It's Just A Matter Of Opinion.

Today, at my shit job (populated, nonetheless, by some very interesting and amusing cogs-in-the-wheel/co-workers) I was roundly criticised for being a fan of Paul Verhoeven's brilliant and hilarious film Starship Troopers.  For those that aren't in 'The Know', this film is a total freakin' classic - I mean, for chrissakes, Doogie Howser is in the movie all kitted up in Gestapo-style leather trench coat (a psi-ops specialist already!), and Dina Meyer plays the ultimate in kick-ass female action heroes.  AND it's sci-fi!  What more could anyone possibly want?  Well?  Huh?

And yes, I am a MASSIVE Star Wars fan, too.  I am more than happy to debate the political, social, religious and philosphical symbolism that drives George Lucas' saga with anyone, anytime.  Yes, there are flaws that almost ruin it all, but isn't that part of the charm?  Just as an example, I remember after Episode I:  The Phantom Menace came out an acquaintance of mine criticised Lucas for being a racist for his portrayal of the Gungans as a parody of American attitudes towards Jamaicans, the Neimoidians being a parody of American attitudes towards Asians, and the junkyard dealer Watto being a parody of American attitudes towards Jews.  Maybe he was right.  But then again, maybe he was a boring stoner 2nd year film student who could spend hours extemporizing on Jean Luc Godard, Eric Rohmer, and the effect of New Wave on New Hollywood? Yeah?  And?  So?  What?  It's a parody, dickhead.  Lighten the fuck up.  It's social commentary, played in the medium of film, masked within the genre of science fiction, spiced with the subtle flavours of caricature.  Get the fuck over it.  And shut the fuck up with your pathetic undergraduate self-righteousness.  It's a MOVIE.  Why not the criticism of Ursula Le Guin's utterly brilliant The Dispossessed?  Or Margaret Atwood's sublime The Handmaiden's Tale?  Hmmm?  Yeah, thought so.

I read this book when I was 12 years old and it changed my life.  It should be compulsory reading in high school.

Dina Meyer in Starship Troopers.  Appparently Denise Richards was in the movie too.

Despite what some people may think, I do not believe that Star Wars is the greatest movie ever made.  That honour, of course, belongs to The Empire Strikes Back.

Futuristic Gestapo Doogie Howser.  I think it's wonderful that he is gay in real life.  Shit man, life is just too funny!!! 

Thematically complex.  Superbly realised.  This film is the bomb.  Oh, and Paul Verhoeven also made a couple of other little movies like Total Recall, Basic Instinct and Robocop.

I once heard this book described as 'Feminist Science Fiction'.  Bollocks.  It's fucking awesome.  Period.  As in 'The End', not as in 'menstruation'.

The Death Of Osama bin Laden

I can only imagine that the journalists at the The Age are livid that they were forced to report on the covert (and effective) operations conducted by staff from The Herald Sun...

Mystery, Sure

I have added another song to my ATTAXAS myspace site.  It's kind of a jazzy thing that I began as a response to the death of a friend last year.  Been sitting on it for a while, but was having an issue or two with a decent enough vocal line/melody.  I am pretty happy with the end result, and in the mix you can hear the odd bit of extra breath before a line which I have deliberately kept in - it kind of makes it sound a little more live, or real.  You can check it out here at the ATTAXAS myspace site.  Hope you like it.

A warning:  I have discovered that Myspace won't play a song in it's entirety unless you are logged on as a user, so if you do have a Myspace account, make sure you are logged in so you can hear the whole song.  (I think the first 30 seconds or so of the tune is the double bass intro!)

Splendour & Squalor

Had to stop, Jason, sorry.  Half-way through and it just gets more and more depressing...

I have moved on to Helen Garner's far more uplifting and entertaining Joe Cinque's Consolation.  A joke, by the way.  As in, not uplifting at all.  Ah sheesh...

