Outside of Society!: Seeing Patti Smith Live

Just an introductory note: I never meant for this piece to be so long – I started it a few months ago, meaning for it to be a simple review of a show I’d recently attended. And then…it just sort of materialised into a reflection on what Patti Smith meant to me, what the show represented, all the feelings that “fandom” ignites in its participants…and then…I wrote a poem about the experience for my English class, so I had to include that too! I’m incredibly proud of what I’ve written – I hope you all enjoy it too! But there is also a 4,000+ word count, so read in increments if you like. I’d love to hear your feedback, though, or about any similar experiences you guys have had – be sure to leave ’em in the comments! 


PART 1: The essay.

I don’t think I’d ever really expected to be standing in the presence of one of my greatest heroes. This wasn’t exactly helped by the fact that virtually all of them lived in assorted locations on the other side of the world, and that the vast majority of them were either in their senior years – or dead. But yet, I found myself doing just that several months ago, on Easter Sunday, as I stood in the aisles of Melbourne’s Hamer Hall, dancing and screaming and revelling in the fact that, maybe 20 metres away me, was Patti Smith.

The story of how Patti became my absolute greatest living hero is like something out of a cliche coming-of-age movie. I was in a massive record store one morning a little over two years ago, in June or July 2015, when – while searching through the sales section – I randomly came across the cheapest CD I’d seen yet. It had a cover quite unlike anything else I’d seen – so stark and cool, and yet so inviting – and it carried a ‘Parental Advisory’ sticker, which seemed so very edgy and grownup at the time. I decided to buy this album – Horses – on a whim, as I slowly realised that I vaguely recognised Patti’s name from a bunch of Pitchfork articles and interviews with Courtney Barnett, an artist who I liked. I stuck it in my CD player when I got home, eager to see if she was as good as Courtney had made her out to be. It kind of confused me at first – I’d read that she played punk music, and the soft piano chords that began the album didn’t exactly align with what I thought ‘punk’ was, back then. But then, this voice sings a lyric so liberating and disembodying – “Jesus died for somebody’s sins, but not mine” – to my impressionable ears, that I physically had to stop everything I was doing for the entirety of the album’s length.

Patti’s – and David Bowie’s, whom I would discover only a couple of weeks later – arrival in my life signified a new era of my identity. If the Beatles started to teach a younger me about the importance of creativity, idealism and individuality, it was Smith and Bowie that slammed this philosophy into the essence of who I see myself as. These two artists existed on a plane where not only was it okay, but actually rather cool, to be what mainstream society deems “weird” – where liking obscure postpunk compilations and disaffected ’60s literature and perplexing art movies and a mishmash of Doc Martens and assorted op-shop clothes was encouraged; where being a girl didn’t mean that I had to wear my skirts below my knee, find a good man to stand by, have 2.5 kids, and be a perfect, God-fearing housewife, like my school at the time had taught me for the entirety of my preteen years; where I could dream about writing the greatest alternative album of the 21st Century and living in the East Village of Manhattan without being shunned. I fell madly in love with their world, and began to throw myself into it pretty quickly. In the case of Patti, by the end of that year, I’d consumed a large amount of her writings and other albums, devoured the records of her CBGB contemporaries, wrote lists of my favourite albums and books that always positioned her work somewhere in the top 3, Blu-Tac-ed a picture of her to my wall alongside one of my Beatles posters, cemented a skinny black tie as a mainstay of my wardrobe, and begun a fascination with New York City on the basis of Just Kids that’s only increased ever since. Unlike all my heroes before, Patti and David were also alive – although it was extraordinarily idealistic, collaborating with them on some multimedia avant-garde art project was a lot more possible than my previous daydreams of hanging out with John Lennon and Brian Jones could ever have been.

So let’s fastforward to a year later – November 2016. It’s now been close to eighteen months since I spontaneously fell in love with Horses. The combination of her influence on me across this time and my growing adoration of her mean that she seems kind of like a mythical goddess to me. I’ve also since become a lot more knowledgeable on the details of her career, and am aware that she’s mainly a writer, now – and that even if she had done several recent shows around the place to celebrate the 40th anniversary of Horses, I know that seeing her live is a highly unlikely event. This context should help you to understand the earsplitting scream I let out when my mum showed me an email on her phone one afternoon – an email containing a receipt for tickets to Patti Smith’s first Melbourne show in eight years. It wasn’t even particularly surprising, or anything. I knew that Patti was going to play a music festival up north around that time – and I’d read an hour or so earlier that she was playing shows elsewhere, and was already partway through planning my sermon to my parents as to why flying to Melbourne (the show closest to my hometown, Adelaide – yet still an hour’s flight away) to see her would be a sane idea. It was just this idea that something I’d fantasised about for so long was going to become a reality – that I would, indeed, be standing in the presence of probably my greatest living hero. Let’s not forget that my other greatest dream – meeting David Bowie, or at least seeing him live at the surprise Blackstar concert I (prior to January 10) was convinced would be randomly announced via an obscure social media platform one afternoon – had been crushed that January, and how this had only cemented the idea that seeing my heroes was a scenario reserved for my daydreams. It blew my mind.

I spent the six months or so that ensued in a state of excited shock. I was thrilled about what was happening, but it seemed too unreal for its inevitableness to be contended with. I listened to Horses countless times, and tried to imagine what it would sound like live. I planned what I’d wear – a t-shirt over the top of a striped polo-neck, with a black mini-skirt, fishnet tights, and Doc Martens – months beforehand. I spent one night a couple of days prior to the date printing a t-shirt reading ‘Patti Smith Is Cool’ with my mum. I reread my copies of Just Kids and M Train and Collected Lyrics: 1970-2015. I made playlists of all her songs and listened to them on repeat, and lipsynched my favourites in front of my mirror like some romcom trope. I packed my bag the night before, snuggling my copy of Collected Lyrics in between my toiletries and my tartan shift dress that I planned to wear the day after.  I couldn’t fathom, though, what the day would actually be like – constantly revisiting the material that had affected me so just made her seem even more mythical, and the idea that this person, who I’d never met and yet had changed my life, could be just as real as myself appeared to become even more unthinkable.

This even continued as the day began to arrive. I saw Blondie the week before. Although I was a good 500 metres away from the stage (at least), seeing Deborah Harry “in the flesh” was incredible – and yet, perhaps it was just that I was largely watching her on a massive TV screen, that she was too far away to really see, but I could barely get over my disbelief that the woman in front of me singing ‘Atomic’ was the same one whose records I’d memorised, whose likeness was stuck on my wall. It was almost unbearably surreal – this person, who it felt as if they only existed within the planes of music blogs and record shops and my mum’s record collection and my brain, as if they were almost a figment of my imagination, had suddenly become tangible. This lingered in my mind as the days ’til Patti crept closer- why can’t I see my heroes as real people? Are they – as I perceive them – even real? If I could only barely put this weird sensation to one side in order to dance and recite the rap part of ‘Rapture’ by heart in front of maybe my 10th-favourite band, how would I cope in front of my greatest hero in the entire world?

