five more reasons why I’m still cooler than you
I’ve had too much coffee.
- I have a copy of the new memoir by Dave Graney, 1001 Australian Nights
I know pleasingly little about Mr Graney beyond the following: he is a fine writer, rock star, sardonic critic of music, chap who’s lived the life. His music has – from the moment I saw him perform with The Moodists in Covent Garden, London in 1982 or thereabouts – continually intrigued me, without intruding. I know I can dip in and out, and rarely be disappointed. (He’s still on the back burner, for a future date.) I am taking owning his book as a marker of cool because the book, in and of itself, is a marker of cool: I do not go for rock memoirs as a whole, because I cannot relate. This, I can relate to. The opening sentences of 1001 Australian Nights are: Australia. It was a country that didn’t know how to take itself seriously. Neither did I. Everyone giggled when they talked of grave matters. Or they never smiled at all. They just looked at you from a great distance. What the fuck were we gonna do now? I particularly like the use of the word ‘gonna’ in the last sentence there. I am pleased to note his forthcoming album is to be called Rock’n’Roll Is Where I Hide, hopefully named thus after my championing of the song of the same name. Of course, it isn’t really – but it’s a mark of my regard for the man that I wish it were so. He is also the only fellow, to date, who is directly namechecked in a Thin Kids song. Except for Robert Forster. And Denis Semencheko. And Ed Googlescholar… but he doesn’t count.
- I have access to a stream of the new (third) Vivian Girls album, Share They Joy
Not just. I have written about it for Bust. The coolest magazine in… OK, I’m not so up on magazines as I once was but… America. See how fucking cool I can be when I still try? You want to know something even cooler? I still actually care about this shit. Ah, listen. Promise not to tell my friends over at Bust, but here’s the review in a nutshell: It’s not Best Coast. It’s not La Sera. It’s Vivian Girls – and the Vivian Girls are still cruising on top form, easy. Bangs alive, it’s fine: the fuzz-pop that’s been haunting your dream without you even realising. Vivian Girls have long passed the stage where they can only be defined in relation to their own music: Share They Joy isn’t quite as distorted or spiky as Everything Goes Wrong or as minimal as the self-titled debut, but neither of these are minuses. The harmonies are lush. The noise saturation is crush-worthy. It’s a pure femme-pop delight.
- The Thin Kids are supporting Kate Nash in Brisbane
One dude on Facebook, cool unto himself, upon hearing we’d been offered the Kate Nash support, remarked that “[I] sure live a charmed life sometimes”: he wasn’t even aware that M. Ward was vying for my attention the same night in town. You think this isn’t cool? Think of the irritation factor alone. Plus, we have some fucking killer pop songs. Go and have a listen.
- I have eaten an achacha
… and it’s like there’s a party in my mouth and everyone’s invited!