Books

Having finally finished Don Watson's marvellous Recollections of a Bleeding Heart, I have moved on to John Baxter's insightful and funny Stanley Kubrick:  A Biography.  The Year of the Biography is going well, though I have been tempted by some friends to get back on the crime fiction and scifi bandwagon.  So far, I stand firm...

Brilliant, if a little long, Don Watson's book is well worth the read - especially if you are a fan of the good old days when parliamentarians could string a sentence together...

There are two quotes attributed to Kubrick that I have always loved, and that have made me interested in the character of the film maker.  The first, 

 "Perhaps it sounds ridiculous, but the best thing that young filmmakers should do is to get hold of a camera and some film and make a movie of any kind at all,"

is so very obvious, and in a sense, zen, that it's kind of like the old parable of the priest and the acolyte discussing the nature of reality.  The acolyte, attempting to come to grips with this, says to his teacher, "At last!  I understand!  There IS no reality!"  The priest, disgusted with his student's attempt at existentialism, slaps the young man hard in the face and says, "Then there is no pain!"  It's kind of like a "duh!" moment, which is really what (as far as I can gather, anyway) what zen is all about.  The second quote is one that characterises my own reckless and impulsive motto for living:

Brilliant, eccentric, and (unfortunately) gone.

" If you can talk brilliantly about a problem, it can create the consoling illusion that it has been mastered." (Bold added.)  

That is, you better be careful when talking bullshit.  Ha ha!

These insights, and his films (obviously) make him a fascinating character, and his works The Shining and Full Metal Jacket are amongst my favourites.  As crazy as these auteurs usually are, or at least seem, they add to the wealth of human culture, and their value is incalculable.

New ATTAXAS Song on Myspace

There is a new song up on my ATTAXAS site, the final version of "In The Trees".  I have previously posted two other versions for your critical and listening pleasure - the original demo version, then the basic instrumental version, to show how the idea has developed, and my general take on song evolution.

Check out ATTAXAS

Comments and abuse are most welcome.

Having Fun & Working (All At The Same Time)

Claudio Sanchez from Coheed and Cambria.  Lovely man.

This week I have had the real pleasure of interviewing some shining lights in the metal/hard rock biz.  On Wednesday I spoke to Brock Lindow from 36 Crazy Fists, a long-time favourite band of mine.  Thursday I met with Dez Fafara from the very mighty, very scary and very heavy Devildriver.  And today I spent an all-too-short 25 minutes chatting with Claudio Sanchez from Coheed And Cambria, a band whose music I have fallen completely in love with.  These gentlemen will be the focus for my article on the Soundwave sideshows for the premier issue of veri.live.

Dez Fafara from Devildriver.  Scary tatts, but heart of freakin' gold..

I have to say that Brock is indeed the ultimate Alaskan - a mountain of a man, pretty much like a gentle bear, if there was such a thing.  Dez is very LA, but utterly cool, switched-on and very relaxed.  He has a wicked sense of humour and disproves the myths that Americans are unable to 'get' irony, and are unable to poke fun at themselves (in fact all three of my 'interviewees' proved this).  Claudio is gentle and quite shy, very committed to his art, sincere, but also quick to laugh and share a joke.   His fingernails are exactly like mine.

I would suggest to check out these guys' music.  If you love it heavy and hard, Devildriver will suit.  If you like it technical and clever, with playing that will shred your ears, then 36 Crazy Fists will do it for you.  If you are partial to a bit of crazy prog, but love the classics, then Coheed And Cambria are your team.

Brock Lindow, centre.  Like a huge metal Seth Rogan.  But funny.

Stay tuned to the newsstands.  veri.live comes out the end of the month.  I can only hope that my writing will be decent enough to properly show how such charming, witty and highly intelligent characters inhabit the modern heavy metal movement.












Coheed And Cambria - official homepage
Devildriver - official hompage
36 Crazy Fists - official Myspace site

A Paying Gig

Yours truly, caught in the rapture at Cherry Rock 2008.

