Beats of Comfort

A confluence of influence. Each with their own character. Angry. Sharp. Piercing. Warm. Mellow. Each of them make me feel like their own.

The drumsticks slide into my hands like they never left. They just seem to fit. I sit on my throne and feel like a king, ready to be served and honoured by these familiar characters.

I raise Excalibur above my head and prepare to resolve my deepest worries and issues.

The sound these faces make when I strike them make me feel like I really belong. The steady rhythm gives me security and keeps me safe.

Each rhythm telling a story of it's own.

Fate?

I often sit and think about fate. How weird if it was real.

Fossils of our existence

Dentures. Notes. Receipts. Pens. Spoons. Shoes. Cameras. Cigarette Tins. Tazos. Stuffed toys. Hub caps. Cats. Napkins. Soaps. Felts. Rubbers. Corks. Horns. Crayons. Clocks. Clocks everywhere ticking. Ticking everywhere. Dissonant polyrhythms of distant lands and stories flourished with alarms of small victories and worries. My Grandma’s cottage. It is the accumulation of a lifetime of experience and knowledge. She collects clocks, and lots of them. Each of their stories crowd my childhood whilst their ticking provide a solid backdrop of trust and warmth within my Grandmother’s words. Clocks shaped life cats, Australia, and my favourite, one shaped as a house with a 1950’s teenager who always seems to be happy bobbling from it’s underbelly on an innocent looking swing. These clocks seem to have some sort of magical aura attatched to them as, despite the age and vulnerability of my grandparents, they don’t seem to be harmed by the harsh realities of living in the rough suburbs of Melbourne. They seem to be cosied by these clocks as they remind them of what they have. Their life. Their friendship. Their love.

These memories made me think about the real reason as to why people collect things. Often objects that are useless and seem irrelevant to our busy lifestyles. But through a simple story, a tobacco tin is transformed into a bountiful treasure chest which tells of a mutinied voyage through the Greek Isles. They are physical fragments of our imagination. Fossils of our existence.

Music of the modern

To me, good music is a collaboration of sound that makes you really feel alive. It is something that has flaws just like all good humans. It is as alive as each and everyone of us. Continually changing.

The best kind of music isn't perfect. Without imperfections, the music would seem robotic and sub human.

When it comes down to it, music is one of the sole sources of expression within modern society. Many people work 9-5 jobs, bored shitless everyday. But on the way to work they're singing their hearts out, spewing out their emotions. Then it's straight back to their normal, polyrhythmic life.

Personally, music makes me feel like I belong to something. Like nothing else matters. Like I can be myself and be proud of it. I can't say I am stuck to any one genre of music because I find any type of music interesting as each piece tells it's own story, and in some ways reveals another shade of life for me. I go through extreme phases where I am so into a specific band it is fanatical, but then I get over it and move on. I think this approach gives me the depth to really know each band and their story deeply in order to make a judgement on their overall sound and style.

I find the warmth and energy from Math Rock refreshing with the likes of Foals gracing the genre. Their frenzied, angular melodies make my body want to wrap around the high frequencies and tame them in the most elaborate, interpretive way. Their frequent changes in tempo and long breaks give their songs a free, expressive value which you can tell are very personal.

Most of the modern music lacks heart and balls. Many songs are no longer written in a suburban basement with a band who has worked hard for fourteen years to get where they are, gone through hell and back, and lived to tell the story through song. They are written in the middle of a city in a 34 story building by a panel of producers and sung by a swimsuit model who has been taught how to sing (and has had their voice tweaked on auto-tune in the studio).

The lyrics all follow the same storyline. "I was an innocent girl. I saw a cute boy playing football. I got butterflies when I talked to him. We went on a cute date. We kissed. I was his girlfriend. He broke my heart. I hate him."

Music in the place I live is a subconscious fashion. The essence of music is quite lost in my surroundings. Music is meant to be a means of personal expression by reflecting our individual personalities. No people have the exact same music taste. But the people in my town are sub consciously, or consciously, I don't know, selling out on their own beliefs. Selling out on their music.

Basically, the music scene where I live is filled with steroids, sweat and RnB, all footy heads pumping themselves with hot air and exploding it on some innocent kid. They usually hunt in packs of about three or four, looking for their next prey. Women. Teenagers. Whoever. This is pretty much accredited to a club called "The Sands."But I like to call "The Den." It is located in Coolangatta right smack bang in the middle. The footy heads come in flocks straight from footy practice, get some Tooheys into them, and go on the prowl for some youngens who got into the club on a fake ID, then fight afterwards.

What my town needs is a dose of individuality, a wave of individual thought, bloody hell, give it some balls. Music isn't about the image, or what everyone else is doing. It is an expression that comes straight from the love muscle. It controls our deepest emotions. Maybe i'm being too hard on these footy heads, they may just like this music. After all it is their personal expression. But if you knew the scene like i did, you would cut me some slack for being so critical.