Me, upon arrival at Hamer Hall

Then it was suddenly Sunday, a day I’d awaited for so many months, that I’d dreamt about so much that it felt like a dream itself . I flew to Melbourne, listening to Horses and reading the entire “Early Work” section of Collected Lyrics over and over and over. We wandered around in the hours before, drinking tea in the cafes and buying takeaway rice paper rolls from the restaurants that we always visited, but it didn’t feel the same. My heart raced as I half-watched a bizarre quiz show on the hotel’s cable channels while blaring ‘Dancing Barefoot’ through my headphones, as I fixed my makeup, as I slipped my homemade t-shirt over my turtleneck, as I ran out the hotel room door, my legs shaky with excitement, and down the lift and across the city and to the concert hall. It all still seemed too surreal, like a dream sequence from my imaginary biopic film – I physically could not believe what was happening, my brain could not compute as I approached the hall, as I walked past the chalkboard out front that read “Patti Smith: Tonight!”, as I stood by the big glass doors of the foyer and watched so many people with clothes as kooky and copies of Collected Lyrics as worn as my own shuffle across to the theatre doors… I felt so heady and trembly – endlessly perplexed as to whether I was really just experiencing a super realistic lucid dream. I knew this day was so important, that no moment in my life before had received such an anticipated build-up, that it would be one that I would fixate on when retelling tales of the “good ol’ days” in middle age – my daydreams had told me as much – but I’d dreamt about it too often. I couldn’t work out whether my surrounds were real or not – I could barely replace the scenes my anticipation had conjured up in the previous months with what was becoming a reality around me. What if I’d removed myself from reality so much that the event itself would have little effect on my psyche – what if it became as insignificant, in the scheme of my life, as whatever day had preceded it?

I had to line up for half an hour to buy my merchandise. I shuffled through the foyer, my hands breaking out in cold sweat, the air humid with body heat, as piles of people crowded around me, doing just the same. I watched as the line snaked past the door, as it grew so long it could barely fit within the confines of the room – people grinning as excitedly as I was, with the same Dr Martens and mismatched vintage clothes and strange haircuts as those that Patti and her contemporaries had allowed me to wear, discussing the merits of ‘Piss Factory’ and ‘Land’ as fluently and passionately as my own thoughts. Music, and the culture that surrounded it, had always been such a solitary pursuit. It was something I read about quietly in the back corner of my classrooms, that I Blu-Tac-ed my passion for over my bedroom walls, that I bought from the privacy of a eBay username or from hard-to-find shops, that I write about on here in the comfort of my anonymity – heck, even the “rebellion” and liberation it inspired in me was merely the inward knowledge that I was cooler than most people around me had ever assumed I had the capability to be. And yet, here were these people, like me. It was the most disconcertingly beautiful thing.

A favourite photo of Patti. (credit: Judy Linn)

My mum and I chatted with the Melbourne couple behind us, in the half-hour merchandise line, who spoke of how they’d seen Patti in a small club in New Orleans, of how they’d been to literally every show and festival (they’d been to Dark MOFO!) I’d ever dreamt of attending. It wasn’t just Patti that felt magical – the idea of Melbourne felt mythical, that night, with its abounding arts culture and opportunities and “the world is your oyster” attitude so much greater than anything I’d ever known, too. I swiped the last remaining tour brochure, that someone had dropped on a nearby bench, even with the beer-glass stain that circled Patti’s face like a halo – not an activity that was even remotely dangerous, and yet, it felt so daring and adventurous. felt daring and adventurous, and all kinds of incredible like I’d never felt before.

Later, the doors opened, and I found my seat, stumbling in awe. Twenty minutes ’til Patti. Starting promptly at 8:30. Magda Szubanski sat three rows down from us; Courtney Barnett herself, perhaps the reason I even knew about Patti in the first place, was seemingly in the second row of the stalls. I sat in the dress circle, at a height almost as heady as my blood pressure. I could already feel the heat drifting up to my face, as I found my spot, the fold-down seat bouncing as I nervously shifted from side to side. I could see the roadies placing Lenny Kaye’s guitars on stage; the stage lights were switched on, too, their blue streaks bouncing off the house lights. A group of 20-something girls sat down next to my seat, one of them clutching a copy of Collected Lyrics as worn and well-loved as my own. I’d never seen another real life copy of Collected Lyrics before. My fishnets itched against my legs.

A photo my dad took.

The lights dimmed, the stage swathed in a layer of twilight-blue lighting; an image of Patti, black-and-white, steely gaze, jacket swung over shoulder – the very same image that compelled me to add Horses to my record collection two years earlier – illuminated in the background. Electric silence. I sat as far at end of my seat as I could, just short of falling off, peering intently over the dress circle balcony for the slightest billowing of a stage curtain, for an indication of her presence. And then, there she was. She stood at the stage’s centre, sporting a waistcoat, a white shirt, black straight-legged pants, brown boots, her long grey hair falling around her shoulders. She looked exactly the same as every recent picture of her I’d ever seen. I’d always assumed she’d (or that anyone, for the matter, who’d I stared at incessantly over the Internet) look different, in real life – but she didn’t. It was like in Mulholland Drive, when Diane attends a party and sees a cowboy leaving, a cowboy identical to a presence who recurs in her dreams. It was bizarre.

Soft piano chords. “Jesus died for somebody’s sins, but not mine.” I can’t move. So much like how I felt, that morning in 2015 – and yet, so different, so far. Patti is there. The voice floating from the speakers is from a stage a few metres below me. The woman that recorded an album that entirely changed the course of my life is standing right in front of me, performing said album. I don’t think I could tap my foot, or even smile, at that point – I sat totally rigid, at the edge of my seat, eyes frozen open. Everything was so weird and unbelievable and hazy and surreal. I feebly lipsynched along to ‘Gloria’, virtually involuntarily. Perhaps moving your lips becomes a subconscious action, when a song you’ve poured over hundreds of thousands of times is blaring out of a speaker in front of your ears…

About a third of the way through ‘Birdland’, the entirety of the stalls stood up and fled toward the stage, in a frenzied stampede. The crowed writhed to the beat, extending their hands toward the stage, closing their eyes in ecstasy, becoming more frantic as each song raced toward their climaxes. I stood up, too, in the aisle of my row. I danced and danced and danced, worse than when I dropped out of ballet school when I was seven, to the point that I had a side stitch, but I didn’t even care – I was so ridiculously, beautifully elated that I couldn’t even notice. I physically couldn’t force my face from the massive grin now spread across it, even when my jaw began to hurt. The lights bathed the crowd below in bluish stardust; they glowed behind Patti, like an archangel’s halo, an aura. She was like some kind of angel. I am the lord of the dance, said she.

Me dancing (!)

The bass pulsates through my soul. Water vapour, from everyone’s sweat, drifting around the ceiling, covers the room in a misty fog – the lights stream through, like when the moon shines through a flurry of clouds. Patti begins to perform ‘Break It Up’, and she asks us to sing along.  “Break it up!” “Break it up!” Hundreds of voices – they echo across the walls, gliding along the fog, as if they are floating toward the sky. Like when we sang Psalm 121 en masse, in Choir in Grade 4; like a chorus of angels. Patti’s halo glitters with mist. I sing along, hopelessly out of tune, my throat too dry with adrenaline to be able to determine pitch – but, again, I do not care, for I am so deliriously, joyously happy that nothing other than the fact that Patti is several metres away from me matters.

“The boy was in the hallway, drinking a glass of tea / from the other end of the hallway, a rhythm was generating.” The pounding drums of ‘Land’ build up in my chest, I can’t keep my feet still. “Do you know how to twist?” Yes I do, and it goes like this, and it goes like this… And they segue back into ‘Gloria’, and I scream the lyrics at the top of my lungs, and my mind is so numb with euphoria that I could almost cry, and I lift my hands above my head and reach for the heavens because maybe Jesus died for somebody’s sins but it’s Patti who I worship tonight, and my feet, they run up and down the aisle and I can barely feel my toes but I don’t even realise –  and Patti runs up and down the stage, dancing, yelling, her hair flying, her actual voice echoing from the loudspeaker in front of me… And then she flies across the side of the stage in front of me, and I am so close to her that I can see the wrinkles around her eyes.

And then there’s an encore, ‘My Generation’, and she ties a yellow gerbera  – from a bouquet of flowers a fan had placed onstage – around her arm and slings a silver guitar over her shoulder, and she attacks it so hard that I watch each petal of the gerbera fly to the stage floor, twinkling like gold underneath the lights. And she screams and swears and plays and dances with so much passion and fervour and noise and beauty, that we are but compelled to do the same. And then, suddenly, the noise – the most incredible, loud, fun dissonance – stops. Patti leaves. The house lights are turned on. Obscure folk music plays over the PA. I cannot move. I have never felt so beautifully dazed in my life.

We sat in our hotel bar, after Patti had left and we’d walked back to our hotel. I sat there, and Joy Division and Bowie were playing over the speakers, and my sweaty hair had stuck to my head, and my cheeks were still flushed, and it was just the strangest feeling. It was like when you awaken from a satisfying dream – when you can’t quite picture what happened, but the residue contentment still flutters in your chest. I physically couldn’t comprehend the idea that what I’d just experienced was real. In fact, I still can’t. What I’ve written here is such a small summary of what I have only begun to truly contend with – I still can barely begin to explain or define what I felt.

But it occurred to me that night. David Bowie always used to say that, in real life, to his family and friends, he was still just David Jones – it was only in the public eye, to us fans, that he became “Bowie”. So then, maybe, the Patti that I adored, indeed, wasn’t even real – maybe my love of Patti was not about her, per se. Sure, I admired her for the kind of person her music and writings portray her as – but maybe my love for her work was just as much about me, too. Perhaps I loved Horses, not just because of the music, the lyrics, but for what it represented to me – my rebellion, my liberation, my self-realisation. Maybe the show was not just about seeing Patti, but what it incited in me – how the sweat trickled down my arms as I screamed and danced, until I could barely move my legs, how I knew every word of every song, the delirious joy, the freedom I felt. That perhaps it was’t really Patti and David that “allowed” me to take pride in my differences – although, it was their music that inspired me to think about things a little more. That maybe, to paraphrase a poem I wrote:

“The person who told me that I was cool, that I was worthy,
It wasn’t Patti:

It was me.”

Another photo courtesy of my dad.


PART 2: The poem.

The Days I Saw Patti Smith

It was two years ago when 
Patti Smith’s steely gaze stared straight into my soul
from the comfort of a CD cover at JB Hifi.
I didn’t know anything about her.
But she looked so cool
and the “parental advisory” sticker on the front-right corner seemed so edgy,
and I suddenly became $9.99 poorer.
And when I got home,
and I inserted that $9.99 disc into my old CD player,
I heard a voice so disorientating and incredible that
I had to drop everything I’d been doing,
and listen to my life changing.

And then,
I realised
that everything I’d thought was right about the world
was wrong.
That perhaps I was as strange as the taunts of Year 7’s high society had told me to believe;
but perhaps that was more interesting and cool than they ever could dream to be-
“Outside of society… Outside of society…” That maybe she was right when she wrote of how that was the only place to be…
That perhaps it didn’t matter if my idols weren’t from the Bible, if I didn’t believe,
because maybe, “Jesus died for somebody’s sins, but not mine.”
That perhaps I wouldn’t have to settle for a life of eternal loneliness, with no man to stand by,
if I couldn’t balance a book upon my skull, if I couldn’t cook or clean or sew.
That if Patti was okay, then maybe I was, as well.

And then,
It was six months ago when
Patti Smith’s steely gaze stared straight into my soul
from a Melbourne concert hall stage.
By now, my CD played almost to an oblivion,
A copy of her Collected Lyrics with white creases of weariness across the spine.
She looked so cool, Blu-Tacked on my bedroom wall,
and the concert ticket bearing her name that lay in my suitcase en route to Melbourne Tullamarine, so full of anticipation and adoration, looked even cooler,
and when I got to use that ticket,
When I stood twenty metres from her flying white hair,
Dancing along row 3, dress circle, even worse than when I dropped out of ballet school when I was seven,
Heady with body heat and passion,
Patti was there.
And I don’t even know if she was real,
For there is nothing more surreal than seeing the wrinkles that line the face that lines your walls for yourself,
Than seeing your favourite record come to life, in its glittering, goddess-esque glory.
And the stage lights glowed around her, and the audience chanted her choruses just like we did when we sang ‘The Lord’s Prayer’ in Grade 4, and the band clanged and crashed and floated in the most beautiful, beautiful way,
And she was some kind of auratic archangel
-It was Easter Sunday after all;
A presence, a voice, so disorientating, so incredible, so unbelievably real,
That I couldn’t think about anything else for weeks.

And then,
I realised,
That I was still wrong.
It wasn’t Patti that made me so self-assured, so happy,
It wasn’t Patti that me so proud of the “outside of society,”
The Patti I adored, that I gazed at while she darted across the stage, indeed, wasn’t even real.
For fandom is not about them, the people they really are,
For it is about you,
And your feelings, your memories,
The way their world colours yours,
A testing of your love at its most passionate, its most unconditional,
The truths it ignites within yourself.
The person who told me that I was cool, that I was worthy,
It wasn’t a CD:

It was me.