It seems that you can fool some of the people some of the time!  I have scored myself a writing gig, working for a new music magazine called veri.live.  Here's a link to the official website http://www.verilive.com.au/

I am excited as hell!  The mag looks beautiful, printed in a large format, there's lots of pretty damned amazing looking photography, and I have been hired (can I say 'headhunted'?) to help provide some hard-hitting insight and honest-to-god 'tude about the music industry.  Well they bloody well came to the right man for that job!

veri.live hits the newsstands and bookstores 27th March.

To Nod, Or Not To Nod.

When my father first started teaching me how to drive, I was about 12 or 13  years of age, the car of choice was a 1964 Valiant AP5.  You may know the car.  Simple lines, Chrysler 3.6L 225 slant-6 engine, automatic with push button gears - looking back I think of this car as being a total classic.  At the time, I was both thrilled to be driving and mortified that it was in such a bomb.  My father continued his love affair with what he called the 'Marrickville Mercedes'.  Once that old Val had been run into the ground he acquired a marvelous VE, which I loved, and after that one had gone to God a terrific VF coupe, never paying more than a few hundred dollars for the old things.  They would seem to go forever, be very cheap to run, they just didn't know how to die.  Then as I came of age to own and drive myself I purchased a 1966 VC (my all-time favourite) and then later on a 1964 AP5.  All lovely, distinguished and classy cars, if a little rusted, tired and worn.  This was all in the 80's and early 90's mind you, well before the old Chrysler Valiant brand had anything like esteem or respect or even a hint of coolness.  Now, of course, it's a different story.  They, like the old Holden and Ford marques of the 1960's, are the ubercool of the inner-city set.  I see lots of hot little Fitzroy chicks (who weren't even born in the 80's, when I would be laughed at and mocked by the Torana-driving, flanny-wearing Westies in North Canberra) floating around on the soft suspension of VCs.  I see many trendy Northcote boys cruising around the inner-North in their exquisitely and faithfully restored S Series, frequenting drive-thru bottle shops and choking up Brunswick Street with their low-octane fumes.  It is more than ironic that so many of these old beauties sport Greens Party bumper stickers!  But I digress.  The point to all this is despite the brand being hijacked by these 21st Century urban trendies, despite the fact that my first auto love is now the plaything and objet d'ego of arts students, new-age wannabe Trotskyists and pro bono Collingwood solicitors, they all have one thing in common with the time when I was driving the wide avenues and endless roundabouts of my youth - as one Valiant driver passes another they wave to each other.

Valiant drivers are special.  They share a common bond.  There is a special link between each driver that no other car owner can truly understand, that other drivers may only aspire to, if you will.  The wave is a part of the Valiant driving experience.  Whether the wave is a signal of shared pleasure (or pain), or just a cursory gesture of acknowledgement, it is, as much as I can gather, unique amongst car drivers.  And so I come to the crux of this article:  The Wave, or it's equivalent amongst motorcycle riders, who also share a special and common bond - The Nod.

Motorcycle riders are a breed unto themselves.  Most people regard them as reckless at best, insane at their worst.  A friend of mine (who, incidently, was killed in a motorcycle accident a couple of years ago) always used to describe motorcyclists as 'temporary citizens' (you see the sad irony).  I like to call (most of them) 'tourists' (from the idea that they are here on this Earth just briefly, for a visit).  Now I too am a rider, a motorcycling commuter - I have already been described as a temporary citizen by a friend, despite the fact that I ride like a grandma.  Since spending a good deal of time on the road on my bike I have noticed the Valiant-analogue Wave occur amongst motorcycle riders, except of course waving whilst riding is quite dangerous and would look totally naff to boot.

So - The Nod.  Unlike the Valiant Wave, The Nod is a much more difficult thing to pin down.  Not every rider will do the Nod to another.  I have noticed that there is a Nod Hierarchy amongst riders.  For example, no self-respecting motobike rider will Nod to a scooter rider (perhaps the scooter riders Nod to each other?).  No one who rides either a sports bike or a naked will Nod to a Harley or Harley-wannabe (think Yamaha Virago or Honda Shadow) rider.  People who ride tourers don't tend to Nod much to anyone.  And the Harley riders themselves are best left alone, whether they be the professional, enthusiastically hirsute Harley folk (or of the conspicuously bald kind), or just the weekend-riding, rich-boy try-hards.

