'After The Fire' - painting by Audrey Kawasaki

- The Art of Audrey Kawasaki -

Keeping Music Evil - The Brian Jonestown Massacre at The Factory (Thurs 28th Aug)

Anything could’ve happened at this gig - or not happened. Newcomers to the band may be forgiven for focusing on front man/songwriter Anton Newcombe’s reputation as a kind of unhinged, drug-addled genius - especially those who arrived at the music via Ondi Timoner’s (albeit fascinating) 2004 documentary DIG - or dismiss him as a mimic. Whatever way you figure it, one thing's for sure. This is sublimely cool music.
In a career spanning back to around 1990, the band has accrued an impressively large catalogue of releases, featuring a sound that suggests '60s and '70s psychedelia. Think early Stones, The Who, The Byrds and, at times, even The Velvet Underground, Pink Floyd and David Bowie. But the sound is their own and, despite any points of reference, sounds fresh and relevant now as I'm sure it will be in many years to come.

This was the first of two Sydney gigs and an all-ages one. It was Anton's birthday. The 7 band members played for over two hours, with Anton talking and free-associating between songs to the audience and introducing band members. At times, Anton even heckled. We sung 'Happy Birthday' and band members (though not all of them) became progressively wasted, as they passed a bottle of something hard-looking between each other during these breaks. In a recent interview, Anton said that they just like to get drunk and see what happens. I really appreciate that from a music group - the creative, in-the-now approach to playing live (however achieved) - rather than just delivering a perfect set every time - introducing that level of chaos and uncertainty. They seemed to focus on playing their all-out epic, killer songs, including personal favourites from the several BJM cds I own. Somehow, I was transported. It was almost like an out-of-body experience, which lasted for over two blissful hours. I felt like I was being cradled in the arms of long-lost soulmates - in heaven. As if I'd been reunited with my true family, after a lifetime of being alone. Apparently, I was dancing, but I was only aware of the music and of my friend standing close behind me as I kind of floated through the hours. And no, I wasn't intoxicated!

Wonderful playing, but it never lost its rawness and became slick. At times, it actually felt like it could just fall apart, like all the best rock 'n' roll music does. Tambourine man, Joel Gion, serves as a sort of anchor to the music - always beating perfect time and stoically cool in expression, but about midway through songs, I noticed his mouth would have worked its way to being slightly open, with a euphoric smile plastered over it.

A transcendent experience.


Photo credits: Lori Baily

Green

Getting up the other day, things just didn't feel right - a continuous high-pitched drone clearly audible over the other typical sounds of another daily bread day grinding along. Disturbing dream images lingered. Things seemed out of sorts in the kitchen somehow and outside my living room window too, where I caught a flash of something green, somewhere around the building entrance on the opposite side of the road. Walking over to the window, I looked out and saw a group of people in turtle costumes holding a banner - with the words 'Don't Say Ta Ta To Turtles' boldly emblazoned on it (with 'Greenpeace' logo underneath) - facing the street (and my window) for a photographer.
I guess it's not that strange really.
I guess you had to be there.

Yes, I Had A Wonderful Birthday, Thank You

Today's State of Mind

Love Sucks

And so it goes ....... living the life of a serial monogamist. You get to a certain age and start to wonder if relationships are really worth it - the emotional highs and lows, the laughter, tears, pain and inevitable disappointment, and the ensuing retreat back to being on one's own again. I realise I'm sounding like a tortured cynic, but let's face it - nothing lasts forever.
I used to place so much importance on finding a life companion, but somehow it ends up going wrong. Inevitably, I guess I prefer to live alone, but that hasn't stopped me from blaming myself for not compromising enough for the sake of the other person. But just how much of myself was I expected to subdue?
I'm envious of those people who find someone they click with and keep it together. I wonder if they are just faking and forcing it, or if one is simply compromising all for the sake of the other - and biting their own tongues till there is barely a sliver left.

Without wanting to get all feminist about it, I have perceived that men, in general (no one person in particular), expect their women partners to be endlessly agreeable with them; consistently assertive and hot in bed; always interesting, tender, attentive, caring and reassuring; happy to be around them when they're uncommunicative (focused on tv or otherwise distracted); non-talkative, non-complaining, non-confrontational and endlessly placating their egos. We're supposed to put up with moodiness, being undermined, neglected and even taken for granted, but never ever complain. I smehow just can't seem to go the distance, myself.

Pressing On

Train fades into abyss

Living walls glow up white

Star night stain shooting fire

Red horizons

A force more bright than death

Tuned to 128,000 separate radio frequencies

Cross bearing Jesus for killing

Civilisations aimed at heavens

The war's already here

What stands if freedom fails?

Who dies if freedom lives?

Autumn Days

Went for a wander, beyond the usual zones, in the aftermath of a storm that had turned day into darkness as the southerly blew in. Fork lightning streaked across the sky and it rained hard. It's less than an hour later and the light is so bright and strange that things appear transparent as I move towards them. Big dried-out plane tree leaves are mounting in the streets and stairs.

Returning the dvd.....

Female pressure

Give this a whirl:

('Amoureux Solitaires' - music by Jenny Goes Dirty (Jennifer Cardini) & video by 4youreye)

http://www.femalepressure.net/videos/14_amoureux_4ye.html

Still confused and missing my friend

Never Trust an Ex

Still a little freaked out. Just can't get a grip on what happened - over two weeks ago now. My best friend, who happens to be my ex-lover, finally felt it was time for him to meet my new lover. It had been years since we'd been intimately involved and I had been with my new partner since last year, so it had been getting a little difficult for me, isolating the two of them from each other and seeing them separately.
My ex and I had talked clearly about it - how we really wanted to remain friends (we do genuinely like each other, after all!) and how, since we consider ourselves older and more mature now, we would rather expand our friendships, rather than reduce them. He had told me he was ready and invited us both for dinner, along with a couple of his other (female) friends, who I am also familiar with.

