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It’s not even a pun, is it? Whatever it is, Canbeurovision spread like wildfire. What was conceived as a mid-week Smiths slot-filler swiftly snowballed into three heats and a final that had to move venues (twice!) to accommodate the fevered appetites of a city bursting with talent and self-deprecation.  Full credit to visionary Chris Endrey,  who was  unflappable in coordinating an ever expanding logistical nightmare. In anyone else’s hands, it would have remained a one-off, but Endrey’s foresight and organisational acumen was superhuman – he even found time to order promotional mugs! And as always, props to Bevan Noble – ‘sound guy’ is too casual a term for him – I’m going with Sonic Titan from now on.

When I saw the callout for Canbeurovision – simply a Eurovision song contest for Canberra suburbs – I knew I had to represent my beloved Queanbeyan (the joke is that Canbeurovision allowed Queanbeyan to enter the same way Eurovision allowed Australia and Israel).

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Being indolent-orientated, I didn’t want to have to put together a band for it, or even, you know, write a new song. I reached back to a song I already had – a whimsical techno number overlaid with free samples of Heems talking about cheese. I mean, what could be more perfect for a Eurovision-style contest than a song literally about cheese?

The song in place, I had to think of how to present it – thank Catherine, ’cause after two years of Cell Block dance-offs, synchronised dance is now a go-to in my skillset. I asked Nick (natch), and Krewdbits to help out – I love Krewdbits and have been waiting for an excuse to work with them. Ink Bits was unavailable, but Bambi was an immediate yes, and we had a crew.

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Leaning into the cheese theme, we all dressed in yellow and threw cheese sticks out to the crowd in the closing moments. I paired our performance with a deliberately basic karaoke-style video – the lyrics were accompanied by a a handful of Google-sourced photos of Queanbeyan, cheese, and lots of star wipes.

Nick and Bambi wrote the brilliant choreography, with limited direction from me on the structure. I knew from past experience that me – fat bloke least likely to have moves – bursting into synchronised dance towards the end of a routine was an absolute winner, and the cheers from the audience both times we performed confirmed this.

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That’s right, we performed this twice – making it through our heat and to the final. We levelled up for the final by adding Zev as a fourth dancer, chiefly because they already had an entire yellow ensemble. Unsurprisingly, they crushed it.

The brief was slight, and most people went a different direction than myself, writing or adapting songs specifically to speak to their chosen suburb. Which was great, but a Canberran spin, as Eurovision acts don’t sing about their home country. I set out wanting our act to be the strangest and well, mission accomplished.

The other acts were all incredible – seriously, I want a compilation CD/DVD. The concept seemingly brought the best out of everyone. It’s hard to pick favourites, but Sophie Chapman’s song about Isabella Plains is still stuck in my head.

The final was a recklessly good time. I was buzzing off it for days afterwards – the amount of love and positive energy in the room was palpable – if you don’t believe me, check out the all-group singalong for winners Dickson. Bless.

Photos by Marin Ollman and Richard Tuffin.

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The five weeks of G.O.O.D summer have been a blast – I’ve loved getting up early Saturday mornings to give each record a couple of early spins, watch the fallout from the listening parties, and read the hot takes. It started with Pusha-T’s Daytona – the best solo outing yet from my favourite rapper – and ended today just as strong with Teyana Taylor’s K.T.S.E.

Like the rest of the albums, my first taste of K.T.S.E. came from a brief Tweeted video of its listening party. The track I heard (which turned out to be Rose In Harlem) sampled something naggingly familiar.

It took me about five seconds to place it – it was a vocal snatch from The Stylistics’ Because I Love You.

Now here’s where it gets cool – I recognised the sample because I had sampled the song six months ago on the Return To Lion’s Mansion beat tape! The album it came from was one of 16 I picked up crate-digging in Japan. I used a different section of the track than the one Kanye used, but still – what are the odds? Of all the hundreds of records I flipped through in Japan, of all the songs on those slabs of wax – to pick the same one as the musical hero I was emulating? Incredible. So, I ask you – who sampled it better?

Oh wow, I found a 2016 blog entry I wrote but forget to post! This concerns the EP In A Day 3 sequence, which ultimately became the grant-winning, NFSA-showcasing (and increasingly ambitious) This Band Will Self-Destruct.

Presented below for your immediate pleasure:

I said to Nick the other day – half-joking – these sessions have started to feel like The Five Obstructions, except we are now onto obstructions 13 through 20. There’s only so many ways to make a music video out of an in-studio band performance. To counter this, we’ve spent more time ahead of filming generating ideas to differentiate each song. In the first Ep In A Day, all the songs were filmed with an identical camera set-up; the challenge was making each unique via editing and post-production tricks. In EP In A Day 2, I went in with specific ideas about filming/framing each song differently – for instance, I knew I wanted to film only close-ups of each performer’s face in My Own Little Girl, and I wanted a single take for Song To Be Played In The Event Of My Death.