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The Return – and a new mixtape!

So I’ve been a tad AWOL for the…entirety of this year. Apologies! As I’ve begun to enter my final years of high school and the work has become increasingly demanding, I’ve been forced to spend the time I would have previously spent on this blog revising for Maths tests and organising my Art folio. But good news! I’ve been tapping away at my laptop and planning some posts so that hopefully there will not be another six month hiatus in the near future of this website. It’s good to be back – hopefully some of you are still around!

Anyway, I’ve been working away at a massive thinkpiece about a very special concert I saw several weeks ago for a little while now, and hopefully that should go up in the next few weeks or so – and on top of this, I have plenty of other half-formed drafts to keep me going until the school holidays afford me some free time! But in the meanwhile, I thought I’d update you on what I’ve been listening to lately, and give you some teasers as to what the next few months over here might involve…

‘Birdland’ – Patti Smith

If you’ve been reading this blog for a couple of years, you’ll know that I really, really, really love Patti Smith – her work has affected me so much, and I consider her to be my greatest hero maybe only second to Bowie. So I can’t imagine you’ll be overly surprised to hear that, a few weeks ago, I flew to another city to stand twenty metres away from her while she performed Horses – and that I consider that night to be among the most beautiful and incredible experiences of my life to date. I’ll be exploring this event and its effect on my life in further detail in the aforementioned thinkpiece, but it was just so enthralling and moving and massive to be dancing down the aisles like I haven’t since I was six while my greatest living hero stood mere metres away from you and sang lyrics that have changed my life! There was this especially incredible moment when she was performing ‘Birdland’ that just cemented to me just how surreal and amazing what I was seeing was – Patti was just surrounded by this aura of stage lighting, and the song was reaching peak intensity, and everyone in the stalls just rushed enmasse, at once, to the stage, and Patti was yelling these incredible improvised lyrics into the microphone, and the entire audience were convulsing to the beat. It was beautiful. Read more about it in a few days or so when I finally finish and publish my post!

‘No Plan’ – David Bowie

This song is here for three reasons: a) I travelled to England a few months back, where I was beyond lucky enough to see Lazarus at the King’s Cross Theatre. Although I’d wanted to see it ever since its original New York run was announced, I never really thought that I actually would – not to mention the extra meaning the musical undoubtedly has carried since January 2016 – so to say that I found this to be an incredibly special and moving experience would be an understatement. The above was one of the three new songs that he wrote specifically for it, and I even hung off listening to the soundtrack when it was released several months before I saw the show so I could experience these new tunes just how Bowie wanted. All of these songs are amazing – Bowie’s original versions of them even more so – but ‘No Plan’ might be my favourite of them all… b) I preordered the No Plan EP (the release in which these original versions are housed) in its fanciest vinyl incarnation – the vinyl is white and it’s numbered and it comes with fancy lithographs – many, many months ago, and it’s supposed to arrive this week!!! And c) because it’s nearly a year and a half since Bowie passed away, so I plan on finishing and publishing the post on him that I meant to write in January but didn’t have mange to finish in time then. I also plan on showing you guys some of my pics from England, so watch this space!

‘Shadow’ – Chromatics

Has anybody else been watching Twin Peaks: The Return? I certainly have! One of my many, many favourite parts of the new series (Andy and Lucy’s son and “Helloooooo!” notwithstanding!) is the way that each episode ends with a different band performing a suitably Angelo Badalamenti-esque tune at The Roadhouse – it’s so removed from the insanity that is the rest of the show’s events, giving us a chance to debrief, and it’s just a really cool way to showcase some new tunes! The above is probably my favourite of the ones that have been showcased so far – the song is pure floaty, synthy dream pop (think Julee Cruise’s ‘The Nightingale’ from the original series), and singer Ruth Radalet looks so much like Nico I did a double-take when I first saw her onscreen, and Shelly’s (sarcastic?) remark that “James has always been cool” during its performance helped a bit too… I can’t wait to see where the series goes from here, though – and my excitement about it means that a post about it will probably be forthcoming in the somewhat near future!

‘Leaving LA’ – Father John Misty

When Father John Misty released I Love You, Honeybear back in 2015, I was kinda confused as to why the entirety of the music press was so obsessed with it – I mean, it sounded pretty enough and all, but at the time, fuzzed-up psychedelic rock (which, of course, is still my thing too!) interested me a lot more than existentialist piano ballads, and up until a few months ago I always thought that it was a little overrated. Anyway, we recently acquired a copy of the aforementioned Honeybear, and something just clicked – something about the lyrics and the melodies and the production and just the essence of each song welled up and burst into one of the most beautiful things I’d ever heard. ‘Leaving LA’, from this year’s Honeybear-followup Pure Comedy, somehow manages to supersede what I thought would be the near-impossible task of bettering its predecessor. My first listening of it easily became among the most magical and incredible 13 minutes of my life, and it – in all of its beautiful instrumentation, and oh, among the most literate and incredible lyrics of the past twenty years – undoubtedly deserves a place in pop music’s grandest songbooks alongside ‘Stairway To Heaven’ and the rest. It’s also restored my interest in new music – something which my aforementioned school-related busy-ness has prevented me from discovering as much as I’d like – and so there might just be a post on some of my current faves sometime soon, too!

‘I Don’t Wanna Be Too Cool’ – Kate Fagan & ‘Button Up’ – The Bloods

Although I haven’t been discovering as much music this year as I’d like, I have been researching and unearthing some obscure American postpunk gems over the past few months. Unlike its oft-poppier English counterpart (which I also love – don’t get me wrong!), this incarnation of the movement was edgier than punk itself, incorporating obscure and abrasive instrumentation, primal rhythms, droning vocals, objectively bad production techniques, weird intellectualist lyrics, even oddly-juxtaposed disco guitar licks – and it’s just the absolute coolest thing ever! It was no surprise to me to learn that many of these musicians were also underground visual artists and filmmakers as well – their music easily fits as an extension of the ideas and aesthetics explored within these. Another aspect of the movement that I also particularly love was its empowerment of women; every single one of the bands I’ve discovered had at least one female member, and it’s really quite something to see how these artists could be as overtly feminine as they wished and still be considered every bit as valid as their male colleagues – especially after realising that it seems like we’ve almost backpedalled on this a bit in comparison. The above songs are two that I feel best exhibit the movement in all of its noisy, feminine glory, and I haven’t been able to stop listening to them – ‘Button Up’ especially! – for ages… Maybe I’ll compile my finds into a post sometime soon as well, if you like!