I should've known something was up after an hour or so, when my ex was clearly having problems getting started on dinner - so that his friend (who'd been at his flat for 4 hours previous to our arrival) actually cooked the food. But aside from seeing him 'drift away' to somewhere in his head sometime after eating - which isn't exactly unlike him - I thought things were going nicely. But then, after one person left (the cook), my ex surprised me in the kitchen as I was tidying up a bit, telling me how difficult it had all been for him, and after this sat down in front of the final three of us and, across the coffee table, proceeded to tell us - almost aggressively - "this has been really difficult for me, you know ...... after seven years ...... seven years ........ but you two, you're good ..." Added to this condescension, was an implied suggestion that he was handing me over to the new person. OK, so it'd been difficult for him. If he'd said this once, it would've been alright. But he just kept repeating it, necessitating a hasty exit on our part. Were we supposed to just sit there, feeling ambushed, tipsy with booze, food and a few hours of pleasantness, and then have a 'deep and meaningful' with him about his feelings? And what made him think it was appropriate to say these things to my (horrified!) new lover, who barely knows him and whose comfort (in this situation) I was responsible for? I felt hurt and betrayed that he would put me in such a position, because I had always felt I could trust him more than anyone else.

He's not around at the moment. When he called - 2 days after the event - and discovered I'd been upset by what had transpired, he was defensive at first and then avoided seeing me for the next 10 days (even after I'd suggested - via an email - that we needed to talk face-to-face about how to move on from there) and then went overseas for his planned 17-day holiday/visit to his family on Tuesday the 1st of April. However, he (predictably) phoned on the Sunday evening before leaving and left a message on my machine and then phoned me the day before departing - no doubt in an attempt to put his mind at ease for the good of his holiday. In the aftermath, he seems perplexed that I should feel this way. He appears to think it was big of him to do what he did and ask us over for dinner. He thinks it was all about him and his feelings - clearly no one else's. But it's not as if he'd been rejected or dumped or cheated on.

Anyway, I couldn't answer my phone, because I suddenly don't know how to relate to him any more. The person I thought I knew doesn't appear to exist.

Listening to........

TODAY'S FAVOURITES:

Pantha du Prince - This Bliss (Dial)
Dark, deep bass and melodic ambience, with a rolling beat and beautiful use of bells. Melancholic, nostalgic, subtly uplifting, but never wimpy. Sort of soothing and punchy at the same time. Rich and luscious.

The Field - From Here We Go Sublime (Kompakt)
Wonderful, unique sound. Emotionally charged, deliciously beautiful sequences that switch from one to the other - each pitched differently, yet perfectly complementary to the one following and preceding. Actually, it's best listened to, rather than described.

Chromatics - IV ... Night Drive (Italians Do It Better)
Laid-back synth-pop songs with melancholy vocals (by Ruth Radelet) that are almost deadpan, or somehow bored-sounding. Almost electro, almost pop, with a lovely beguiling quality. It never dominates, but it draws you in to listen, without trying to grab you. The last track - an instrumental - is the longest one and quite different from the others, in that it chugs along somewhat 'Suicide'-like, but slower and without the vocals. Intriguing.

James Holden - At The Controls (Resist)
From 2006, this is an awesome 2-cd mix and the third from the 'At The Controls' series that I've heard. They all share an eclecticism that is really refreshing and this one includes acts as diverse as Trans Am, Malcolm Middleton, Paul Kalkbrenner, Water Lilly, Petter, Death In Vegas, Aphex Twin and 2 tracks from Holden's 'The Idiots Are Winning' ('Border Community'), along with an Apparat remix of label-mate Nathan Fake's 'Charlie's House'. Consistently engaging and interesting.

Too busy listening to music right now.......

Summer Rant

Summer holidays in Sydney, Australia and so what's going on?

1. Killer humidity - like living in a sauna. It rained during almost all of December.
2. Everyone's in party mode and, amongst the well-heeled, money - especially in my "inner-city wealth ghetto" (thanks SB) - is ostentatiously splashed around, whereas those less well-off seem somehow absent from the mix.
3. I'm broke - as are most other people in the 'less well-off' category - after Xmas and New Year festivities.
4. I'm working. Gotta rake in that part-time (yep! only paid for hours worked) income.
5. Too much entertainment/culture. Too little time. The Sydney Festival and a bunch of music mega-gigs are a case of too much all at once. It'd be nice if they could be spread over the year a bit better.
6. Yobbos galore. 'tis the season of the backyard bogan barbecue, that inevitably continues late into the night - and often all night - and keeps those of us trying to sleep in the bedrooms of blocks of units above from getting any sleep.
7. Too many drunks everywhere. Too many horrendously sunburnt backpackers in my local supermarket queue. Too many idiots. Too many suntans. Roll on autumn........

Try this - new rock'n'roll by 'The Kills'. Love it!

www.youtube.com/watch?v=w3fZP7QC4PE

Crazy recurring dream

I hadn't experienced recurring nightmares since I was a child when, for quite a long period of time, I kept waking in a cold sweat after dreaming that the world outside my family backdoor was basically a spaghetti can of writhing earthworms that I was compelled - through some obscure but powerful sense of duty - to burrow my way through, in order to get to the nextdoor neighbours' house.

And now, it's happening again. I keep having this dream that I am - in fact, rather joyously - picking up one big live white rat after another, putting them into a big kitchen blender and ..... errr.... blending them! And, strangest of all, the resulting product is a combination of bright red blood and scraps of pure white rat fur. The whole time, I am jolly and laughing, despite waking in that familiar cold sweat.

I wonder what Dr Freud would have to say about this one?

Central Business District

Picture this. When walking the other day in Sydney's CBD, I passed a bar that I'd never noticed before - not that there's any wonder! It's entrance was starkly lit and it's name - emblazoned over the door - 'PRIVILEGE'. In fact, the only reason I noticed was that its two security dudes, unusually dressed-up (for bouncers, anyway) in suits and ties, were standing outside on the street arguing with another suited knob, bemoaning the number of "idiots, with no understanding of interest rates!" They were getting really aggressive about it. Gee, that's right. We're all economists now!

It just looked so funny - these basically dumb-assed bogans arguing about interest rates underneath a sign saying PRIVILEGE.

(Perhaps you had to be there!)

Yes, I still go to gigs!

