The Adelaide scene: to many of you it may 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 dysfunctional splendour, as we bring you the highly satirical, laughingly fictional and intellectually imbecile tales from our rock & roll wasteland...
CLOUD CONTROL + RICHARD IN YOUR MIND + LYLA "BLISS RELEASE TOUR" @ JIVE / Saturday June 19th 2010
Sometimes all I ever ask for is a "quiet night out". Yeaaah you know.. a Friday or Saturday night that DOESN'T involve yet another launch party whatever-the-fuck for an album, EP, single, split release, seven inch, film clip, t-shirt, soft drink, action figure, nudie calendar or weaponised strain of anthrax (although I wouldn't put it past either Robotosaurus, Bronze Chariot or Coerce to come up with one). A night out where I don't wake up the next morning like a typhoon just hit me, like I just wrestled a bear (possibly even polar bear in this weather) like I just started up another Fight Club chapter in who the fuck knows where (but apparently I'm not meant to talk about it), covered in everyone else's piss, sweat, blood.. semen!? (and some of it's likely from a species yet to be identified by science) shaking bits of broken glass, bone fragments and cigarette butts out of my hair like it's a regular occurance and wondering where all these facebook friend requests keep coming from or why my jaw is clicking. A night out that doesn't end in sirens, at The Rosemont, in a karaoke bar, shovelling down Micky D's or Hepatitis J's like there's no tomorrow, or with everyone around me swapping clothes at Shotz, screaming at morning commuters, pissing into the ocean, or somehow developing fuck off telekenetic superpowers (because yes that actually happened once). Just a few bands, a few brews, a few laughs and me hightailing it the fuck out've there without an accompanying Tolstoy to write up? is that too much to ask!? And yes I do realise it's a laughing contradiction in terms here, that there's no such thing as a "quiet night out", especially not when I'm involved, especially not when there's a live blog to feed. Chaos and carnage simply follow me everywhere I go now: they subscribe to my twitter feed, they invite me to all their shows, they send me weird ticking parcels in the post, they just don't know when to quit and I wouldn't want them to either; this has been the best damn joke I've ever perpetrated on the Adelaide scene and it only gets funnier the more fucked up it becomes! But after LAST weekend I need a proverbial dirt nap and a panadol the size of a satellite dish, I need it like nothing else, and as for why I'm seeking it out in a sold out show at Jive tonight? who the fuck knows!? But hey it's Cloud Control, they're spaced out hippies from The Blue Mountains.. shit, what's the worst that could possibly happen!?
LYLA (***1/2) myspace :: Which brings us to our opening act Lyla.. yup so far so good, they're a safe support act if ever I saw one and I don't mean that in a bad way per se like "hey look kids.. it's Supergrass The Next Generation!" (which is even funnier if you consider 90% of the Triple J hipster tragics here tonight wouldn't even know who Supergrass ARE) but more like they're hardly reknown for full contact, shit kicking, no holds barred indie ultraviolence and you waking up many hours hence missing one of your shoes, hanging from the ceiling tiles by your teeth and nails to the sounds of a phone ringing inside of own your skull; or in other words? (especially after all the hilarious shit I've been through in the past week!?) THANK FUUUCK FOR THAT!! I mean sometimes it really IS awesome just to be that straight up rock & roll band in any given scene who pretends they're from New York or London (but they're clearly not fooling anyone because you keep seeing them at The Ed Castle), the sort who attract legions of screaming female fans on a dancefloor merely because they're a "rock band" like THAT'S still a shit hot commodity in a world where Twilight and Chatroulette exists (let alone Google Pac Man), the sort that lives for nothing more than to rock out live on stage and look like a mad mashup between The Strokes, Hobbits from The Shire and casting rejects from the Pirates Of The Caribbean whilst doing it because that's how ridiculously awesome they are.. aaaah Lyla, fuck damn I love these freaks! It's been forever and an age since I've last seen them live.. wait NO IT HASN'T!! I only just saw them HERE last week and a few weeks before that headlining at Plus One, in fact it's fair to say in the past few months it's been damn near impossible to get away from them.. fuck, they're even more stupidly omnipresent in this scene than I AM!! (and that's saying something!). From launching their new single "It Ain't Right", to regular DJ sets at The Ed Castle, to making impromptu appearances in the social pages of your daily newspapers and streetpress at yet another fashion unveiling, seasonal, designer label whatever-the-fuck (because clearly they don't have enough novelty scarves, hats or wingtip shoes coming out of their closet as it is) and as much as this shit would usually give me an aneursym in repeat appearances? it's perfectly fine by me because it only gives me more ammunition to make fun of them with.. YEAAAS!! Which is more than I can say about their set tonight: as short of the fact that their keyboardist Stefan "Blobby" Krcmarov will soon be departing overseas for a few months holiday in Europe and this was his "farewell show", and maybe a certain blogger was getting all misty eyed over all the lame jokes he couldn't crack while he is away, screaming "BLOBBY DON'T LEAAAVE US!!" at the top of his lungs at every inopportune moment (I swear it wasn't me *cough*) it was pretty much the same 'ol shit they've always cooked up. Which isn't exactly a bad thing as they have some real winners in their repertoire: from their aforementioned single "It Ain't Right", to their new song "Cadillac" (with the catchiest damn chorus you've ever heard) to too many OTHER instant classics in between there's never a dull moment to be found. Their delivery is loose, almost shambollically so, there's even a point where lead singer Matt Minucci apologises for it by "playing about as bad as the Socceroos played against Germany" (yeeeouch!) but it's not like anyone would've noticed. Not when they're spending their set pulling increasingly overblown rock moves up there like they're fucking U2, especially not when you're the "photographer" shooting said rock moves from all manner of epic and insane angles laughing at how good your getting it because the lighting is so shit hot. I mean this may've just been another of their "blink and you'll miss it" live performances, but it STILL delivered in spades! Lyla. They be a rock & roll cliche but they're a cliche for a damn good reason, because no matter how many times they run it into the ground (and how!) it never stops winning!
RICHARD IN YOUR MIND (*****) myspace :: Which brings us to our second act and one of those chance new discoveries that music bloggers the world over would likely damn near blow a frontal lobe and foam superlative gibberish for (in as much as mine's little more than a thinly veiled excuse for a lifetime's worth of gratuitous binge drinking and I'm really not fooling anyone.. but yeaaah let's just humour me otherwise!) because they're THAT ridiculously fuck off insane. And by "ridiculously fuck off insane"? duuude I'm not even kidding you THEY TOTALLY MADE MY WEEKEND I SWEAR!! (in as much as they were only one of three bands I actually saw this weekend.. but that's besides the point *ahem*). Now obviously this isn't the first time we've ever encountered such a freak phenomenon as this. We need only look back to all the superlative gibberish I wrote the first time I ever saw Sydonia, The Middle East, The Woohoo Revue, The Mourning Sons or Tiger Choir (to name but a few) to understand the head exploding awesomatude of what we're dealing with here (and if you haven't heard of any of those bands before? duuude totally look that shit up, you'll bluescreen your brain beaming ear to ear, they're THAT fucking tops!). For this is one of those chance new discoveries that damn near reaffirms your faith in music (in the whole damn music industry as a whole) for providing SO MUCH MORE than just a crass money making exercise for faceless multinationals, or a lame pissing contest between competing internet memes for scenster superiority (pfft), or an infantile fashion parade with keytars attached; maaan they're totally why blogs like mine even exist in the first place! and yeah yeah I'm clearly rambling here so let's just cut to the chase shall we? Richard In Your Mind from Sydney are totally unique, they totally sound like nothing else out there as much as they simultaneously sound like a billion other things all colliding as one shitcrazy Frankenstein mindfuck. In the loosest of terms you could consider them a mad mashup between twee pop, freak folk, stoner dub and 60's psychedelica. In any given song you'll pick up on about a billion batshit insane influences stretching from Beck, The Beta Band, Talking Heads, Jane's Addiction, The Eels, The Flaming Lips, Pavement, Ween, Lee "Scratch" Perry, Regurgitator, Blur, Belle & Sebastian to The Chemical Brothers and believe me it only gets weirder and weirder the more you delve into it. They're fronted by Richard Cartwright, who provides the initial drawcard in delivering it live on stage. All beardly bespectacled, beanstalked and befuddled with his arms flapping wildly, like he's the needle nose whine of Perry Farrell stuffed into the ill fitting body of Jarvis Cocker, like he's suffering a panic attack switching from electric, acoustic, mouth organ to tribal percussion, like he's the awesomest nerdliest thing you've ever damn near seen! But he's more than aided and abetted by his fellow bandmates Conrad Richters, Jordy Lane, Pat Torres and Brett Griffin on guitars, bass and drums (although apparently they're missing a member on synths tonight due to a bad case of the shingles!?) who bring colour and cohesion to all his lyrical ramblings with a rainbow of esoteric weirdness: from noodling acoustica, spaghetti western overtures, astronaut dub, to spastic "twizzle stick" chemical breakdowns that'd damn near put the combined efforts of Tom Rowlands and Ed Simons to shame. Still as utterly confusing as it may all seem in describing it (I know riiight?), it somehow makes perfect sense in how they put it all together. There's a consistent "rubbery" feel to the songs in how they flow seamlessly from one tangent to the next: helped no doubt by how lush the bass sounds but also in how loose and freeform the compositions are. I mean you could spend days, weeks, months even years unravelling it indepth and still come up with yet more to wonder and amaze; by every definition they're like a party in your head and everyone's invited! Yup that's Richard In Your Mind. Word is they're releasing a new album "My Volcano" in two weeks time, hopefully there's an accompanying tour to launch it because if it's anywhere near as spaced out as THIS? duuude I can't fucking wait to bug out to it some more!
CLOUD CONTROL (****1/2) myspace :: Which brings us to our headlining act, the same headlining act everyone's here to see to the point that they literally sold out Jive to the ceiling tonight (and don't ask me HOW I managed to bluff my way in for free at the very last minute.. but shit damn it's awesome all the same!) and all for a headlining act that most of us here hadn't even heard of nine months ago!? awesome huh? YOU BETCHA!! And it only gets weirder when you consider just who they are too: a happy go lucky four piece band from The Blue Mountains who cook up a signature sound that could best (or worst) be described as a hayseed combination of Fleet Foxes, The Arcade Fire, My Morning Jacket, Simon & Garfunkle, Mamas & the Papas and whoever the fuck ever came up with "The Lion Sleeps Tonight"? (egads!). With a repertoire of songs SO whimsically rich in golden hued gang harmonies, jubilent yodeling, dulcet guitar riffs, knee slapping rhythms and "church organ" melodies you swear that either (a) they have a dedicated apocalypse cult with a wheat silo stocked full of semi-automatic weapons backing them all the way, or (b) they're demonically possessed by the 60's cinematic cast of "The Sound Of Music" with aims to bring Julie Andrews back from the fiery depths of hell to feast on our brains!? WHOAAA FUCK!! And yet in saying all that? yeaaah maybe it's also why they're so appealing in the first place: for in their hilariously "hayseed" sound they're a welcome respite to everything that is cynical, sarcastic, bitter or twisted in music. They're everything that is utterly unabashed, goofy and downright cheerful in childlike innocence. Duuude they're the ultimate cure for every scenster fashion nazi extreme that ever pissed in our eye sockets.. YEAAAS!! Sink deep into it like a warm bath and I ask you isn't it just the best shit EVER for ridding you of all your worry and woe? don't you just feel five pounds lighter!? Aaaah yes, I couldn't have asked for better than Cloud Control for a "quiet night out" could I? OOOOH FUCK NO!! And here on the last stop of their whirlwind tour to promote their debut album "Bliss Release"? I dare say they're in a mad mood to celebrate all that and more! And not just because it's their last show before they get to go home again (to tend to their flock?) or for all that they've accomplished in endless accolades to get here (not least of which feature album of the week on Triple J) or for the fact that it's their bass player Jeremy Kelshaw's birthday (no kidding!?), nope as far as they're concerned they're just SO damn happy to be here they're celebrating ALL OUR birthdays tonight (they might have even mentioned it once or twice in passing) and I dare say they're playing the show to match! And the first thing that makes it truly memorable? (compared with the set they played back in November) short of that ridiculous raincoat that Alister "Clark Kent" Wright is wearing (that appears to be missing an oversized pairs of wellingtons and a puddle to jump in.. because he's what? all of three years old now!?) is the fuzz pedal that he's cranking like crazy on his guitar. Yup, anytime you think for a moment that their music is getting a little too twee, "nanna"-rific, or farm bred goofy for their own good? he'll let it rip like a chainsaw, blasting out everything in the chorus with a shit eating grin, and yes it's totally the maddest thing ever. But obviously it's not the only thing going for them. Most of the songs from the album make a welcome appearance, all of them are as richly golden hued as they are on record (if not more so) not least of which: "There's Nothing In The Water We Can't Fight", "My Fear #2", "Gold Canary" and this mad percussive number that Jeremy launches into with some of the members from Richard In Your Mind. But what proves to be most memorable for me is "Beast Of Love" when some random girl (who I swear I had never met before in my life) thought this would be an opportune moment to start braiding my hair. Weird but true! In fact later on she even showed me all the people around who's hair she'd also braided (and I'm pretty sure she didn't know any of them either) such was the relaxing effect this music had on us tonight; and I mean seriously how could you argue with a spontaneous response like that!? Cloud Control. Just like the musical equivalent of lying in an open field, cool green grass between your toes, warm summer sun lighting your face without a worry in the world? Aaaah sweet "bliss release" indeed!
12:25AM - But of course just like every other Saturday night at Jive: at around the strike of 11:30 (give or take a few nanoseconds due to chance variables in the Earth's rotational speed and how many people are jumping up and down on the spot at any given time.. and NOT A SECOND TO SPARE!!) our headlining act are promptly shot off the stage like a human cannonball, through a trapdoor in the ceiling, and to a "soft" crash landing somewhere in light square (along with all of their band equipment) so that the REAL star attraction can finally take his rightful place behind the DJ decks just like he's always done at Jive every other Saturday night FOR THE PAST THREE YEARS RUNNING. And to think people STILL line around the block for this shit each and every week!? Yup what can I say that DJ Craig is a freaking genius maaan! A diabolical, quite possibly immortal, blood sucking genius (did you know he casts no shadow and eats nothing but mice and small lizards? true story!). And as much as I'd love nothing better than to bask in his event horizon watching jocks, fashionistas and airhead scensters from far and wide disappear into his dancefloor vortex only never to be seen again? (no really.. THANK YOUUU!!) I had other plans: completely unrelated to just how painfully FUCK OFF loud he was blasting his shit over the PA and how much it was making my skull feel like an industrial strength microwave, but more to do with an even better excuse I came up with that's completely escaped my mind right now (possibly as water vapour).
1:09AM - It is here that I catch the remainder of a live set by Cock. Yes.. Cock. And no it's not the first time I'd seen them live, I saw them once back in 2008, and before you ask yes I DID write a review on them.. and no before you ask that follow up question it wasn't REALLY a review as much as it was a series of increasingly asinine jokes about "cock" only to end with the word "penis" (no really go and have a look if you don't believe me). Of course I also wrote a whole bunch of other crap too (turns out they're actually really REALLY good and not just as a source for cheap single entendres) but pfft.. who gives a cock and bulls either way? Here's a setlist, go see them some time, they've got a song called "Bevan", no really how skull fuckingly dope is that!?
1:17AM - Moments later I'm then joined in my chosen sanctuary by a few familiar faces who've also fled Jive in the past hour or so (for reasons completely unrelated to the skull raping migraine that's currently levelling that joint to its foundations) namely Adam Vanderwerf from Ride Into The Sun and what appears to be Matt Hills, aka: he of way too many Adelaide scene production credits and Moon Patrol championship titles, but is in actual fact just some "random drifter" we found loitering about a nearby bus shelter that looks a little like him. True story! His name is Gerald, he breeds pedigree hamsters for show, he collects antique Doctor Who and Blake 7 memorabilia, he's allergic to the colour purple and on alternating Tuesdays he loves nothing better than to smash seedless watermelons with a giant mallet whilst watching Grey's Anatomy. And yes we're a little frightened of him too.. but he did buy us drinks, so we're happy to hang with him all the same.
1:30AM - And yet Gerald wasn't the most astounding discovery we made at The Crown & Anchor tonight (not even when he amazed us all with the inflatable animals he made out of those "funny balloons" he found in the toilet vending machines) nope that prize easily goes to the brand new paintjob we discovered in the band room. "WHOAAA FUCK, YOU DON'T SAY!?" Yup apparently it's been done over by the same genius Chris Edser who redecorated Jive's interior back in August (or at least some of it has?) and it easily gets my seal of approval in passing, not just for all the wacky monsters, robots, random drunk weirdos and spaced out goth girls scattered about (which is always a winning combinaton in my books) but also because it actually improves the quality of the space immeasurably unlike some "recent" paintjobs I could mention in other venues I frequently make fun of (and no I don't mean Rocket Bar: because to see THAT shit you would need some night vision goggles and a few pounds of C4). Either way duuude.. what's not to love about it!?
And you know what makes it really awesome? they've also included this guy, and the reason WHY it's so trippy (at least to me) is because I could've sworn I featured a series of hilariously drunk photos of him waaay back in April last year. Apparently his name is Dave, I've met him once or twice, possibly countless times at The Crown & Anchor (only to be too drunk to remember just who the fuck he is) and no I'm not too sure if he does breed quality hamsters for show (or even for "recreational use") but I do know he has freakingly large nostrils. As for why this was grounds for him being immortalised in art? yeaaah it's anyone's guess but aren't you so glad that they did!?
1:33AM - But all this is obviously "window dressing" to the REAL reason why we're here tonight, (short of the fact I'm also avoiding Beirut Bathouse at The Ed Castle (wait did I just say that out loud!?) and that would be for "Hot! Damn!": the bestest, shiniest, most testicle/ovary exploding, whizzbang fun and games you could ever experience on a Saturday night out, on a dancefloor, bugging out to DJs playing shit you could just as easily download off a bittorrent and listen to on an ipod yourself: save for all the other ones overpopulating the west end of Adelaide right now. YEAAAS!! Except obviously THESE freaks (who you may recognise as "Balf" and Adam from Ride Into The Sun) actually play a wide selection of shit hot insanity that you wouldn't have heard of anywhere else but you SO wish was on your ipod right now because that's how fiendishingly badass they are at what they do.. FACT!! Yup it's on every week, it's really happening, you're totally missing out on it, and clearly I don't need to tell you any of this now because I'm currently being smashed into the ceiling breathing through a snorkel losing my mind over how instantly popular and essential it's become to Adelaide's social calendar.. "HOT! DAMN! FUCKING RULES MAAAN!!".
1:35AM - And if all that wasn't nearly enough incentive for you to flood this joint enmasse like a George Romero film gone horribly right (mmm brains!) then check out this wacky "motivational film" I shot while I was here.. I know riiight? never a dull moment at Hot! Damn! is there? HA HA HA duuude this shit's SO gonna go off like an egg salad in the sun it'll freaking blow your mind!
1:56AM - Which is why a little over twenty minutes later, completely overwhelmed by all the "excitement" exploding about my ears at The Crown & Anchor (no really you should've seen it when Gerald did the splits.. there were sirens and everything!) I felt compelled to head to The Exeter instead in the hopes it would be mildly LESS exciting; at least for the sake of my own sanity (I mean shit duuude it's meant to be a "quiet night out" and here I am ruining it all by hitting every raging hotspot in town!? pfft.. you eeeiidiot!). Problem being of course, upon arriving at The Exeter I soon realised just how utterly devoid it was of anything at all, so much so that the idea of walking to The Ed Castle suddenly seemed more "appealing" (egads!).. and so I left soon after.
2:01AM - Now usually my journey to the west end wouldn't be worth documenting. I mean shit duuude we've already seen it way too many times before haven't we? Rundle Lantern, Malls Balls, random pissheads molesting the pig statues and all that Hindley Street shooting whatever-the-fuck bordering on a cliche!? I mean pfft.. short of two late night buskers banging out covers of Super Mario Brothers we're better off just fast forwarding through all that aren't we!? NO SHIT!! But then I stumbled upon THIS inspired "moment of genius" scribbled on the Rundle Street pavement, this chalk drawn dick and balls, and I felt weirdly compelled to share it with you now. Awesome huh!?
And you know what makes it even more awesome? when mere moments after taking a photo of it, random drunks magically appear as if out of nowhere to pull retarded poses like these.. SCORE!!
2:02AM - Thinking this was an isolated incident I continued my journey west into Rundle Mall. Only to stumble upon yet more of them sprawled before me: chalk drawn dick and balls in all colours and sizes, pointing different directions, some sporting hair, some without, and it was utterly baffling to me for a moment (albeit pissing myself laughing) as to why they were here and what mysterious purpose they served. So much so I even briefly entertained the notion that they were in fact landing strips viewable from space for alien aircraft, possibly tiny alien aircraft (undoubtfully filled with inexplicably hot female green aliens) who would be compelled to visit here for reasons that would be obvious for anyone who's ever seen an original 60's episode of Star Trek. Hmmm.
2:07AM - Turns out however it had nothing to do with attracting green aliens for us to get our "Kirk" on.. I mean why the fuck am I even thinking about!? (and yet at the same time we can't help but be a little disappointed can we.. *sniff* I know!). But merely a "side effect" of The World Cup hours earlier televising a Socceroos qualifying match, one which appeared on plasma screens through the mall (including that massive screen outside the Myer Centre), that ended with us tying 1-1 with Ghana and THIS was everyone's weird way of "celebrating" that fact? One which was only made all the more apparent when I stumble upon "girl on a slipper dip" bronze statue here that's since been adorned with novelty green & gold underpants and an empty pizza box on her head!? Yup, I'd like to take this moment to thank binge drinkers everywhere for making this happen!
2:20AM - At long last I arrive at The Ed Castle, thinking at this late an hour I might have missed all the retarded window licking insanity that would've resulted from "you know who" headlining here hours earlier (aaaah but could you imagine the review?) and I could simply duck in now, down a few beers and hit Supermild like it never happened.. a "quiet night out"? oh it's not just a dream maaan, EVEN IF I HAVE TO KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU SHIT WEASELS TO MAKE IT ALL HAPPEN!!
Only to walk in on THIS instead.. "aaaugh! kill it! KILL IT WITH FIRE!!"
Thankfully however it was just these two nitwits from The Touch *phew* (no really they might thrash the Baywatch theme and all, but duuude it could've been SO much worse!). And so I order up a beer or two (or a whole bucket) and I promptly vanish into the beer garden. So long suckers!
2:41AM - It is here that I soon bump into a few members from Lyla, either celebrating a wildly successful support slot for Cloud Control earlier tonight or a DJ set they just played to the monkeys flinging faeces inside. Either way Anthony Callisto here sure looks to be in high spirits don't he?
3:17AM - Which in a completely unrelated way, leads us to fellow bandmates Dave Mazzarelli and Sammy Bruno here listing four (or possibly six?) awesome reasons why Lyla played the best damn show of their lives tonight; but yeaaah I'll let you decide after you see this video on whether we're being laughably sarcastic or not (yeaaah but if it helps? it's not like anyone even noticed!).
3:24AM - Figuring Lyla might want a bucket or two (or a whole keg) to go along with that wacky "video piece" they just presented (again it's not like anyone even noticed, or even reads this blog, especially not anyone important in the music industry.. HI RICHARD KINGSMILL!!) I snuck inside with aims to order one up at the bar, only to stumble into cloud of noxious smoke enveloping the dancefloor thanks in no small part to one of those baboons here letting loose a fire extinguisher moments earlier (you fiends!). And before you ask NO it's not the first time it's ever happened at The Ed Castle, and secondly? yeaaah it kinda tastes like tangy lemon. Still figuring this place was sliding down the evolutionary scale much quicker than anticipated, I quickly abandoned the notion of getting Lyla that bucket, grabbed a garden hose instead (from beats me where? as to be honest I really didn't think this joke through) attached it to one of the bar taps, ran it out into the beer garden, gave Lyla the thumbs up, rushed inside to "flick the switch" and flew out the door.
4:15AM - And thus I whiled away the rest of my night here at Supermild (or as I occassionally like to call it "Stupormild") with all the rest of my fellow survivors of a fucked up Saturday night. Huddled in our respective foetal corners of the beer garden mumbling unintelligibly about our near impossible escapes that brought us here; with Gloria making an appearance in this instance, not because she's ALWAYS here at Supermild to the point it practically puts my "frequent flyer miles" to shame.. but more because she proved to be the most classy looking with a long neck of sparkling (go figure?). Safe in the knowledge that no matter how fucked up dysfunctional or insane it got out there? given enough to drink here and it'll be nothing but a blissfully faded memory (and maybe three or four days spent wracking my brain attempting to write a blog about it) PHEEEUW!!
Yup there is such a thing as a "quiet night out". It happens, I'm sure of it, I've totally seen it with my own two eyes like bigfoot shambling through the undergrowth through a pair of binoculars. Or maybe I've just caught a glimpse from the corner of my eyes as it flees knuckle over fist into the trees again lest I hunt it down, tear it limb from limb and drink its blood in the hopes that I could be embued with its calming essence.. but it exists netherless! YEAAAS IT STILL EXISTS!! But alas after a night like this I know full well that it's a fleeting concept at best. It's not something I can simply "will into existence" like the flick of a switch, a twist of a faucet, or the press of a button; especially not with all you maniacs out there providing me so much hilariously fucked up shit to cover each week.. YOU BAAASTARDS!! Nope all I can hope for is to stumble upon it by chance like a unicorn or a leprechaun or a night at The Grace Emily (duuude no way!), existing as it does somewhere between myth and legend and to be in the right frame of mind to appreciate its "finer qualities". And to all you who say in turn.. "yeaaah well why didn't you just stay home instead you fucking idiot and have a quiet night in!?" pfft.. and what!? MISS OUT ON ALL THE ACTION? duuude I may need to escape this shit every once in a while, but seriously.. where'd be the fun in that!?