‘Hospital’ – The Modern Lovers

The other band that I’ve really gotten into over the past few months is The Modern Lovers. Founded by a Lou Reed-obsessed Jonathan Richman in Boston in the early ’70s, they were no more by 1974 and their only album was released in 1976 – but they, like The Velvets (and Big Star), have gone on to be credited with inventing much of what we call “alternative music” today. The main reason, though, that I’ve come to love them so much is the way that they contrast nerdiness with edginess, and how relatable I find this – while I adore the music and lyrics of Reed/Alex Chilton/Iggy Pop/Patti Smith/et al, I’m the first to admit that I otherwise fit the stereotype of the socially awkward goody two shoes perfectly, this something that tends to be derided in the music that I like. It’s nice to find a similar band from this era that not only revels in this kind of nerdy awkwardness, but acknowledges that you can both be this way inclined AND love edgy underground music – they’re pretty much the most relatable band I’ve ever discovered! I especially love this particular song, and I haven’t really stopped listening to it for the past few weeks…

‘Let’s Go To Bed’ – The Cure

Not particularly related to anything other than the fact that I started working at my school’s canteen one day a week, and the woman who runs it very kindly gave me a copy of The Cure’s Greatest Hits – meaning that I now own this song and can jump around my living room to it any time I wish! This makes me very pleased indeed…

Here’s some “old” faves that I may or may not have mentioned before on here that have also been in high circulation on my record player/stereo/YouTube account, too:

Anyway, it’s nice to be back – hopefully I’ll be posting and chatting to you guys a lot more again soon! Feel free to let me know what you’ve been listening/watching/reading/whatever-ing, lately, too! 🙂

tangerinetrees99 plays another gig!

Unless you’ve been reading this blog for a couple of years, you might be unaware that, on top of being a music fan, I’m actually an aspiring musician myself. So, about a month ago, I was lucky enough to be able to play a short set at a fairly well-known pub in my city! I performed a Bowie cover (‘Quicksand’) and a Courtney Barnett cover (‘Kim’s Caravan’), the latter being a duet with my guitar teacher. It was such an amazing experience – a few people even came up to me afterwards to tell me how much they enjoyed it! – and it was easily among the most thrilling and enjoyable things I’ve done. Anyway, here are a couple of clips from the gig…

SEE ALSO: tangerinetrees99 plays her first gig!

It was two years ago today!

Happy birthday, All You Need Is The Beatles!

Happy birthday, All You Need Is The Beatles!

On the 5th of June, 2014, I published my very first post on this blog. And today – 13,800 views, 92 posts and 121 readers on – marks 2 years since I first made this blog live. So happy birthday, All You Need Is The Beatles! Thank you so much to you all for joining me on this ride – for reading what I publish, and for adding your own thoughts in the comments section and for sharing them with your social media followers, too. It is what turns AYNITB from a random site where I post ramblings on music to an interesting and lively community – it means a lot! I’ve certainly enjoyed the past two years with this place, and I hope you all have too… And so here’s to the next year, with all the writing, commenting and musicality that will undoubtedly arrive with it! I don’t know about you, but I for one am looking forward to it very much… 🙂

All You Need Is The Beatles is now on Instagram, too!

Recently, I got around to setting up an Instagram account to go with All You Need Is The Beatles!

tangerinetrees99 on instagram

I’ll be posting about a few different things: mainly updates about new posts on here, my favourite pictures of my favourite rock musicians, images of my own art, photos of gigs I’ve been to (or played myself!), and pictures of my own music-related stuff stuff, like books, posters, guitars & my vinyl collection. My handle is tangerinetrees99, and you can find me here: https://instagram.com/tangerinetrees99/. (A link can also be found in my About page and along the bar of widgets to the blog’s right.)

-tangerinetrees99

You Say It’s Your Birthday!

I got a little arty for the occasion!

I drew a picture for the occasion!

Today is the 5th of June, 2015. Precisely one year ago, I was writing my very first blog post and publishing my brand-new blog. And 4,974 views, 79 readers (that’s you!), 67 blog posts and 1 year later, I’m writing a post, too! So happy first birthday, All You Need Is The Beatles. To quote John, ‘another year over, and a new one just begun’.

AYNITB has come a long way since that very first post. (It was titled ‘Welcome To All You Need Is The Beatles!’, and you can read it here.) In the profile I wrote on myself in my post, I said that John Lennon was my favourite Beatle and that Revolver was my favourite Beatles album. That hasn’t changed. And oh, I still like making really bad Beatles puns. You can see them scattered throughout the blog.

But so much has changed in the world of AYNITB, too. You may have noticed that I said something about publishing my poetry and prose on here. Which I don’t do anymore. And now, I write about loads of my other favourite artists, as well. This time last year, I would have barely even heard of a few of the artists that I now know and love. And I hated all modern music, which has changed, too. I started this blog as a place where I could write about The Beatles, and occasionally publish my poetry. It’s sort of turned into a place where I can rant about all my favourite artists, review gigs I’ve been to, write about my own adventures in the world of music and…write about The Beatles!

And these past 12 months have been pretty awesome, and I chronicled some great times on here! I wrote about that time I went to my first Beatles tribute, or that time I saw some members of Australian alternative rock royalty perform The White Album in its entirety, or when I finally got my fancy Blu-Ray of A Hard Day’s Night. More recently, I wrote about playing my first gig, and when I met one of my musical heroes, Courtney Barnett! Writing about music is a wonderful thing. Music is something that brings people together; it creates memories. I think it has magical properties. As one of those people who loves music, to be able to write about it is so much fun!

There’s also some posts which I’m pretty proud of, too. I really enjoy writing my approximately weekly posts, and some of my favourites include the pieces I wrote on John Lennon on his birthday and the anniversary of his death, the post I did recently on my favourite bands from the ’60s and ’70s, and my review of Courtney Barnett’s gig in my hometown. (What are your favourite AYNITB posts? I’d love to know!)

And by the way, thank you! Thank you so much for reading my blog. Thank you for adding your thoughts at the end of my posts; I really enjoy waking up the morning after I’ve updated, and seeing all your thoughts and comments. And thank you for ‘liking’ my posts, and sharing them with your Facebook friends and Twitter followers and whatever other social media you may have. Or for sharing them with your friends and family in real life, if any of you do that… You — as the readers — put the ‘community’ in the All You Need Is The Beatles community. So thank you. I really appreciate it! 🙂

Thank you also to my wonderful family and friends who read this blog. Thank you so much for reading my posts, and for telling me what you think, and for offering me advice and for being really supportive of my blog! You all know who you are. 🙂

I’m super excited about this next year of All You Need Is The Beatles! I’ve still got loads of Beatley posts, and most of my writing will be about them. But I’m going to do all sorts of posts about my other favourite artists, too. And I’ll be doing gig reviews, and music reviews, and (hopefully!) posts about my own gigs and songs, too! But The Beatles will still be the main focus. The blog is called All You Need Is The Beatles, after all! To paraphrase The Who, ‘I’ve got a feeling that 2015/16 is gonna be a good year.’

