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Faithful readers will remember that last Monday was International Buy A Decent Mattress Day. Today was its companion festival: International Decent Mattress Is Delivered Day. Both obscure holidays, I admit, but still highly enjoyable. Except for the hole in the bank account afterwards.
We saw Dandelion Wine at the Public Bar last night. The Public Bar looks like they took a typical uni student's lounge room, threw several more uni student's lounge rooms worth of couches into it, and then nuked the site from orbit. This presumably is meant to be backpacker chic, carefully designed to ensure all those poor, uncivillized Europeans aren't intimidated by Melbourne's style and sophisitication.
Dandelion Wine were swirly and ethereal and good, PA problems aside. They were also charmingly daggy. Which is to be expected, I guess, of a band that features flutes and dulcimers and songs about cats. I don't know if they all met via SCA, but I wouldn't be surprised.
This is not being snide. I'll take daggy goths over cool-than-thou arseholes any day.
And you have to repect a guitarist who thrashes out speed metal guitar solos... on his dulcimer.
After the gig, went to the Factory Records tribute night at Dream. Arrived embarrisingly early. Place deserted except for thousands of candles and some really good music. Venue slowly filled up, music somehow switched to unofficial Cure tribute. Dandelion Wine members turned up, andricongirl teased me for having a crush on their singer. Danced a little, talked a lot.
Ooo, and there was a fight. Go metal-heads.
Today I have been testing the new mattress, and listening to Nine Inch Nails. Which has been like gentle rains after a drought.
We saw Dandelion Wine at the Public Bar last night. The Public Bar looks like they took a typical uni student's lounge room, threw several more uni student's lounge rooms worth of couches into it, and then nuked the site from orbit. This presumably is meant to be backpacker chic, carefully designed to ensure all those poor, uncivillized Europeans aren't intimidated by Melbourne's style and sophisitication.
Dandelion Wine were swirly and ethereal and good, PA problems aside. They were also charmingly daggy. Which is to be expected, I guess, of a band that features flutes and dulcimers and songs about cats. I don't know if they all met via SCA, but I wouldn't be surprised.
This is not being snide. I'll take daggy goths over cool-than-thou arseholes any day.
And you have to repect a guitarist who thrashes out speed metal guitar solos... on his dulcimer.
After the gig, went to the Factory Records tribute night at Dream. Arrived embarrisingly early. Place deserted except for thousands of candles and some really good music. Venue slowly filled up, music somehow switched to unofficial Cure tribute. Dandelion Wine members turned up, andricongirl teased me for having a crush on their singer. Danced a little, talked a lot.
Ooo, and there was a fight. Go metal-heads.
Today I have been testing the new mattress, and listening to Nine Inch Nails. Which has been like gentle rains after a drought.
