It’s Thursday

I never quite  could get the hang of Thursdays.

Tomorrow will be Friday. Doubtless, I’ll stay in my house in the evening, bed at 8.30pm, cursing the storm the night before or perhaps Daniel’s fondness for 3am cuddles with his dad. Doubtless, my mind won’t be dreaming, soaring – no delicate, flowering, piano pop miniatures for my blank mood: perhaps a game or two of Internet backgammon or a read through some of the more spiteful conversations going down on Collapse Board. Perhaps we might watch half a video – that Chris Morris one, Four Lions, rather took my fancy first time around. No hope of refined entertainment performed in front of a select hushed few. Joanna Newsom is playing tomorrow and much as I like her, I can’t see me lasting the length.

And on Saturday? There’s a show… something put together by Room 40 at the Judith Wright Centre, a venue I enjoy … but how will my aching body drag me there? There’s a musician from Perth, Stina, who’s playing there, celebrating the launch of her Summers In Mariana album. Doubt if it’s much to get in. She’s playing at Syncretism, alongside the likes of Ryan Francesconi (the talented guitar dude who arranged Joanna Newsom’s Have One On Me album.) Delicate, flowering, piano pop miniatures and vibes instrumentals like you’re stuck within a particularly fine Michael Nyman soundtrack, or driving down endless French countryside lanes: evocative, help you form pictures of whatever you desire forming pictures of within your mind’s eye. Maybe she’ll be on first. Maybe I won’t have to last the distance. Will I be there?

I’d like to be.

by Everett True

My name is Everett True. I am a music critic. This is what I do. I criticise music. The clue is in my job description – music critic. I do not consider myself a journalist, as I do not research or report hard news. I do not consider myself a commentator as I believe that everyone should be a participant. I criticise people and in return I am not surprised if other people criticise me. It is part of the whole deal of being in the public arena. I am Everett True. Believe in me and I have power like a God. Quit believing in me and I no longer exist.