Music

Back for My Birthday and The List

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The aftermath of 4 weeks in Europe.

After 4 weeks on the road (and on the sea and in the air to be more precise) and gastronomic, oenonic and beeronic overindulgences of the moronic rather than lessonic kinds you can imagine that our immune systems were vulnerable to attack so the child bride and I duly came down with catastrophic colds yesterday. Last night my nose, throat and lungs felt like Helms Deep under orc assault with Gandalf and the cavalry not due to arrive until about Friday. Consequently, on this my 60th birthday I feel like doing not much at all really. But this does allow the time for a degree of contemplation of something of vital importance.

If you have passed 60 already you will have received The List. No one knows where it comes from or who sends it or why. It does however provide guidance (as if any was needed, we’re 60 after all) for the twilight (zone) years of our lives. If you are over 60 you need read no further as you will have received your List already. If you are well past 60 you will have received it by post in an envelope with no return address. If you are well under 60 you will not know what I am talking about in that previous sentence (if you know what a sentence, of the grammatical not prison kind, is).

The List I received goes as follows:

1. Health
We, the human race, are living longer. For this reason we are apparently imposing an increasing burden on the health system. Now it stands to reason that if we are living longer we are actually healthier so there is an obvious contradiction here. Notwithstanding this, for the over 60’s the health system is a veritable pub smorgasbord of drugs and treatments to be taken advantage of at every opportunity. Over 60’s have lost all respect for the user pays system because we’ve paid and now it’s time to use. The younger “me generation” is going to have to come to grips with that as total economic melt-down looms because, as yet, they haven’t. Over 60’s won’t because we’ll all be dead, possibly from a drug overdose.

2. Education
a. English
English is about communication. This involves more than abbreviated texting and sexting (in the words and clothes departments respectively) via various devices. These are for making phone calls so people can speak to each other in well constructed sentences. Over 60’s understand this. They also understand that punctuation is not something you do in a colonoscopy bag.

b. Mathematics
Over 60’s can perform addition, subtraction, multiplication and division in their heads. They also know what these things are.

c. History
Over 60’s love history because they have more of it than the young. Stuff happened before the internet. You can use it to check.

3. Sex
For men over 60, sex can be likened to pouring your last can of petrol on the fire. This is a euphemism (for a metaphor) for attaching your superannuation to a fish hook, dangling it in a pool of pre-cougars, catching a trophy wife and going for it until the fire flames out in about 6 months. Then it’s over, assuming the money’s run out also. For married women over 60 this list item has no relevance.

4. Music
In our over 60s’ music, performers actually sing. More recently this has not necessarily been the case. Remember MC Hammer? “Thanks for talking us through that song MC. Now can you sing it and add a few musical instruments to that boring repetitive bass line? Oh…that’s it?” He’s got a lot to answer for. We of the Rolling Stones generation look forward to hoe rap clones scratching each other’s eyes out and the gangsta rap clones shooting each other into extinction. Either way the biggest con in musical history has a limited shelf life. Now leave us to our country and western heavy metal – a tuneless noise about hay – and dreaming about the hedonism of 60’s and 70’s rock.

5. Dancing
Over 60’s don’t or shouldn’t dance. Unfortunately some wish to retain this right. Fortunately the Dad Dance phase is well and truly over by 60 and if you must, it now involves anchoring your feet to the ground and swaying your arms to the music, generally with a small child attached to them.

6. Sport
All references to sport must now begin with the phrase “Back in my day…” as in “Back in my day these poofs wouldn’t have lasted 5 minutes with Lezzy Boyd, Greggy Dowling and Artie Beetson.” All given names (we used to call them Christian names) must end with “y” or “ie”.

7. Injuries
The above sport reference applies equally to sporting injuries as in “Back in my day we’d play on Sunday and go down the mine with a broken leg, a dislocated shoulder and concussion on Monday”.

8. Religion
Most people don’t have any anymore but over 60’s reserve the right to a gradual return especially if the church is putting on free food or more importantly, free booze. The logical extension of this process is the death-bed conversion, just in case.

9. Free Stuff
We deserve it and the rest don’t. They have to pay for it. Simple.

10. Working
What’s that? Hahahaha

11. Fashion
Back in the day when today’s over 60’s were dedicated followers of fashion, it meant something if you wore jeans and thongs. It meant you also wore a flanno and had a mullet which were quite popular for a while there amongst a certain demographic. Some over 60’s now feel comfortable with fashion faux pas such as wearing socks with sandals, a crime for which you can be shot incidentally. And for the over 60 ladies the transition from frilly and filmy to industrial strength is now complete.