For EP In A Day 2, the point of difference is wardrobe, set design and lighting.  Nick engaged the services of Imogen Keen, one of Canberra’s best and most in-demand stage designers. I came in with some strong ideas, and over several meetings between the three of us, we hashed out four different set-ups.

At a You Are Here meeting a couple of years ago, someone said they always throw out their first idea because it’s invariably terrible or lazy. I could not disagree more. To me, a primary idea is undoubtably stronger than a secondary one, and I remain a firm advocate in the adage ‘first thought, best thought’. Lightbulbs is testament –  literally, I had Nick hold a lightbulb. It’s not without precedent – I love concert footage of Tom Waits with a similar apparatus to what we used.

The remaining band is filmed (and lit) by a roving spotlight attached to the camera.  The song is lyric-heavy, and Imogen struck upon the idea to highlight the words – these hang in cut-up segments strung above the performer’s heads – a point of interest in the inky darkness. The band is in white, providing a unity and simplicity to the set-up  – it also helps them stand out against the background.

My one concern at the outset was length – at nearly eight minutes, I worried the lighting gambit wouldn’t be enough. Thankfully, Nick is an increasingly magnetic screen presence – the clip leans on his ability to deliver the song direct to camera.

My Captain Obvious tendencies also resulted in a warmer/brighter light each time Nick sung ‘sun’ (get it?). Aside from the lyrical connection, it gave needed variation to the palette.  Some makeshift strobe lighting at the end complemented the rhythmic change in the outro, serving as a adrenaline hit (and recalling the lighting in numerous metal videos).

When coming up with ideas for music videos, my process is to listen to the song a few times, writing ideas as they come. Most are junk, but rough diamonds always emerge. Typically, I get one strong visual, and then build outwards. In Lightbulbs, it was Nick holding the bulb to his face. In this case, I saw the band looking towards a camera above, spinning as if in a Busby Berkeley sequence.

It didn’t make it into the clip, but something Technicolor and Busby Berkeley inspired (albeit on a Playschool budget) was the genesis for this bright and camp video. The set design is an abstraction on an under-the-water theme – the blue balloons are the ocean, the green netting is seaweed, the pink metallic streamers are… I don’t know, coral? I don’t know if it’s because the song is the most up-tempo of the group, or if it’s because it was the last performance of the day, but the excitement and energy of the band is palpable. The last things we filmed were the band goofing around – this included everyone swapping instruments and miming along.  A special shout-out to drummer/bandleader Grahame Thompson for his fully committed lead singer performance – probably the funniest moment in a day full of them. One day the footage of that incendiary performance will emerge (slash be leaked by me) and leave all lesser front-persons running for their mothers.

My other idea for this clip – and one of my favourite things I’ve filmed – is a mimed story about a relationship played out through the studio window. I still can’t believe how well this worked out – in most art-making you aim bigger than you need, knowing you will fall short. This is the rare occurrence where reality exceeded my expectations – all credit should go to the performers Aaron Kirby and Fiona McLeod (and to Nick for casting them). I explained the concept to Aaron and Fi and then they invented their own routine, far funnier and personal than what I envisioned. It’s a mid-video Easter Egg and I love how it is not referenced or explained in any way – just a slice of vaudeville sandwiched into a live performance.

Talking with Imogen and Nick in our pre-production meetings, our most elaborate ideas were reserved for this clip. I remember looking over my notes and having a panic attack – if we’d proceeded with what we had in mind, this clip would have taken all day to shoot.

Essentially, our raft of visual ideas needed set-up and filming independent of the actual song recording. In many ways, this is the natural progression for the series (the closer the sessions move to full-blown music videos, the happier I am – it’s more my wheelhouse than documenting live performance). In other ways, it’s a digression (and a distraction) from the central premise of the project.

However, removed from these philosophical concerns, it remained unfeasible to add more set-ups to what would already be our longest and most exhausting EP In A Day yet. We did keep the coolest one though – the idea of opening on a wound bleeding through a shirt. Imogen came up with the apparatus (and brought the blood) – however, in testing we used up two of our three white t-shirts. We got the shot on our third and last try, but I think our second attempt looked better on film. Unfortunately, the second attempt was with cameraman/stand-in Shane Parsons wearing the shirt – this meant I couldn’t use it for the opening, but I did end up using it (reversed) in the closing of the clip.

Another high-minded idea was an overarching throughline across all four videos. Eyelash opens the sequence with the band waking up, beginning in a seated/static position, and with a desaturated palette. Deadly Game Of Cat & Mouse is the last video – thus we start with the least animated and conclude with the most animated (emphasis on animated, DGOC&M being the most cartoonish). We don’t integrate this throughline as successfully in the other videos but I like that we were thinking of these things, and it’s something I want to explore further in other sessions (and other projects).

