I am sick and tired of people bagging out Perth, telling me that it’s dullsville and it’s stuck in the dark ages. We are the most isolated city in the world. Get over it. We do things our way. Get over it. Don’t like it? Get the fuck out of here.
I like Perth, there, I’ve said it. I can’t think of anywhere else that gives people such a blank canvas. Perth is ultimately, what you make it. Don’t like the fact that there’s fuck all zines in the city? You make one. Don’t like hardcore? Make your own band. Think it’s boring? Then quit moaning and find something to do!
Make things happen. In Perth we have a population full of kids who want something to do. If you host gigs, people will come after some time. People will get to recognise you for better or worse, yes it will take some time but Perth is so small that it will take less time than the larger cities where everything has already been done and is still going.
If you want to tell me that you can go elsewhere and do better then quit talking! Get the fuck out of Perth! I don’t want you here! If you don’t want to be here, I don’t want you here.
You could do a lot worse!
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Introducing Noah
Meeting new writers is always an interesting process. I always want to know exactly who it is who’s writing for me so as I can defend my decisions of their inclusion if need be. In between issue 2 and 3, I had 2 new writers join the Lost team. One of them was a guy by the name of Noah Skape. He said he was the front man for a band by the name of The FAIM Project. His writing was good, so I decided to run it, but I wanted to know what made this guy tick. I really didn’t want to print his stuff to find he was renowned for being all talk or a neo-nazi etc. so I asked around as to if anyone has heard of this guy or his band. The result was a scary, but reassuring no; I mean people would’ve heard about him if he was the local representative of the national front, yeah? I found out his band were playing a rare show in late January so I resolved to head down to check this band out. By the beginning of January, I had managed to book his band for the launch. Hey, I thought, this guy’s given me two pages worth of material, the least I owe him is a slot to play at the launch, and his band could even open if it came to it.
So I went down to the show to find my friend Blake down there and no one else. Ok, I thought, the bands playing with them aren’t exactly the balls-out punk I normally watch, that’s ok. Whilst watching one of the opening bands play, I noticed a guy walking around with David Bowie style makeup, a suit jacket and red jeans. The guy looked interesting, but I’d never seen him before. Seeing him was like the first time I saw Viv, the magnet inside of me was flared. Now, for those of you who don’t know, ever since I was about 17, I’ve had what can only be described as a magnet inside of me which flares up upon meeting certain people, who usually go on to become great friends. To this day, I have no idea what sets it off or why I have it, only that it flares at certain people and ignores others. I decided to talk to this cool looking guy before the night was over, but I really wanted to meet this Noah guy – he was what I was here for. The guy I’d been looking at disappeared for a while, which was cool with me, I’d find him a bit later. I went to the toilet while FAIM set up, started a random conversation with some guy sat at the bar then pushed my way to the front of about 10 people to see this band that I’d booked to play and more importantly see who the hell this Noah guy was. Well, you can all imagine the look of surprise on the face of your humble narrator when this makeup clad cool cat I’d resolved to talk to takes the mic and starts singing. Now imagine my face when I actually realise that this guy, and his band, has talent! I spend the set watching Noah walk all over the bar, climb up onto the amp system, climb on the drum kit, jump on his guitarist, run around going generally crazy and keep every eye in the room locked firmly on him for 40mins. A few weeks after the show, I read a review that labels the band akin to a modern day Sex Pistols; fair call. I mention to my friend, Blake that I came to meet this singer I’m watching and the band that’s playing. The whole set, Blake stands there with a look of horror on his face. He mentions that they have ‘Homoerotic undertones’ and later refers to them as a ‘gayer version of the looney tunes’.
