Harden Up, Ow

It’s New Zealand Music Month. Because there’s a whole month to fill with events, a lot of unremarkable stuff is included – C4 plays a music video by a New Zealand artist, or a local band plays at the Kings Arms and, whoo-hoo, it’s a New Zealand music celebration!

Except that ordinary sort of stuff shouldn’t be singled out as being special. That stuff should just be (and indeed is) the everyday healthy state of the New Zealand music industry.

But amid all the hype, there have been a few decent events that make up for all the non-events.

One such rockstravaganza was Harden Up Ow, an evening of the best of Hamilton’s incestuous music scene (and that’s good incest, like when the fictional hot mom seduces her fictional hot son, not the real-life bad uncle incest). The idea behind the evening was that each of the bands would play three songs – one original and two covers of songs by other Hamilton bands.

Being a bit of a Hamilton exile, I wasn’t familiar with a few of the bands who played, but that didn’t matter so much when the band played a song I knew and could happily jump along with.

Me and my beatnik friends are through with being laid-back.
If I had something bigger than a pushbike I’d run you down.

The evening opened with Amy Racecar doing the permanently glorious “Caroline” (originally by Jahna, I think), and then Split Enz’s “Shark Attack”. It’s a bit of a tenuous connection linking Te Awamutu/Auckland with Hamilton, but it can sort of be done, but for such a shit song as “Shark Attack” it’s not worth it.

Date-Month-Year started playing a slow, waltzy song. The audience had a collective “Hmm… what’s this one?” think, but it wasn’t until the first verse started that it became apparent they were doing 48 May’s “Leather and Tattoos”. The tempo change magically transformed it from a happy joy-time vapid punk-pop song into a bittersweet story of a messed-up young lady. However, it went on a bit too long and Petra Jane was forced to blow her whistle and hold up the “HURRY UP OW” sign.

Frogletter did a wild medley with bits and pieces of songs from all over the city, including a snatch of “Leather and Tattoos” from you-know-who. It was fun, and, despite the temptation (or indeed the theme of the evening), it didn’t get all that wanky.

I hadn’t seen Rose Petals and Confetti plays before, but I am all for bands with a goth/punk/glam thing, especially when the lead singer introduces his microphone to his tight trousers. RPAC did the Shrugs’ “I don’t know what I’m doing” and ended with Knightshade’s (yes!) “Last night in the city”, that also managed to segue into “Sweet Child o’ Mine”. It took years to undo the damage Knightshade did to Hamilton’s musical reputation, but now no one cares and we can happily wave our lighters in the air.

Ten years in the jailer’s eye
And I’m thinkin’ ’bout my baby
Lookin’ at my life go by

St Lucy – at the heart of which is Mark Tupuhi, who organised the whole event – managed to find a connection between Hamilton and Dragon and used that as an excuse to play “Are you old enough”. There was a brief concern that the munters in Diggers’ front bar might get excited at what possibly sounded like a Kiwi covers band, but it seemed they stayed away, leaving the Harden Up crowd to sing along with every chorus.

Aether (and who cannot love a band who does the ae thing in their name?) did a thrashy, sped-up version of Wendyhouse’s “Suit Suit Kill Kill” (one of my favourite songs of all time; I wrote “Suit Suit Kill Kill” on my wardrobe door when I was 18.)

Then along came the Shrugs and they were excellent, as always. They finished their trio with Mobile Stud Unit’s “Stu’s Piecart”. Geoff Shrugs couldn’t quite remember the spoken bit in the middle, but the crowd enthusiastically filled in all his something-somethings.

Next were the Clerics and I all I can remember is a) they did “Rose Petals and Confetti” and b) they finished with a cool shouty song that included Mark Tupuhi on guest shouty vocals.

Cosmic Ska Child did another Shrugs songs, “I wanna feel myself”, reggaeing it into one of those “Be yourself! Stand up for what you believe in!” songs that potheads like. They also covered “Suit suit kill kill,” this time slowing it down and playing with the rhythm.

Shroedingers Cat played some songs, but I don’t seem to remember that. What was I doing? Perhaps queuing for a beer. I remember I tried to buy a bottle but the dude sold me a handle. I’m ok with that, though.

Finally Disjecta Membra played. DM has been around for ages, in various incarnations. Tonight it was The Goth Guy with an earlier form of Trucker. Their set was stellar, the highlight being a Blackjack song – I don’t know its name, but it was of the “Watch out, devilwoman!” variety and sounded terrific with the gothy vocals and Stan Jagger’s shredtastic guitar.

I like Metallica
I like Metallica
I like Metallica
I don’t know what I’m doing

The evening’s emcee called it the first-annual circle jerk, which immediately got everyone excited as they eagerly anticipated the 2006 one.

Plans are already afoot to get some Prime Devastation songs covered in 2006, or possibly even an appearance from Devastating Prime: The Prime Devastation Experience.

Petra’s magical camera has hot rock pics a go-go.

On location

Oh, woe is me, etc. “Fruits of Passion” did not make it to the Auckland finals of the 48 Hour film competition. I have spent the last five hours listening to Bauhaus and writing poetry to help me to come to terms with this loss.

