Residency week 4 – ‘Who are these people?’

‘Who are these people?’ was a question that Matt asked me at roughly 5am this morning. We were busy playing a show in a huge storage warehouse resembling the one in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Large army green drapes were covering crates that stood four high and wooden beams zing zagged overhead. In a space in front of the stage there a small collection of chairs in which sat about 30 people. The were mainly overfed and over inflated men in suits with necks that hung over their collars, and emanating from the whole rabble was a faint wheezing sound. Second row back and to the left there sat a girl I used to know at university in ....London....; a girl that only had to open her mouth to make my skin crawl. I’m sure you have all met the type at some point. She had an overwhelming desire to argue with everyone in a lecture, and constantly throw her arm in the air after every sentence delivered by the lecturer to which he would poorly disguise rolling his eyes (along with everyone else.) We would all then sit and listen to her indulge in some intellectual masturbation until she tired herself out and shut up.

Anyway, the gig wasn’t going well; Matt seemed a little strange. He was talking for ten minutes in between each song and not making much sense, and skulking around kicking pieces of equipment. I asked him what his problem was and he asked, ‘Who are these people? Why are they here?’ I explained to him that a show was a show and we shouldn’t lose our shit over it. I decided then and there to completely lose my shit over at him. Asking Matt what his deal was, the reply was one that at once made my blood boil and my stomach fill with dread: ‘I just took the strongest mushy cap dude, I’m fucked.’ The wheezing mass at the front were getting restless and complaining about the lack of music, and the annoying girl from uni decided to jump up and shout, ‘I’m far too busy for this shit, who’s coming with me?’ Everyone started to leave and my heart sank. I was furious with her, but saw her point. I looked over at Matt playing a guitar that wasn’t even plugged in and watched the space empty and melt away.

Now, I’m not sure if it was all the Japanese food, or watching the footage of Wavves having his melt down in Spain just before I went to bed, but I woke up after that and couldn’t get back to sleep. I decided then that I had to tell Matt not to take mushrooms before we play. I didn’t want a repeat performance.

What actually happened couldn’t have been further from that early morning escapade. The sound check went as quickly and as smoothly as anyone would hope for and before we knew it Tic Toc Tokyo were slamming out a new track that had the four of us, and a few members of Keith! Party watching in foot tapping unison.

Some were worried that the rain was going to keep people safe and warm at home, but in my experience ....Melbourne.... is a city in which people will still happily stand out in a beer garden while the heavens open and not seem to notice or care. Sure enough, punters were turning up early and very politely waiting in line for a sausage, each with a grin on their face.

Fieval opened up the evening and did so in style. I had seen them a few times before but it was tonight that they seemed at their best. Knik played a part in this, as once again he made sure the volume was as high as it could go before people’s head exploded. There was more rapping, more singing, a guest MC, and an unmistakable feeling of the two of them shifting the crowd from ‘I’m getting drunk tonight,’ to ‘I’m drunk tonight.’

Without a moments rest dear friends Keith! Party rocked up and…well, they moved like Keith! Party, and the rocked a mic like Keith! Party, but something was different. ‘I didn’t know Daphne could rhyme like that. Wait a sec…when did Andrew start rapping about bumble bees; I mean I’ve heard him spit, but never like that. I can’t move across a dance floor like a sleep deprived crazed party shaman, only Bourkey can move like a sleep deprived crazed party shaman.’ The masks were a stroke of genius guys. I love Keith! Party so much and I’m hoping that this gig is the beginning of sleepless spring nights and a rousing welcome into summer. Seriously love you guys.

How Tic Toc get that bass sound I’ll never know. It sounded like a lustful robots heartbeat and, jumping ahead of myself a little, was still ringing in my ears when I eventually put head to pillow. These guys have gone from strength to strength and it is a privilege to have shared a stage with them twice this year and for another opportunity to be mere weeks away. More percussion, more yelping, more everything made the temperature rise in the Tote. Also, I have notice the favoured way of dancing to Tic Toc. It involves standing with your feet shoulder length apart, bending your knees slightly forward in time with the beat, and while this happens you nod your head just a smidge. If you so choose you can thrust your crotch forward a little, but ONLY a little. This dance move clearly only worked with subtly. Too much and you’re just thrusting which would make people uncomfortable.

