I had an idea this morning... to write a weekly blog of some sort. Not that it will make much sense to begin with, but I figured it might be a nice way to document the trip so to speak. Whereby the "trip" is not just a vacation, but more a musical journey which began several years ago, and will continue for many a year to come.
Now I have tried to do this sort of thing before, but it rarely gets past a few entries, and then I am lost to all the crap you get lost to when you get busy - stuff that isn’t really that important most of the time, but which has this uncanny ability to make you rushed off your feet... to the extent that at times you forget what it is you’re rushing about for in the first place...
SO - here we are - week one. Let me create a short-term goal then - to at least write SOMETHING every Sunday for the rest of this year and see what happens. Sometimes I will write stories, sometimes they will be rants, sometimes I might write poetry.... I am not exactly sure, but it might be fun. I am opening this first installment with a short diary of the March walkabout. Read on if you like....
Cheers,
Renny
MARCH WALKABOUT TOUR 2008
SAT 1ST MARCH - NORTH BONDI RSL
I like Bondi. Not always, but most of the time. Despite it’s well-deserved tourist trap status, there is this funny sense of "home" about it - comes from the beach I suppose. The gig was supporting a band called Three Quarters Hazel - who do a lot of independent touring and had PLENTY of energy to go around. My thanks to them for having me along. Now I am not sure how many people were actually listening to what I was playing (Aside from those of you who came to watch - thank you!) - they are a noisy mob down there - but it was cool. I have a strategy now to deal with noise - it involves asking for as much sound on stage as possible. Thereby I am drowned out by myself, and I can happily sing away without really paying much attention to the rest of the room. Does that make sense? Maybe...
Music lovers please note. The Parking around there is tricky - the place where you first park your car (ie right outside the RSL) suddenly decides to become a no stopping zone at 10pm. Conveniently when your favourite band is about half way through their first set, meaning you will be completely oblivious to the vultures (parking officers) hovering around your vehicle at 9.59 waiting to strike. There is a reason that Bondi apparently has the highest revenue from parking fines of any Council in Sydney. So check the signs!
SAT 8TH MARCH - FAT TONY’S TATHRA
Ah yes - should have mentioned that the "Walkabout" involved "sitting about" in Sydney for the first week... Well that’s just the way I booked it for some reason. The thing I love about getting out of Sydney and driving through regional Australia is that you always see things that make you laugh. Like the street in Wollongong that won 3rd place in the "Tidiest Street" competition back in 1998, but which still proudly displays the sign alongside the street name..... or perhaps the "Island View" caravan park - a few hours south - that appears to be nowhere near an island as far as I could tell, and has a view which consists mainly of the highway and not much else... I love that people are proud of what is theirs, and for the most part seem to be able to embrace their life for what it is. This is not something we are used to in the big smoke. Always more more more. I am as guilty of that as anyone too, although I try not to be...
Which brings us to Tathra, and my good friend Mort - the man who booked me the gig. Several years ago now my brother actually me Mort when he was down at the Tathra pub one Friday night preparing for his yearly "Greatest Day in History" the following morning, which involves a surf on the south coast followed by a Dash to the snowfields and finally a night out in Thredbo. Anyway, Mort is one of our favourite people, precisely for the reasons I mentioned earlier. Always welcoming, always happy, always willing to share what he has and see the best in people. Again these are personality traits we are not always used to seeing in Sydney. Mort used to work at the pub, but chose to book me a show at Fat Tony’s this trip, which was a nice new little restaurant on top of the hill. Great tucker too.
I arrived in Tathra on the Friday night. Well just outside Tathra actually - at Mort’s favourite camping spot. Mort would not have us visit unless we spend at least a night or two out at Lake Wapengo - a beautiful spot, famous for it’s superb Oysters. A feast ensued upon my arrival, followed by a beer by the campire and of course a few tunes on the guitar (which I think collected a considerable amount of ash from the fire, but it was too dark for me to tell....).