So I went down to the show to find my friend Blake down there and no one else. Ok, I thought, the bands playing with them aren’t exactly the balls-out punk I normally watch, that’s ok. Whilst watching one of the opening bands play, I noticed a guy walking around with David Bowie style makeup, a suit jacket and red jeans. The guy looked interesting, but I’d never seen him before. Seeing him was like the first time I saw Viv, the magnet inside of me was flared. Now, for those of you who don’t know, ever since I was about 17, I’ve had what can only be described as a magnet inside of me which flares up upon meeting certain people, who usually go on to become great friends. To this day, I have no idea what sets it off or why I have it, only that it flares at certain people and ignores others. I decided to talk to this cool looking guy before the night was over, but I really wanted to meet this Noah guy – he was what I was here for. The guy I’d been looking at disappeared for a while, which was cool with me, I’d find him a bit later. I went to the toilet while FAIM set up, started a random conversation with some guy sat at the bar then pushed my way to the front of about 10 people to see this band that I’d booked to play and more importantly see who the hell this Noah guy was. Well, you can all imagine the look of surprise on the face of your humble narrator when this makeup clad cool cat I’d resolved to talk to takes the mic and starts singing. Now imagine my face when I actually realise that this guy, and his band, has talent! I spend the set watching Noah walk all over the bar, climb up onto the amp system, climb on the drum kit, jump on his guitarist, run around going generally crazy and keep every eye in the room locked firmly on him for 40mins. A few weeks after the show, I read a review that labels the band akin to a modern day Sex Pistols; fair call. I mention to my friend, Blake that I came to meet this singer I’m watching and the band that’s playing. The whole set, Blake stands there with a look of horror on his face. He mentions that they have ‘Homoerotic undertones’ and later refers to them as a ‘gayer version of the looney tunes’.
When the show was over, I went into the band room to introduce myself. I remember saying:
Me: “Are you Noah?”
Noah [staring at me like I’m some sort of stalker]: Uh, yeah
Me: I’m Cadbury from Lost
Noah: Oh, sweet, Can’t wait for the launch. I’m so excited
Noah walks off to pack up the drum kit or something or other and leaves me to talk to their guitarist. I decide the guy’s either a tosser or is shy. Based upon his level of response when I revealed who I was, I decided just shy –something I was right about when I saw him again at writer’s night. I don’t normally have this sort of reaction to most of my writers, but this was a pleasant surprise. I just hope I can find more cool writers like Noah without even realising it.
Me: “Are you Noah?”
Noah [staring at me like I’m some sort of stalker]: Uh, yeah
Me: I’m Cadbury from Lost
Noah: Oh, sweet, Can’t wait for the launch. I’m so excited
Noah walks off to pack up the drum kit or something or other and leaves me to talk to their guitarist. I decide the guy’s either a tosser or is shy. Based upon his level of response when I revealed who I was, I decided just shy –something I was right about when I saw him again at writer’s night. I don’t normally have this sort of reaction to most of my writers, but this was a pleasant surprise. I just hope I can find more cool writers like Noah without even realising it.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Zero Interest in... OUT OF HIS ELEMENT
Tonight (Sunday 15th March, 2009), I was in one of the single most strange situations I’ve ever been in. I had a ticket to Cirque Du Soliel… and the VIP section.
Leading up to this event, I had no idea it would be so awkward. In fact, I was quite looking forward to it. I’d been sick for about two weeks previously (missing three concerts, which blew), but I was finally starting to feel better, and a night of mind blowing French circus excellence was exactly what I was in need for.
What I didn’t need was to be stuck in pretentious-ville beforehand.
Unfortunately, and with you knowing standard writing form, that’s exactly what happened.
It all started well, we were able to park nice and close (due to VIP parking), and CDS was just across the road. Compared to last time where we had a super long walk, this was a pleasant relief.
After parking the car, entering the vicinity, and progressing along to “our” tent (a magical location entitled ‘Tapis Rouge’), we made our way in. We were handed a free program, the air conditioning was nice, and the room kind of looked and felt like the Korova Milk Bar.
You’re thinking: “Well, Zero, that doesn’t sound bad…”
WELL, SIR, YOU ARE WRONG! YOU ARE WRONG LIKE DONKEY KONG!
I could tell just by walking in, I was out of my element. Everyone there had an air of total pretentiousness to them, and suddenly, I felt it coming on as well. “Ha! Look at us! In this fancy room, away from all those plebs!” I didn’t know what I was saying. I didn’t know what I was doing. All I knew was that this was Tapis Rouge, and fuck the rest of them!
There was fine wine, though I didn’t drink any. Maybe I should have, the drunkenness would have made me feel far less nervous and pessimistic.
