Simply close this window to return to Mike Rudd & Bill Putt's Stop Press           December   The bits of stuff that fall in the cracks between Life, Music and Outrageous Fortune.           Mike and Chris' Chrissy card 16.12.12 - This year's pic for the card very nearly didn't happen. Chris has been living the high life and I had to wait till he'd had pizza - and beer - for his Chrissy lunch today before I could get his attention for the annual Chrissy card photo shoot here in Mt Waverley.           Les Mis 29.12.12 - Maria's down from the ACT and we'd decided to go to a movie, but was it to be The Hobbit or Les Miserables? Maria's indifferent about all things Middle Earth so the decision was easily made to check out Les Mis. I've not read the book and so I hadn't a clue about the story-line and, although I guess I must've have heard bits and pieces of the music over the years, (like the Master of the House fragment as sung by Seinfeld's George Costanza in The Jacket episode), I've not been sufficiently aroused to investigate further and so I had absolutely no expectations. Well, I was delighted. I've heard a bit about the 'live' singing (from David and Margaret), which is almost unheard of in movies of musicals, but it works a treat, with all but Russell Crowe taking the opportunity to turn in bravura performances. Crowe's interpretation of what could've been a juicy villainous role was disappointingly bland and I can only surmise that he was concentrating on the rather modest objective of singing in tune rather than acting. In the tradition of grand opera Les Mis is all sung and you don't get any opportunities to establish your character outside of singing, so I think Russell got it wrong. Russell's performance aside, the movie is outstanding overall and I was weeping like a baby at all the predictable points. Well, not exactly like a baby, but it's a hugely emotional experience, with misery piled on misery unrelentingly. At 2½ hours Les Mis long, but presumably it sticks to the stageplay and there'll be expectations from theatre-goers. Highly recommended.           1) Keaton gets his Chissy present 2) Chris is slightly sceptical about Fraser's thoughts on Robbie Deans The Chrissy party season gets under way 23.12.12 - Perhaps ironically, the first cab off the rank was the End of the World party on Friday night at the Sellers'. Jude had prepared some delicious entrées and Warren demonstrated his nonchalant expertise on the BBQ, (I've yet to fire mine up in anger), but it was Marg who nearly delivered the coup de grace with her home-made cheese cake. Yesterday arvo Chris and I went over to visit the Robbos and give Keaton his first ever Christmas present. (pic 1) He didn't care about the (big) shirt but loved the wrapping paper. Last night we went to the McClatchys' to join them for pre-Christmas drinkies. Chris was quite switched on and had a long chat with Fraser (pic 2) who's down from Qld before he and Robyn head over to NZ to do some hiking. It should be quite a Christmas Day at Aunty Margaret's with nearly a full complement of Burns' in attendance..           The Rack Man, Martyn Sullivan and me at Italy 1 The Rack Man cometh.. 21.12.12 - Wednesday is a bit of a blur after lunch. I met the Rack Man, Martyn Sullivan, (pic) for lunch at Italy 1, which is just around the corner from my office at Choc Latte. Needless to say we ate well and Martyn had photos to show me of his son Thomas' graduation from Duntroon. Thomas' ambition is to become a major and utter the immortal line, 'Major Tom to ground control', which of course makes him a man after this baby boomer's heart. I've been going to Italy 1 for more than a decade now, and it's remained true to its charter with invariably good food and a good choice of wines. It has some interesting clientèle too - I remember sitting on a table next to Barry Humphries on one occasion. (We shared the same tour manager).           Ed Nimmervoll's brain is no longer a pain, which is the name of the game.. A meeting with Ed Nimmervoll 17.12.12 - Ed and I get to meet on an irregular basis, in my case more or less based on the way I'm feeling about life or perhaps how I'm feeling about my career, and in Ed's case - well, I'm not always sure. These days we meet at Caffe Latte in Hawksburn without even having to specify it, mainly because it's handy to Ed's place, which is important because he's stopped driving since his tumour. Anyway, I can report he's well and he's writing - check out his page on Facebook if you don't believe me..           