If only I could create an album with some PVA glue and a toilet roll tube...

I knew recording an album would take a lot of time but who would have thought that a year later the thing still isn’t finished. Holy facking crop circles!. In April 2012 I stepped into the studio to record an album with my band ( The Martyrs). I was on a strict timetable, intent on releasing it before my departure to Australia in October for a well-earned break.  I was dreaming up the single launch for July and the album launch to follow in September. Now we’re in May 2013 and we’ve finally said “Yes, master the damn thing!”.  This week we invited a photographer to take some pictures of us to adorn the album sleeve and next week we hope to shoot the album cover--a picture that mainly contains ketchup so it shouldn’t be too hard to organise, right? RIGHT?  Maybe now I can go back to my dreams of organising the single launch. Are these really my dreams? Disturbing.   



When do I get to do the fun stuff again? Like play gigs and drink beers. Soon, soon. We’ve just got to listen to the CD to see if the order works (will anyone even listen to it in this order in the end? Will anyone even listen to it?), decide on how many folds we’d like in our digipacks, get the artwork and content typed up and ready (what should I say? "Thanks mum" and all that, or just keep it aloof? Get the album printed and make sure everyone’s name and instruments are spelt right (Amanda Lynn), pay people (£££) and put on a show.  D.I.Y bands eh, such fun!

Speaking of the single launch; a date will be announced soon...stay tuned!

The Oxford Country Folk Songwriters Circle

What do you get when you ask a bunch of musicians to sit in a semicircle on stage, play songs in turn and talk about their music to the audience? Not only a great night of music, but the Songwriters Circle-a unique night of unplugged music hosted by Dava of Swindlestock and Olly Wills of The Epstein. 

I’d been to their previous night in April when Dava mentioned he would like to invite me to play one of them.  At first I couldn't think of anything more horrifying. Sitting with other musicians talking about the meaning of our songs and why we wrote them; awkward.  I was worried it would look too staged or resemble a chat show and be a bit cringey for the audience. How wrong I was.  Watching the musicians play a song each, and hearing the other guests' questions about their songs and style was interesting. After all, this wasn't musicians being interviewed by fans or uninspiring reviewers. This was musicians being asked questions by other musicians.  And this is the genius of the night.  Where musicians can sometimes be insecure, arrogant or competitive, in this setting they are quite the opposite. 

Photo by Pier Corona

And watching them listen to each other so intently seems to hold the audience captive--when else do you see some of your favourite musicians sitting on stage listening to some of their favourite musicians? And for me, it was a great pleasure to be sat right next to Huck, Matt Sage, Dava and Olly and hear their songs.  It is rare and intense to be sat so close to someone as they sing their heart out. Olly sang a song about his Grandmother’s funeral that brought me close to tears and Matt Sage told us a story of young love with an academic which brought us close to tears of laughter as he sang out ‘I trained a spy’.  Huck and I met up a few hours before the gig and had a nostalgic afternoon playing through Huck and the Handsome Fee songs. We decided to perform The Fall and Staggerlee. It was great to have the opportunity to sing together and a reinvention of the Fee is in discussion (although it would have to be an acoustic version named the Handsome Two, of course).

So, if you get a chance to make it to the next Songwriters' Circle then I highly recommend it.  You won’t be disappointed.

Melbourne Free

There is rather an impressive young man in front of me in the check-in queue.  He is fully kitted out with an enormous backpack, a golden tan and an air of arrogance about him that says, "I'm incredibly well travelled, don'cha know?"  So, I couldn't help but snigger to myself when the lady at the desk informed him that he'd come to the airport a day early; his flight was in fact tomorrow. It's amazing how quickly a golden tan turns to a blushing rouge.

JB: not looking his best

Everyone in balmy Sydney told me Melbourne would be cold.  I wish I'd listened.  Despite the sunshine Melbourne was definitely a place that required socks and a warm vest in November. After my smooth hour-long flight I caught a long bus into the city to meet my friend John-Boy.  I lived with JB in Oxford when he was a student studying the Oxford BPhil, which is quite possibly the hardest degree known to man.  But despite having some of the biggest brains on campus he also has the sense of humour of a buffoon which is why we got on so well. After a hard day reading Wittgenstein he would join me on the sofa to watch a Come Dine With Me marathon or sing along to America's Next Top Model ("You wanna be on top?!"). He once made me a stir fry that contained so much fresh ginger I couldn't taste anything else for a whole week.

We ride the tram back to his home in Brunswick. This part of Melbourne's not like anywhere I've been before; lots of cool little shops and eateries but all in a very 70s style (I didn't know wallpaper was back in?). But what Brunswick lacks in interior design it makes up for in great pubs.  And I mean pubs. Proper pubs that feel like the pubs back home. And they sell pints! I order one excitedly and feel the effects immediately; after 2 months drinking schooners this pint is like being kicked in the clackers by a kangaroo. In a good way.