Yes, yes. I've been neglecting my blog, I know. There's just been too much other stuff on. Like a bunch of contemporary electronic music gigs by Euro acts such as M.A.N.D.Y. and Booka Shade from Berlin's 'Get Physical' record label and Trentemoller, from Denmark. Continuing to create within the evolving tradition of house music, the artists from the 'Get Physical' catalogue, along with Trentemoller and many others, represent a new-wave of tech house music that can be intelligent, diverse, danceworthy or shoe-gazey, beautiful, disarming, melancholy and/or playful.
So where are the people over 30? Going to these gigs is like a kind of playground dance party for 'Schoolies Week' or something, with literally hordes of hyped-up kids. At the 'Booka Shade' gig on Wednesday night (at the Gaelic Club, Surry Hills), the majority were no more than 18 or 19.
In a packed house, there certainly didn't seem to be anyone over 25 - all seemingly cashed-up, with the latest flashy mobiles and cameras in the air, expensive clothes and those darned shaggy (emo-style) hairdos, with very expensive, elaborate colouring (males and females). They went absolutely nuts!! Most of the subtlety of those great pieces of music was somewhat lost in a rather muddy mix and in all the yelling by the crowd. It started almost like a kind of Booka Shade 'medley' - with tracks merging as if they'd tailored it to be for a pumping, rave/dance party and these jumped-up kids.

By contrast, Trentemoller retained all that subtlety - as he mixed his music live last Friday night. Some pieces were more upbeat, but overall it was complex and rich - the crowd more shoe-gazey, rather than dance-crazy.


I wasn't disappointed though - neither was my friend. Although perplexed about the fact that we have never (at these last 3 gigs) glimpsed anyone else over 30 (possibly 20!) there, apart from us, it was extremely interesting - almost as if we're on the crest of a new music renaissance, or something - a new movement for the iPod generation. Each track they began was greeted with a deafening roar of approval (and hands in the air) by the crowd - almost drowning the music out. They were so off their faces, the whole venue was a moshpit. We stood above, watching and listening. I kept thinking, why is it that I love this music, when none of my supposed 'peers' (being similarly passionate about great music) are here? Where are they? This is good stuff! Yet the crowd seems to be made up of pretty nice kids really.....no punch-ups, despite the overload of testosterone and 'out-of-it' state of them - friendly. I never felt self-consciously 'older', or anything. One girl, brushing past me excitedly, said "Sorry, I'm just a girl!" When I answered: "What?" (semi-horrified at her self-effacement), she said sweetly: "I'm a girl and you're a girl too" and touched my shoulder, kind of affectionately. They were just totally into the music! And they certainly approved of Booka Shade. These kids at least have good taste - and why wouldn't they? - even if it is doled out to them via 'Ministry of Sound' compilations, or whatever. It was great to feel included (yep! we actually did feel a part of it and welcome there) and it's great (I must say) to be alive and actually living. Hail the new music revolution!

Exhumation

Since APEC, it's as if I've been asleep. There's still plenty to complain about and there are plenty of good things too, so why do I feel like I've just been unearthed?

Been hearing a lot of criticism by academics about the proliferation of blogging - all these people with nothing much to say apparently shouldn't bother. But I thought that was the point - giving everyone a voice.

It makes me feel like just listing what I eat for meals. Instead, I'll post a photo of my work/office area.....

until I have something more to say......

Thank Goodness It's Over

After a week of dreary rainy weather, the sun is out this morning. George W. Bush and the other 20 'world leaders' have flown home, the constant drone of helicopters overhead has dissipated, the streets are ours again and life is returning to normal after the insanity of APEC. It's over and thank gawd for that!

The main protest march on Saturday resulted in no more than one or two "scuffles" amongst a 5,000-strong crowd that was almost overwhelmed by nearly as many police and the riot squad (and looking at the TV footage, those involved in these scuffles seemed innocuous, as they were overwhelmed by police officers. Perhaps they'd thrown coke cans or something.) The water cannon and other new shiny black riot squad vehicles were not used. All the media hype and politicians' rants about "violent protesters" were unfounded as Sydney residents took to the streets to voice their protest against our involvement in the war in Iraq; the Government's industrial relations policies and their lack of any real commitment to dealing with climate change, beyond the nuclear option of course; and APEC itself and a refusal to be intimidated into 'staying away and doing what we're told' - exercising our democratic right to protest. Instead, the Asia-Pacific Economic Co-operation forum resulted in nothing other than a plan to sell 'yellowcake' to Russia and get better access to military technology from the US, as well as making some sort of nuke deal with them.

The excuse given for the ridiculously intensive security during the event was to keep terrorists and protesters out, but it was pretty clear that it was to keep the protesters out, especially after the prank executed by the 'Chaser' team, where they managed to get through two checkpoints in a limousine bearing Canadian flags and security passes that had "JOKE" printed on them clearly and the word "Insecurity" instead of "Security". As exec producer Julian Morrow said: "It's a good thing we weren't Al Qaeda".

APEC = A Pointless Expensive Crock

Thanks to 'The Chaser' team (satirical ABC TV show) for staging the fake motorcade on Thursday. And unbelievable too in that although they had been certain they wouldn't even get past one checkpoint before being stopped, they had cleared two of them and were only 10 metres from Bush's hotel before they handed themselves over to police. The police chief is furious at their irresponsibility, since they could easily have been shot by snipers - positioned on rooftops all over the area. As Julian Morrow (executive producer and one of the stars of the show) commented yesterday, it's a good thing they weren't Al Qaeda members (Chas was even dressed as Osama bin Laden!). Their limo was decorated with Canadian flags, even though no one noticed that Canada isn't even being represented at APEC. Hilarious! Also great is that this was the only thing that has ,so far, hit world headlines about the entire forum.
The Australian culture of larrikinism is alive!
And for those who haven't seen it:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i-DDWGKqGmI

Fuck Off APEC!

There's a nasty virus about to descend upon Sydney. It's called the 'Asia-Pacific Economic Co-operation Forum' (APEC) and is already making us sick. To make it worse, we are all apparently supposed to just lie down, put up and shut up, as our daily lives are inconvenienced to the max - with essential services postponed, 'no go' zones and an inevitable ton of traffic chaos. And all the while, we are paying for it (a cool $300 million!) out of our money - public money.

Worst of all, we're being censored from bitching about it. Well, they're trying to get us off the streets, anyway. It's the old terrorism excuse again, of course. But we should be really pissed off. Entire precincts of city buildings are being caged off. In fact, a tall fence was erected today, at a cost to taxpayers of $1.5 million, extending along 5 kilometres of footpaths in the northern part of the CBD, as a pre-emptive measure to "protect against terrorists and protesters". Main streets must periodically shut down, just so George W. Bush and a selection of other creepy old 'world leaders' can drive in their motorcade to their destinations without interruption. Armed military helicopters will be on 24-hour patrol. Just the other night, a huge helicopter, apparently carrying out a practice operation, hovered pretty much straight above my apartment building in the city - otherwise barely moving - from 1.45am to nearly 3.30am, making sleep impossible. It's all such a big wank!

And, predictably of course, any mention of protests almost always has the word 'violent' attached these days. In a rather interesting linguistic twist, the word 'protester' has been dispensed with, in favour of 'violent protesters' (in the future, they'll probably be simply referred to as 'terrorists') who are, we are told, to blame for all inconveniences to be experienced in our city, despite the fact that there haven't actually been any protests (or terrorist attacks for that matter) as yet. It has actually been decided that the riot squad will be using a water cannon against these supposed 'violent protesters'. You can pretty much guess that such provocative assumptions are already setting emotions aflame, so that either side is likely to lose their cool early on and result in some seriously injured people and needless arrests. Democracy is being squashed and I, for one, am appalled.

This dawn could be the world's first

...Never yet has such a time existed, nor this light, nor this being which is me. What will be tomorrow shall be other, and what I shall see will be seen by reconstituted eyes, full of a new vision. (Fernando Pessoa)

'When the Veneer of Democracy Begins to Fade'......

I know it's been a while. Life's kind of taken over of late. And I know that this picture has nothing much to do with what I'm about to write. I just want it there, ok?

Anyway, a few things in 'news' land have got me going lately. First, in the lead-up to the country's federal election, opposition leader Kevin Rudd has had a smear campaign thrown at him over the fact that he'd been to a strip club in London 4 years ago and had allegedly fondled a stripper, to which, in his defence, he said he was too drunk at the time to remember. The Libs were obviously hoping to smash his squeaky clean and nerdy image, but instead it's given him a boost and shown that he 'has blood running through his veins'. Suddenly, Kev's looking a bit sexier. Anyway, it's John Howard we should be worried about. He might not have been to a strip club, but he hangs out with the likes of Dick Cheney and George Bush. Personally, I'd rather he hung out with strippers.

Germaine Greer's been in the news recently too. Around the anniversary of Princess Diana's death, she announces that Diana was "a devious moron" who slept with married men and made nuisance calls when they tried to dump her. Brilliant! Finally, someone cuts past the dreary celebrity mythology that's been built around Diana, so we can be reminded what was really going on. This was reported, along with other snippets of heavily-edited comments she'd made with typical reactionary outrage and ridicule by the media. She is almost always on the money, but her frankness is undermined as obnoxiousness by the media, men and even feminists more and more aggressively and often quite unfairly. I think the world needs Germaine Greers and I find this contemptuous attitude toward her quite strange - like a jealousy of people that tell the truth. Still, at least her boldness gets her in the papers and I guess that's the point. We should surely never underestimate the value of the ratbag.

Last, but not least, was Howard's announcement last week that he thought Australians should embrace a sense of "aspirational nationalism" to guide relations between different levels of government. (I actually thought I heard the newsreader say "national socialism".)

CSS (Cansei de ser Sexy)

OK, so it's been out for a while, but I think this group (from Brazil) is gorgeous. Almost retro in style, I think their pop songs are pure pop lusciousness. Have a squiz at this video.



And this one too!!!

Hello Kitty. Goodbye Kitty

This huge, floating thing set off again from Garden Island naval base today, after parking for 5 days across the road and down a bit from where I live. $10 million was spent in Sydney by its crew during the 5-day stop-off, so local retailers were happy. Motorists around the metro area weren't quite so impressed. With traffic restrictions everywhere - even suburbs miles and miles away - you might start to wonder if the beast actually had legs and could walk at will all over our city.

In town the other day I kept seeing young, black guys spending up big around shops like 'HMV Music', 'General Pants' and 'Hype'. Clean-cut and polite. In hot pursuit of R&R action, they still appeared to be detached from whatever it was that they were doing. Aloof.

'KItty Hawk' is about to be decommissioned and a new carrier (the 'George Washington') will succeed it.

Please Cancel Big Brother

Please cancel 'Big Brother'.
Aside from its vague appeal as tv junk food, such idle viewing can become unexpectedly and annoyingly compelling, even just to have on in the background. It's too easy to be drawn in (especially on these winter evenings), but I resent it. After watching a few episodes, the housemates, who initially come across as the usual disappointing stereotypes (despite being hyped as reflecting "all walks of life"), start appearing to be more complex - even interesting. And before I know it, it's as if they are characters in the background of my own domestic life. I even hear their voices in my dreams.
But let's face it. The makers of the show are the people having the fun here. They are the ones who have the outrageous privilege of getting to devise a scenario to fit specifically chosen people into and to psychologically profile the entrants in order to then pick the people we can watch and (well, supposedly) be entertained by. They get to create an experimental human zoo of photogenic people with contrasting personalities and devise activities for and play a part in manipulating situations between them that they hope will result in maximum entertainment value.
Another problem is the way the public votes to evict nominated housemates. Now that we are into our seventh season of the show, viewers have become very set in their ways in regard to how they vote. It's almost a guarantee that the more interesting/intense/confrontational/annoying/outrageous (or female, unless they're exceptionally vacuous) characters leave first and the winner is the most low-key, easy-going, innocuous bloke. Yet we keep watching and keep hoping that the one we end up sympathising with the most will triumph.
Frustrating and ultimately pointless.

Outfit of the Month

A month and a half has gone by. The 'Pasha Bulker' has finally been successively towed into deep water. I've taken up bowling (joking!).

Outfit of the Week

Trentemoller - The Last Resort

Listening to my new cd reminds me of the 1970s and those concept albums that we all thought were 'JUST SO AMAZING'. And of jazz/fusion albums (I could swear he uses actual samples) from the same era - that were, in themselves, sophisticated audio experiences we took the time to sit back and listen to from beginning to end.

Trentemoller's sound - kind of cut-up electro-dub - is chilled and always experimental - even infectiously danceworthy at times. First-listen favourites are 'Evil Dub' and 'Always Something Better' - total killers! There appear to be no duds really, since every track is inventive in some way though, for me, 'Chameleon' dragged on a bit within pretty familiar territory. Overall, there is definitely that minimalist dub vibe and I'm reminded of Pole, Thomas Brinkmann and even a hint of Mouse on Mars and Irresistible Force. But something more is going on here. The music stands out as almost neo-classical - working (for me, anyway) as a kind of referential audio cut-up of contemporary music and bourgeois metroscapes, though it is highly distinctive in its own way as ultra-modern techno. I think it's up there with The Knife's 'Silent Shout' as a modern classic.

