the general specific
“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.” – Henry Miller
Three weeks can seem like a long time when you think about it too much. “The more you think, the more you stink”. So said David Briggs, Neil Young’s record producer. Less is more and all that. My preparations for the trip are almost complete though the mind continues to race unabated. This thing’s rolling at me big and fast and strong now and I’m getting a little anxious about jumping on the back of the big sunuvabitch. I’ve got accommodation and transport organised for just about everywhere…bout the only thing still to do is book a hostel for a night in LA upon arrival. Looking at Venice Beach-oh man I might be able to check out where they shot White Men Can’t Jump. Gotta organise train trips from New York to Boston and from Berlin to Paris but will do that once there. The net and a bantam weight credit card (’twas once a heavy weight sob) makes all this preparation so easy. How in the dang hell did people organise such adventures back in the day? Stow away on the nearest ocean liner and just hope you’d wake up in California and not Antarctica? Such flying-seats-pants style of adventure still appeals to some (thompsoninflight.com) but I’d prefer to have the bare bones in place, thanks all the same. I continue to eye events that are on in certain cities, with New York offering the Dali exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art and a gig by good ol’ boys The Gourds in Brooklyn. I don’t want to plan too much, wanna keep it a bit loose, but being largely organised sure beats having to sleep in a park and waking up with a hole in yer back where yer kidneys used to be. Dunno when I decided to become an organised human…somewhere between the age of 0-27 I think. When I was 21 I couldn’t coordinate a trip to the shops without ending up on an eight day bender and reporting myself missing. And still forgetting to get the milk. One tires of that shit.
Back here in my fair old Melbourne town I struggle with keeping a low profile and high bank balance, such are the myriad of temptations on offer. A trip to the Art Deco exhibition @ NGV with Mother Dearest on Saturday was inspiring, utterly enhtralling and well worth it. It’s a little easier with the chilly weather to stay indoors at night and the free shows coming my way courtesy of my aforementioned reviewing gig keep the door cover costs down. Sunday saw me up at the East Brunswick Club to review Mark Kozelek and I’ll be reviewing the Breeders gig next week. Also off to Band of Horses this Sunday night, though shall not be reviewing that one-just enjoying it amidst the company of some local lasses and a cuppla dangerous dudes from the hometown. A lid will have to be kept on things with the trip in mind but these friends of mine seem to be taking a shine to this town and are eager to sample as many saloons as I can throw at ‘em. Who am I to deny them this pleasure?
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Excited about the Band of Horses gig, their first album Everything All the Time is a favourite of the past few years though recent album Cease To Begin left me indifferent. Still, songs like this could make it a very special gig indeed:
