The bits of stuff that fall in the cracks between Life, Music and outrageous fortune.		  
 
 
 
January
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No photos please! Bugger off!		 Bakersville
31.1.08 - 'sfunny the way things happen in clusters. I got another e-mail from John Baker, sent at 3.15am, saying that he was free round 11.30 today. He's staying at the Windsor, and I would've normally gone in by public transport, but with time being tight I opted to drive in. I found John in the foyer with some musician-looking types, possibly remnants of the enormous BDO cast. John introduced me to one Gaz, dressed to kill in a pin-striped suit, who is apparently a DJ, (a very good one according to John), as well as being John Mayall's son! John said that he'd mentioned to Gaz that the Chants had covered John Mayall's I'm Your Witchdoctor, which raised a wan smile from Gaz - and I thought caught a glimpse of his father in the smile. Gaz, however, was clearly exhausted, and just managed to struggle to a sitting position to shake hands before slumping back in his seat and lapsing into a coma.
John and I ventured out into the drizzle and ducked into Society just round the
corner for a coffee and chat about the next moves in the unlikely comeback career of Chants R&B. It was an interesting discussion too, which I'll eventually relate to you, but after about half an hour, I noticed this bloke peering in the window at us, or more specifically, at John Baker. It was only when he came in I realised the bloke was none other than Billy Bragg himself! I fervently hoped that John hadn't shown him this page with my thoughts from last night's show (below), because he seemed to be a very nice chap and I certainly didn't want to offend or provoke him - especially after he mentioned how much he'd enjoyed the show. My apprehensions were groundless, (of course), and after a brief discussion with John he happily tootled off into his favourite 'Melbourne in the rain' to do something or other. It's not as easy as it looks, being a stupid old blogging bastard..
 

Billy Bragg from a long way off..		 Bragging rights
30.1.08 - A couple of days ago I noticed I'd received an e-mail from John Baker, who organised the Chants' trip to NZ a month or so back. (The story of that trip remains incomplete - when I get a moment..) It seems John's over here tour managing for Billy Bragg, and when I finally spoke to him today, he invited me to the Prince of Wales to see Bragg's show. A couple of things here: 1) I'm not particularly fond of the PoW and 2) I'm not that familiar with Billy Bragg's output, and I'm not sure I could cope with a whole hour or more of just Billy. Anyway, I'd got nothing better to do, (well, I had, but it could wait), so I tootled on down to Fitzroy St and parked a long way from the PoW in order to minimise the chances of copping a parking ticket. When I walked in the place was jammed and I took up a position that was barely in the room right at the back. Mick Thomas' band was on, and I quite enjoyed the three or so numbers they played. While the crew was getting Bragg set up I was thinking I should be getting my own solo career
sorted and a set rehearsed, instead of mindlessly noodling while I'm watching telly. Should, schmood - I'll do it. At exactly 10.30 Billy Bragg sauntered on stage, plugged in his guitar and launched into song number one, followed by song number two (with capo), and then song number three. I should say that the girl behind me who had whooped almost supersonically when Bragg arrived on stage, was singing along to all the words, and the songs were well received by the audience at large, but I was thinking to myself that this wasn't really my scene and that I really wanted a lot more than just socially aware and occasionally poignant lyrics with basic melodies and basic accompaniment. Call me demanding, but it was all a bit, well, abrupt. Discovering this rather relieved me, as I didn't want to leave just because my parking ticket was running out in five minutes. When I got home I found Paint Your Wagon was on the telly- which I've never seen before - and I was very surprised to find a very young Clint Eastwood in it - and actually singing (I Talk To The Trees no less!)
 
No pictures..
23.1.08 - I've been very quiet over the past week or so, that's if you equate activity with its being recorded for this website. While there have been very few interruptions from gigs and students over the holiday period, I've actually been quite busily getting down to my alleged core business of music making, i.e. recording, as well as tinkering superficially with the website itself . There has been the odd event of note along the way: Billy Pinnell came over a few days ago and recorded an interview about my life so far for the National Film & Sound Archive, and I had a lovely night out at Camberwell's Italy 1 with Iain Ross, a great mate from Adelaide who was in town briefly. I've also been following up the saga of the I'll Be Gone clip, and have just this minute heard back from the National Film & Sound Archive's Matthew Davies in Canberra, and I'm hopeful that I'll have something positive to report in a couple of days.
Today, though, Bill and I head off to Warbie to conduct a workshop for the Limelight project and on Saturday we tootle up to Bendigo (very early) for the Australia Day celebrations, and now that I look at what we've got in store for February, my days locked in the studio are obviously numbered. Which I'm a little sad about, but at least there'll be some money coming in..
 

Sue, Margaret, Robyn and Kath at Heathmont Mansion		 Clean up in Camberwell presages what?
14.1.08 - There was a quorum of Burns girls in town last week (pic), which is an unusual event these days as two of them (Robyn and Margaret) insist on living in sunny Queensland. I took the opportunity to invite Robyn and Marg (and Kath) over to my Camberwell shack to sort through the remnants of Helen's bits and pieces and take home what appealed to them. I'm gradually whittling down the dross that clutters up my life, which should make any prospective moves to a more sensible abode a little less stressful. Stay vague is my motto.		  
 

If you really want a good look at the paintings, go to the exhibition		 Gordon Bennett
12.1.08 - Jane Greagg sent me down a couple of tickets to see the Gordon Bennett exhibition at the Ian Potter Gallery, so on Thursday I took the tram into town to meet Dick. There was a pesky malt-head on the tram (wearing a Brumbies polo shirt, I regret to say) insisting everybody should 'get with it' and join him in a rendition of River Deep, Mountain High, but it was an otherwise uneventful trip. I was only familiar with Gordon Bennett as a euphemism for 'Gawd in Heaven' or something, so the paintings were a revelation, and both Dick and I thoroughly enjoyed the show. Still, I reckon
going to galleries is an acquired taste and generally works better with a glass of vino in the hand. Dick managed to get into a conversation with a retired lecturer who was working as a guide at the gallery and who was at the NGV roughly contemporaneously with Dick's sojourn there as the NGV's first post-graduate student back in the early seventies, (where he briefly held the record for swimming the length of the moat, I was surprised to hear). We adjourned to Feddish for (sub-standard I thought) mussel and scallop rissottos and the regulation glasses of wine and discussed at length the Meaning of Life no less. That's what you get for tickling the Rudd boys' brain cells..
 

Dick and Mike practise raising one eyebrow in sync		 Nothing says nothing like nothing..
3.1.08 - Bro' Dick got back from his Christmas break in Torquay last night, so I rang and suggested we get together for our first luncheon engagement for the New Year. The Seniors' all-day pass has gone up to $3.30 (from $3.10) and I guess some of you kiddies can work out how much of a rise that is, but it's still a bargain in today's climate. We ambled over to Little Collins St, found ourselves a pretentious little Italian joint (Intimo) and had an over-priced, but otherwise quite respectable, lunch and chat. Liz returns from her Asian foray tomorrow, and Dick is looking forward to having his daughter back. I'm without Chris for the moment, but I'm sure I'll take him out for another iced mocca at you-know-where soon enough.
 
 
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