I am starting to see a slight wave of true people who are into music for the right reasons. The place I would like to congratulate for putting their balls on the line is Neverland Bar located only 20 steps away from "The Den." They have started to bring my local some true tastes of music which is undoubtedly tantalising the ear pussies of local beauties and beasts. These people also come in flocks, but not to fight or take advantage of young women. They come from often far lands to give their love muscle a work out. They are feeding their desire for true music. Feeding off the vibe this place gives. Even though it is quite small, the heart and passion this small community of frequency warriors brings is undoubtedly among the best on the coast. Not only do they bring you huge Australian acts. But they bring local bands to the spotlight and give them a chance to put their basement jams out into the world. This creates a small fan base for the local acts on which they can lean on for support on their long journey to the top.

The Euro music scene is extremely attractive to people that are fed up with the local music scene. I know at least ten people who have moved to Europe specifically to experience a true group of people who are into music solely for the feeling it gives. Who says people have to go halfway around the world for an experience like that? Why not make our town the forefront of absolutely mind blowingly bullshit music?

The movement fronted by Neverland has already started. We need to do this. Get motivated. Lets aim to have Coolangatta put on the map music wise. Get into it. Tell your mates. The movement starts now. GO!

The Subtle Killer?

Cancer. It's origin is in everything. You're slowly but surely contracting the disease as you read this. From the computer screen you're looking at, to the water you're drinking. It's all giving it to you. You're going to get cancer, and die. Every corner contains a new discovery of a cancer causing product. White rice, toothpaste, even bloody napkins. Watch out, it's going to get you.

The dawn of a new day brings a host of dangers to an uninformed soul. So the best way to inform the people is by letting Kerri-Anne talk about how white rice will give you cancer. Morning news shows. Priceless.

I wake up to have a shower. Use my special VO5 shampoo and wash my hair thoroughly. But oh, what a surprise. Some of it's ingredients will give me cancer.

State of Origin

Australian Culture. The Footy Head. The beer by the telly while screaming at the players who are thousands of miles away. Are we really just a country of social norms?

The State Of Origin was on recently and it has again failed to interest me. It has lost it's touch.

As a youngen I used to love nothing more than sitting in front of the TV with my family watching these no-necked men play wrestles. But now, I would rather sit in my room and listen to music. Seems very anti-social and emo, but i literally love listening music in my room.

Social Pressure. That's what it comes down to, basically. When I was young, I had no influence on what I watched when I think about it, because if I didn't watch it, I would be excluded from lunchtime and recess conversation for the whole month that it was circulating the newspapers and film rolls. I would be a loner, and I would do anything to be one of "them." Sitting in front of the Music Room with their cool little Power Rangers lunch boxes and playing their super cool Pokemon gold games.

I wasn't an uncool kid. I had friends, and many of them. Never got bullied. But I was just very influenced by what was going on around me and most kids these days are.

It's the moment you reach the later years in school when you realise that everyone is an individual. That you can actually have your own ways and values. You can be yourself.

Sure, people do go against these social pressures much younger. But these people are strong minded. They know what they want. In the later years it is the weaker minded people who can finally come out to play.

The State of Origin was merely a segue to talk about this scope of life.

Thankyou.

Almost Famous

An absolue inspiration.

This movie has got to be the absolute fairytale of my life. It encompasses everything about being a Music Journalist i can think of. The ludicrous revelation. Harsh reporting. Drop outs. It's all there.

I wish.

I will.

Facebook

Facebook is coming to the point where it is as addictive as Heroin or Cocaine.

St. Joseph's Talent Quest (for GC Bulletin) Photos By Danny Putland

(From right to left) Myself, Pat Lynch and Tom Monaghan singing "Issues."

The St. Joseph’s Talent Quest is a prestigious event which is highly anticipated amongst the students and parents each year. Over the past six years of my presence at the college, for me, the Talent Quest and the build up to it has always been full of suspense and hard work. I have seen many great people perform on our stage, and it was these school heroes who drew me to aspire to one day take the stage, and by some rare chance actually win. The one act which still sticks in my mind was a rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen. It was both masterful and hilarious at the same time.

Tom Monaghan playing "Mojo PIn" By Jeff Buckley

So through this inspiration, in Year 7 of 2005 when I was 12 I decided to take up the drums and plan for a massive show by the time I was in Year 12.

Through the support of St. Joseph’s I found playing in a band formation both fulfilling and extremely rewarding.

Talent Quest 2010 was a great success.

I performed in a couple of pieces, and hosted the night. Both dreams of mine since Year 7. By the end of the whole night, the winners didn’t matter as every year it is all about the great sense of community which arises, and I think this is a crucial factor in why having Talent Quests at our school are so important.

Liam Kirk featuring in "Philosophy" By Ben Folds Five

By the end of the night I felt personally fulfilled as my friends and I took out the band section which has always been a dream of ours. I also felt proud within my friends and I as I would love to believe that we have made some younger students have dreams just like I did in Year 7.

The Winners and Judges of 2010 Talent Quest.

After school I would love to continue with my music and try and make something bigger out of it as the experience I have had from the St. Joseph’s Talent Quest throughout my schooling is one which opens my mind, and makes me expand my thoughts about what is possible in the wide world.

