Girl caught in a blatant attempt to catch up.

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Contemplating a blog face lift of sorts.

Because I figure this here blog is about a year old. Because I’m lazy, and am currently far I’m busier than I have been in years. Which is good, gives me something to do, but I don’t think I’m suppose be this drained all the time and in a never ending cycle of being sick.

So to recap the last couple of gigs.

Stars @ Spectrum.

Flowery, and lush with music that created a lot of lovely slow smiles.

Laneway.

First time that I had been, but I was kinda disappointed. Punters seemed to have that over priced op-shop outfit going on, and it was at times claustrophobic.

Okkerevil River would have been awesome, if I were able to see actually see or hear the band. Being stuck up the back of an overcrowded laneway, and next to some moron who decided to sing the entire gig, complete with shouted lyrics and some annoying guitar hero vocals.

I might have lost my specs in Dan Deacon’s conga line, but god damn he still was the most dorky fun I’ve had in a long time. No too-cool-to-do-anything-pretenders at his shows, I imagine that they’d be thrown out in appropriate fashion.

ETHAN HAWK!

BSS+Stars+Feist= OMG OMG OMG from, well everyone. Magic. BSS the way it should be. Oh Leslie Feist. Look girl crush aside, can I just take her home? And then wheel her out for girly chats, guitar playing, and some kick arse parties. Can I? Can I? Can I?

Bailed after Feist magic, due to work the next day. Kinda bummed that I missed Cool Kids and the “secret” Dan Deacon show, on the plus side however I didn’t have to see Gotye or The Presets disappoint.

Beirut @ Manning Bar.

Translated rather well from record to stage. Zach is a cutie, and I may have said that a tad too loudly on the night in question. But THAT VOICE! I felt like was traversing through Europe having a magical holiday and not the package kind either. Some made up hybird of 1950/60’s chic with Vespas, Louis Vuitton trunks, and Federico Fellini meets Amélie and Jean-Luc Godard. Plummeted back down the earth post gig, when a Tramp ran up to me at the bus stop.

Tramp: I dont want to rob ya!

Me: (thinking) That’s a good start.

Tramp: I just want to know where the nearest pub or servo is. See I was in this band, and then they drove off and left me at a service station and I’ve been here ever since.

Me: Is that so? Pub down the road. No servo’s round here.

Tramp: Thanks mate.

Tramp toddles off towards the pub with ten dollars worth of change rattling in his hobo pockets. If I were really in Europe it’d be gypsies.

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