The food wasn’t real. It was salmon, caviar, and other assorted tiny food. I felt like Nigel Tufnel in This Is Spinal Tap, during the “tiny bread” scene. (I eventually escaped and made my way to the other main tent, and bought chips and chocolate instead. Y’know? REAL FOOD)
The people there had a dignity that I was very uncertain of, it was obvious that they thought they were superior, and a punk kid like me could feel nothing but paranoia by it all.
I soon found myself talking to some man who I later discovered is a doctor. We spoke of science fiction literature, and the price of modern day living, all while feasting on minute pieces of salmon. We spoke like two highfaluting university professors. You know that I’m not like that, and you know how ludicrous this all sounds. Make no mistake though, it really did happen.
Eventually we made our way to the arena, and saw half of the show. Cirque Du Soliel was spectacularly brilliant as usual, and didn’t disappoint.
During intermission we went back to Tapis Rouge, and ate tiny morsels of chocolate cake. Because anything reaching a proper portion would be insanity!
Then I snorted coke.
Rest of the show was good, and we did get a free cd each (which was the only worthwhile experience of being VIP, apart from excellent seats).
Eventually we made our way home, and had McDonalds for tea. This turned out to be a bad idea, and I’m still gassing it up pretty badly.
I’m Zero Interest.
Tonight I was out of my element.
Good night, folks.
Leading up to this event, I had no idea it would be so awkward. In fact, I was quite looking forward to it. I’d been sick for about two weeks previously (missing three concerts, which blew), but I was finally starting to feel better, and a night of mind blowing French circus excellence was exactly what I was in need for.
What I didn’t need was to be stuck in pretentious-ville beforehand.
Unfortunately, and with you knowing standard writing form, that’s exactly what happened.
It all started well, we were able to park nice and close (due to VIP parking), and CDS was just across the road. Compared to last time where we had a super long walk, this was a pleasant relief.
After parking the car, entering the vicinity, and progressing along to “our” tent (a magical location entitled ‘Tapis Rouge’), we made our way in. We were handed a free program, the air conditioning was nice, and the room kind of looked and felt like the Korova Milk Bar.
You’re thinking: “Well, Zero, that doesn’t sound bad…”
WELL, SIR, YOU ARE WRONG! YOU ARE WRONG LIKE DONKEY KONG!
I could tell just by walking in, I was out of my element. Everyone there had an air of total pretentiousness to them, and suddenly, I felt it coming on as well. “Ha! Look at us! In this fancy room, away from all those plebs!” I didn’t know what I was saying. I didn’t know what I was doing. All I knew was that this was Tapis Rouge, and fuck the rest of them!
There was fine wine, though I didn’t drink any. Maybe I should have, the drunkenness would have made me feel far less nervous and pessimistic.
The food wasn’t real. It was salmon, caviar, and other assorted tiny food. I felt like Nigel Tufnel in This Is Spinal Tap, during the “tiny bread” scene. (I eventually escaped and made my way to the other main tent, and bought chips and chocolate instead. Y’know? REAL FOOD)
The people there had a dignity that I was very uncertain of, it was obvious that they thought they were superior, and a punk kid like me could feel nothing but paranoia by it all.
I soon found myself talking to some man who I later discovered is a doctor. We spoke of science fiction literature, and the price of modern day living, all while feasting on minute pieces of salmon. We spoke like two highfaluting university professors. You know that I’m not like that, and you know how ludicrous this all sounds. Make no mistake though, it really did happen.
Eventually we made our way to the arena, and saw half of the show. Cirque Du Soliel was spectacularly brilliant as usual, and didn’t disappoint.
During intermission we went back to Tapis Rouge, and ate tiny morsels of chocolate cake. Because anything reaching a proper portion would be insanity!
Then I snorted coke.
Rest of the show was good, and we did get a free cd each (which was the only worthwhile experience of being VIP, apart from excellent seats).
Eventually we made our way home, and had McDonalds for tea. This turned out to be a bad idea, and I’m still gassing it up pretty badly.
I’m Zero Interest.
Tonight I was out of my element.
Good night, folks.
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