Wednesday, December 05, 2007

Things I'd like to see, one I'm kinda glad I missed, and one or two I wish I hadn't seen...

When Sinéad O'Connor comes to Australia, next year, I wonder if she might be persuaded to rip up a photograph of George Pell?

Personally, I'd beatify her on the strength of the song 'Black Boys on Mopeds'. I heard it yesterday for the first time in ages. Just shuffled back into my life. Funny, it sounds like a cover. Like "Shine Head" doing someone else's song.

But who else could be this bold, this blunt? Who else could make agitation sound so damn fine?

Margaret Thatcher on TV
Shocked by the deaths that took place in Beijing
It seems strange that she should be offended
The same orders are given by her...

Her tour dates and some links are below. (While I'm at it, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah are comin' too. Meh. So are Arcade Fire, Rufus, Sufjan, PJ and Sharon Jones. Goodie.)


Spamalot, on Saturday night, was marginally less disappointing that Priscilla. (Okay, it wasn't anywhere near that bad.) On the strength of good reviews and great word of mouth, I allowed myself a bat squeak of optimism. (Bit like an Australian election campaign or a normal year in the life of a Geelong supporter.)

Damn it, I was happy to be invited! I shaved, suited-up, paid my twenty bucks for a cattle dog... which proved to be the best part of the show!

Richard Watts, bless him, got in first with both reviews, Prissy Pants and Yawn-a-lot. (On both occasions, he lived up to this blog's title!) Once I read them, I felt absolved of the chore -- yes, chore -- of reviewing the shows. So, in short ... What He Said...


The night before last, I taped the late news. (Like, I'm ever gonna sit down and watch it?!) (Anyone remember DNA and the Electric Monks?) Anyway, I forgot to set a stop time. Half-wittingly, I recorded three hours of The Mint -- is it? -- one of those excruciating, frustrating, aggravating late night call-in competitions marathons. Funny thing, tho. When rewinding looking for serious content, I couldn't help but notice that the same Criss Cross word game was on screen each time I stopped and played.

Yep. The comp they began the 'show' with, went unsolved... for two hours and forty-nine minutes. And when I say it went unsolved, I mean it! They abandoned it, the $2000 prize was unclaimed!


What else do you need to know...

I've posted about a couple of blog spin-off books at Sarsaparilla. And I've got a piece on Alan Ayckbourn (going strong at 68, a year after a stroke) comin' up in the Financial Review this weekend.

FYI, here are Sinéad O'Connor's tour dates. Dwarf reckons that there's a second date in Sydney, same venue, next day, cos the first is sold out. Nothing mentioned, as yet, on O'Connor's own site.




16 March 2008
West Coast Blues & Roots Festival
Perth

18th & 19th March 2008
State Theatre
Sydney

21 March 2008
East Coast Blues Festival
Byron Bay

22 March 2008
Convention Centre
Brisbane

23 March 2008
Pt. Nepean Festival
Pt. Nepean

25 March 2008
The Palais
St Kilda


If you have the energy, read this. If you don't, here's the best snort:
She once tore up a picture of Pope John Paul II and, some years later, was ordained as Mother Bernadette Marie by a breakaway Catholic sect. Opprobrium stuck to Sinead O'Connor like a nylon chasuble. But next month, the singer will have the chattering classes spluttering into their tea again with an appearance on the BBC's Songs of Praise.

And this comment from one of Priscilla's harried (and understandably anonymous) ushers... (God, I'd have the union in to demand a new job title... DON'T CALL ME USHER!!)
...the show is the least of my worries. Dealing with the losers who are, essentially, coming in to laugh at the faggots is a bloody nightmare. Many are often pissed on arrival, feel it appropriate to abuse ushers who have the audacity to tell them they cant bring glass in, and generally behave like feral fucking bogans. i know I am getting paid but dear God if I have to listen to one more group of drunk women wearing feather boas say how creative "gays" are or have to tell one more tarted up overweight tramp in a tight dress to put on her fucking shoes i think i will scream my bloody head off. And there are surprisingly few hot gay fellas in attendance- give me SOMETHING to look at people...


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