Hauntingly beautiful, intelligent, infuriating, cool music.

Getting Ready for Winter

Yes, folks, the colder weather's coming, so it's time to start getting snug.

It's a public holiday in Sydney - Anzac Day - where we pay our respects to those Australians who fought and returned and those who died in the insanity of war. However, with all due respects, I hate this day of 'death and glory'. (Isn't 'glorified death' more apt?) I wanted to see a movie this afternoon, but had forgotten that the city would still be clogged with the peanut-crunching crowds. Pubs were overflowing - not just with the war vets (God bless 'em!) but with crowds of raucous yobbos and their hard-faced female partners - the sort of people who wear footie shirts as 'smart/casual' wear. People everywhere waved Aussie flags, wore Aussie flag clothing and clogged fast food outlets. I walked amongst them, feeling like I'd just landed on another planet. Outside my window now, as evening approaches, I can hear the drunks as they hit the streets - getting louder and louder. It's gonna be a long night.

Limousine

Out on my walk/run the other evening from Woolloomooloo and around Mrs Maquarie's Chair and Farm Cove, as I ran up the stairs on the west side where the tourists gather to take their snapshots of the Opera House and Harbour Bridge - Sydney's most famous icons - there were a bunch of girls in party frocks, clutching glasses of bubbly as they wandered from the road and across the grass to take in the view. Nothing out of the ordinary here - looked like some sort of hen party. As I ran, my eyes drifted lazily from them up to the road to their transport - a limousine. But I had never seen a limousine like this. It was a hummer!!

This beast of a thing seemed so incongruous with these girlies in their frilly frocks. What could they have been thinking? What is the limmo company thinking? What about the planet? Anyway, I found the pic on the internet.

'The Slits' in Sydney

Well, here was another gig I couldn't ignore - 'The Slits', reformed, playing in Sydney's Gaelic Club last night. Although the line-up was, apparently, supposed to mirror the one on the newly released 3-song EP ('Revenge of the Killer Slits'), with vocalist, Ari Up and bassist Tessa Pollitt (the only 2 original members), Paul Cook (ex 'Sex Pistols') on drums, Marco Pirroni (ex 'Adam and the Ants') on guitar and back-up vocals courtesy of Cook's daughter, Holly; Pollitt's daughter, Phoebe and Mick Jones' (of 'The Clash') daughter, Lauren, this didn't exactly transpire. Instead, we were given an all-female line-up of Ari Up, Tessa Pollitt, Holly (back-up vocals), drummer Anna (?) and two guitarists (pretty sure they were the aforementioned Lauren and Phoebe).

Nice to see a good mix of age groups in the crowd - from teens to 50-somethings, retro-dressed art school girls, old punks, '70s feminists, lots of women - this was an exuberant, fun gig. Ari Up, resplendent in dreads trailing to her thighs and three colourful costume changes was the perfect front-person - enthusiastically dancing and shaking her barely-covered bum - she was all positivity and 'you go girl!' attitude, whilst constantly chatting to her audience and giving away prizes of Jamaican reggae records (yep! she still lives in Jamaica). Continually pulling enthusiastic audience members up to dance with her onstage (affectionately proclaiming them, for the encore song 'Typical Girls' from their seminal 1979 album 'Cut', as her 'typical girls' and typical boys'), her joyful 'girl-confidence' and pseudo-tribal pop-spirituality was never heavy-handed, just sincere and happy. And how cool was bassist, Tessa Pollitt? Wow.

The music was a great mix of their reggae and punk-influenced songs - the older material featured prominently - even one or two tracks from one of their early punk bootlegs, still in my possession. Other highlights included the great 'Newtown' and 'Shoplifting' from 'Cut' and - best of all - a newie called 'Kill Them With Love'. The crowd was generally friendly too. I had good chats with a couple who've been together and married since the punk era, a bunch of teen girls, a couple of 40-something gay guys - one of whom had seen 'The Slits' in London in the late '70s and a cute boy who helped me deflect a 'situation' that occurred with an aggressive, drunk girl and her friends who kept slamming painfully into me like rabid monkeys as I stood in the crowd.

Praise must also go to the second support act, 'Japanther'. I missed the earlier part of their set, but what I saw/heard was hilarious, funky and enormously entertaining. All in all, a great night out.

Happy Mardi Gras 2007!

Really looking forward to Mardi Gras tomorrow night - especially the big party. I can't wait!

Just thinking about how the official name of the 'community' has changed from 'GLBTQ' (Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer) to 'GLBTI' - ie the word 'Queer' has been replaced by 'Intersex'. I'm not exactly sure of the official take, but it is my understanding that 'intersex' is basically the new word for 'hermaphroditism' - an intersex (or hermaphrodite) person having characteristics or organs of both sexes. I also found myself wondering if this (apparently very rare) genetic condition is becoming more common or if, perhaps, there was any record (official or otherwise) of people being surgically modified to be 'intersex'. Come to think of it, I recall Genesis P-Orridge undergoing breast enhancement surgery along with his wife - as part of an overall plastic surgery project that will make them look progressively similar - which would put him in this category I guess (or would it?), so maybe it is getting more popular.

I remember, as a child, upon discovering that snails were hermaphroditic - and able to actually reproduce alone - thinking how strange this was.

Religion is Stupid

Enough is enough. I've had it with religion and the concept of a 'man-in-the-sky' God. Up until now, I've swung this way and that, without committing - generally considering myself to be an agnostic. But it isn't enough any more. Whilst I realise I'm opening a huge can of worms, I think it's high time I took a stand and spoke out in support of atheism.

Agnostics sit on the fence, requiring proof of God in order to believe in Him. But here lies the problem. They are actually prepared to believe. To be prepared to believe in God means one is prepared to believe in the concept of an omnipotent, omnipresent being - ie knowing absolutely everything, including everything each one of us is doing, thinking and feeling at every given moment, and being everywhere all at once. There has never been one iota of proof of this! It's obviously ridiculous. Surely, being prepared to believe in life on other planets is a much more reasonable idea?

Yet billions of people everywhere believe in God and, despite the total lack of evidence, religion is becoming more popular. It is the source of much of the escalating conflict in the world and is - quite alarmingly - progressively starting to infiltrate and inform traditionally secular politics in western countries. OK, so human beings naturally turn their minds to the question of the meaning of life and its mysteries at some point in their lives, including what happens when we die. But religious nuts just can't seem to accept that we are part of nature and that all manifestations of life within nature eventually expire and die - finito!. I think this is the root of the problem. People don't want to accept that we all die. So the concept of 'afterlife' is invented as a comfort, where an elite group of 'believers' is allowed entry into a special, perfect world called 'heaven' (or are otherwise reincarnated in another form etc etc). I mean each to his/her own, but this seems seriously deluded to me - and a cop-out to boot. And then there are the Holy Books, of course, including the Bible, the Koran and many more. Yet, surely these books can just as easily be interpreted as a mixture of fact and metaphor - morality fables passed down through generations - relating to our connectedness to each other and to nature as a higher authority? Whichever way you look at it, I don't see why believers in God Almighty assume the higher moral ground when it comes to these questions, because that's what they ultimate are - questions.

I believe that we can own our own morality and be compassionate and responsible human beings, without involving (the idea of) a 'supreme being'. Surely we can continue to question ourselves, our actions and the ways in which we affect others. We can learn to be accountable for these actions and to live with ourselves and what we do - learning from our mistakes as we move through the world - as we can also learn to forgive ourselves and others. And our life on earth is the opportunity we are given to carry out these tasks. To my mind, at least, the concept of God is a distraction that seriously undermines this work. None of us is perfect, but we can evolve. Religious types would say that only God is perfect. But it is nature that is perfect because all of life - and its complexities - is contained within it. But I do not believe in God.

'Marie Antoinette' & 'Leonard Cohen: I'm Your Man' movie reviews

Just a couple of recently seen films I wanted to tell you about, so here goes:

MARIE ANTOINETTE

This movie is delicious - a visual tour de force through the palace and lifestyle of the court of Versailles in the heyday of Louis XVI and his young Austrian bride. As a visual and musical piece, this is stunning work, with everything reflecting the pastel tones of the ever-present displayed cakes - the colours of marzipan and sugared almonds - but if you're looking for a history lesson, it's rather light on detail - more like candy floss. Powdered faces and lacquered hair piled high, perfectly symmetrical shots of the manicured gardens of the palace and a post-punk soundtrack that seems absolutely perfect. Suzie and the Banshees' 'Hong Kong Garden' has never worked as well as it did in the masked ball scenes. Inspired.

LEONARD COHEN: I'M YOUR MAN

I love Leonard Cohen. I'd even go as far as saying I've always preferred his music/poetry to Bob Dylan's. And he's still producing good work.This film is based around a tribute concert of his music, performed by some of the "world's best singers" (as we are informed) including Nick Cave, Martha and Rufus Wainwright, Antony Hegerty and Jarvis Cocker, amongst others. The performances are cut with bits of interviews with Cohen himself and some impressions of him, given by artists performing the works. Unfortunately though, members of U2 - Bono and The Edge - have too much to say in this department. And to make things worse, U2 are also given the privilege of doing a separate, filmed performance - in a 'retro-cabaret' style stage setting - of one of the songs, with Cohen also singing a song to their backing, though only a part of it, which was most disappointing. U2 have to be one of the most over-rated, over-represented groups ever, so their presence here seems completely superfluous. Also, what I love about Leonard Cohen's songs is that they deal with the emotional realm - uncertainty, longing, self-reflection, sensuality, pain, guilt etc - themes that are explored poetically and usually ambiguously. They are like unsolved fables that contain a genuine air of mystery. Yet, Cohen's search for meaning, as revealed in this film, kind of tainted this mystery, especially since he is now 'at peace' (so to speak) via his relationship with Buddhism, which kind of wrapped the whole movie up a little disappointingly.

New Jacket

On his return from a work trip to Malaysia, Stephen gave me a jacket he'd bought there for me, as a gift. After reading the blurb on the jacket's shop tag several times, I am still perplexed:

"Hot Wind signifies the spirit after dark. It is the spirit and soul that provide positive energies and winds by stimulating their nerve to realize their dreams and enjoy every moments of life. It is a street wear brand that explores into their mysterious side and breaks beyond their depth inner feelings that ultimately sparks off the attractive and sexiest chemistry."

Australia (Invasion) Day

Here we go again - another Australia Day - or otherwise known as 'Invasion Day'. And out come the Aussie flags in ever-increasing numbers which, until very recently, used to be rivalled by quite significant numbers of Aboriginal flags also. Lately, the latter are rarely seen, but after all, this is John Howard's Australia and we're almost as jingoistic as the Americans these days. Up at Woolworths supermarket this evening, the entire checkout area was decked out in them - almost as if they were Christmas decorations.

But there's something very creepy going on here. When the organisers of yesterday's 'The Big Day Out' (annual, all-day, multi-band, music festival in Sydney showgrounds) decided to ban the Australian flag from the event, due to increasing incidences of racist outbursts (eg the Cronulla beach riots of just over a year ago), where (generally white) neo-nationalist yobbos would wreak racist havoc under the flag's banner - often draping themselves in it - the media whipped the story up as a big issue, dragging politicians in to comment. Of course, Howard said that any event that asks for the banning of the flag deserves to be banned itself. Results of commercial TV surveys showed that 92% thought it was wrong for the organisers to do this, with only 8% thinking it was the right thing. Therefore, the organisers were forced to offer their apologies and regrets over suggesting such a thing. And at 'The Big Day Out', record numbers of Howard's youth were draped in their beloved flag. No surprise there.

But what is it that this piece of cloth actually represents? What's to love? Seems to me it's more about dividing, rather than uniting - groups of people trying to claim it as theirs and so setting others apart/making them the enemies of it. As I said, this is John Howard's Australia. And in this, an election year with a new Opposition opponent doing well in the polls, Howard seized an opportunity to look 'green' (imitating George Bush yet again!) by appointing the scientist and environmentalist, Tim Flannery, as 'Australian of the Year'.
What a hypocrite!

Lou Reed's 'Berlin' at the State Theatre, Sydney

What a treat. The chance to see Lou Reed perform his seminal 1973 concept album - the maligned and often dismissed, ahead-of-its-time 'Berlin' - as a multi-media song cycle - the headlining act of this year's Sydney Festival. Before Sydney, 'Berlin' had been performed over four nights at 'St Ann's Warehouse', a New York artspace, a month earlier. Clearly, this was an opportunity not to be missed.

The show, directed by the artist/film maker Julian Schnabel with Bob Ezrin, the original album producer, and Hal Willner as music producers included strings, horns, choristers (12 singers from the Australian Youth Choir) and touches of cabaret. The band included Lou's long-serving bass player, Fernando Saunders, with Tony Smith on drums, Steve Hunter on guitar (who played on all the original recordings) and Rob Wasserman on upright electric bass. Guest vocalists included Antony Hegerty (of Antony and the Johnsons) and soul diva, Sharon Jones.

The show played out like a sort of Brechtian fable - the melancholy story of a relationship with its blissful beginnings and indulgences and its decline into abuse, burnout, despair and ultimate tragedy. Lou Reed has this amazing ability to bring stories from such melancholic underworlds to life and make them beautiful. He is able to 'report' them without moralising and when performed, they are poetry. Julian Schnabel's set included screens printed with subtle 'Oriental' designs and calligraphy, with filmed scenes illustrating the story - while remaining impressionistic and non-dominant - projected onto them. Highlights for me were 'Men of Good Fortune', which was nicely cynical and could've been, at least in part, about any number of modern-day tyrants, 'Oh Jim' (especially the stripped-down part), 'Caroline Says' (especially II) and 'The Bed'. Sublime.

After the songs were finished (it seemed as if it'd only been a few minutes), I was wondering if the audience's thunderous pounding for an encore would be fruitful. After all, 'Berlin' had been performed. However, back they came - albeit without the strings, horns and choir - just Lou, the band, Antony and Sharon. First up, they launched into 'Sweet Jane'. I started thinking that it was too much of a crowd pleaser and that it might ruin the mood, but when Sharon Jones took over and gave it the soul treatment, I was won back all over again. After this, things quietened down and 'Candy Says' was next - performed as a duet between Lou and Antony. I hadn't seen Antony before and I was gobsmacked - brought to tears in a matter of seconds. He has a voice that I can only describe as something between Nina Simone and an angel, but there is more to it than that. He injects so much feeling and pain that it is almost unbearable. The final song of the night was the strong and grinding rock 'n' roll of 'Rock Minuet' from Lou's 2000 album, 'Ecstasy', which he'd performed during his last visit in 2000.

All in all - totally killer!

Another train trip to the 'burbs

A blazingly hot summer day and I'm off to the hospital dental clinic again in Sydney's far west, by train. So, what did I see along my way? Well, in the city, before I'm even at the train station, it's just endless brand names and designer everything on every single person I come across. Shopping is now the official national pastime and designer labels give us our self-esteem - well, it certainly seems that way.

Then the train. A couple sitting opposite me look like off-duty police constables - exuding an attitude of distrust towards anyone in their vicinity, including me. The woman was heavily pregnant and attentive to anything her man said to her, demonstrating her approval of his comments with affectionate pats on his knee, while he maintained his look of indifference. His nose was snout-like and he wore one of those ubiquitous t-shirts printed with splatters of dye and the words 'CULT' and 'INDUSTRIE' in a sort of stencilled/branding style - as if they were stamped on bales of wool. Sitting next to me was a young woman, her feet squeezed into pointy-toed stillettos. Her toes stopped before the pointy part and were squeezing out the sides. During the entire trip, she was plugged in to her iPod and just stared straight ahead. The music must have been loud because it just went 'CALASH CALASH CALASH' the whole time. She wore those huge square'ish sunglasses - like every other woman on the train - that Paris Hilton was wearing (her 'trademark', so the media informed us) when she was in Sydney a week or so ago.

On the way back, the carriages were packed - a father with three mischievous children climbing all over the seats opposite me and a couple of old-timers next to me. At Strathfield, another old man got on, wheeling a suitcase and decided to squeeze in next to me backside first. I just saw this huge bum coming towards me and he smelt strongly of (a certain) haemorrhoid cream. For the rest of the journey, I could feel his thighs jammed up next to mine and smell the haemorrhoid cream.

Dream Ordeal

A familiar street - Spring Street, Bondi Junction, apparently. Looking over it from one storey above - the opposite side of the road from where the supermarket is, but further down. I remember seeing the 'Comix' shop that used to be there.

I was anxious and frightened. Men in the streets were carrying guns and lurking, or looting shops. The streets were empty otherwise and looked shabby and slightly decayed - a hint of slum. Watching a few scenarios, with the men edging around cautiously and the scaringly real sound of random gunshots getting closer and closer. I'm on the streets one minute - totally freaking out - and then I'm one floor up again, in a room with large windows overlooking the street - an office. There are other people busying around everywhere. There are people comforting and/or counselling others. Groups of police are doing this.

I'm crapping on to someone about the suffering of the Palestinians in an awful, flippant and pretentious way, yet my experience of the events on the street is all the while telling me that I am actually in the streets of Palestine. At one point, I'm walking around, engulfed by loneliness - tortured and desperate because no one acknowledges my presence in any way at all. It's as if I'm not even there. I see a couple of beautiful Asian girls sitting at a table, and the next thing I know my current lover - of whom I can decipher neither their gender or appearance - is seducing them both in the Ladies Room, which I walk in on. Naturally, I'm horrified and scream and cry out hysterically, but no one notices I'm there. An extremely heavy atmosphere. Truly terrifying.

Next, I'm in `the office' again, blubbering, crying, tortured, upset - a circle of female police officers counselling me as they sit around me. One of them was singing a lullaby to someone else. My tears just kept coming. This was the first acknowledgement that I was present. I just poured it all out to them and actually began to feel comforted.

Lasse Braun - 'The King of Porn' - is such a yawn

Just saw a nostalgic TV documentary on this guy and, personally, I find it hard to see the tired old '60s and '70s porn scene as looking particularly sexy, despite the hardcore action, fun outfits and hilarity factor. It all somehow looks too silly and unconvincing and the actors seem wooden and reluctant - kind of lame. Or is it just that it's 'retro'? I guess there's more of a sincerity of intent - or, at least, a 'passion for the subject' and lack of irony - in the pioneering porn scene - a sort of quaint naivety (despite the corruption) - as well as the DIY, generally libertarian approach - ie not slickly and cynically corporatised. Lasse Braun certainly made a hell of a lot of money out of it at any rate.

But despite his experience and talents, let's face it. Guys like Lasse are just trying to get as much pussy as they possibly can and don't care to ask themselves why because they're sexual hedonists (and, probably, control freaks!). Sure, you can't blame him for that, but unfortunately the women hanging around the sleaze industry generally don't get off quite so unscathed and it doesn't help them to lay around - as they do in this doco - in provocative poses, dressed as strippers, whilst trying hard to give the impression that they're so into the self-empowerment of it all.