I ride a 2005 Honda CB900F Hornet, a big naked bike with a sports pedigree (see article below for a wee little peek).  As far as The Nod is concerned, I feel pretty much caught in the middle.  If I see any other rider (with the exception, of course, of a scooter commuter) passing on the other side of the road I will pretty much always give it, and I do feel slighted when it is not reciprocated.  Yesterday I passed some racing leathers-clad dude on a big Kawasaki sports bike, who was screaming up High Street Road in Glen Iris at 60 kph in second gear, gave him The Nod, and got no reaction whatsoever.  What a tosser.  There is no doubt he saw me give it.  There is no possibility he missed it.  I gave him the signal of recognition, the subtle hail of rider to rider, and the prick left me hanging!  And so I got to thinking about the unwritten Nod etiquette of riders.

Behold, the unwritten now written.

Nod Etiquette

• For the sake of camaraderie, fraternity and kinship, all riders may Nod to each other, regardless of make, style or size of machine.
• Scooter riders are the exception to the above.  If one receives a Nod from a scooter rider one is allowed to either give a very slight Nod in return (think neck twitch, allowing a slight dipping of the helmet), or one may simply ignore said Nod.
• The Nod itself can be a proper full Nod, a forward dip (see above), or a side twitch (think of the movement a dog makes when it is either confused, or just been shown a card trick, or the movement ones makes when winking and making that clicking sound at the back of the mouth).
• Hand signals, or waves, are forbidden.
• No rider should acknowledge a rider (or group of riders) of Harley Davidson motorcycles.
• If one is Nodded at by a rider of an HD motorcycle, one is encouraged to Nod back in a non-threatening/inoffensive manner.  Immediately afterwards maintain the eyes-front position.
• It is optional to give The Nod to anyone riding a Harley analogue, as these riders are little more than glorified scooter riders (just get a real one!)
• If one gives The Nod and receives no Nod in return, ride on.  Remember - hand signals and gestures are forbidden.

I'm A Mechanic! Sort of...

Yesterday was a great day in the life of Koops.  I did a chain adjustment and full chain clean on my CB900F - all by myself!  Now I know what you motorcycle rev-heads are all thinking - "Pah, I can do that stuff in my sleep," but this was an important event for me, having never attempted any mechanical feat on my machine (even when I installed frame sliders most of the work was done by a more experienced friend).  Hey - I gotta start somewhere, right?  So I got to use my new tool kit, got my camo coveralls on and dirty, and got stuck in!  It took about an hour (the chain clean was the most time-consuming task, using kerosene, tooth brush and rag), but I managed to reattach the one-piece chain and mud guard, the left-side pedal and gearshift thingy, and re-tighten the axle, take it on a test ride, and not get killed!  It worked!

So, to the motorcycle mechanic who took a look at my chain and said that it was "rooted", and needed to be replaced, along with the sprockets (at a cost of $470), I say "Fiddlesticks to you, dickhead."  After the adjustment, clean and lube, the chain has re-straightened (no kinks or stiffness) and the sprockets (upon detailed inspection by moi) are perfectly fine.  Having spent $220 at Bunnings (Oh!  What wonderful retail therapy that is!) for the required tools, I have saved myself $250 and spared myself the humiliation of being ripped-off by a smart-arse mechanic who saw only inexperience, but no intelligence.

Footnote:  My Bunnings adventure included the purchase of a wonderful Stanley socket wrench set ($110), a Stanley screwdriver set ($30) and a torque wrench ($80).  I wouldn't usually mention the name of the store in the blog (just as I won't mention the name of the motorcycle mechanic whose advice and expertise I will not seek again), but a trip to this wonderful hardware shop is always an exciting adventure, it really makes me feel like a kid!