So here’s to the year that was, the year that is and the many years of blogging to come! And now for a song…

Good day sunshine ’till next post! 🙂

I went to see Courtney Barnett!

IMAG0157

Courtney Barnett

Last Thursday, I was lucky enough to see one of my favourite artists live; Courtney Barnett! She was playing a venue called The Gov, which is a bit famous in Adelaide. My parents bought me a ticket just under a day before the show, so thank you so much!

Me before the show

Me before the show

Courtney Barnett is an Australian indie singer, songwriter + guitarist. Her lyrics are marvelously witty and honest and funny, and she sings with her Australian accent. A lot of her songs are a little bit grungy, but a lot of them are softer, too. She and her partner Jen Cloher run an indie record label called Milk! Records. Courtney designs all her album art, too. She released her debut album, Sometimes I Sit and Think and Sometimes I Just Sit in March this year.

The Gov opened its doors at 7:30 and Mum + I arrived not long after. But as we were waiting, somebody walks past us and into the beer garden. And that somebody was Courtney! So after a few minutes, I plucked up my courage and went up to her. I introduced myself and told her that I’m a huge fan. She introduced me to her drummer, Dave, shook my hand, and asked if I was from Adelaide. Dave then took a picture of Courtney and me! They both said they hoped I would enjoy the show. Both Courtney and Dave were really nice, and it was amazing to meet someone I really look up to as an aspiring musician! A memorable start to a memorable night! Courtney actually watched the supports in the audience, which I thought was cool.

Courtney and me!

Courtney and me!

Soon after, the first support band started. They were called The Yabbies, and they were okay, but I thought the second support band were really good! They were called Teeth and Tongue, and played a certain style of half-synth-y, half-guitar-y indie pop which is just pleasing to the ears. Their frontwoman — Jessica Cornelius — also had great stage presence, which is always a plus. I loved dancing to their beats, and got some good photos of them, too.

Teeth and Tongue

Teeth and Tongue

Finally, at around 9:45, Courtney and her band came on! She launched into ‘Elevator Operator’, the first song on her new album, and sung the words in her signature Aussie voice. Everyone stood up, and I took prime position on top of a booth seat so I could see!

Courtney

Courtney!

Courtney and her band then played ‘Lance Jr’, a song from her first EP. ‘Lance Jr’ was in fact the first song of hers that I heard. Courtney then talked to the audience for a bit and played a few more songs from her latest album, like ‘Aqua Profunda!’, ‘Dead Fox’, ‘Small Poppies’ and ‘Nobody Really Cares If You Don’t Go To The Party’.

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A lot of people who go and see Courtney live comment on how her live performances are a bit heavier than the studio versions of her songs. And they’re right. Courtney, Dave and her bassist (a dude called Bones!) absolutely rocked The Gov! The walls and floors were quite literally vibrating! Her voice was a little bit sweeter live than it is on her studio songs — but then, she almost screamed a few of the songs live, too. There was such an air of excitement and energy buzzing throughout The Gov that night…

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Courtney then played a few more songs. One of these was the B-side of her latest single, ‘Depreston’, which is all about house-hunting in a suburb in Melbourne called Preston. (Courtney, who lives in Melbourne, often references the city in her songs.) She also played a song called ‘Kim’s Caravan’, which is about the decline of the Great Barrier Reef and climate change in general. ‘Kim’s Caravan’ is one of the softer songs on Sometimes I Sit…, but it certainly wasn’t live. Courtney’s guitar was feeding like mad during the outro, and it sounded awesome! After a bit over an hour, Courtney, Dave and Bones finished the set with the gritty A-side of her latest single, ‘Pedestrian at Best’, left the stage…

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…And then came back! Courtney announced that she would play a cover of The Lemonheads’ ‘Bein’ Around’. She then dedicated a song to her Adelaide audience — one called ‘Pickles From The Jar’! The song mentions Adelaide a few times, hence the dedication… Finally, Courtney and her band finished off the encore with a heavy version of ‘I’ll Make You Happy’ by The Easybeats. And so she and her band finished her show a little bit after 11:00.

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I really, really enjoyed seeing Courtney Barnett live! Though I couldn’t see very well, and my ears rang for a while, I had an awesome night! Courtney really is amazing live, and is definitely a must-see. (And meeting her and Dave was a huge plus!) You can listen to Sometimes I Sit and Think and Sometimes I Just Sit here, and you can buy it here.

I didn't take this picture. All credit goes to The Gov!

I didn’t take this picture. All credit goes to The Gov!

tangerinetrees99 plays her first gig!

Since midnight on Saturday, the 7th of February, a few things have happened to me:

  1. My Surface Pro 3 – which we had to buy for school purposes – has frozen at least ten times, been in my school’s IT department at least 5 and has suffered from the Blue Screen of Death. Insert the slightly ironic sad face from the Blue Screen here.
  2. Penny Wong – a South Australian senator – bought me waffles! Or more precisely, my parents and I sat next to her in café, and she kindly gave me the waffles she had bought her young daughter (who wouldn’t eat them).
  3. I got an electric guitar! A blonde Epiphone Casino, to be exact (just like what John used from ‘Hey Jude’/’Revolution’ forwards).

But most excitingly, I played my first gig! I learn guitar at a place where the guy who owns it has an affiliation with a well-known live venue in Adelaide called The Wheatsheaf (or the Wheaty). Because of this, our annual student “showcase” is held there.

For about a term, I had been working on writing my own song with my guitar teacher. I called it ‘Wouldn’t That Be Good’, and I basically only finished it a week before the gig. But anyway…

So, the 7th of Feb (the day of the gig) arrived, and as you can imagine, I was all psyched up for my debut! (Okay, not really my debut, but anyway.) I went to my weekly Saturday guitar lesson for one final practice of my own song and the cover I had chosen, went home and arrived at the Wheaty.

The 7th was forecasted to be a 40 degree (Celsius) day. Very, very hot. (Not unusual in an Adelaide Summer, though…) And the Wheaty also turns out to be a tin shed, so it must have been about 45 degrees. Very hot.

So the gig starts, and there is no proper set list. We get through the entire first set, and I still hadn’t been called up. The break between sets comes and then my guitar teacher (who was playing with his duo next) tells me I’m on last! Headliner, eh?? 😉

So I wait a little more, and finally – at around 3:10 PM – it is my turn! The guy who owns the academy and my teacher introduce me. I hop up onto the stage, grab my trusty acoustic-electric (which had been the go-to guitar for all those who had seemingly forgot their own) and I introduce myself. After making a joke which no-one really got, I launch into ‘Little Black Submarines’ by the Black Keys, my chosen cover. After I finish, I get a big applause from the crowd, and I start to play my own song. Again, a big applause. And then I get asked to play an encore! Thinking of what songs I can play best, I play a cover of ‘A Day in the Life’.

