Strange Days

The Big Day Out has come and gone for another year.  Usually I feel a sense of ho-hum-edness around this time, a sort of 'oh well, it'll be back next year'.  But this year, because I was actually there, in Auckland in the mad humidity, then the rain, I feel a completely different thing.  It's hard to put my finger on it, really.  Part of me is super glad that I went, and the other part is super glad that it's off my list now and I never have to go again.

Just a few friends, Mum.  We'll totally clean up after ourselves.

It's certainly not the line-ups fault that I feel that way.  For the most part, the bands that I saw were amazing.  (Here is a brief explaination: they were all bands, as in, guitars and drums and such.  There were amazing electronic artists at the BDO too, but I didn't see them, just because that's not my bag.  It's not to say I don't listen to electronic music, I do, it's just given a choice I'd rather watch someone play a guitar or whatever than spin a turntable.  Just my opinion, and I'm sure I missed a treat or two for holding it). 

Particularly, the Jim Jones Revue were brilliant, and it still boggles my mind that anyone could listen to their music live and not find themselves boogy-ing like a madman all over the show.  There were people in the audience that resisted the urge, but I wasn't one of them.  Spastic gyrations were go!  For those that aren't familiar with tJJR, I guess I'd call them a sort of psychobilly band.  I'd never heard of them before the BDO, but man I'm thankful I caught that show.  The Greenhornes were another unexpected delight.  They are part of the Third Man stable (Jack White's label), but on reading their liner notes (since I went and bought their album on the day after the gig), it seems that they recorded it at Ben Fold's studio.  So if that's not enough to whet your interest (all I had to say to the Lad was 'Jack White' and he was in... he's obsessed!) they are bluesy rock, but lots of energy.  They were meant to open for the Black Keys when they played in Wellington, but that gig got cancelled when the Black Keys cried exhaustion.

The Jim Jones Revue: do-wop-sha-waddy-wop mudda-ukers!!! Yeeahhhh! Ow!

The only problem with these two shows were not of the bands making - there were sound problems (something was cutting out, either vocals or keyboards for both bands, like all the time... frustrating), which seemed to plague Shihad too, and there was some kind of whacky guitar mixup going on there too.  Shihad were one of the two bands playing an album in it's entirety (the other was Primal Scream with Screamadelica - who unfortunately we missed, due to a timetable clash.  I wouldn't have missed it for anything if they were playing Vanishing Point, that was the third album I bought on CD.  Ah, nostalgia!)  Anyway, Shihad had an hour to get through the whole of their album The General Electric, which since the album runs to 49.7 minutes, is quite do-able on paper.  But the amount of energy expended is quite another matter.  I mean, you've got the pretty little 'Brightest Star' reprise-y type thing, and then straight into 'My Mind's Sedate' (which for the longest time I thought was 'buy my CD'... what a dork).  I give Shihad a lot of credit as a live band, they have great energy and stage presence, so it was super cool to see them go through a whole album like that and not let up at all.

Speaking of not letting up, both Iggy and the Stooges and the Deftones played great sets.  Chino Moreno is a freakin' maniac, I still don't know how he can manage that crazy scream and then sing so bloody beautifully a beat afterwards.  Truly, truly amazing.  As well as leaping off amps and carrying on like a general loon.  They opened with one of their best tracks from the new album ('Rocket Skates', off Diamond Eyes, which took a while to grow on me, but has been on heavy rotation on the old ipod for a while now), but also played some old favourites ('My Own Summer (Shove it)').  However, everyone was kind of holding their breath for 'Passenger'.  There had been lots of rumours flying about that Maynard James Keenan, the lead singer from Tool, would join Deftones for this song, but Chino had said beforehand that the ball was kind of with Maynard; they would do it if he was up for it.  Since the Deftones had a seriously early slot (honestly, before Wolfmother?  Before Shihad?  Weird), and Tool weren't playing until last, it was always unlikely, but nothing like a little hope. 

The Deftones: Kings of all they survey.

Iggy... was... brilliant.  He's a legend, what can I say?  He got, like, thirty people up on stage with him before they started playing 'Shake Appeal', on the proviso that they'd dance the whole time.  And who was the last one dancing?  Iggy. 'Nuff said, really.

Rammstein!  Sweet Lord, I didn't tell you about Rammstein!  No words can do them justice, but I may as well try, since this is turning into a bit of a novel of a post anyway.  They had the stage covered in a big black curtain while Iggy was performing (the two stages, Orange and Blue, were right next to each other, so that one could be set up while the other was in action), and there was much speculation about what the treat behind the curtain would be between the Lad and I.  A couple of minutes after Iggy's set finished, there was a sort of strange sussurrus that ran through the masses, and then the operatic opening of 'Rammlied', the first track from Liebe ist fur alle, da starts up.  The curtain is still up.  On the first chord, the black curtain drops to expose a huge German flag, and the song continues in it's build.  Then on the next heavy bit, the flag drops, and there is Till Lindemann in what can only be described as a latex apron with a feather neckpiece, looking for all the world like Hannibal Lecter's scary friend.  His mouth is glowing.  How on earth that is possible is anyone's guess, but it looks like he swallowed some fiery coals which are about to spew out of him at any second.  With all this theatre (that's really the only way to describe it) going on, you'd think that the music would suffer, but it didn't.  They are amazingly tight, not a hair out of place (a good thing, considering the amount of fire in their act). 