12. Drinking
Once you crack the big 6 oh there is no reason to ever buy a drink again. If you find yourself in a pub in a shout with younger members of the community it is likely that they will tell you to take your hand out of your pocket when it is your turn to shout. This behaviour should not be discouraged. In fact it should be actively encouraged by constantly complaining about the bloody government and its treatment of the backbone (sciatica notwithstanding) of the community and you can’t make the pension go as far as it used to blah blah blah. And anyone who doesn’t think we’re the backbone, may we suggest a headcount (see Health).

13. Birthdays
As a youngster, birthdays involve waking up in a pool of your own vomit with a new face tattoo. The older generation is satisfied with more material but no less cheap thrills. Like for the mature man a trip down memory lane with a “look but don’t touch” pass. May we suggest a particular place that unnecessarily interrupts football games with displays of….and…..and beer.

14. Gifts
Birthdays (if it’s yours) are about receiving gifts. Unlike the economy, which many youngsters of a socialistic bent think is a zero sum game, gift giving actually is i.e. every time one gift is given, one is received. We over 60’s know which side of that equation we want to be on.

15. Cars
Over 60’s know that as phones are for making phone calls, cars are for getting you from A to B. Unlike with phones however, we like the toys that come with cars. But we are torn between getting the GT super sport pack or going on another cruise. Convertibles are a particular dilemma. These are for very young people but because most very young people can’t afford a decent convertible, special dispensation has been given to the over 60’s to buy them. Looking ridiculous in a convertible is an issue for people who want “the look” but is irrelevant to over 60’s who revel in not giving a stuff about what they look like (see Fashion).

16. Aging
This brings special privileges which are called brain fades or mental blocks or senior moments or CRAFT as in Can’t Remember A F—ing Thing moments. These involve issues such as going into a room then having to contemplate the exact reason for going in there in the first place.

17. Political Correctness
Over 60’s don’t do political correctness. It’s for well norked celebrities with their climate off-sets and private jets and bureaucrats, academics and ABC types who think they’re distantly related to Evonne Goolagong. If you take offence then put the bloody thing back before the cows escape. Now, did you hear the latest Irish/Polish/Kiwi/Arab/Jewish/Catholic (insert ethnic/religious group to be ridiculed) joke?

18. Politics
This is not relevant. Over 60’s know all there is to know about politics. From one me-generation (baby boomers) to another (the young), don’t worry, it’ll all be fine. We’ll spend our super and you can spend the tax we contribute. Oh that’s right, we don’t contribute tax anymore. Hahahahahaha.

Status Quo

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Driving from Brisbane to the Gold Coast hardly qualifies as travelling but if it’s to see one of the greatest rock and roll bands of all time – Status Quo – on possibly their last tour, and certainly last in one regard which I’ll cover below, then I’m prepared to extend the definition. Besides, they came all the way from England so to drive an hour or so to see them seemed only fair. Incidentally, while sitting at our hundredth or so red light I was beginning to think this was not such a good idea. There are more red lights on the Gold Coast than the Reeperbahn, Kings Cross, the Rossebuurt, Roppongi, Patpong and the White House (during the Clinton era) combined. You’ll have to look those places up if they don’t all ring a bell. I’ve been in the same city as all of them except the White House. That’s how I knew.

The concert was held last night at the Star Hotel and Casino at Broadbeach on the Goldie and what an eclectic crowd that place attracts. Everyone from fake ID’d teenagers with their arses hanging out of the shortest of tight, short skirts to 90 year old Chinese grannies. Of course being a casino, the gambling obsessed Chinese are ubiquitous. The crowd that filtered out of the casino and into the theatre to see the Quo were more akin to an Australian Conservatives gathering (in appearance) although I don’t think the average Australian Conservatives crowd would know all of the words to Status Quo’s extensive back catalogue. There were a few outliers with grey ponytails, some sported by women, but since Francis Rossi cut his off a few years back it seemed like a rather superfluous gesture. And there were a few kids who’d been dragged along by their parents (or grandparents) as we had been known to do with ours some (many) years back.

There are some fundamental differences between a Quo/Stones/Eagles (our last three concerts) crowd and a Taylor Swift (for example) crowd, not least minor things like age, fashion, size (individual as opposed to collective) and willingness to pay exorbitant amounts of money for tickets although to be fair, that only applied to the Stones and the Eagles. But one thing is quite similar I assume, although not having ever been to a social media fuelled, hormone busting, like, best everrrr Justin Bieber concert I can’t be certain. Youngsters can be quite rude because many have not been schooled properly in common courtesies and oldsters can be quite rude because “I paid a bloody fortune for this ticket so I’ll come and go as I bloody well please…and spill beer on the person in the row in front as I squeeze past in the dark”. The young country singer who opened for Status Quo was very adept at embarrassing the latecomers, much to the amusement of the more polite section of the crowd. Take a bow Travis Collins.

