid, and the tourist operation is staged in a barren canyon, drawing criticism regarding the environment in which the tigers are kept, and speculation about why these predators are relatively docile. The monks deny the use of drugs to placate the tigers, explaining that training and communication, from birth, faciliate this intimate level of contact.

It was incredible to be able to pet a tiger. Measured by my expectations, their coat is surprisingly coarse, and their paws massive. Unlike modern zoology, which strives to replicate the natural environment for animals kept in captivity, the tigers natural habitat is absent at Luangta Bua; rather, the animals are leashed all afternoon for the tourists, and may spend much of the rest of their time in small cages.  

The Monastery offers a unique experience for tourists, and it may soften views toward these beautiful animals, which have been hunted to near-extinction in Thailand. However the confined captivity, lack of natural habitat, and the monks’ near-domestication of the tigers, cast some aspersions on the merits of Luangta Bua. 

This following full page spread appeared in the local paper this week.

Hopefully it says good things about the production team.

In Doha, Qatar, a small peninsular attached to Saudi Arabia, that resting place can be a backyard, a sidewalk, or the nearest vacant land. The ability and determination of the Qataris to gain a commercial and cultural footing in the New World is such that the capital city of Doha is expanding at a seeming exponential rate, and from scratch they have created the infrastructure to host the 2006 Asian Games.  

Overlooked in this commercial and industrial ascension is any semblance of a public transportation system. Curiously, taxis rarely fill this void. Rather, the Middle East presents The Limo. If your movements during a stay in the Middle East extend beyond the boundaries of your hotel, you’ll be needing a limo. Everyone whose stay extends beyond a week has sourced the numbers of reputable limo drivers. Like many workers in the service industries in the Middle East, drivers descend from the subcontinent looking for a better life in the new metropolis.  

Initially one man bands, these immigrants are now banding together into collectives to provide a more reliable service. If Mister Anwar is not in the neighbourhood, or on another job, he can send his brother, his cousin, his friend. The cars are late model sedans, usually distinguished by darkened rear windows. If you can’t locate the limo, the driver will cruise around searching for you. Somehow, it always works out. 

Rahim collects me up from the outskirts of town. We exchange pleasantries, I ask about the prevalence of drivers from the Subcontinent, and the prosperity of his line of work. “Not so great. We drive many hours, but ok there is demand now. Many people need limo.”

A humble Bangladeshi, Rahim has been driving in Doha for several years, and has a regular stable of clients. Fares are low: – a typical 15 minute journey is worth 20 - 30 Riyals ($8 – 12Aud). Like most Limo drivers, Rahim is a model of courtesy, and I can’t bring myself to engage in the obligatory haggling over the fare. He quotes me 35 Riyals, and I offer 40. Something of a faux pas probably. 

The fares are flexible, negotiable, but sometimes hazardous. I was slugged close to double the appropriate fare yesterday. Ignorant to my horror at this outrageous ruse, my driver was in no mood for negotiation. It would have been reasonable for me to simply exit the vehicle having paid a fair price, however there’s many a tale about being spending the night in gaol without passing Go after altercations with locals, hence my submission. Lesson learnt: establish the fare beforehand.

Next time you arrive in the Middle East, be sure to ask associates for the number of their limo driver.

And Cup Day went a bit like that. I shortlisted seven horses that I considered had prospects of winning this year’s Cup, and they included 1st, 2nd, and 3rd, yet I still lost money on the race. Fortunately I recouped it on an anonymous juvenile race in Adelaide. The beauty of the punt is that the 10/1 collect on the bush nag which may well be next season’s cat food pays just as well as the 10/1 blueblood son of Danehill.

I suspect I may have difficulty having a bet in Qatar, where I’m heading tomorrow for the Asian Games. Perhaps access to Betfair will be problematic. On the other hand, they are accommodating me on a cruise ship, moored in Doha harbour, and these vessels come fitted with their own casino, I am lead to believe.

The cruise ship will be a unique experience, as if my first trip to the Middle East wasn’t enough. They’ve run out of time to complete the Games village, and those not already assigned a villa have been invited aboard. So it’s a month on a cruise liner that doesn’t go anywhere! Shuffleboard, anyone?