MELBOURNE – 31st May 2012-29th July 2012
Melbourne, my death. As described in my current book as ‘my apparent hometown’. To know that Melbourne is my apparent hometown is my endless shame. Melbourne, a city constituting nothingness, a city which apparently sees no need for culture, except for that which is completely and utterly forced and fake. Melbourne is a real symbol of the real problems relating to Australia – the real problem facing Australia is that it looks at itself as being completely separate from the whole world – the statement commonly uttered by typical arrogant and ignorant Australians of ‘Australia is the best country in the world’ is mirrored by similar statements made by Melburnians of ‘Melbourne is the best city in the world’. Anyone who truly believes that Australia and Melbourne are the greatest localities in the world have obviously not seen much of the world, or are true ignoramuses capable of and joyous in living in a state completely dearth of culture, and incapable of change due to complete and overall arrogance and ignorance. Let’s assume that Australia avoided the ‘global financial crisis’ (even though it’s bleedingly obvious that Australia’s economy is on the verge of total collapse when the economies of the rest of the world are on the road towards recovery), as politicians like to have us believe: if Australia avoided the ‘global financial crisis’, firstly it wasn’t global, and secondly it was because of Australia’s belief that it is somehow separate from and above the rest of the world. I would prefer to be a part of the world and in a dire economic state than a part of nothingness, which is Australia. Australia obviously doesn’t consider the avoidance of the ‘global financial crisis’ as being anything overly impressive anyway, because the prime minister who weathered the potential economic storm was summarily and shamelessly and shamefully stripped of his duties, with absolutely no regard given to respect. Interestingly, the same politicians who orchestrated the stripping away of the former prime minister’s duties are still fond of telling the world how great they are to be running a ‘successful’ economy – if it’s such a great accomplishment to be running a successful economy then I would have thought that respect would have been in order for the prime minister who worked to ensure that strong economic position. It is typical of arrogant, ignorant Australians to show no respect when it’s apparently due.
I needed to come back to Australia to organise a new visa for France. Initially, after having my set date for return to Australia as the 31st of May, I intended to return to Paris by August. Then, whilst on a flight to Berlin (from Paris), I realised that I had no need to be in Australia, or Melbourne, so I altered my intention. I decided that I would stay in Australia, or Melbourne, for only as long as was necessary – I thought that I might be able to get back to Paris in six weeks after my departure. I was extremely fortunate to have been able to leave Australia as early as I did in the end, due to the French Embassy having completely inadequate procedures in place for processing visa requests. By looking at the visa appointment booking system every time that I was at or in the vicinity of a computer, I managed to get an appointment in early July, due to somebody else cancelling his or her appointment. From all my looking at the system, it seems to me that my appointment in early July was the only appointment that became available any earlier than late August during the entire two month period that I spent in Australia/Melbourne between June and July, and late August really would not have been acceptable to me or even suitable for various reasons.
In the end, however, I could have left Australia even earlier than I did (on the 29th of July). The information regarding visas on the French Embassy’s website states that one needs to allow at least two weeks for a visa to be processed, hence, I booked my flight to Paris for three weeks after the date of my visa appointment, to be on the safe side of that statement ‘it will take at least two weeks for your visa application to be processed’ (note: it is necessary when applying for a visa that one have return plane tickets). Well, the morning after my visa appointment there came a knocking upon my front door – with that knocking came my passport with its visa stamp. I wasn’t going to pay my airline at that point to change my departure from Australia date to an earlier one, so I remained in Australia for a further three weeks, knowing I was all set to go. When I had everything virtually all ready, those three weeks were really of nothingness, in the land of nothingness.
Whenever I am away from Paris I am malcontented – that goes for being two hours away, let alone twenty four hours away. Those two months, hence, were difficult. I wrote a lot. I worked on another book. I contacted publishers. I went to gigs. I drank bad Australian coffee …. of all my qualms with Australia, I would suggest that its inferior coffee/coffee making technique was the hardest to bear.
Amidst all my travails, my endless travails, in Australia, there were joyous moments. Gigs often bring unexpected or semi-expected joys, as does writing. I said to a friend only a few days/weeks before my expected date of arrival back in Australia that if there was one gig that I wanted to see whilst in Australia that it would be involving a group called the Useless Children, my second favourite band of all time. I learnt on my first day back in Australia that they had a gig the coming Sunday, only a few days hence. I was rather pleased.
The gig on the Sunday involved six artists, and it had its ups and downs – it was a charity event, and I liked knowing that the groups weren’t going to make any money from the gig (I don’t support charity but I go to gigs). It was the first time that I had seen the Useless Children for a long time, and I think it was their first gig for a long time also. They have changed significantly, and in my opinion for the worse. After their set I heard some guys talking about how they’ve changed, about how they used to be ‘really punky and thrashy’, but that now they’re something else entirely. Those guys seemed to appreciate the new sound of the Useless Children. I have respect for them trying something new, but they’re no longer my second favourite band, that’s all – change is not going to please everybody – I accept that. There’s more risk in never changing than in changing. I thoroughly enjoyed the music of the Night Terrors for a good while, but they’re exactly the same now as they were when I first saw them (I first saw them some time ago, probably between four and eight years ago). Their sound is tired, and they look tired of performing their tired sound. To add to my tiring of the Night Terrors is their lack of a singer.
After leaving the gig of the Useless Children, on my first Sunday of being back in Australia, I was disheartened, partly at my loss of the Useless Children, but also partly at what I saw as the effective end of the live music scene of Melbourne, and perhaps of a further chunk of my youth. I might not like Melbourne, and I would say that I never really cared for Melbourne, but something that I’ve always generally been prepared to admit is that its live music scene is strong, and depending on the period in question, extremely strong. The gig on that Sunday was up and down, and that can happen, but the problem was that it lacked all semblance of heart, and professionalism, and I don’t know whether it’s worse to lack heart or professionalism.