After the show finished, heaps of people came up to me. I got a little note from a complete stranger saying that they loved my set. A few people came up to me and said that they, too, enjoyed it. I discussed The Black Keys with the man sitting behind me, and a woman compared my voice to that of Julia Stone!

And if I say so myself, what a groovy debut/not-debut?! Here are some clips:

‘Little Black Submarines’:

 

‘Wouldn’t That Be Good’:

 

‘A Day in the Life’:

And there we go – tangerinetrees99’s first gig!
I had a great day today! Went to see plenty of good music-related exhibitions, and met Scott Hicks at one, to mention two. I shall post again soon, but good day sunshine ‘till then! 🙂

My Beatles Record Collection Pt. 6 – ‘Revolver’

This is the 'Rubber Soul' cover, unstretched and uncropped. Also just turns out to be one of my very favourite Fabs pictures... :-)

This is the ‘Rubber Soul’ cover, unstretched and uncropped. Also just turns out to be one of my very favourite Fabs pictures… 🙂

And ‘My Beatles Record Collection’ returns for another month… Part 6 already, eh? Doesn’t feel like it’s been going that long at all! But anyway, this month we have a particularly special album. In many circles, this deservedly-lauded masterpiece has taken over from Pepper as being regarded as The Beatles’ best album. It arguably began the trend of of “arty” album art. It made number 3 on Rolling Stone’s 500 Greatest Albums (though it topped the same magazine’s ‘Favourite Beatles Album’ readers’ poll). It turns out to be my favourite album of all time. Not to mention the fact that the creator of Mad Men paid $250,000 to feature the last track of this particular album on an episode of the TV show. Thus, I can only be referring to…Revolver!

Sessions for Revolver began in April 1966, after Brian Epstein’s plans for a third film were vetoed by The Beatles. (A third film would not be seen until the — depending on your view — masterpiece and/or complete disaster known as Magical Mystery Tour.) It was decided that the film would be replaced with the release of an LP, which would be one of only two new Beatles releases that year. During this time, The Beatles started using the studio almost like another instrument. EMI engineer Ken Townsend invented artificial double tracking whilst engineering the recording of the album. The album also marks the first time The Beatles went full-out psychedelic, with psychedelic elements evident on nearly every track. The album also included a backwards guitar solo on ‘I’m Only Sleeping’, the first “samples” on ‘Tomorrow Never Knows’, much baroque instrumentation on many Paul tracks on the album, revolutionary (and just dead awesome!) drum parts from Ringo on most songs and the first real crossover of Eastern and Western music on ‘Love You To’. It is also the only album in which the balance of power between John and Paul — from a tracklisting point of view — is completely equal, and marks the time when George really becomes a very talented songwriter. The album was almost ignored at the time of release — overshadowed by John’s ‘Jesus’ quote — was probably one of The Beatles’ least successful albums at time of release. But anyway, Sgt Pepper and Abbey Road are certainly the most iconic Beatles albums, but Revolver is probably the most revolutionary of them all. Though it is very much underrated by the general public, it is often regarded as the best Beatles album by many Beatles/music fans/experts. And very much deservedly so.

Revolver has been my favourite Beatles album since February last year (just before I bought the vinyl featured in this post), but this particularly came to light about seven months later. I remember listening to the album on this particular vinyl after school one night. I reckon it got to the solo in ‘I’m Only Sleeping’ before that particular listen affected me so profoundly that I would never think about The Beatles in the same way again. I read a study conducted mid last year that said that music can get the listener high, and I think that is what happened to me that night. Of course I had called The Fab Four my favourite band for over a year, but it was only then that, for the first time, I really knew what that meant. But anyway…

revolver 1

This is the cover of my LP. If you look closely, you’ll see that it’s a bit tatty to say the least. (There are a few rips in the spine, and bits of the cover have fallen off around the other edge, leaving only the brown cardboard underneath.) But I don’t really care. I think that it gives the record a bit of a story, a bit of charm.

revolver 2

This is the back cover of the album. (I really love the photo session from which the photo on the back originates! Bob Whitaker was so talented. And George’s jacket & John’s shirt are gorgeous.) As you can see, it — like the front — isn’t in particularly good condition, either. The vinyl has seemingly marked it over time. But oh well. The vinyl is an Australian pressing, as shown with the text along the bottom of the cover.

revolver 5

But it’s not just any Australian pressing — it’s a first Australian pressing! One of my only two first Australian pressings, I might add. (Though I recently obtained a third-pressing black-and-gold Please Please Me that I’ll have to go back and do after I’ve finished the studio albums.) The backflaps have a glossy finish much like the front cover, which is contrast to the matte finish of the back. And on a different note, have a look in the right-hand corner — where the catalogue number is on all UK pressings. There, you will see two catalogue numbers; one for the mono pressings (PMCO 7009) and one for the stereo (PSCO 7009). The actual catalogue number is on the label of the actual record, so you’ll see in a couple of photos down whether it is in mono or stereo…

revolver 3

Here’s the actual vinyl. There are quite a few light scratches on both sides, but the record plays near perfectly. Also note the black-and-gold label! The vinyl is probably one of the heaviest in my collection, due to it’s first-pressing-status. Maybe why it plays so beautifully… (But then, the album is — in my opinion — the most beautiful album ever released. I’m not sure it would matter that much to me whether it crackles or not.)

revolver 4

Close up of the label. And the catalogue number is PMCO 7009, meaning that it is in mono! Yay! First-pressing, Australian and mono! (Though it doesn’t have “remix 11” of ‘Tomorrow Never Knows’, as they were only found on the British first pressings.) The original owner has seemingly scribbled their name on the yellow ‘PARLOPHONE’ title — P Bunn. P Bunn looked after their album quite well, I must say.

And there we go! ‘MBRC’ for another month! Next month, tangerinetrees will be focusing on the very first Beatles compilation album, with arguably one of the coolest covers ever designed…

Oh, and I went busking with my guitar on Wednesday, and made $8.70AUD. I also got stuck with a man who tried to sing the various Beatles songs I was playing, but couldn’t really sing. But oh well. $8.70 is a lot more than most artists earn on Spotify. It was a good experience.

Until next post, good day sunshine! 🙂

Rodriguez Report

Look carefully - he's there! My favourite picture that I took of Rodriguez at the show.

Look carefully – he’s there! My favourite picture that I took of Rodriguez at the show.