When I heard we had a set designer, this was one of the first ideas I had – to dress two different spaces and have Nick perform in one and the band in the other, only revealing at the end they are performing next to each other. The rest built from ideas Nick and Imogen had about making one space warm and earthy, the other cool and silvery. Nick performs a series of costume changes while singing the song, which also must have come from him or Imogen – while Nick always rises to these challenges, it’s a big ask for a performer and not one I’d be inclined to suggest.

On the day, camera maverick Shane Parsons had the idea to film Nick’s section in portrait. It’s a novel (and cool) idea which also serves to further differentiate the two segments. Filmmakers rarely monkey with aspect ratios and split-screens (especially during a piece) – I think part of this is that it dates a film to a specific era. Knowing this, and still using it for aesthetic effect, is increasingly in vogue – Grand Budapest Hotel is one of the recent (and most successful) examples. More and more music videos are tinkering with framing (particularly portrait vs. landscape, noting their audience use smartphones to watch their content). Recent great videos from Chance The RapperPusha T, and Charli XCX all shirk from using the entire widescreen/landscape frame available to them. For Going Home, I wanted to treat the frame similarly – to not feel obliged to fill it up entirely and to mess with people’s expectations around size and spatial relationships.

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I describe Chenoeh Miller’s Sound and Fury parties as the sort of parties that a classic Bond Villain would throw. Lurid colours, pockets of performance firing off in every corner of the space, in and around the crowd, and an abiding sense that you’ve stumbled into a scene from some larger, life-and-death sequence in the lives of the performers.SF 3

I’ve been performing in the Sound and Fury Ensemble for I guess three years now. For me it’s a mix of out-of-the-comfort-zone (being part of full-blown production-number dance items alongside a group of actual highly-trained dancers) and fantasy self-indulgence (straight up pop ballad singing in an array of garish outfits). Chen and the rest of the ensemble are among my favourite people I’ve ever worked with, and the busyness of all our lives means that the normally once-a-quarter instances of Sound and Fury tend to rush by in a blitz of last minute rehearsals and frantically-rigged sound cues.

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That was until a few weeks ago, when S@F did more nights of performance in the space of a week than we normally do in a year. Five nights at New Zealand Fringe, comprising four 3-hour parties and one 5-hour party. My first tour as a performer in an ensemble rather than as a performer/writer/Producer and yes it was straight up my fantasy of Performance Art Sleep-Away Camp come true.SF 5

I got to sing some of my favourite ever weepie anthems- Nothing Compares To You, It’s A Heartache, Heart-Shaped Box- and leap around like a madman to our resident DJ/best DJ living Dead DJ Joke. I got to have my first experience of roving performance/space filling performance that I could actually enjoy (it’s not my skill set but being part of the shock and awe factor of a 10-person ensemble is defs the way to do it). Most of all I got to indulge my love doing of Long, Extended, Physical performances. Like seriously, doing physically challenging stuff for ages in front of an audience is so my thing. So so my thing.

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When Mayor Of The Canberra Arts Scene Venus Mantrap invites you to be her second banana for a 2-hour performance at the National Gallery of Australia, launching and taking aesthetic cues from the David Hockney exhibition, you say ‘How High?’.

Lip-synching, even just back-up lip-synching, alongside Canberra’s greatest drag performer was a daunting challenge, but the fact that every song Venus programmed is one etched into the fibres of my heart (yes there was more than one B-52s track) made it easy to dive right in.

It was so so fun learning into the sidekick/bit-of-stuff-on-the-side role, and if I do say so myself Venus and I had an easy chemistry that the crowd loved. I really really want to do it again.

I decided this year to learn the drums. The idea’s been burning in the back of my head for a little while. It’s likely the confluence of a few thoughts – I’ve always imagined Violet’s first instrument as the drums and want to be able to teach her. Also, I’ve programmed so many drum patterns over the last couple of years that playing an actual kit feels like the next step to up-skill my arsenal. When Lou suggested we convert our junk-filled garage into a rumpus room, the carrot she dangled was there’d be space for drums. And now there is! 20180410_193738.jpg

One of the amazing things about learning an instrument (or any new skill) is how you notice and appreciate things you never did before. I’ve played with some amazing drummers but never considered the extraordinary coordination and dexterity they possess. I’m going to gigs and just watching the drummer. Songs I’ve loved for years I hear with new ears.

I’ve been taking lessons for the last couple of months and loving it. In another six months or so, I hope to have worked up my technique and speed to start playing with others – Lou, Nick and I have already discussed a live version of Lulu & The Tantrums!