There were a few 'meh' moments, musicwise, of course. I'm still not really sure why Wolfmother are still touring, if they've got nothing much new to give us, and I'm still trying to figure out what the fuss is about Airbourne. Masses of stage presence, gotta give them that - their lead singer climbed up a huge pylon thing between the two stages to do a guitar solo (sans safety equipment - it was pretty hilarious watching the faces of the St. John's Ambulance people on the ground too), but they just sound like AC/DC. Whatever though, I've never been much of an AC/DC fan, and plenty of other people like 'em. The final 'meh' moment for me though, was Tool. Okay, so the poor buggers had to follow Rammstein, but... I dunno. It seemed like they just didn't really give a crap. Which is sad really, because they are all really gifted, creative musicians (and creative people in general; very, very clever guys). Although, it was a total treat to hear 'Intolerance' live, I have to admit.

Airbourne: Look Mum!  No brains!

So I still don't know how the Big Day Out has made me feel.  I'm really glad that I got to have the whole experience, to have seen bands that I might not have seen if they had played shows on their own, got to hear some fantastic new music (and real glad that I bought my sweatshirt for later; there must have been some very cold young ladies at the end of the night, silly wee things), and amazed at the energy and professionalism and sheer awesomeness from most all the bands.  But some of it has left a bit of a sour taste in my mouth, and I have to say, if I go back to a festival, it won't be the BDO.

Lil' Librarian

Ye Gods... it sometimes helps to go through your RSS reader, if only to find out what new dreck the interwebs has turned up.  When I came back to the internet after the break, I had over fifty completely useless (but mostly very interesting) things to read about. 

Including, the Little Librarian kit, which had been nominated by Disney as one of the best toys of 2010.  Which REALLY makes me wonder how crap the toys of 2010 were.  Not that I think libraries or teaching your kids the "important skills of organizing, sharing, borrowing and returning" are crap, of course not.  Still, there seems to be a major disconnect between the contents of the kit and what actual kids actually like.  Plus, I don't know about you, but when was the last time you saw a check card in the back of a book?  Not that long ago for me, but I'm usually ripping them out of the backs of books, because I don't know of a single library that still uses them. 

Anyway, just a little random to bring joy to your day!

Looking a Gift Horse in the Mouth.

Back in December I wrote a bit about how much I hate the gift cycle.  Well, now I have to take it all back, because I loved all my Christmas gifts.  Seriously, how often can you say that?  I mean, yadda-yadda, I know I shouldn't be concerned about gifts, it should be spending time with family, and believe me, I totally appreciate that, especially seeing my sibs again, I love those crazy diamonds.  But seriously, accusations of crass materialism aside, I love getting presents.  Who doesn't?  More importantly, why don't you?  Have you never got a good one? 

Yeah, okay, if you're a someone that's hard to buy for, or you have very strong political beliefs about stuff which comes from certain places in the world, fair call.  For a person such as yourself, I'm personally not above either making something (even if it is just cake), or Felt -ing you something.  Hell, even if I just make you a card (I make pretty much all my cards these days, because I totally resent paying for trite, homogenous sentiment), I'll still do something.  I guess all that might have to take a backseat now that I'm a full time worker and a part time student and a person who might like to have a social life and do fun stuff as well.  Ach well, we'll take it as it comes.

So yes.  All of that was basically in aid of telling you that the Lad got me a copy of the Desert Sessions 9 & 10 for Christmas, which I've been looking for for ages.  It's a CD, rather than a vinyl, which is totally fine with me, because I don't have a record player (despite owning a few records... weird, huh?  It's because I'm a sucker for cover art).  I still don't know where he got it from, he's a very mysterious individual.  Oh, and I'm all excited because I found out last night when the Lad had come home from watching the football with his buds that Queens of the Stone Age are coming on a three gig tour to NZ!  *hyperventilation ensues*  This year is sure shaping up to be a good one so far... hopefully it won't turn around and punch me in the jeans, but hey - I'll take that gift horse, even if it's teeth are rotten and it's got horrible rancid hay breath.

Good Egg, Bad Egg.

Welcome to 2011!  Hopefully everyone managed to survive the crazy-ass Christmas and New Year season (and the random weather) intact... Noo Ziland has had a seriously nuts storm pass up the country just after Christmas, and heaps of people got cut off from where they were going because of the flooded roads and massive winds... even to a wind veteran like myself, gusts of 160 kilometers per hour is just a tad freakish.

Luckily, the Lad and I were out of town for Christmas, up north in Hamilton where the weather is sunny and the table is laden.  We stayed with my parents, which was lovely, though I have to say that I probably gained about a hundred pounds, because mum is a fantastic cook.  We drove up, spending a night in Rotorua (awesome geo-thermal action, but stinky like a bad egg-fart.  Nice people though) on the way up the country.  On the way up, I had been Ms. Ultra-prepared, and made a picnic, which we promptly devoured, and then we needed a sweet treat.  This is that sweet treat.

Cussssttaaaard.   *throws head back and drooooools*

There is a little town on State Highway 1 (sort of at the junction between SH1 and SH3), called Bulls.  At Bulls, there is a cafe called the Mothered Goose.  I'm not really into custard square, but I made an exception for this puppy.  So if you're ever in the neighbourhood, boy howdy, pop in and try it, because you won't regret it.  Flakey pastry, still crunchy and delicious, and the most vanillary custard I ever tasted.  I ended up eating most of the custard out of the thing on it's own, but thank goodness I had already eaten lunch, because otherwise I'd be even plumper around the middle than I am now.

Anyway, since this post might turn into 'first in a series' kind of action, I'm going to leave you imagining the fragrant vanilla-eggy-creamy waft of this custardy delight, while I go put my laundry out.  Peace, y'all.