Ah, yes, stinging rejection has been a bit of a theme this week. It’s just as well I had rool choice fun in Hamilton last night, ow. I shall detail this rocktastic experience later.

In the meantime, here is a photo of the Fractured Radius posse hanging around on location during the filming two weeks ago.

From what I can remember, it was near the end of the filming at the pool a.k.a fear tank. It captures the state of being tired and hungry but getting on with making the film. Hey – it’s such a big picture you could use it as your desktop wallpaper!!!

Hot heat

I went along to the Civic to see the heat in which “Fruits of Passion” was screen. Keen readers who have been following my 48 Hour film competition adventures will realise with glee this this meant seeing myself up on the giant Civic screen saying, “Arrr! Shit me balls!” in a pirate voice.

“Fruits of Passion” was last on the list of films in that session, so I had to sit through 11 other films. A couple were really good. I especially liked “Hood” a hot hot hot retelling of the Little Red Riding Hood story. Other films were so-so – usually good ideas let down by crappy sound and/or slow pacing. And more than a few were just shit, with the only redeeming features being when they moved into “so bad it’s good” territory.

HINT: If you are a 20-year-old skinny-arse whiteboy, wearing a suit, putting on an American accent and adopting a hard-arse persona will not transform you into a world-weary 40-year-old American private eye. Suspension of disbelief has its limits. Be that skinny-arse white boy and you will go far.

By the time “Fruits of Passion” came along, the audience was getting a little restless, but it got laughs in all the right places (and no wrong ones). The girl who can’t swear properly got big laughs, but swear words are usually good for a few laughs. There was even an “aww…” moment, which is good for a romance.

I stuck around to see the next heat with the “Fruits” co-director and the camera guy. There were fewer quite good ones and more average ones. There were a couple with ex-Shortland Street actors that turned out to be pretty good. I guess that’s a good training ground for fast-turnaround acting.

Out of the 150-ish films being screened in the heats, a mere 12 will make it to the Auckland final. Eek! I don’t know how “Fruits” will fare, but fingers crossed, yes.

Freaky

One of my favourite things is my Puffin paperback edition of Mary Rodgers “Freaky Friday”. The first few pages have fallen out, so I’m not sure what year it was published in, but the front and back cover have stills from the 1976 Disney film starring Jodie Foster and Barbara Harris, so it’s likely to be from around that time.

I discovered Freaky Friday when I was 10 in 1985 via this film courtesy of the ’80s home video explosion. It changed my life and I ensured that all my friends saw it too. Then one day I saw the book in Whitcoulls and demanded it be purchased for me.

I read it, reread it, obsessed over it. My favourite daydream was a Freaky Friday scenario of my own, but rather than switching places with my mother (boring!) I dreamed of switching places with people who were far more interesting and glamourous.

The opening (and closing) lines are permanently seared into my memory and tonight I recalled them:

“You are not going to be believe me, nobody in their right minds could possibly believe me, but it’s true, really it is. When I woke up this morning, I found I’d turned into my mother.

Yeah, it’s kind of funny what happens when you get older.

Hear, hear

I had to work today, but that’s ok cos working on a Saturday never quite feels the same as a regular weekday. I have come to the conclusion that the cancellation (voluntary ending?) of “Everyone Loves Raymond” is a blessed thing indeed.

After work I ambled along Hobson Street to the Maritime Museum where the third Public Address Great Blend event was being held. The function room at the museum (where, back in the Xtra days, I recall attending an event involving a Power Point presentation and drinks) is very tastefully decorated, with not a a ship’s wheel or mermaid in sight.

The audience was treated to clips from a three-part documentary by David Herkt about New Zealand’s history of illegal drugs. He noted that older people were more open to talking about their drug use. I suppose there’s less fear of the cops bashing down the door of a pensioner who admits to smoking pot in the ’60s than for a 20-year-old who did so last weekend.

The documentary looks very interesting, though it also seemed to be going to pain with the editing style in order to be really really dynamic and undocumentary-like, though the bit that really hooked the audience was Graham Brazier’s frank account of the first time he shot up.

Then there was a panel discussion on blogs and the media, or something like that. It should have been longer, because it felt like just as things got going, it had to be ended.

Oh, yes. There was the woman in the audience. She seemed to be in a state where she was acting like everyone on the panel was having a personal conversation with her and so she commented in response to things that people said. Most of the time it was, “Hear, hear,” or “Definitely, definitely.” But, for example, after Russell Brown mentioned how David Lange’s Oxford Union speech would be included in his book on New Zealand essays, she said something like, “Good, yeah, that’s a really important one.” As annoying as she was, there was also an odd entertainment value attached to her remarks.

Next up the Phoenix Foundation played. They are a magical band. They all look like they should be waiting in line to get Star Wars tickets, or sitting at home painting fantasy figurines, but there they are in a really cool band, making incredibly good music. They made me want to race out and buy their CDs.

The other attendees were of a slightly different make-up due to this Great Blend being part of the Readers and Writers Festival. I’m not normally down with the Readers and Writers Festival, but it’s good for the online side of things to be acknowledged with more than a “Ha ha!!! Bloggers!!!!” kind of thing.

This reminds me – the ninth anniversary of my website is coming up. How does one celebrate almost a decade of online writing?