Me before the gig

Me before the gig

I know every time I go and see a concert, I refer to its respective night as ‘one of the best nights of my life’. But Wednesday night genuinely was one of the best nights in my life. Why? I was lucky enough to see Sixto Rodriguez live! Rodriguez was my first big concert (I have, of course, seen many Beatles tributes before. And I’ve been to WOMAD and the Adelaide Fringe), and let me tell you now, it was a first concert to be very proud of! The atmosphere was amazing, and I swear the live versions of his songs are even better than the versions found on his albums, Cold Fact and Coming From Reality!

For those of you who don’t know who Rodriguez is, you may have heard of a documentary about him called Searching for Sugarman. Searching For Sugarman tells the incredible story of Rodriguez’s career. The basic story is that Rodriguez releases an album called Cold Fact in 1970. It sells something like six copies in the US. But somehow a bootleg of this album found itself in South Africa. Rodriguez quickly became ‘bigger than Elvis’ there, but nobody had a clue about who he really was. In fact, he was assumed to have committed suicide on stage in the 1970s. However, some South Africans found him anything but dead in his Detroit home, and ever since Rodriguez has been a cult hit across the world. But what Searching for Sugarman fails to show is that Rodriguez was also really popular here, in Australia! Not only did Cold Fact and Coming From Reality both make numbers 23 and 24 respectively on the Australian Albums chart on original release, Rodriguez also did two Australian tours in 1979 and 1981. Cold Fact reached number 11 on this year’s charts, too.

My mum and I became Rodriguez fans after our osteopath told us about Searching For Sugarman. Mum watched it (on a plane to Singapore in January) a few months before I did. I must have watched it in around March or April, and I was hooked! So as you will imagine, Mum and I got excited when — a couple of months ago — we discovered that Rodriguez was touring Australia this month…

…But we soon found that the tickets were nearly impossible to get! Scalpers had seemingly bought up big, and there had been no limit on presale tickets. And the ticketing website wouldn’t really work. So we nearly didn’t go. However — exactly two weeks before the concert — I found out that Mum had managed to get tickets! In Gold Reserve! Row M, to be exact. Perfect seats — we could see the stage really well. Rodriguez played the Adelaide Entertainment Centre, which is huge and — as my parents would describe it — ‘a big barn’, so these seats were really precious. Especially for last minute tickets.

Finally, we drove to the the Entertainment Centre. About 45 minutes after we first arrived through the gates (at just after 7:30 pm), the support act began her set. The support act was Jen Cloher, an Australian alt-folk muso who runs independent label Milk! Records with her partner, Courtney Barnett. I listen to a lot of alternative music and watch a music show called RocKwiz on which Cloher has been (and Milk! Records had been featured in an article in my favourite magazine, Frankie), so I had vaguely heard of her, though I assume most of the audience hadn’t. Cloher is in fact too from Adelaide (she now lives in Melbourne), and became a muso after moving to a suburb called Henley Beach when she was fourteen. Apparently she was also a major Doors fan during this period, but she also mentioned The Stones, Jimi Hendrix and a certain Liverpudlian foursome that completely and utterly changed the face of the world (hmm…we don’t know who they are, do we? 😉 ) as some of her favourite artists. I really, really enjoyed her set — almost as much as the actual gig! I liked her voice, probably ‘cos it reminded me a bit of mine — low and a bit different. And she played her acoustic-electric dead hard, which I thought was cool. I must buy some of her stuff at some point. She releases on vinyl, too, which I also think is cool.

There was half an hour between Jen Cloher and Rodriguez, so my parents and I sat ’round talking, and I may or may not have photobombed the person in front of us’s selfie, which may or may not have been found on Instagram the next morning… But then finally, the lights dimmed and Rodriguez’s band walked onstage. And I noticed something. A female bassist! It saddens me that one rarely sees female guitarists/bassists/drummers in the music industry, and as a female guitarist myself, the fact that a female bassist had been chosen for Rodriguez’s (Australian tour) band made me really happy. But not as happy as I was within a few minutes… Soon enough, the crowd went absolutely ballistic, and I could just see Rodriguez being led onstage (he now suffers from glaucoma). His management team (I assume) introduced him, and the crowd went nuts again. Rodriguez started playing a song — which I think is on his second album Coming From Reality (which I haven’t listened to in its entirety) — that I didn’t know. But I certainly knew the song he played third — ‘Only Good For Conversation’ (my favourite of his songs)! (He played ‘Crucify Your Mind’ second.) He obviously performed ‘Sugarman’ and ‘I Wonder’ (after which he said, ‘Well, I wonder — but I really don’t want to know.’), but he played so many other gems too. Other songs of his he performed included ‘Like Janis’ and ‘The Establishment Blues’, ‘Street Boy’ and ‘Forget It’, ‘I Think Of You’ and ‘Rich Folks’ Hoax’ — he even played a cover of ‘Blue Suede Shoes’! His voice sounds just as amazing as it does on record, and he played a really interesting technique of guitar. His actual instrument was interesting, too. The drummer and bassist were both fabulous, and I was particularly blown away by the dude who played lead guitar. He played an overdriven Fender the entire night (occasionally with a wah-wah pedal) and wow, was he good! He played a lead guitar line in place of the orchestrated bits on Rodriguez’s songs, which I think made the tunes sound even better than they do on record. My favourite example would have been the added solo in ‘Sugarman’. Flawlessly stunning work, in my opinion. I don’t think I stopped smiling and stomping my feet the entire night. And if I were to sum the night up in one word? Amazing. Completely, utterly, mind-blowing amazing. After about an hour of performing, Rodriguez was lead off-stage.

But there was an encore set! Rodriguez played ‘Can’t Get Away’ and some different (and better takes) of ‘Fever’ (not The Black Keys’ song!) and ‘I’m Gonna Live Till I Die’ (I usually dislike Frank Sinatra, but I liked this version very much). The crowd (including myself) all stood up and danced and sang. And then, somewhere between 10:30 and 11:00 pm, my amazing night was over. It was somewhat of a difficulty actually getting out of the Entertainment Centre (and through the post-gig traffic), but it was definitely worth it. I took plenty of pictures, so here they are:

Me before the show (again)

Me before the show (again)

The stage before the show

The stage before the show

Rodriguez!

Rodriguez!

Rodriguez again

Rodriguez again

And to conclude, my experience of seeing Rodriguez live was absolutely amazing. I don’t think I’ll ever forget my experiences that night. Thank you, Rodriguez, for providing me with a wonderful night out.

40th post! Hurrah! What a journey these past 5 months have been.. Stay tuned for a post on my favourite Beatles quotes and possibly a post on seeing A Hard Day’s Night at the cinema (only a week ’till I get to see it on the big screen!). Right now, I’m listening to the White Album. ‘Till next week, though, good day sunshine 🙂