After a quick nervous dribble in the toilet it was time for Real Hot Bitches to drop and shake their 80s party junk on the dance floor, and in doing so made some others do the same. These people are pros and have finely tuned their thrusting to pummel your party bone.

Finally we played our final show of the residency and it was by far and away our favourite. Giddy grins were flicked at each other on stage and we shared them with the tribe down the front who have constantly surprised and delighted us with their enthusiasm. I was pleased for Mikey who managed to get the word ‘Gerling’ said on stage. Glitter started to be thrown and after more of Knik’s handy work with the lights it was all over with a few smashes of the gong.

July has been so much fun and we hope that everybody who came enjoyed it all as much as we did. Thank you for everyone’s support and hard work and I hope that it wasn’t too much of a pain in the arse cleaning up that glitter. The response to the residency has been one we could have never anticipated and we hope that it all goes to show what happens when you avoid being too up your own arse about all this stuff and spend more time supporting and less time bitching and moaning. The sense of community that everyone helped create was magic and we hope this won’t be the last of these types of nights. Summer is just around the corner after all and it makes way more sense to stand outside in the warmth rather than the rain.

Love, Possum xoxo

p.s. A special thank you goes to Travis for letting everyone pour back to his house and thank you to those that carried the slabs in the rain.

In fact, it is freezing at 7:18am.

The full moon last night brought with it the usual bundle of uncertainty and the bizarre. The juno2 was making sound without being plugged in. The power was on, but the leads weren’t plugged in. (This made Matt’s world collapse. It was like he’d seen someone walk on water.) We know for a fact the leads weren’t plugged in because Matt had decided to rip them out and take the loop pedal apart because it was insisting on acting like a jerk; a jerk that would cut in or out depending on how it felt with little regard for the other four people in the room really needing its co-operation. Prior to this, the ‘kick it till it works’ and the ‘jiggle every lead and swap them around’ methods had proved fruitless. The hunt for a line6 loop pedal had begun as the clock ticked into Wednesday. No loop, no show.

URGENT! Does anyone have a green line6, delay/looper we can borrow tomorrow night?

Lucky for us ....Melbourne.... is swimming with loop pedals and it was Mister Miles Brown, from The Night Terrors, who came to our rescue. Phew. Thank you Miles, you’re a life saver. Let us know your favourite fruit and we’ll be sure to provide it during one of the songs at a future show.

MJ’s memorial service was pretty weird and kind of sad. There was a lot of plastic surgery up on that stage at once. Did anyone notice Magic Johnson and Kobi Bryant on stage during ‘Heal the World’? They were looking a touch bored, talking to each other, and checking out the lighting rig for most of it. I bet they were busy comparing triple-doubles or something. Overall I expected way more pyrotechnics.

As the evening begins there is a problem. The bouncer has demanded ID and the female in question doesn’t have it with her. So a plan is formed in the front bar. A suggestion of finding a kick drum bag and putting her in it and carrying it in seems a little far flung. Perhaps just waiting for the man-mountain that is the bouncer to turn his back and just sneak passed is a better idea. It should work on paper and in practice. The bouncer is so fucking huge his neck doesn’t move and he his turning circle is like that of a road train. I see the victory sprint to the beer garden and feel satisfied for her. I wonder how she is going to make it to the toilet and back again. There is always the Tote garden I guess.

East Brunswick All Girls Choir never fail to amaze me. As they begin people remove themselves to go and get earplugs. Knik has reached the sweet spot of gig volume that teeters on the brink of perfection and the cause of serious long-term damage. They are stadium loud. I have a weird image of ....Hobbs....’s paying out the whole of Rod Laver and 65,000 people becoming hypnotised by his strange thrusting. Genius. I realised the Tote was getting pretty packed because rather than stand and watch Cuba is Japan and Tantrums I could only stare at the backs that seemed to be in front of me wherever I stood. Both were exceptional as always. A brief hallway meeting between Matt and I confirmed that we were both getting far too drunk. Time to stand outside and take a deep breath.

