The Adelaide music scene: to many of you it might be little more than a touring speed bump between Melbourne and Perth but to us it's a way of life. Feast within, on all its dysfunctioning splendour, as we bring you the highly satirical, laughingly fictional and intellectually imbecile tales from our rock & roll wasteland...
THE TOUCH + THE WATERSLIDES + KYTES OF OMAR "COOPERS ALIVE" @ JIVE / Saturday October 24th 2009
"The more things change, the more they stay the same". I know huh? Even though it's a gross contradiction in terms and completely fucking vague to the point that even a malfunctioning fortune cookie wouldn't touch that shit with a forty foot pole: there's a real truth in it. You see it in almost everything: that equilibrium reasserting itself, balancing out all the variables, as you zoom out to gain a better sense for the "bigger picture". And even here in the Adelaide scene where everything's ever shifting, wildly unpredictable, and all kinds of fuck off fickle (or in other words: frequently and abusingly drunk.. HELL YES!!) it still holds currency. Take our current influx (or some may say "mass invasion") of indie/disco DJs and dancefloor fashion tragics. What's the secret to their raging popularity!? Well as much as I understand it, it's the same secret ALL successful DJs employ, and a while ago someone was stupid enough to tell me. You see: the trick to filling any dancefloor is simply to appeal to the fairer sex. It doesn't matter how but hell? why not target their worst fears while you're at it: daring to be "unfashionable" in front of their peers. So smash the maddest fashion tragic shit you can get your hands on. Whatever's IN right now with a slamming four/four beat and on the cusp with the Triple J disposable crowd: La Roux, Passion Pit, The Gossip, you name it, that's where you wanna punch it. Within minutes they'll come flocking, they won't have a choice, they can't lose face! And once you've got them, you've already won! So what about the guys then!? FUCK 'EM that's what! As long as the girls are there they've got NO CHOICE but to follow. And before you know it everyone's lining up around the block for it. Every venue got's a door charge. All the drink prices skyrocket. Everyone's necking pills. It's sausage to salad ratio. It's wearing the "wrong shoes". It's profit profit PROFIT! And it rapidly devolves into little more than a retarded mating dance. A mating dance AS OLD AS TIME ITSELF. Yup: "the more things change, the more they stay the same". And to think: not ONCE has it ever been about the "music".
Still for those of us who like to believe there's more to life than simply turning a profit. For those of us who like to "think" and "feel" with their music instead of feeding "what growls beneath it". For those of us who simply wish to be inspired, and I mean TRULY inspired by all that our pissy species can aspire to and accomplish: beyond that of a shrinking attention span, an expensive drug habit and a raging boner, there IS still hope! There's always hope! There's more to our humanity than a digestive tube and a simple thrusting motion (I mean shit.. even worms have those!). There's more depth and range yet to be explored! Only like all good things in life that don't come prepackaged in a vacuum seal you need to pick apart with your teeth: you've got to look hard for it. Look past what's popular, what's in the Top 40 or the TV. Look past Dizzee Rascal's "Dirtee Cash" smashed to within an inch of its life on Triple J (I mean it's a good song but c'mon!). Look to your local. Look to the source. Like here at Jive for Coopers Alive! Sure you may never have heard of these bands before. Sure they might be all kinds of goofy looking (and some of them may harbour bad smells). But just think: you could be the first to discover them! Why be a slave to fashion when you can fly right ahead of it! Remember that all too brief period when the Kings Of Leon were still cool? You could totally be that dude who knew them way back when. You could live that dream! Because sometimes (just sometimes) it can be ALL about the music!
KYTES OF OMAR (****1/2) myspace :: As such.. our opening act: despite all of their proud accomplishments, supports, festival slots or even cameos in recently released feature films (no shit Coffin Rock? that movie that just released nationwide!? totally got a scene in it and everything!) are still considered the proverbial "underdog" of the Adelaide scene. Why? for the simple fact that through no fault of their own, they're NOT indie electro. I know! it's a sad state of affairs, it truly is! Even more tragic in that they're far from alone in this fate either. There's hundreds, nay thousands of awesome bands just like them in the Adelaide scene, in many other genres that are NOT indie electro. Maybe they're electro pop, indie pop, post punk, folk, prog, swinging sixties, psychedelic, alt country, math rock, metal, grunge or the blues. Maybe they're cursed to eek out in the shadows too, sometimes quite literally on a Friday night in the dark at Rocket Bar only to be drowned out by the DJ (aaah dontcha just love that shit!?). But this opening act has got it REAL bad! They're TRULY suffering for their art! For they're a genuine rock band, yes a ROCK band! Who knew that shit still existed in this city!? But do not be fooled by the metrosexually ambiguous look of their guitarist Joe Russo, they've got it all maaan: the monster riffs, the gunning rhythms, the gutteral stench of a bona-fide, beer drinking, alphabet belching bohemoth of rock! Better yet there's not even a hint of bogan either. They're band geeks through and through thrashing out prime cuts: like all the best bits of Queens Of The Stone Age meets Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, and every other night they're playing to thirty people!? Sheeiiit! But not tonight! Not when they've got a captive audience in Coopers Alive. Oh no, they're not gonna let up with THIS crowd till every one of us is damn near shrieking their name. Kytes Of Omar. In every sense of the word they're playing like their lives depend on it. Although their first two songs "Suits And Drags" and "Happy, Suicide" almost fall on deaf ears: the minute they kick into their third "Rocker"? the ceiling practically caves in from all the pandemonium. There's this snarling chainsaw riff, almost approaching the bloodthirsty terror of a DFA 1979 that destroys like nothing else. And from here on in they truly command the stage: as fourth song "Murder At The Carnival" blows up all epic widescreen, fuck full of dive bombing rhythms and psychotic breakdowns (helped immeasurably by the strobes and laser lights that erupt around them). You can't deny there's an extra buzz with this shit. And it's not just the desperation in which they tear into it, or the mix, or even the lighting. It's the songs themselves. There's an articulate edge, an added maturity: like the martial crunch of fifth song "Crayons" bringing into sharp focus that "post apocalypse meets surf guitar" sound. Or the extra lyrical refrains thrown into eighth song "On Me" bringing much needed depth to their pounding four/four attack. It's definitely their most assured performance to date: equal parts surgical strike and sledgehammer. So by curtain closer "Soldier" (as an epilectic strobe cascade explodes around them) they leave that stage NOT as the fallen but as conquering heroes. Sure it might just be cheesy theatrics, sure the crowd might still be just as clueless here as they were in the beginning. But Kytes Of Omar prove they're more than just style tonight, they have the substance to back it up. So when their time finally comes, and we're sure as shit long overdue (I mean how long can we KEEP milking the eighties for? forever!?) they'll be ready for us. OH YES, THEY WILL THE READY AND WAITING TO FUCK WITH US ALL!!
THE WATERSLIDES (***1/2) myspace :: And speaking of which here comes our second act: all "shock and awe", style OVER substance, shitstaining walls to ceiling with their headfuck sounds. And in all the times I've seen them (and this would be the fourth for anyone who's counting) I've never had the first fucking clue what to make of them. I mean SURE I understand the basics. They're the direct descendants of Central Deli Band (infamous stage invaders from the Adelaide scene circa 200? - 2006). They're equal parts hiphop, mashup and electro (or simply imagine the turntablist pastiche of Cut Chemist, Kid Koala, Girl Talk and The Avalanches combined with bigbeat Chemical Brothers and the itchy trigger antics of Regurgitator). There's five of them on stage (although there used to be six!?). Tim Whitt on the left and Scott Somerville jumping about like hilarious dickheads (it's pretty much their trademark). Tim Harper hiding away in the back fiddling over a laptop, doing exactly what? who the fuck knows!? While James Boss on the bass (also known as "Jimmy Beano", also occassionally swapping places with Scott Somerville) and Luke Eygenraam on drums (all but obscured by the smoke machines in the middle) fill out the rhythm section. But other than that (and I admit that's pretty comprehensive) I've got absolutely nothing to work with here. For one: they're absolutely IMPOSSIBLE to capture on camera. I shit you not, they're a total headfuck! Their entire set is nothing but a nonstop sensory overload of strobes, smoke machines, sirens, lasers, screen projections (from a spy camera on Tim Harper's head that spends most of the set inexplicably aimed at the floor) only to plunge everything into absolute darkness whenever the mood strikes them. They've got a bubble machine, yes an actual BUBBLE MACHINE!! and if the venue hadn't stopped them in time? they even planned on dropping balloons from the ceiling in the climax. It's nothing short of an alien abduction all mixed up with a Japanese gameshow, and it does my fucking head in sideways trying to unravel it. And don't get me started with the music (if it can even be called that?) it only makes this shit worse! It's an attention deficit disorder in EVERY sense of the word. Songs simply drop out of synch whenever they please only to swap in a cartoon theme tune or an Ian Dury sample chanting "Spasticus Autisticus" (or anything from Tears For Fears to Dolly Parton) only to whiplash into the next song without ANY warning. And no matter how many times I see it, it never makes any more sense! In fact if it's at all possible it's even starting to make LESS sense! It's smoke and mirrors. It's fullblown dyslexia. IT'S A FUCKING JOKE MAAAN!! And then I realise that's the whole point, THAT'S the "wizard behind the curtain", they're having a laugh at our expense, and then I start laughing too. And then I see the crowd around me: all goldfish gulping, harddrive crashing, like all of Sesame Street just exploded in their face (only to be arse fucked by Snuffleupagus in the encore) and they're STILL trying to dance to it!? and then I start laughing even louder. FUCK YEAAAH!! That's The Waterslides. They may drag me through hell everytime they play, but I still gotta hand it to them: they still put on one HELL of a show!
THE TOUCH (****) myspace :: Which brings us to our headlining act: the number ONE band in all the Adelaide scene, and by "number one" I clearly mean PUBLIC ENEMY number one for next to everyone other band in the Adelaide scene. Yup they're a "fashion band", they're a "buzz band", they're everything that's IN and shit hot right now: like all the worst bits of the Bloc Party, The Killers and The Foals (awww man I used to like that band!?) thrown together with a fuckload of handclap choruses. And don't the crowd just love them! I know, I think I coughed up a little too (and I sure as shit ain't swallowing it!). Thankfully however they're also one of the funniest damn bands I've ever seen, more than willing to be the butt of all jokes (possibly a little TOO willing in the form of their lead singer Josh Moore) and so for the past six months now (or pretty much ever since they supported The Killgirls for their EP launch back in May) they've provided nothing less than the ULTIMATE shit kicking target for Spoz's Rant. It's been awesome fun, it really has! Maybe you've noticed it, maybe you haven't but in almost every episode without fail I've snuck in a reference like they're "Where's Wally?". Consider it a game trying to find them all. No really, go look! Sometimes it's a flat out reference like: "THEY'RE THE WORST FUCKING BAND IN ADELAIDE". Sometimes it's nothing but a sly myspace link used as a punchline. Either way I'm clearly pissing myself laughing not at all bothered that I've just given them a shitload of free publicity in return. I mean c'mon! They're the lowest common denominator! They're nothing but a digestive tube and a simple thrusting motion! AND THEY FUCKING KNOW IT!! And yet they still keep attracting scores of fans (especially female fans) from far and wide oblivious to how vapid it is!? FUCKING HELL!! So it comes as absolutely no surprise to witness their rapturous reception tonight. It's an embarassment! The minute they hit the stage in silhouette and smash the strobes (aka: my worst nightmare as a gig photographer) the dancefloor fills with a fangirl feeding frenzy. It's practically Beatlemania in here. And everytime Josh leans into the crowd to "personally introduce himself" to one of his chosen few!? they actually explode in giddy fits of hysterics. It's the lamest thing EVER! It doesn't matter if he's sporting a ratty looking moustache and a sticker on his chest that reads "Hello my name is: Phlegm": they STILL can't get enough of him. YOU IDIOTS! And yet despite the fact I'm beating my head against a wall here? dare I say it but there's some actual "substance" developing in their set tonight. Between all their old (and annoyingly catchy) tunes about "getting fucked up and fucking everything that moves", or that truly low blow where Josh and Justin Walkden thought it'd be hilarious to bust out a chicken dance (I shit you not!), they've actually broadened their sound to include (at least tentatively) a little bit of "artistic depth"? I KNOW!! I'm as shocked as you are, and yet here it is all the same. This buzzing malevolence, this dark foreboding (powered by synth, Craig Lock's chugging basslines and Josh's vocals) that sounds equal parts Gary Newman, The Bravery and The Editors. And it's here that they start to show some REAL substance past their "paint by numbers" approach. Weirder still in performing it they're even showing they CAN play their instruments!? WHOAAA DUDE!! Granted it's fleeting at best, it's all but lost the minute they launch into their retarding cover of "Flippers" by Art Vs Science and the crowd predictably loses their shit in kind (yeah that's a no brainer) but you can't deny it. The Touch. As much as they're still unashamably the WORST fucking band in Adelaide? they're starting to show SOME promise at last that yes: they can be a whole lot more. Whodathunkit? five kinds of wrong CAN make a right!
11:54AM - Still for all the rapturous applause afforded to The Touch from their hysterical fanbase tonight (and believe me they're shrieking, swaying and swooning like mad for this shit), and as wildly successful as Coopers Alive has been received overall by the live scene (here at Jive and for the past fortnight flooding live venues throughout this city) it's barely a bug sneeze or a lit fart in comparison to the thunderous stampede that greets the DJ the minute those live bands leave the stage. We're talking an overwhelming fashion disaster of at least ten to one. We're talking a few shades short of a firecode violation. We're talking an absolute embarassing of people. I mean you'd think they'd all be bored of the SAME SCHTICK every Saturday night for the past two years, and yet without fail they STILL fuck it up large? FUCK YEAAAH!! They even work the whole schedule around them now: just so all the bands can finish extra early, fuck off, and then the REAL FUN can begin. And as much as that used to bother me? it's almost soothing to me now. It's like white noise watching them retard themselves up on the dancefloor. I don't even see the faces anymore. "Aaaah nothing but a blissful blur!". And it's here that I spend the next hour or so, in peace and quiet, whistling a tune while I deleted thousands upon thousands of dud photos all collected whilst shooting through that accursed strobelight tonight (fifty shots in a row? and all of them black!? GOLD!). Oh and might I add: it also helps that the mix DJ Craig is banging right now totally doesn't blow a goat for song choice. No shit, that vitamin D deficient bastard's got real taste!
12:33AM - It eventually dawns on me, after all this time, that not once have ever I hit the bar for a beer. Weird! And as much as I would've loved to beat everyone in this room to death with the blunt end of a fire extinguisher, just so I could make that "happy hour" happen (ie: in the less than half an hour it would otherwise take to get served.. sheeiiit!) I thought better of it and simply walked out that door. But don't worry, I bet there's sure to be more than enough colourful idiots perfectly happy to slide down that "evolutionary scale" in my place. Oh look here they are now!
12:44AM - Clearly I needed somewhere "different" to get hilariously drunk tonight. Somewhere different from the same old scenster haunts, the same old "smoke and mirrors", the same old superficial bullshit night after night. Or more specifically somewhere as far as FUCK away from The Ed Castle as humanely possible (and not nearly as far away as The Metro). Hmmm. So maybe somewhere like Urtext Studios perhaps? I mean it's SO damn insane it's gotta work riiight!?
12:46AM - And as much as it appears like I've made a completely random choice here, and maybe I've completely lost my mind (and it wouldn't be the first time!), I've actually picked it on good authority. "Word on the street" (ie: facebook) there's a private party on, I've managed to bullshit my way onto the guest list, and better yet there's SHIT LOADS OF FREE BEER!? "Fuck yeah duuude.. where do I sign up!?". The only problem is: just how in the hell do I get inside? Now obviously I'm no novice, and I've been here before. And yet no matter how many times I buzz this intercom there's never any response inside? Hmmm, if only I could find a large enough rock.
12:49AM - Now I don't know if you've ever tried this lately but it's actually a lot harder than you THINK to find a large enough rock, lying about on a city street, on a Saturday, for random acts of trespass (a large enough block of hashish maybe.. but regrettably no rock). I mean sure I could just as easily bribe a homeless guy with coin donation and promising of "riches beyond his wildest dreams" if only he was willing to act as a battering ram on your behalf. But who wants to fill out all the "paper work" if ever it turns sour? Hmmm. So it's just as well then, mere moments before I planned the unthinkable (ie: using MYSELF as a battering ram), someone from Urtext conveniently arrives to "bail me out". And as it turns out: that intercom? totally set to mute. Go figure?
12:53AM - Upon my triumphant arrival: I promptly discovered four things that made my arrival not so "triumphant". Firstly that I just missed out on the live act that played here earlier tonight.
Thirdly I missed most the people who left with them. "Damn.. is that chirping crickets I hear?".
And worst of all? they totally drank the bar dry as well!? BAAASTARDS!!
1:01AM - Upon hearing my loud exasperation, a familiar bystander could only but chuckle: "hey Spoz! remember when you used to catch all the action? now look what you've resorted to!? CATCHING ALL THE DREGS.. AAAHAHAhAHA!". And as much as I wanted to throw him off the balcony for that (if only in my head) he actually had it all wrong. Sure all the booze was gone, and the "buzz" along with it, but there was something else still stirring here in this humble Urtext, that next to every other destination I could pick tonight was sorely lacking in: raw creative potential!
1:15AM - Scattered seemingly at random amongst all the butcher's paper and splattered on the walls, was a dizzying display of humanity at its finest. From the most primordial of palm prints expressed into paint, to mad sketches spilling over page after page, to an unprecedented encyclopedic outpouring of scribbled thoughts and feelings detailing just about everything and nothing all at once, all with a richness and vibrancy of character I hadn't seen "in the wild" for what felt like forever and an age. YES! here in Urtext, here tonight, seemingly untainted by the basest of human aggression, greed or corruption we are witness to true beauty at last! YES!! WE CAN STILL ASPIRE TO TRUE GREATNESS!! Either that or all this sobriety on a Saturday night is clearly fucking with my head. Hmmm.. so there's gotta be like SOMETHING left in that esky, riiight?
1:36AM - And so here I rested my weary soul if only for a while. Recharging it with all that was still good and pure in this world. And not just the art I found exploding about the "auditorium" either. Check out these mad photos in the hallway: aren't they awesome? aren't they the best shit you've ever seen!? (I know.. it totally pisses all over my junk let me tell you!). And then when I'd drunk my fill, when I was bursting to overflowing, when I couldn't possibly stand it no more like that dribbling dweeb out of American Beauty who cracked a wobbly anytime he saw a plastic bag pissing in the breeze with a pile of leaves: I stole two Mayfield's EPs (yeah ok, they gave them to me!) and then I hightailed it the fuck out of there. Screw you guys I'M TOTALLY GONNA GET DRUNK!!
1:51AM - Desperate sobriety called for desperate measures, and short of pointing a loaded "shotgun" to my head and pulling the trigger (or in other words.. did you see my previous Saturday night out!?) I decided upon The Crown & Anchor instead. And let me tell you I was dreaming of that beer, I could picture that beer, I could smell it, I could "taste" it like it would've been the BEST damn beer I ever had in my life! Pulled frosty fresh into a squeaky clean pint glass. That rich amber colour, that slight head of foam, those tiny teeny bubbles, that condensation forming on the glass; save for where my fingers pressed up against as I raising it to my lips. How it'd chill my tonsils, numbing it so when I hurled it down in one tasty gulp, followed by another and another! aaaaah such sweet bliss! (beer porn? pfft.. I laugh at you!) And then I stepped proudly through that door, bumped into some random twit with an overgrown moustache who offered me a mashed up looking lamington, it totally weirded me out and then I had to leave. Hmmm. Oh and before you ask? OF COURSE I accepted the lamington! I mean what do you think I am? CRAZY!?
1:58AM - I was at an absolute loss where to go to next. Not helped in the slightest by this cluster fuck of road signs that appeared to be pointing every which way but logical. Even less so by my phone ringing off just now, telling me to go to Shotz (duuude there's no way in hell I'm going there tonight.. not in this condition!). I mean shit, aren't I usually long gone and plastered by now? It's like my compass, my true north, my guiding muse, it's always telling me where to go. THINK BRAIN THINK! where the fuck would I go if I was completely shit faced retarded and out of my mind?
2:15AM - And so, clearly admitting defeat if THIS was the proverbial "bottom of the barrel" I had to scrape, I made the slow walk back to the west end. Knowing full well it'll make me regret this insane decision (that I spent all of Saturday night trying to avoid) the minute I stepped through that fateful door. GUH DAMNIT!! WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE YOU AGAIN!? WHY ED CASTLE? WHY!?
3:21AM - And the first shock the minute I arrived? since I got here so freakishly "late" in the evening there's no door bitch to deal with, and no door bitch means there's no entrance fee either.. SCORE!! The second? check it out duuudes: here we are a full three beers and an hour or so later and I don't have a single shred of photographic evidence to show for it!? YEAAAS! BEST NIGHT AT THE ED CASTLE, EVER!! Oh the laughs! Oh the hilarity! Oh the gleeful retardation and the grinning stupidity! and you're all none the wiser over any of the details!? Yup, it was everything I've ever dreamed it could be and so much MORE! And as for all the people who would've otherwise appeared in this blog if I DID take photos? Oh there's no need to thank me. THANK YOU!!
3:33AM - Which obviously leads me to Supermild moments later, only to undo all my hard work. And by "undo all my hard work" I totally mean by featuring all manner of utterly imcomprehensible photos of people doing entirely inconsequential things (like say: drinking) simply because I found it all kinds of fucking hilarious at the time (damn you!). Instead of doing the "smart" thing, which would otherwise involve me NOT leaving the house on a Saturday night OR walking into Supermild at the end of it. And let's face it: we all know that's never gonna happen anytime too soon!
3:59AM - Speaking of such, here's Jock Jacobs. You may remember him from every other episode where he's also made an equally abrupt appearance for no good reason whatsoever. He also plays bass in what is possibly the most fuckoff awesome band you've never seen, let alone heard of: Space Bong. And no I've never written a review about them, but it's perfectly ok because I DID feature them in a video blog once. It's the one starring Brett Davis (formerly from My Sister The Cop) talking up his love for licking hamsters? yeah you know the one! Oh and as for what ANY of this shit has got to do with any other shit you've read so far? absolutely nothing! but check it out: dude's totally wearing a cable knit sweater. No shit, you don't see THAT every day DO you!?
4:07AM - And then there's Gloria and Ruby Chew: also appearing for no good reason other than I like to "celebrate" people who may quite possibly be "hilariously drunk" at the time. Usually in a photo that I've taken when I'm hilariously drunk at the time (wait I AM!? FUCK YEAAAH!) which clearly doesn't apply here to these two people as I'm pretty sure at least one of them's actually sober (no shit, she's the bartender!). Wait what was my point again? arrrr fuck I forget.. but who cares! because these two people? they're totally five kinds of awesome! (shit, maybe even six!).
4:15AM - Yup sometimes it's all about the people. Even if they're people you wouldn't know from a bar of soap, a spatula, or a stuffed mongoose, and you've never met them before in your entire life? fuck it! still take photos anyways! Why!? because it's all about the people! And yeaaah maybe a little to do with the fact that you're rapidly making up for lost time in all the hours you spent sober, by getting all kinds of retardingly drunk in the last hour you have remaining; but that's totally besides the point! People are awesome! Ask "whatisface" here: oh he totally knows it!
4:24AM - It's at this point that I come to the rapid realisation that next to nothing I've been describing for the past hour or so has made a lick of sense, let alone in the context of this blog (which let's face it is pretty much bound to happen in the "home stretch" anyways). Thus to distract you from all that: here's me and Sarah making complete twits of ourselves, simply because we thought it was the most awesome idea at the time.. and now? yeaaah probably not so much.
4:38AM - Whilst this is usually the time I choose to run screaming up those stairs and out into the street, only to be hit by a bus (only to be ever so conviently sped home for swift burial and subsequent "exhumation" just in time for next weekend) for OH SO MANY reasons that clearly have nothing to do with THIS photo: or more specifically the number of conflicting psychoactives that Tom Krieg from The Battery Kids is apparently on right now. I like to think it's three (and one of them's a rare fungus found "growing" in the men's urinal). Your answers however may vary.
5:19AM - Which is EXACTLY what I would have done, if it weren't for the fact I somehow ended up in a taxi cab instead (and almost an hour later? how the FUCK did that happen!?) with these two hysterical nitwits: who I choose NOT to name for the simple fact that they've already appeared in far too many episodes of Spoz's Rant as it is, to require yet ANOTHER introduction tonight. Just as there's a very good chance I may need to introduce myself to fucking mental asylum if I ever have to come up with yet MORE "hilarious captions" to explain all these daft situations we always seem to find ourselves in. Hmmm, would it help if I mentioned they tried getting into Supermild half an hour earlier, only apparently it was already "closing", only for me to join them at Micky D's instead on West Terrace, where I almost got killed by a hoard of hiphop gang bangers before I even walked in, because I accidently pulled out a camera at the wrong moment? no.. no it wouldn't.
Yup, I believe HERE is where I lost all motor function, and thus found it next to impossible to hold a camera straight AND press a single button (something I'm told a monkey can do) which is really quite impressive when you think about it, because I only started drinking three hours ago.
And right here is where this blog invariaby comes full circle again. Damn I knew all that insane gibberish I was writing in the introduction would eventually come back to haunt me; AND HOW!
Yup if ever there's a moral to this story, it's that we're all idiots. For all our civilisation and society. For all our accomplishments in science and technology. For all our sophisticated and appreciation for fine cuisine, culture or the arts. Nothing really changes, we're still the same idiots. Dress a monkey in a space suit: it's still a monkey. And yet the very fact we CAN aspire to be something more (even if it's all but fleeting) is something we should be striving for. Sure we might be living in denial. Sure we might still be just six beers away from being an hilarious trainwreck. Sure sex, politics, religion, economics and industry (yes even the music industry) will continue to poke us with sticks, pull our puppet strings and make us look the fool. But it's still better to live that dream! We might be monkeys, we might be idiots but one day dude I swear.. we could be so much more!