Takoyaki being made at the night market

The next day we head into the city centre.  We have coffee in a rather trendy street where all the cafes are like little tiny huts squished next to each other and the chairs spill out onto the street. Centre Place; the place to be.  Melbourne feels very multicultural, European and a little edgier than Sydney (Apologies to my Sydney-sider friends but it's true).  There is some very ornate Victorian architecture here and with the trams running up and down the city it makes you feel like you've travelled back in time. I like it!

Are you game?

We head to a few galleries in the NGV and then JB suggests we go and see some 'bush paintings'.  Having never heard of a bush painting before my mind conjured up all sorts of meanings but I was relieved to find some beautiful depictions of some of the first settlers arriving in Australia.  Little did I know how much of an expert JB turned out to be in regards to his heritage. As we strolled around the paintings he told me stories of famous explorers and prison escapees.  It is really unbelievable that these first settlers could survive such a country with its harsh terrain and lack of amenities (not to mention the bloodthirsty kangaroos).  They're a tough sort these Aussies.

We finished off the day with a visit to one of the regular night markets.  With rows and rows of food stalls including every national dish under the sun we really did work up an appetite trying to decide what to eat.  And then you have to stay for ice cream as they have every flavour imaginable.  A few post dinner beers later and we end up in a nice pub called "the Oxford Pub" typical. The streets all begin to look the same and the trams are all heading in the wrong direction. We flag a taxi home and try to sneak in so we don't wake JB's housemate.  The chook in the garden has other ideas though and makes a terrible racket. I'm beginning to feel at home in Melbourne.

Next time: I play a gig in Melbourne and witness a horny Koala bear courting a tree at the Healesville Animal Sanctuary (rated PG).

Don't Take That Attitude to Your Gravy

Melbourne Cup

Once a year you can walk around the streets of Sydney and see some of the most glamourous and bizarre outfits all at once.  Women dressed as if they were heading to Ascot with bright hats and facinators and men looking as though they are out for a stag do with pink tights and very stretchy neon leotards.  It is of course the day of the Melbourne Cup; Australia's major thoroughbred horse race.  Melbourne gets the day off as a holiday but the rest of Australia has to either sneak off of work or take an extended lunch break from which they are unlikely to return.  There is a real buzz as I walk through the city to meet Jen and her friends at a nice Italian cafe where we have great seats in front of the cafe's TV.  There are lots of races throughout the day but there is only one that everyone seems to care about.  As we tuck into some deliciously juicy mozzarella,  Italian waiters come round to top up our wine glasses.  Two o'clock hits and everyone is gathered round the TV, even people come in from the street to watch the race.  Suddenly everyone is screaming and shouting at their horse and I holler out my horses name even though I have no idea which one he is or how well he's doing.  The race is over in minutes and the crowds either commiserate or celebrate their bets with more wine as the main course is brought round. As I tuck into my zuccini salad images of Camilla and Charles pop up on the screen. Oh, Blighty!

Ben Harper does the robot

Ben Harper is a man who doesn't need a support act, especially because he decides to play for nearly 4 hours with no interval (and no water I observe, is he even human?!).  Not that I'm complaining;  this gig turns out to be one of the best I've ever been to.  'An acoustic evening with Ben Harper at the Sydney Opera House' suggested something  a bit special and when we arrived and saw 13 stringed instruments lined up on stage we knew we were in for a treat.  The instruments ranged from acoustic and electric guitars to lap steel, ukeleles, and a strange cello-type instrument  that Harper had created and is yet to name.  This is his first ever acoustic headline tour and in between songs he entertains us with anecdotes of his childhood working in a meat shop and hanging out with Jeff Buckley at festivals.  Despite his long career, two broken marriages and many celebrity friends he doesn't seem at all jaded and remains a very humble and affable character throughout the night.  I feel his personality really comes through in this intimate setting, and yes, I might have a slight crush. When members of the audience shout out songs they want to hear he happily obliges.  I managed to pipe up at the end of the night and ask for Waiting on an Angel and he finishes his set with it.  I had a little moment but it was ok, because everyone else was having a little moment too.
 

Great views

The only way to finish off a week like that is to walk 10km from The Spit to Manly and ruminate on music and nature and then celebrate with some tasty beers.  There are lots of great views along this walk which takes your through the bush, up cliffs and across beaches.  Make sure you get there early when the tide isn't on it's way in or else you get soggy knees.  We finished off the day with mussels in a rather strange sauce that was a cross between tomato and gravy, home brewed beer at the 4 Pines and a lazy ferry ride back into Sydney. Bliss!

Next time: my trip to Melbourne and a gig!

New Year, New Song, New Video

Here is a video my friend and I made on her very awesome rooftop in Sydney of my new song 'My Time'. Happy New Year everyone.
 

A Weekend at the Hunter with Kanga Kong

I've been enjoying myself in the beautiful sunshine and ignoring my blog duties for far too long so here is an update on my adventures so far.

