It would appear that there is a neverending cavalcade of my old musical loves, making their way through Melbourne town. As hoardes of people rush out to purchase tickets to see bands like Bloc Party, Lily Allen, Patrick Wolf, Maximo Park, the Long Blondes, Arctic Monkeys (&c &c &c), I feel so disillusioned about these bands I loved so long ago. At the same time, I feel a bit sick that I identify with that incredibly crass indie cliché. You know, that jaded music lover who claims she "knew the band before they were famous". But I can't help but think that these feelings run deeper than mere territorial glory-mongering.

I guess the truth is that that music represents a time when I had so much more than I have now. For one thing, I had a regular radio show. I had opportunities to talk to these artists. They were tenacious and nervous unknown music lovers, just like me. They were sensitive about their work but also, they longed for exposure. I miss loving these bands with my old friends too. I miss talking about these artists for hours and hours with them. I miss that personal and musical inspiration of two years ago, when we found ourselves at the forefront of a musical era, alone and happy.

Every time I see one of those Radar bands splattered across Melbourne street-press, it reminds me of how I lost it all. But as much as I feel anger for the hype and excessive exposure of these bands, I don't feel that I can harbour any true resentment for any of them. I don't think I can have the capacity to hate them. They remind me of my vicarious British existence.. and a time when all was right with the world.


In the days when you were hopelessly poor, I just liked you more...

So, I've just come back from what could be described as a whirlwind tour of Sydney, playing lots of dates with Agnes Kain. Needless to say, it was spectacularly fun and hopelessly decadent adventure - with people who are gifted in more ways than I can count. That and Chanelle, Stef and Evan are very extraordinarily tolerant of my frequent temper-tantrums, glockenspiel smash-ups and feline tendencies. I'm really very lucky.

There are lots and lots of things to write about this trip. However, I thought I should draw on one particular occasion where we were invited to play Beatles covers at the film premiere of US vs John Lennon at very short notice. Of course it was a breath-taking ordeal having to learn these amazing songs in such a small space of time.. but how many opportunities do you get like that? How can you not fall over yourself with excitement at the prospect of performing Beatles songs to anyone, let alone a mass of people?

So anyway, the film itself featured that John and Yoko's famed bed-in for peace.. and it reminded me of an article that I wrote for an old radio show, Counterfeit. I'll include it here, just to bulk up the post.. and so others can slightly imagine the extent of my profound Lennon love and influence.

A few years ago, I was watching the Beatles Anthology with my brother. I remember a moment in the story where they were up to the Ballad of John and Yoko - just shortly after the pair embarked on their famous bed-in at the Amsterdam Hilton in 1969. I can't exactly imagine it would have been the most ideal honeymoon but you know, people do all kinds of heroic deeds in the name of bed/hair/world peace.

A few days later at a press conference in Vienna, John concealed himself and his new wife with a bedsheet and revealed a new philosophy called Bagism. Its application in society was rather redundant but needless to say it struck a chord with me. According to John and Yoko, if you had something to say, Bagism allowed you to communicate your message without unfair judgement. The theory was that prejudice could be eliminated by covering your physical features and attributes, whether it be the colour of your skin, the clothes you wore, your age or even the length of your hair. That idea (and the prospect of staying in bed for a week) has always appealed to me.. and it has become a fundamental basis of my love for radio.

As soon as I started my course at Latrobe Uni in March 2003, I started radio at SUB FM. I was thrilled at the prospect of actually broadcasting my thoughts about the music I love. I was equally startled at the irony that I could only suppress such feelings at school. In retrospect, I can't tell whether these judgemental girls feared difference or whether I feared judgement from different girls? Regardless. I shut my mouth and did what the others did.

Radio allowed me to be protected by my proverbial bedsheets and in truth, my insecurities could be washed away by the fact that I could communicate without any physical prejudice. But like any ideal, Bagism didn't work out the way it was meant to. Despite this creative freedom, I still had a frightened, unforgivingly unconfident on-air persona. Needless to say, I was, am and always will be haunted by the inability to describe the significance of "my" bands. Because occasionally, words are too patronising to describe love.

After nearly three years and eight radio shows, I'm fully prepared to present Counterfeit with Amanda this Monday night without any fear of unfair judgement. Although I will always the embrace the very fundamental ideal and intimacy of this medium, I will not shy away from the challenge of radio. I will not hide in my proverbial bedsheets.. that is, unless, of course, I'm having a bed-in.

Although it might look like that C&CM is going through a significant dry-spell at the moment, I can only post to prove this is not the case. The graveyards at Triple R have been going really well, but I still have to wait a few more weeks to hit the airwaves again. I know I've promised some people actual recordings of the shows, but they reach up to 100mb a piece.. and anyone who has any contemplation of how bad my interweb is will understand why this would be a problem. So quite responsibly, I've decided to attach playlists in the comments for every clicker's enjoyment.

But you do know I really don't say that much, anyway.
Otherwise, I've scored some kind of meeting arrangement with the SBS Radio's Alchemy. I'm really thrilled because these guys make the kind of radio documentaries that I'd love to make. After daydreaming about it for so long, I've finally made a start on my first project. But when I say "made a start", I really mean that I've just been fruitlessly hassling friends to partake in a faux vox pop. Now I'm beginning to understand that hassling my people probably isn't the most effective means to score material, so I might have to try another tack. Perhaps bribery by Cherry Ripe cocktail?

UPDATE: I've now collected over FIVE HOURS of material for my FIVE MINUTE documentary.. and I haven't even finished recording everyone yet. So thank you to all my people for obliging and helping me out with my project. Seriously, if I could marry all of you, I probably would. In a big ceremony, probably involving a big woman falling into a big wedding cake. So thankyou, seriously.

In other news, my brother Andrew & I saw the Pet Shop Boys a few weeks ago at the mini V-Festival at Melbourne's Sidney Myer Music Bowl. The showcase also featured The Rapture, Gnarls Barkley and Groove Armada. Although I should really mention that I was hopelessly gutted to have missed The Rapture by a few minutes, my Pet Shop Boys made up for everything. It was the single greatest live experience, ever. Truly. Not only was the entire show that spectacular, the setlist featured so many cunning obscurities and upbeat surprises (think: Heart, Domino Dancing and even Can You Forgive Her?). Seriously, only my bootlegged recording of the gig be a very close testament to how ridiculously fabulous I thought the whole show was.


(all day, all day) Domino Dancing

Til later, my friends xx