The following night at Fat Tony’s was memorable for the tucker, and as is always the case when i am in Tathra, memorable for the people that were there. The location of the gig wasn’t great - up the front of the room near the bar where only about 10% of the restaurant could actually see me, but I was there to provide some tunes and that’s what I did. And it was fun playing through a bit of the older stuff too. In any case, how could I ever complain - I was in one of my favourite parts of Australia, playing my own music, getting paid, and most imporantly - Mort and his Wife Sue were having a ball!
SUN 9TH MARCH - TOURIST HOTEL, WAGGA WAGGA
Well it was early Sunday morning, and as I woke I felt quite pleased with myself. I had somehow managed to avoid drinking 5000 bourbons with Mort, and the drive across to Wagga now seemed achievable... Even looked like I would be on time. Despite my protestations, Mort insisted that I have a couple of eggs for breakfast (I think he’d had about 3 hours sleep...), hence just like when we first came down to Tathra, I was looked after from Start to finish.
So that drive to Wagga - well it was long. And I won’t bore you with details, except to say that there is a fair in Adelong on Sun 13th April, and in Tumut there is a "Valley View" motel - being a Motel which is in the valley, rather than a motel in the surrounding snowy mountains that has a view of the valley... Go figure.
I had payed a solo set once before at "The Touro" when I was on tour playing keyboards with "Wormholes Exist". This show was pretty cruisy, and as was the case in Tathra, people tuned in when they felt like it, and tuned out when they didn’t. I had fun. They also do a great Sunday roast - which went down a treat at about 9pm when I finished my 3.5hr set. My thanks to my good friend Bess who had me to stay in the west wing of her parents house just outside town - quite a creation I can tell you. Fortunate it had so many rooms as I was able to leave my PA gear there before heading to Melbourne - hence giving me the option of laying the seats down in the back of the Corona and calling it a "bed" - a tactic which I would be employing on several occasions in the next few nights. Gotta love station wagons.
TUES 11TH MARCH - RUBY’S LOUNGE, BELGRAVE & THE FIRE BOOT INCIDENT...
Now those of you who have continued to this point, you are mad... but you also might have noticed that I skipped a day, which I deemed necessary after playing a whole 2 shows (!) in a row... But it wasn’t a boring day. in fact, it was on Monday that I realised properly for the first time that the Corona’s air conditioning just doesn’t cut the mustard. With the 40-degree heat bearing down on me between Wagga and Melbourne, I was forced to take the shirt off, and drive with the windows down. Which, as you might imagine, made no difference whatsoever. In fact, i just gave me a headache. But I did make it to Melbourne in time to have a quick Jam with my friend Cara Lanyon, who would be joining me in two days time to play keys for my show at the Espy. I am really enjoying collaborating with different people a the moment - it’s great to hear different interpretations, and it makes each gig unique.
The Fire Boot Incident...
I had finished my rehearsal with Cara, and following a brief meal was heading up High Street in Northcote when I heard a fire engine behind me. Naturally, I pulled over to the side of the road to let the truck pass, which it did without incident..... EXCEPT FOR a boot falling out of the side of the truck. A fire boot in fact. The kind that the Fireman would need to fight the fire. But the truck didn’t stop, it just kept going, which either meant they were a man down when they got there, or they had a spare set of boots, or there was a truly heroic firefighter in Melbourne that night...
Anyway I looked around, and there was no-one else on the road. Actually there was no-one as far as the eye could see in either direction. So of all places, why had this boot decided to fall out of the truck right next to my car? In the one place there was another vehicle on the whole of high street?? It was a serendipitous moment. I was convinced - it was a sign. It had to be. Boots just don’t fall out of fire trucks. Do they? Surely not. Never in all of my life have I seen a boot fall from a fire truck. I didn’t choose the boot - the boot chose me.
