Indra and I have been making the petrol trips so we can go to the ‘Beer and Breakfast’ cafe in Daylesford.
Last blog i said we were listening to the Manneheim Dance Band in the car.
I want to take this opportunity to apologise, they are the Manahan Street Band. Indra almost quit when he read that. He thinks i am an old dag now.
Where was he when i was lining up in the Queen Street mall Overnight for the U2 Love Comes to town spectacular, HUH?
Anyway back to the Beer and Breakfast. It is my manager Bernadette’s recommendation and the Tahini and Tomato toast with Lemon oil is actually sensational. I have two coz its only seven dollars and i remember how hungry i was as a chubby twelve year old. We skip on the beer, this isn’t Motley Crue. Motley Crue would have stuck their cocks in the Tahini toast so their girlfriends didn’t suspect they’d been into the waitresses.
Sated, we hoof it back to ow solar/generator powered sculpture studio.
The telecommunication scene at the studio has been a bit loose as i don’t get texts unless i stand on the hill, so my manager is hating on me badly for ignoring urgent messages. I feel its more urgent to stare into the vortex rock mirror and stress out about my lyrics rather than blog or pay people. But deep down i know she’s right and that makes me even more useless with the guilt. When did i get so retarded?
I scored highly in my final year at school and cruised through university, but then suspect i got too into hash oil and solo curry orgies in the mid to late nineties and blew my normality gasket.
Now the vortex mirror is punishing me for wasting my twenties i just know it. The constant Tim and Eric being played between takes is not helping. They are like the visual equivalent of the Butthole Surfers but in a retro futuristic fat Michael J Fox apocalypse HAZE and it is feeding back into the vortex mirror at an alarming rate . FAMILY FUN AFTER DAYS OF ROCK ACTION
At this point Burke suggests i leave the hallway of many thoughts and go sit in the band room to record ‘inspiration Point’. Wisely produced, Black Rainbow! Inspiration Point is one of the only songs about sex on the record and it relaxes me that i’m lyrically struggling with a bra strap rather than the end of the world.
Inspiration Point is from ‘Happy Days’ which was big for me in 1983. I am writing a section for a chanteuse in the middle, kind of based on Robert Forster’s fabulous ‘ I recall the same, a reply…’ section of the Go Betweens ‘ Cattle and the Cane’. I adore Robert Forster and have been reading his book ‘ the Ten Rules of Rock n Roll’ between takes. Every point he makes about how to achieve good simple powerful songs seems to stab at me and deflate my balloon of words and multilayered ironic psychedelic harmonies. This is why musicians take lots of Coke on the big third record, so they can avoid this kind of analysis mid take and say ‘fuck yeah! more ironic psychedelic harmonies! man it’s sweet times in these headphones!……
but then those Coke records can be pretty bad.
I will proceed with my Tahini record thank you very much.
As for a chanteuse, who can i get?
Francois Hardy is probably too old now
Nico is long gone but would have intimidated me too much anyway
Nina Hagen would be too weird and make guttural teutonic bird noises
The Ukeladies are already on some other songs and its good to keep changing.
I keep texting Hope Sandoval but she must have changed her number.
Chloe Sevigny once gave me a really searching look at a bar in Utah but i was too shy to send one back. Is she still going out with Vincent Gallo? He is not good for her. If she acted in my movie I would be happy with a cuddle and a chat on screen. But New Yorkers really know how to take it the next step.
My manager is too angry to sing.
So that leaves……