The Pretties' manager, Dick Taylor, Phil May and the young rhythm section The Pretty Things in Oakleigh 15.12.12 - Syl rang me yesterday arvo to tell me where Aunty Margaret's birthday dinner was to be held - tonight - and so I was free to check out the Pretty Things at the Caravan Club in Oakleigh with Robbo last night after all. We arrived just before they started to play at about 9.40 and they were on stage till after 11.30, so they gave value. I first saw the Pretties in Christchurch on their notorious NZ tour back in 1965. They were on a fairly ludicrous package that included Sandy Shaw and Eden Kane, so they wouldn't have been on stage for more than half-an-hour back then, but they had a disproportionate effect on the NZ music scene at the time nevertheless. Anyway, this is nearly fifty years on and it's essentially the Phil May / Dick Taylor show, with a fine young rhythm section taking the place of the original subversive/mercurial/anarchic drummer Viv Prince and now Melbourne-based bassist John Stax, who put in a token appearance on harp at the end of the show and even took over from the Mighty Boosh's Noel Fielding look-alike on bass for Rosalyn. The band's manager was on stage all night (pic) adding maraccas and harmonies and there was a supplementary guitarist on stage about the same vintage as Phil and Dick, so at the end there were as many as seven Pretties cluttering up the stage. They've adopted the Men-In-Black philosophy couture-wise, but the biggest change was in Phil May's stage presence and delivery. The campy affectations, which so impressed (and alarmed me) on the first tour have all gone and been replaced by a world-weary, blokey persona with no nods at all to the old/young 'bi-sexual' Phil. Gone too are all the squeals that masked the rather imprecise intonation, so in this rather central respect the songs just didn't sound like the original band. Having said that, the arrangements (of the sixties stuff at least) are the same, and Dick Taylor, typically a picture of concentration all night, positively shone on slide guitar with the most transparent sound imaginable in a blues sequence recalling the very earliest jams the pair had with Keef and Co. back in 1963. It was good to see an honest, unpretentious band just doing what they do best and everybody in the audience thoroughly enjoyed the night. Robbo and I high-fived it at the end, which gives you an indication of how much we enjoyed it.           Mary and Dick marvel at pics 'tis the season to be jolly.. 14.12.12 - How come I'm feeling more tense by the day as we approach Christmas then? The answer is the same as last year and the years before so I needn't bother with trying to explain. On Tuesday I got an unsolicited invitation to visit the other Rudds in their Warrandyte lair and we had a fine meal with the usual barbecued steaks followed by berries of different persuasions and ice cream - which threw me because I'd brought some fruit with me for the usual fruit salad. There was a brief skirmish with different model Lumix cameras (pic) which Mary won hands down. The next night I took the visiting Natasha Marich into Gertrude St where we dined extravagantly at Cutler & Co. before adjourning to the Uptown Jazz Café in Brunswick St to take in some Be Bop courtesy of Bopstretch. It was good too, although the room was extremely hot being singularly lacking in air conditioning. As we were leaving I ran into Wilbur Wilde who accused me of 'slumming it in a jazz club', which only goes to prove you can't please everybody..           1) The nesting detritus I've emptied out of the mailbox so far 2) I hope these dumb-arse mynahs get the hint soon.. Nesting mynahs come home to roost.. 11.12.12 - I noticed it about a week ago. Every time I went to the letter box I had to clear out all these twigs. Then I twigged - there were birds attempting to establish a nest in there! Not just any birds, mind you, but Indian mynahs, the peskiest birds on the block. My mother wrote to Dick and me recently that she was having her own battle with birds shitting on her car mirrors. Maybe it's a bird-war on our gene pool but I'm over it already. I've caught them at it and they have that look of being controlled by an instinct that would brook no interference by mere humans. We shall see..           Wave your digital candles everybody and sing along! Victoria Police Academy Carols 7.12.12 - You may've read in Mike's P&W that I was less than impressed with some aspects of this carols night, but I was impressed with the interior of the Glen Waverley Police Academy chapel. I didn't have any expectations, but I was surprised at the sheer scale of it when we walked in. I thought the band was pretty good too, and some of the singing was exceptional, especially from Elise Beatty and Daina Jowsey. (Jowsey rings a bell..) The song book was helpful, but the typist lost his/her nerve once or twice - I really liked the unintentionally casual 'Yeah, Lord, we greet thee, born this happy morning' in O Come all ye Faithful..           1) If I stay absolutely still I'm certain that I'm invisible 2) I can still see you Mr Frog! A prince among frogs 3.12.12 - I'm not the most assiduous of gardeners, so I was very surprised to have Mr Frog lurch out of a pile of leaves I was strategically moving from point A to pointless B and temporarily secrete himself behind the garden border. It was a terrifying moment for Mr Frog as he's probably been unaware of my presence for his entire lifetime.                   back to the top