That was the first gig that I saw after my return to Australia, and I hoped to see the Useless Children again before my departure – this was not to eventuate – they had no more gigs. I hope that if that was their first gig with their new sound that it will improve over time, and that their intentions will become clearer over time. Whenever I am disappointed by someone whom I greatly admire, I become more interested in him/her/them, perhaps in hopes that the situation will turn – I don’t know the reason – perhaps it’s merely masochism (after I was left distraught by a bad SoKo gig in Paris I became more obsessed with her perhaps than ever – I was just no longer in love with her – I still hope to see SoKo live again, after her disastrous performance of March the fifth 2012 …. my disappointment following the Useless Children gig paled in comparison to that which I felt following the SoKo gig).
I really needed something to happen following the Useless Children gig – although I hold no place in my heart for Melbourne, I do for its live music scene, and I don’t wish fervently for its demise. If the live music scene of Melbourne was dead, I knew that the live music scene of the rest of the world would soon follow.
But, something did happen at the next gig that I attended. It was the following weekend, at the same venue. It was a gig of Sarah Chadwick, of Batrider semi-fame. Her set was typically superb, as is to be expected from Sarah Chadwick. But it was the two songs of the previously unknown group that I witnessed that took my attention on this particular evening. These two songs, the final two songs of the group’s set, affected me deeply, and I knew that I needed to see this group again, and hence I hoped that they would play again some time in the weeks to come.
It was difficult to find information about this group on the internet because they are called Igor, and when searching for Igor on the internet one is presented with pages and pages on people with the name Igor, but not on the little known group that I eventually learnt is from New Zealand. I also learnt from my research that they had a number of gigs coming up in the coming days, before their return to New Zealand. I was pleased to know that I would have the opportunity to see an entire set of this group.
At the Tote, four days following their gig with Sarah Chadwick at the Gasometer, I saw this group again. Seeing an entire set by this group was something completely different from seeing them playing two songs. In an entire set of Igor one sees everything that they are capable of, and will be capable of. They are already doing more with limited ability than any other group in the world, and I assume that they have not been in existence for a terribly long time, because both of the girls who make up Igor, I guestimate, would be eighteen years old …. no more than twenty years old. The excitement that this band must be stirring in all of the real music fans who have witnessed them so far must be palpable …. it is in me, and everybody who has witnessed this group so far are real music fans.
I loved the simple introduction to the set at the Tote which was given by my favourite member of Igor, the one who is fond of drinking red wine straight from the bottle. Her introduction consisted of the following statement: ‘we’re Igor, from New Zealand’. I don’t think it’s necessary to state one’s nationality as a performer, but it was charming when a young girl fond of wine from bottles in paper bags does.
Aside from Igor, I saw a number of other groups twice, mostly due to coincidence. I saw a group called White Walls twice. They’re a remarkable band, quite deceptively. From memory, they have two if not three guitarists, and no bass guitarist – generally this does not bode well for a group’s prospects, but this group is great enough to pull off the lack of a bass guitarist without leaving anything to be desired. Generally a lack of a bass guitarist is a glaring omission for a group – for this group, not at all. One of their guitarists, the only member of the group who never sings, is one of the greatest guitarists of all time – perhaps his brilliant talent compensates for the lack of a bass guitarist. I think they would probably be even better with a bass player, but they can definitely get away without having one. They play a post punk style of music, with a total wall of sound which completely envelopes one’s headspace.
The other group that I saw twice was the Stevens. The first time I saw them I was not moved at all. They didn’t seem particularly into their set the first time I saw them, hence, neither was I into it. The second time that I saw them they were great. This second occasion was their album launch, and I think that they viewed this as being an extremely important gig, which maybe it was, but their complete lack of passion the first time I saw them still sticks with me. Every gig won’t be an album launch, and so I need to assume that the band will not take these average/normal gigs seriously. I saw this second gig of the Stevens because I had been wanting to see one of the support acts – I certainly would not have gone out of my way to see the Stevens again after the first time I saw them. But, I think they’re a good band with a good sound, I just hope that it isn’t the norm for their performances to lack all passion.
But, my two month stop over in Melbourne was made by Igor. Without Igor, and the excitement that this band stirred in me, the two months would have been extremely dull. I felt reinvigorated after seeing that group, not for Melbourne, but for music. I would not recommend Melbourne to anyone, unless one wishes to have somewhere to go to die of boredom, surrounded by the most try hard people that one is likely to ever come across. Music, though, opens up a world of possibilities and all kinds of strange and wondrous doors no matter where one finds oneself. I didn’t need Igor to remind me of how great music can be, because I had seen Liza Manili only a few months earlier, but what Igor showed me was that one can stumble upon musical brilliance no matter what horror surrounds one. I will follow the trajectory of Igor with interest for the rest of my days, or at least for the rest of their days, which I hope are long and fruitful.
Then, on the 30th of July, at two o’clock in the morning, I found myself on a plane, heading in the direction of Paris. I felt no trepidation in leaving Melbourne for Paris on this occasion, as I did on my first trip to Paris – it wasn’t that I knew what to expect on this occasion, it was that I knew that it was absolutely right, and that everything would happen on this sojourn in Paris. I was not a resident of Paris on my previous stays – this time I would be in Paris for life.
Note: I left Melbourne on the 30th of July, but the only time that I spent in Melbourne on the 30th was at the airport. Airports don’t count as being a part of any city or country, they are just launching places, and also places of shattered and broken dreams, depending on one’s reason for finding oneself at an airport.
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