Songs don't attach themselves to me like they used to. Is it age, or technology, or both? For me this song is hundreds of drives on the Geelong Road at dusk. Long dusty dead plains and headlights and the fear that the little shitbox I was driving would break down at any moment.
Filtering by Tag: Listening
Swans (the band, not the football team or the waterfowl) are astonishingly terrifying. I watched them in a warehouse with my brother in a suburb of Melbourne when it was 40 degrees outside and probably more inside, and the sound was a little out of control, and my bones and organs resonated so much I felt like I was having an attack of some sort, so I walked out of the warehouse for a break in the ridiculously hot sun before venturing back in. I've heard that people have been known to vomit from the intense noise of their performances, so maybe I did okay.
But what a sound. What a grinding, angry, defiant sound. Later I bought a shirt that features the baring teeth of the animal on the front of the album The Seer (above). I'm told it scared an old woman the other day. She didn't even go to the show.
Once I saw Guided By Voices at the Prince of Wales in St. Kilda, and it was the greatest show I had ever seen and have seen since. The band, and particularly Bob Pollard, drank vast quantities of red wine, getting progressively drunker, sweatier, raucousier, shoutier, and kickier. It was magnificent. I did not get a t-shirt. I have long wished I bought a t-shirt. T-shirt regret is not something you get over. Guided By Voices continues to fill my listen ears to this day, mainly because there are so many goddamn songs that shuffling my playlists is bound to bring one out again, but also because, sometimes, what songs they are.
Sometimes Dynatron is the kind of music I've been looking for ever since I watched Rick Deckard fly above the streets of future Los Angeles to the darkclean synths of Vangelis. Sometimes.
There was a nightclub in Carlton I used to go to in the early 90s. It played music the others didn't. It had people that were not like the people in the other nightclubs. Not like me, not really, but closer to whatever it was I thought I was, or was becoming. I was in my early twenties and studying psychology and I didn't know it then but I wouldn't go far with it. Upstairs they played British music on certain nights. It was full of candied dry ice and tobacco smoke. They used to play Ride a lot, and I loved Ride. This song came on frequently. It wasn't my favourite Ride song, but any Ride song was better than most songs, to me. I'd get out on the dance floor and dance like you're supposed to dance to Ride, which is more moping than dancing. It was loud and it was melodic and I moved and I forgot that I didn't know what the fuck it was I was supposed to be doing.
This section of the site looks like it's just going to be a long playlist. I'm okay with that.