So in the morning I awoke with a sense of anticipation. An eagerness to return the boot, and a sense of certainty that in doing so the reason for the boot’s fall wold become apparent. I called the fire brigade, and sure enough the boot had fallen from a truck that had left from the Northcote fire station. I am not sure what I expected when I drove to the fire station, but what I got was a slightly overweight fireman smoking a cigarette on the seat out the front. Still, I was prepared for the possibility that the reasons for the boot choosing me would not necessarily become immediately apparent....
So I handed the boot back to its rightful owner. And he said thanks. And I said no worries. And that was that.
I turned around to walk away. Did so slowly in fact in case something was about to happen - braced myself for a miracle, a chance meeting, a circumstance which could not possibly have presented itself if it wasn’t for my returning the boot.....
But still nothing.
However all was not lost, because whilstever I was in Northcote, I was still in an area that I would not have been in had I not had to return the boot. So you see there was till time for things to unfold. So I went to breakfast. And there I was in this nice little cafe.... eating a bowl of museli.... reading the paper.... and....
Nothing.
I was starting to lose hope. So I read the paper some more. Drag it out I thought, and it will become apparent.
But alas, as the minutes passed, and the minutes turned into hours, an I gradually made my way from Northcote to Belgrave for my gig, I realised that my great hope - The Boot - had in fact been nothing more than a boot alone. It did not lead to anything in particular, aside from the cafe where I had breakfast. Now this was a nice breakfast, but not something I would write home about. It is possible I would go back there on a future trip to Melbourne, but no more than any other cafe. So that wasn’t it.
In fact, there was absolutely nothing that took place that morning which was so out of the ordinary that it could be directly linked to a change in circumstance as brought about by the boot falling from the fire truck. Words couldn’t express my disappointment....
And the moral of the story?? Well there really isn’t a moral to the tale, however I did learn two valuable lessons:
(i) That a trip from Wagga to Melbourne in a Red Oven (namely my Toyota Corona) with no air conditioning will cause the mind to work in funny ways....
(ii) That I should not have recounted my tale of "The Boot" to the audience at Ruby’s Lounge, because any respect I had earned with the first few songs was quickly lost... to be replaced by a general belief in the room that I had lost the plot. And maybe I had. But imagination is fun isn’t it?
TO BE CONTINUED.....
Now I have tried to do this sort of thing before, but it rarely gets past a few entries, and then I am lost to all the crap you get lost to when you get busy - stuff that isn’t really that important most of the time, but which has this uncanny ability to make you rushed off your feet... to the extent that at times you forget what it is you’re rushing about for in the first place...
SO - here we are - week one. Let me create a short-term goal then - to at least write SOMETHING every Sunday for the rest of this year and see what happens. Sometimes I will write stories, sometimes they will be rants, sometimes I might write poetry.... I am not exactly sure, but it might be fun. I am opening this first installment with a short diary of the March walkabout. Read on if you like....
Cheers,
Renny
MARCH WALKABOUT TOUR 2008
SAT 1ST MARCH - NORTH BONDI RSL
I like Bondi. Not always, but most of the time. Despite it’s well-deserved tourist trap status, there is this funny sense of "home" about it - comes from the beach I suppose. The gig was supporting a band called Three Quarters Hazel - who do a lot of independent touring and had PLENTY of energy to go around. My thanks to them for having me along. Now I am not sure how many people were actually listening to what I was playing (Aside from those of you who came to watch - thank you!) - they are a noisy mob down there - but it was cool. I have a strategy now to deal with noise - it involves asking for as much sound on stage as possible. Thereby I am drowned out by myself, and I can happily sing away without really paying much attention to the rest of the room. Does that make sense? Maybe...
Music lovers please note. The Parking around there is tricky - the place where you first park your car (ie right outside the RSL) suddenly decides to become a no stopping zone at 10pm. Conveniently when your favourite band is about half way through their first set, meaning you will be completely oblivious to the vultures (parking officers) hovering around your vehicle at 9.59 waiting to strike. There is a reason that Bondi apparently has the highest revenue from parking fines of any Council in Sydney. So check the signs!