The show was called “Last Night of the Electrics”. After this tour is finished it’s acoustic or aquostic as they call it, from then on. Not surprising really when you consider the number of shows they do and have done over the years (more than most) and the volume at which they perform. Their ears (certainly Rossi’s) must be mush. Just on the noise thing, the child bride and I saw them in 1976 at Brisbane’s now demolished Festival Hall. We were six rows from the front and my ears were still ringing when we took our seats last night, 41 years later. If Spinal Tap’s amplifiers go up to 11 then Quo’s go up to 12. Having said that, last night’s show was loud but manageable in the aural department but we were two rows further back in row 8 so that may have been why it didn’t seem as loud as in 1976.

Rather than “Last Night of the Electrics” I would have called it “Still Having a Bloody Good Time”. If I could magically transform my very modest musical ability into something a bit more respectable, to the extent that I could hold my own in a top echelon band, I’d want to be in this one. Of course I’ve said that every time we’ve seen the Eagles (five times) but that’s more from a technical excellence perspective than a fun perspective. I also thought it would be a hoot to be in Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers but now that Tom has left the building, it would hardly seem the same. No, when a bunch of musicians laugh at each other and take the piss when they (rarely) make a mistake that we mostly don’t even notice and then let the crowd in on the joke, that’s the band for me. None of this hunched over the instruments, terminally serious Radiohead bullshit for me. Or Eric Clapton demonstrating virtuoso capability but not uttering a word other than “thankyou” or cracking a smile for a whole concert.

I love that there’s no preaching and no sentimentality with these guys. There’s certainly banter and audience interaction but no preachy social justice warrior hypocrisy and promotion of pet causes. There can’t be too many diseases or inequalities left that don’t have some second rate celebrity’s name attached to them. There wasn’t even a mention of Rick Parfitt. Some bands would have put a telecaster on a stand in the corner or a cardboard cut-out or some such tribute on the stage. But they didn’t. But I reckon Francis did his own little tribute. At one point everyone else left the stage, even the drummer and Francis played the intro to a song on his own in semi darkness, a song Rick used to intro. Maybe I’m wrong – doesn’t matter because it works for me.

One more difference between 1976 and 2017. Back then, as soon as they started to play everyone stood up. Not such a big deal when you’re six rows from the front but when everyone in front of you stands on their chairs you have to follow suit. The cute but diminutive child bride was not impressed. Now, we (the typical Status Quo audience) prefer to stay sitting down. Some did get up and dance and good luck to them as long as they don’t dance in front of me. The girls with their Stevie Nicks hair-dos wave their arms around and blokes do Dad dances and think they’re cool. Even I know they aren’t. But as long as I have an uninterrupted view of the stage go ahead and act like a dork.

We got to the second and last song of the encore before the All Blacks front row immediately in front of us stood up. I thought the concert was over because it went dark all of a sudden but I could still hear muffled music, like it was coming from a radio in an adjoining room such was the totality of the wall erected in front of us. I looked at the woman sitting next to me (not the CB, the other side) and we shrugged our shoulders and stood up – what else could we do. No amount of “DOWN IN FRONT” which usually works at the cricket and football, was going to work here.

Brilliant show. That’s another tick on the bucket list.

A Bit More of the Music Died – RIP Tom Petty

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I wrote this on January 19th, 2016, the day after Glen Fry died. I am repeating it here on the occasion of the untimely passing of Tom Petty, one of my all-time favourites. The sentiments are unchanged.

A Tribute to Glen Frey and Those Who Preceded Him

Back in the day, to succeed in the entertainment business you had to firstly have some talent. It wasn’t necessary to be the Stephen Hawking of your field but you had to have something unique plus a work ethic and perseverance such that what talent you had was honed into something an audience would respond to – positively hopefully. As a youngster with musical ambitions you pick up a guitar or a violin or sit at a piano and play it until it emits something that doesn’t replicate the old finger nails down a blackboard sound. You write some lyrics that initially sound like the sort of crap regularly produced by rap so-called “artists”. You know the stuff – like the doggerel graffiti we used to scrawl on toilet walls as kids. And then you write something else. Then you listen to and watch those whose work inspires you. Then you do it all again.

The people who succeeded kept at it. It took the Stones for example, years to write an acceptable (to them) song. They and their peers all practiced and worked and starved and practiced and took some drugs to stay awake so they could practice some more. They performed in shit-holes in front of drunks but gradually the decor improved and the audience sobered up and the venues grew. Think of those who have stood the test of time either through their music or as performers – the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Kiss, AC DC, the Who, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, Deep Purple, Fleetwood Mac (versions I and II) Guns N Roses, Status Quo, the Doobie Brothers, Grateful Dead, David Bowie, