Just a little montage from the awesome day that was Toast Urunga feat. Clocks and Dice
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Wednesday, 4 September 2013
Sunday, 7 July 2013
Music soothes the savage beast.
I am pretty sure that when William Congreve coined the original version of this phase in 1697, he probably hadn't anticipated it carrying through the centuries.
A road trip discussion this evening made my mind tick over and my spotify account go nuts.
Why do we love the music we love?
I listen to a lot of music, and I am not embarrassed to say my CD collection includes everything from Brittany Spears to Pantera, Martha and the Vandellas to Black Sabbath and Johnny Cash to Nirvana.
All these performers have made it into the collection because at some point in time their music spoke to my heart; they said something meaningful, they made me feel a certain way, or made me STOP feeling a certain way.
The general consensus of the discussion was that I like music because of the belief that the artist has in their delivery of the song, and not necessarily their skill as a musician, basically all they have to do is convince me that they mean what they are saying.
Needless to say, this doesn't go down to well with the Mr, being a musician, he is all about the skill and the talent. He doesn't seem to understand that I am happy to listen to Donita Sparks wail about being fast and frightening, because damn it I wanna be fast and frightening too or that Billy Corgan brings tears to my eyes when he sings Beautiful or that when the Yeah Yeah Yeah's sing MAPS, I have felt how Karen O feels about Angus.
I use music to pick me up when I am depressed, I use music to rage when there is not other way to get the anger out, I use music to motivate me when I exercise because I feel like a champion when I jog in time to the track, I use music to calm me down if I am feeling hypo-manic. Basically there is not a time in my life that music does not have a role.
My dream would be if I could have a constant soundtrack to my life, played loud on a boom box that is being carried by Eric Erlandson*, so everyone else knew what I was feeling at any given moment.
Basically if I am listening to Shit List, you probably need to leave me alone..... well you get the picture.
*I figure Eric has been Courtney's bitch for long enough, he needs a new master.
A road trip discussion this evening made my mind tick over and my spotify account go nuts.
Why do we love the music we love?
I listen to a lot of music, and I am not embarrassed to say my CD collection includes everything from Brittany Spears to Pantera, Martha and the Vandellas to Black Sabbath and Johnny Cash to Nirvana.
All these performers have made it into the collection because at some point in time their music spoke to my heart; they said something meaningful, they made me feel a certain way, or made me STOP feeling a certain way.
The general consensus of the discussion was that I like music because of the belief that the artist has in their delivery of the song, and not necessarily their skill as a musician, basically all they have to do is convince me that they mean what they are saying.
Needless to say, this doesn't go down to well with the Mr, being a musician, he is all about the skill and the talent. He doesn't seem to understand that I am happy to listen to Donita Sparks wail about being fast and frightening, because damn it I wanna be fast and frightening too or that Billy Corgan brings tears to my eyes when he sings Beautiful or that when the Yeah Yeah Yeah's sing MAPS, I have felt how Karen O feels about Angus.
I use music to pick me up when I am depressed, I use music to rage when there is not other way to get the anger out, I use music to motivate me when I exercise because I feel like a champion when I jog in time to the track, I use music to calm me down if I am feeling hypo-manic. Basically there is not a time in my life that music does not have a role.
My dream would be if I could have a constant soundtrack to my life, played loud on a boom box that is being carried by Eric Erlandson*, so everyone else knew what I was feeling at any given moment.
Basically if I am listening to Shit List, you probably need to leave me alone..... well you get the picture.
*I figure Eric has been Courtney's bitch for long enough, he needs a new master.
Tuesday, 9 April 2013
Deep Thinking, Gentle Feeling.
I think a lot.
Too much.
I ponder and analyse.
I break down and reconstruct.
Today I thought about connections.
The threads that join us.
The needles that bring us together to start with.
My circle of friends is so richly woven.
One person, connecting me to the next.
Under and over and in-between.
Drawn together by food, music, humour and Bryan Adams.
Today I enjoyed my morning chai,
with my best friend and my boy.
A trio that was delicately stitched together
one night back in September 2012.
It was my besties first night on the
town in a long while and I was celebrating the
absence of my ex-husband and his birthday.
We went to catch a band we had heard all about
but never actually heard play.
We gathered our already intricately connected
groups of friends together and hit the pub.
We drank and danced
and were exposed to some interpretative dance.
It wasn't long before I was captivated.
Behind a microphone with nice piece of brass
in his left hand, was a boy.
A tall, rather good looking, smiling boy.
Now as girls do, I mentioned to my bestie
that I thought Brass Boy was attractive.
Her response was something along the lines of
" I've known him for years, he's not your type"
Never the less the thread had passed through the needle.
I threw it across the room at him.
It hit, but didn't stick.
I received a quiet invitation to a gig the following night.
With some struggle, nervousness, and awkwardness
we ended up hanging out.
He and I quickly developed a friendship, he really made me laugh,
this shocked bestie and others.
She was right, that bestie of mine.
He wasn't my type at all.
He was nice!
Gentle, caring, nurturing, understanding and amazing.
Our threads had crossed, then crossed back over again.
Each day our paths are drawn closer together
and our threads are making beautiful patterns
on the fabric of our souls.
The connections in my life
amaze me more every day.
Too much.
I ponder and analyse.
I break down and reconstruct.
Today I thought about connections.
The threads that join us.
The needles that bring us together to start with.
My circle of friends is so richly woven.
One person, connecting me to the next.
Under and over and in-between.
Drawn together by food, music, humour and Bryan Adams.
Today I enjoyed my morning chai,
with my best friend and my boy.
A trio that was delicately stitched together
one night back in September 2012.
It was my besties first night on the
town in a long while and I was celebrating the
absence of my ex-husband and his birthday.
We went to catch a band we had heard all about
but never actually heard play.
We gathered our already intricately connected
groups of friends together and hit the pub.
We drank and danced
and were exposed to some interpretative dance.
It wasn't long before I was captivated.
Behind a microphone with nice piece of brass
in his left hand, was a boy.
A tall, rather good looking, smiling boy.
Now as girls do, I mentioned to my bestie
that I thought Brass Boy was attractive.
Her response was something along the lines of
" I've known him for years, he's not your type"
Never the less the thread had passed through the needle.
I threw it across the room at him.
It hit, but didn't stick.
I received a quiet invitation to a gig the following night.
With some struggle, nervousness, and awkwardness
we ended up hanging out.
He and I quickly developed a friendship, he really made me laugh,
this shocked bestie and others.
She was right, that bestie of mine.
He wasn't my type at all.
He was nice!
Gentle, caring, nurturing, understanding and amazing.
Our threads had crossed, then crossed back over again.
Each day our paths are drawn closer together
and our threads are making beautiful patterns
on the fabric of our souls.
The connections in my life
amaze me more every day.
Me and He - Bluesfest 2013
Thursday, 21 March 2013
These boys I know make a lot of noise
So, there are these boys I know.
They're musicians.
I am especially honoured that Mrs Bass Face has offered her friendship too me; and while I am the grandma of the group, some days it feels like she is taking me under her wing and not the other way around.
Mr Keys, Mr Gheee-tar, Mr Bass Face, Mr Brass Boy and Mr Thumper.
They play music, sometimes all together, when this happens, they are called Clocks and Dice.
Sometimes in combinations of together and can be known as The Mo'villians, Swingset, Clock and Die .
4 of them live together, yep band share house, scary right ? It gets better.
4 of them study music at University together.
Things are going so well for this band that they are playing the Lotus Palace Stage at BLUESFEST!
When I first heard that they were going to live together, play together and study together, I have to admit, I was a little worried.
Having lived in plenty of share house situations before, I could see all the ways that this could fall apart.
It hasn't.
These men, have bonded, shared and experienced a great deal in the last 3 months,
away from there families and partners, they have developed a new family between themselves.
But it's not the music that is the glue that is holding this all together.
It is a beautiful, vibrant and brave woman.
Mrs Bass Face.
This lady has her work cut out for her, living with 4 musicians.
She too is studying and in her spare time makes the most magnificent millinery creations.
She is the glue.
I feel pretty blessed that these people have come into my life, that they are sharing their adventures with me and that I can ride on this musical rollercoaster.
I am especially honoured that Mrs Bass Face has offered her friendship too me; and while I am the grandma of the group, some days it feels like she is taking me under her wing and not the other way around.
Mrs Bass Face
she is the glue.
Clocks and Dice
Tuesday, 19 March 2013
Writing in Bars with Boys
Pen, paper.
Bar, Band.
Bar, Band.
Pot of Tea; English Breakfast.
Words seem to come
easy.
He plays my song.
A smile paints my lips.
His words eclipse
those wandering
in my mind.
My thoughts
inky smudges
unfinished, unclear.
Avoiding, over-thinking.
Paralysed by temptation.
Lost in his eyes.
Drowning in my cup of tea.
Saturday, 12 March 2011
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