Oldies.

They are dear old Lemons. Wandering around with their K.rudd money in their pockets. Driving slow. Stopping at weird times. Doing things that are just not understandable.

They tell us stories.

Stories of their youth. Stories of why throwing a rock at Julie is wrong, and stories of how hard it was for them in their day to communicate without this bloody "interweb or what ever you call it." They are our Grandparents. Our neighbours. Our idols. They are so full of wisdom that they remove their common sense part of their brain to fit all this life experience in.

In the place I live, you can't escape the wrath of the oldies. Some like to call it "God's waiting room," and I can see why. There are Oldies everywhere. Taking the parking places. Making us wait for them to cross the road. Selling us hand crafts.

I was sitting eating Gelati at my girlfriend's work when some Sunday Walkers crossed my gaze across to my girlfriend. They were casually talking. Two men. Two women. I captured a glimpse of their conversation: "Can you put on weight?

No.

Well do you have a sugar disorder?

No. Do you?

No. I don't.

Hmm."

It was funny at the time. They seemed to be basically talking about what disorders they had like it was a shopping list.

The Wandering Fiver

As a young boy of 14 I was very curious as to what would happen if I wrote "If you find this, call 0402******" on a $5 note. (This being my number of course) So I did. I was very optimistic in my approach as I thought I would be getting calls left right and centre, but for three years I got no response.

I went on with my daily life with the possibility of one day someone calling me from a far distant place in Australia and somehow they would be the coolest person I've talked to and I would get a really cool connection from it. A very very rare chance I must say.

Three years passed and slowly but surely, the fiver left my thoughts.

A normal Wednesday came about just like it did every week, and so did my nightly shower accompanied by the old Kings Of Leon albums. I checked my phone when I got out, and there was a weird voice mail message about a $5 note?

This could have been the defining moment in my short life. Someone had found my "message in a bottle" and taken the time out of their day to call me.

It was some drunken idiot at a TAB who was with lots of people in the background. I couldn't believe it when he said he was from Noosa because I live in Tweed Heads, on the coast just below the QLD border. This was an amazing day I must say. So unexpected.

The other amazing thing is (this is where the believability of the story starts to get questioned) is that I got a second call that same week.

This time it was someone in Sydney, yes Sydney. He was another drunken idiot and he was at the football "watching the Roosters get towelled up," and he said to me "I was kind of hoping you were a sexy lady."

The funny thing about these two phone calls is that they have both been from two very Aussie stereotypical characters, and they have both been in very Aussie situations. A TAB and drunk at the footy.

My Fiver. Where will it go next?

I'm nervous for all the scary things my Fiver has to face in Australia. Everyone, if you find it, take care of it.

I am still waiting for the day when it comes back to me, settles into the palm of someone famous. Will make the coolest story. Best story for Grandkids.

****************** Update 8/01/11***********************

Holy shit!

I just got a random phone call from some drunken bloke who wouldn't stop asking me 'where are you?'

He was in Sydney. Typically, the general consensus of people calling about this $5 note has stayed the same. Drunken idiots with their mates.

Also, the trend of miracles coming in twos is still about.

No later than five minutes after I got numerous phone calls from the 'where are you?' drunken idiot, I got another phone call. This time it was some sort of seductive young woman on the other end who said in a sexy voice 'I was just down the shops the other day and I saw your $5 note so I put your number in my phone and thought I'd give you a call later on tonight.' She also said that she lived around where I live, which shows that my elusive $5 note has followed the same route as my girlfriend, which is weird. Could it have been on the same flight to Sydney from the Gold Coast because she (Caf) went to Sydney the other day also and just came back today.

Come to think of it, I got a weird phone call the other day while I was at work from someone who called herself Jellybean and tried to remind me that I met her a couple of months and gave her my number and that her parents were hippies. Knowing exactly what type of person I am, I would have never given my number to some sort of hippie tripper whose name is Jellybean (or she could have seen my number and decided to fuck with me).

This whole $5 note thing is getting interesting. The first drunken idiot from today promised that he would pass it on to another shop.

Who will the $5 note hit next?

-------------------------------------------UPDATE 02/09/2013- Monday 1:29pm -----------------------------------

The Fiver has been out of action for a few years! Until today.

It has managed to get itself out of the pub scene and become a decent fiver.

A 13-year old boy from Richmond called me with the Fiver at school, saying he found it laughing. He was polite unlike the other calls I have received about it.

Land of the lost

The place where mere mortals go to celebrate. The place where they pay homage to their heroes. Some are well known there. Some lurk in the shadows. It is a little community in which everyone is welcome.

The place i speak about is Neverland.

After watching Children Collide perform there i see that this place has character, history, and a lot more potential.

The size of the place is insignificant compared with the heart the place carries.

Any foreign character would feel welcome here, even if he/she had a mini growth growing out of their neck.

The bands which play here are unmentionable. Unbelievable. Uncanny. They are amazing.

Neverland is amazing.