Intriguing, but generally unattractive.

Pigeon Lady

I guess most cities in the world have a large pigeon population, apart from those that see the creatures as pests and eradicate them with poisons. I actually remember being quite horrified upon discovering this had been done in Dunedin, New Zealand, when visiting the city sometime in the 1980s. And here in Sydney, it has recently become standard practice to instal rows of razor-sharp upright nails - of the 9-inch variety - along ledges of the outside walls or fences of upmarket buildings, particularly fancy hotels and apartment blocks, in order to keep the birds off these favoured roosting places. Bird poo has been outlawed.

People regularly refer to the maligned creatures as 'rats with wings', despite the fact that their scavenging says more about the excesses of human beings. Nonetheless, a fair sized population of pigeons still thrive, many of them hanging around Hyde Park, north-west of the fountain. This is no doubt due, in no small part, to the presence of an old, white-haired lady in black clothes, who spends her afternoons there feeding the birds with a variety of different grains. She sits on the grass and is immediately surrounded, talking to the birds all the while as she unzips her backpack and pulls out the knotted plastic bags filled with the grains and carefully undoes them.

The pigeons are patient with her as she feeds them and the seagulls don't even bother to try their luck. This is pigeon territory only. The woman talks to them kindly and also sternly at times, as if they are her children. When she has finished feeding them, she ties the plastic bags up and puts them away, spreads newspaper on the grass and lies down for a nap in the sun. The birds stay with her, still surrounding her and some sit on top of her. She allows them to stay. When she gets up again, she sometimes notices bird poo on her clothes, which she carefully wipes off, before leaving for the day.

re: a band I was in .....The Kiwi Animal (1982-1986)

I came across Brent's resume on the net. Actually, it was a website article/interview - made up of bits and pieces of interviews edited together - about The Kiwi Animal music. At the end of it, there was a contact address for me and a link to 'Brent's Resume', which consists of categorised lists of projects and products associated with him - all the things that Brent S. Hayward has made. But these lists are riddled with inaccuracies, as well as more than a few exaggerations and evasions.

For example, in his synopsis of some of the work of The Kiwi Animal, he neglects to even mention my name (despite flaunting the names of more famous/infamous people he maybe played a couple of times with once). This really is thoroughly crap of him. I have been way too generous in putting up with his rudeness for too long a time! But then, what would I expect? Brent can only be Brent.

The Kiwi Animal music is still a very big part of me. It is a place of communication - sensations, collisions and the places where things come together or blow apart. About something that might emerge out of the ashes of ruins. It is sometimes hopeful, sometimes fragile, sometimes hopeless. Whatever! .... It's MUSIC. It was the project of Brent Stephen Hayward and Julie Cooper. Guest musicians included Patrick Waller (who became a member in 1985), Caroline Sommerville, Simon Alcorn, Gavin Buxton and Sara Westwood.

Just for the record (and the music!), OK.

Just A Thought

It's pretty hard meeting new people in Sydney (especially for a freelance worker like myself) and I think it's getting even harder. People are so obsessed with looking cool. I'm sick of cool. I like warm.

It's a Mercenary World

I knew things were getting nastier, but I wasn't prepared for this little media piece. Apparently, a very old lady living alone in the Sydney 'burbs has been regularly - and trustingly - handing over the $30 monthly payments, as a matter of routine, for a broken-down TV she has rented for 22 years.

Now she is receiving threatening 'repossession' letters from the rental company, after ceasing to make the payments she is no longer able to make, due largely to the fact that she has been diagnosed with multiple myeloma.

$30 per month - for 22 years - for an old TV that does't even work - meaning she's paid around $8000 to date. Wouldn't she well and truly own it by now? Makes me wonder how many more people are being exploited in this way. The company, unsurprisingly, says they've done nothing wrong, according to the original contract. How fucked up is this?

Oh well, that's capitalism for ya!

Can't get this song off my mind

I'll be your mirror
Reflect what you are, in case you don't know
I'll be the wind, the rain and the sunset
The light on your door to show that you're home

When you think the night has seen your mind
That inside you're twisted and unkind
Let me stand to show that you are blind
Please put down your hands
cause I see you

I find it hard to believe you don't know
The beauty that you are
But if you don't let me be your eyes
A hand in your darkness, so you won't be afraid

When you think the night has seen your mind
That inside you're twisted and unkind
Let me stand to show that you are blind
Please put down your hands
cause I see you

I'll be your mirror

- The Velvet Underground (1967) -

iPod Rant

iPods. Mobile phones. Tomorrow's garbage. Here we are in 2006 - a gadget-obsessed world, especially (it would appear) amidst Generation Y, who almost always appear to be turned on, tuned in and out of reach. Never has Marshall McCluhan's famous phrase - 'the medium is the message' - been so relevant, because what are we talking about here? iPods are actually only mediums through which music/audio works are transmitted. But are we really listening to the music? Seems to me that being seen to possess these gadgets is what's most important, due to the intense marketing campaigns of 'Apple', that relentlessly push the 'cool image' factor. Mobile music is hardly anything new anyway and, in terms of sound quality, good cassette walkmans and MD players can hold a key advantage, when considering the compression ratios people often use to get the desired (advertised) number of tracks onto their iPods. The quality is often no better than bad AM radio!

Of course, mobile music has its place (as with mobile phones) but - perhaps with the exception of long solo plane/train/bus trips - it doesn't work for me. I simply find music - and the audio world in general - too interesting and absorbing. Listening commands my attention and is therefore distracting, so that, plugged in and walking around, with the sound not relating to my surroundings, I find myself in an ever-present danger of being run over by moving vehicles. And anyway, what's the point of leaving the house, except to be immersed in a different sensory environment from the one you have built for yourself?

Yeah, baby. It's the medium that rules. As I see it, a sort of fetishism of objects and technology, where users can shut themselves inside their own micro-world and non-users out. 'Being on our own together', as the catchphrase (apparently) goes. Participants are fond of asserting that this is a new type of community and I'm aware that kids like to fit into their peer groups. But perhaps it's just another form of social eliticism, based around an apparent 'need' to own expensive products. Also, sometimes I'm concerned that humans are progressively merging their individual identites into cultures (or even celebrities) identified with - already conveniently pre-packaged for them. The scariest thing is that we do this so readily and willingly.

Another concept in human engineering? I guess I should just lighten up.