Hunter Valley

If you thought there wouldn't be any way to top seeing the Blue Planet at the Sydney Opera House then think again.  North of Sydney is the very popular wine region, Hunter Valley, or 'wine country' as the locals (and I imagine Raol Duke) affectionately call it.  We woke up early on a Saturday morning and drove along the hot dusty road for a day of wine tasting, cheese tasting and dog petting.  Jen was our designated driver and so Jo and I were free to try as many wines as we liked; thanks Jen!  The first vineyard we got to was Petersons, a family-owned-and-operated winery.  The surroundings were stunning with undulating vineyards spreading into the distance in all directions.  But we were here for the wine, and so we quick-marched through the cellar door and a nice chap talked us through the tastings on offer.  Of course we tried every single one as our host regaled us with wonderful stories of wine and cheese, wine and sommeliers, wine recipes and the most exciting; when wine goes bad.  I bought a bottle of fizz that is apparently a great accompaniment to watermelon sorbet and we moved on to the next vineyard for much of the same.  Five vineyards, the smelly cheese shop and two famous vineyard dogs later and we were very merry.  Earlier this year I had discovered my love of Port but I didn't know that white Port existed-delicious.  The Semillon also went down rather well but the name (semi-on) caused much sniggering.  Eventually the vineyards shut up shop for the day and we made our way to our hotel which turned out to be an old haunted orphanage (and that isn't the cheese before midnight talking).

What almost occurred 

The next day we drove home via a National Park come mental hospital and after driving through some spooky woods arrived at a big stretch of grass.  We were here to see kangaroos and we weren't disappointed.  This was my first kangaroo sighting (if you don't include the roadkill) and I was positively terrified.  Stories of kangaroos disemboweling people, not to mention their tendency for boxing, rushed through my mind.  We spotted a big group out with their joeys to catch some of the good weather and watched them from a safe distance.  As we enjoyed their cute hopping and grazing I started to relax. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kanga Kong bounding up the road heading straight for us.  We started to walk back towards the car and he bounded towards us further.  At this point I started running- and wondering why these dangerous and blood-thirsty animals were allowed to walk around willy nilly.  It turned out he was just heading to his troop who we'd just been watching and we marveled at his size from the safety of our car.  Don't mess with the 'roos.

Next time. Melbourne Cup, Ben Harper in concert and Spit to Manly walk. Yes, there is a place called Manly!

The Gardens were Botanical and the Planet was Blue

One of the best things about going to the Botanical Gardens is that Croissant D'Or is on the way and their almond croissants are some of the tastiest things on this earth.  I describe it as walking to a grassy paradise whilst munching on a pastry paradise (even though the pastry paradise is pretty pricey at 5 dollars (i.e. 3 pounds). The walk is great.  Walking along Macleay Street makes me feel like I'm in New York because of all the Art Deco architecture and Spanish Mission style apartments.  The streets are wide and the sun bursts through the overhanging trees.  I make my way down to Woolloomooloo Bay and walk along the wharf which was actually the largest wooden structure in the world in 1911. FACT! If you like a man in uniform then this is the place to come.  There are big naval ships parked up here and the crew are all milling around in their pristine white suits.  I'm pretty sure I saw Blackbeard amongst them. Eventually the wharf leads you to some old steps, along Mrs Maquaries Bushland Walk, past an outdoor swimming pool and an exceptional amount of joggers and finally into the beauty of the Botanical Gardens.

View from Botanical Gardens

As I walk through the entrance gate an old-looking Japanese man asks me if I will take his picture.  He stands in front of a very characterless patch of lawn and I snap him.  I head forward into the gardens and as I'm enjoying the beauty and calming nature of it all I feel a tap on my shoulder.  The same Japanese man is there and asks me to take another picture of him, this time in front of a bulbous and boring looking tree.  I do my duty and hurry off to try to put some space between us.  The gardens are enormous and have absolutely stunning views looking out to Farm Cove and Sydney Harbour.  Just as I'm about to settle down under the shade of a very old looking tree I feel another tap on the shoulder. "Another picture please?" I sigh heavily and tell him that this is the last time. Afterwards he scuttles off looking a little hurt and dejected, until he finds another tourist to help him increase the amount of photos of himself in front of all kinds of different but equally boring foliage. His poor wife.

My second weekend in Sydney is another sunny one and we head to Surrey Hills Festival in the morning for some breakfast.  It's a smallish festival with loads of food stalls and a stage pumping out loud Hip Hop to some enthusiastic teenagers who already look tipsy at 11.00am in the morning.  We watch in amazement as some very muscly girls pole dance and I look down at my pancakes and feel a little guilty. But this is not the main event of the day, this is just the starter.  We make our way to the Sydney Opera House to watch The Blue Planet live in Concert (shouts of "OMG!" were continuously heard throughout the day's proceedings).  This was my first time in the Opera House and it's size is staggering. The orchestra starts playing as we find our seats and local celebrity, The Bondi Vet, comes out to introduce each piece. He's not quite David Attenborough but is quite amusing (and slightly more pleasing to the eye).  The experience is incredible and it's amazing to think that it has been touring since 2006.  The only way to finish off a day like that is to head to karaoke and sing your heart out until 2am, which is what we did!