Rainbow lights were flicked on and the place lit up. It looked awesome from where I was; strange seeing you all wearing those glasses. Thank you to those that were in charge of flicking switches. We played, you got apples, we enjoyed, and we hope you did too.

Playing drums, playing drums, playing drums, what keeps knocking into me?

Crazy old dancing man,

crazy old dancing man,

dancing behind me,

falling on your arse,

nose diving into Noble’s drum kit,

I hope you didn’t break any bones…

I’m not big on Australian music and so I thought you were a shit faced Paul Kelly. I was told it wasn’t.

There could possibly have been another Tankerville trip at the end of it all (I don’t know what’s wrong with me), there was most definitely the most incredible bean salsa and Doritos feast to cap it off; that and a bit of Drop Dead Fred.

Thank you once again to everyone that came, a million times over…259 turn out is pretty special to all of us. Thank you East Brunswick All Girls Choir, ..Cuba.. is ....Japan...., and Tantrums. We feel privileged to play an evening with you all. Thank you Scotty for dropping you world music beats. Thank you again Knik for running around all evening and owning it. Two down, two to go. Dario G at the end of the set was pure magic.

Bedtime love,

Possum xoxo

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7dLdZq4qpzM

Plan of the day: keep stress to a minimum and do not think about the show.

..Milo.. is being stirred and Vegemite is being spread and I have done nothing but think the show. The show and fixing my, ahem, fixing Dean’s floor tom, putting new heads on it, putting the floor tom back together, working out how to tune a floor tom, getting to the Tote, the soundcheck, sound problems, juno2 problems, throat problems, time problems, problem problems and every other problem in the world. Focus. Fix floor tom and print posters.

Fat, hairy men at the music shop, who more than likely masturbate over scantily clad women in video games, are really fucking rude and don’t help me fix the tom. Father Christmas is taking a lifetime to print off an excel spreadsheet at Officeworks. He believes that screaming in the faces of the staff will help solve everything. He eventually commandeers the computer and the rest of us are done for. I have no posters and Matt will be at mine soon. I’m rushed, sweaty and annoyed.

For the first time ever, ever, ever we have a soundcheck. Matt’s wires don’t behave. Nick is amazing. I get introduced to the rider and we flirt outrageously.

Paris and Nicci are the most sophisticatedly dressed DJs to ever grace the Tote. Cocktail dresses and fox fur proceed to drop 90s hit after hit and I’m thrust into a trip down memory lane to a period of puberty, clumsy sexual encounters, lots of gel in my hair, and lots of Lynx on my body. I wake up, stood nodding my head to Biggie and I can still remember all the lyrics to ‘Hypnotize.’ I remember memorising them along with the lyrics along to ‘California Love’, ‘All About the Benjamins’, and ‘Mo Money, Mo Problems' and thinking I had 'mad flow.'

We play, people dance, eat bananas, and I forget all my killer MJ jokes. We’re all very happy and sweaty.

Listening to some sound bites recorded outside the Tote at the end of the evening I hear a female, who shall remain nameless, eloquently pipe up and say, ‘Where can we get some fuckin’ booze? I just wanna paaarty.’ Lucky for them there was a party on nearby and so any Tantrums were avoided.

We played ‘how many people can you fit into one tiny bedroom’, Grant dropped his own rhymes for an audience sat outside to which they responded with a perfect rendition of ‘Whatta man’ by Salt n Pepper, and Rhiana slept like a baby. I leave the party at 3, decide to nip into the Tankerville (hey, it was open) for some warming whisky and I’m kind of freaked out by just how many people want to get smashed and gamble at this hour. I eventually retire and hug my oil heater.

A huge thank you to everyone that came and listened. I hope you all enjoyed yourselves, managed to get your hands on a sausage, and enjoyed the bananas.

Thank you so much to Love Connection, Your Animal, Pets with Pets, and Miles Rabies for doing what you do, and doing it so damn well. I along with everyone else there was equally blown away and inspired. Thank you to Paris and Nicci for playing the soundtrack to my teenage years and a huuuuuuuuuge thank you to Nick who worked his tiny arse off all night. You can now add ‘light show technician’ to your repertoire.

And thank you J, for your review of the evening the following morning,

‘Bananas and backwards singing mate, mega.’

Lots of love,

Possum. xoxo