SAT 8TH MARCH - FAT TONY’S TATHRA
Ah yes - should have mentioned that the "Walkabout" involved "sitting about" in Sydney for the first week... Well that’s just the way I booked it for some reason. The thing I love about getting out of Sydney and driving through regional Australia is that you always see things that make you laugh. Like the street in Wollongong that won 3rd place in the "Tidiest Street" competition back in 1998, but which still proudly displays the sign alongside the street name..... or perhaps the "Island View" caravan park - a few hours south - that appears to be nowhere near an island as far as I could tell, and has a view which consists mainly of the highway and not much else... I love that people are proud of what is theirs, and for the most part seem to be able to embrace their life for what it is. This is not something we are used to in the big smoke. Always more more more. I am as guilty of that as anyone too, although I try not to be...
Which brings us to Tathra, and my good friend Mort - the man who booked me the gig. Several years ago now my brother actually me Mort when he was down at the Tathra pub one Friday night preparing for his yearly "Greatest Day in History" the following morning, which involves a surf on the south coast followed by a Dash to the snowfields and finally a night out in Thredbo. Anyway, Mort is one of our favourite people, precisely for the reasons I mentioned earlier. Always welcoming, always happy, always willing to share what he has and see the best in people. Again these are personality traits we are not always used to seeing in Sydney. Mort used to work at the pub, but chose to book me a show at Fat Tony’s this trip, which was a nice new little restaurant on top of the hill. Great tucker too.
I arrived in Tathra on the Friday night. Well just outside Tathra actually - at Mort’s favourite camping spot. Mort would not have us visit unless we spend at least a night or two out at Lake Wapengo - a beautiful spot, famous for it’s superb Oysters. A feast ensued upon my arrival, followed by a beer by the campire and of course a few tunes on the guitar (which I think collected a considerable amount of ash from the fire, but it was too dark for me to tell....).
The following night at Fat Tony’s was memorable for the tucker, and as is always the case when i am in Tathra, memorable for the people that were there. The location of the gig wasn’t great - up the front of the room near the bar where only about 10% of the restaurant could actually see me, but I was there to provide some tunes and that’s what I did. And it was fun playing through a bit of the older stuff too. In any case, how could I ever complain - I was in one of my favourite parts of Australia, playing my own music, getting paid, and most imporantly - Mort and his Wife Sue were having a ball!
SUN 9TH MARCH - TOURIST HOTEL, WAGGA WAGGA
Well it was early Sunday morning, and as I woke I felt quite pleased with myself. I had somehow managed to avoid drinking 5000 bourbons with Mort, and the drive across to Wagga now seemed achievable... Even looked like I would be on time. Despite my protestations, Mort insisted that I have a couple of eggs for breakfast (I think he’d had about 3 hours sleep...), hence just like when we first came down to Tathra, I was looked after from Start to finish.
So that drive to Wagga - well it was long. And I won’t bore you with details, except to say that there is a fair in Adelong on Sun 13th April, and in Tumut there is a "Valley View" motel - being a Motel which is in the valley, rather than a motel in the surrounding snowy mountains that has a view of the valley... Go figure.
I had payed a solo set once before at "The Touro" when I was on tour playing keyboards with "Wormholes Exist". This show was pretty cruisy, and as was the case in Tathra, people tuned in when they felt like it, and tuned out when they didn’t. I had fun. They also do a great Sunday roast - which went down a treat at about 9pm when I finished my 3.5hr set. My thanks to my good friend Bess who had me to stay in the west wing of her parents house just outside town - quite a creation I can tell you. Fortunate it had so many rooms as I was able to leave my PA gear there before heading to Melbourne - hence giving me the option of laying the seats down in the back of the Corona and calling it a "bed" - a tactic which I would be employing on several occasions in the next few nights. Gotta love station wagons.
TUES 11TH MARCH - RUBY’S LOUNGE, BELGRAVE & THE FIRE BOOT INCIDENT...
Now those of you who have continued to this point, you are mad... but you also might have noticed that I skipped a day, which I deemed necessary after playing a whole 2 shows (!) in a row... But it wasn’t a boring day. in fact, it was on Monday that I realised properly for the first time that the Corona’s air conditioning just doesn’t cut the mustard. With the 40-degree heat bearing down on me between Wagga and Melbourne, I was forced to take the shirt off, and drive with the windows down. Which, as you might imagine, made no difference whatsoever. In fact, i just gave me a headache. But I did make it to Melbourne in time to have a quick Jam with my friend Cara Lanyon, who would be joining me in two days time to play keys for my show at the Espy. I am really enjoying collaborating with different people a the moment - it’s great to hear different interpretations, and it makes each gig unique.
The Fire Boot Incident...
I had finished my rehearsal with Cara, and following a brief meal was heading up High Street in Northcote when I heard a fire engine behind me. Naturally, I pulled over to the side of the road to let the truck pass, which it did without incident..... EXCEPT FOR a boot falling out of the side of the truck. A fire boot in fact. The kind that the Fireman would need to fight the fire. But the truck didn’t stop, it just kept going, which either meant they were a man down when they got there, or they had a spare set of boots, or there was a truly heroic firefighter in Melbourne that night...
Anyway I looked around, and there was no-one else on the road. Actually there was no-one as far as the eye could see in either direction. So of all places, why had this boot decided to fall out of the truck right next to my car? In the one place there was another vehicle on the whole of high street?? It was a serendipitous moment. I was convinced - it was a sign. It had to be. Boots just don’t fall out of fire trucks. Do they? Surely not. Never in all of my life have I seen a boot fall from a fire truck. I didn’t choose the boot - the boot chose me.
So in the morning I awoke with a sense of anticipation. An eagerness to return the boot, and a sense of certainty that in doing so the reason for the boot’s fall wold become apparent. I called the fire brigade, and sure enough the boot had fallen from a truck that had left from the Northcote fire station. I am not sure what I expected when I drove to the fire station, but what I got was a slightly overweight fireman smoking a cigarette on the seat out the front. Still, I was prepared for the possibility that the reasons for the boot choosing me would not necessarily become immediately apparent....
So I handed the boot back to its rightful owner. And he said thanks. And I said no worries. And that was that.
I turned around to walk away. Did so slowly in fact in case something was about to happen - braced myself for a miracle, a chance meeting, a circumstance which could not possibly have presented itself if it wasn’t for my returning the boot.....
But still nothing.
However all was not lost, because whilstever I was in Northcote, I was still in an area that I would not have been in had I not had to return the boot. So you see there was till time for things to unfold. So I went to breakfast. And there I was in this nice little cafe.... eating a bowl of museli.... reading the paper.... and....
Nothing.
I was starting to lose hope. So I read the paper some more. Drag it out I thought, and it will become apparent.
But alas, as the minutes passed, and the minutes turned into hours, an I gradually made my way from Northcote to Belgrave for my gig, I realised that my great hope - The Boot - had in fact been nothing more than a boot alone. It did not lead to anything in particular, aside from the cafe where I had breakfast. Now this was a nice breakfast, but not something I would write home about. It is possible I would go back there on a future trip to Melbourne, but no more than any other cafe. So that wasn’t it.
In fact, there was absolutely nothing that took place that morning which was so out of the ordinary that it could be directly linked to a change in circumstance as brought about by the boot falling from the fire truck. Words couldn’t express my disappointment....
And the moral of the story?? Well there really isn’t a moral to the tale, however I did learn two valuable lessons:
(i) That a trip from Wagga to Melbourne in a Red Oven (namely my Toyota Corona) with no air conditioning will cause the mind to work in funny ways....
(ii) That I should not have recounted my tale of "The Boot" to the audience at Ruby’s Lounge, because any respect I had earned with the first few songs was quickly lost... to be replaced by a general belief in the room that I had lost the plot. And maybe I had. But imagination is fun isn’t it?
TO BE CONTINUED.....
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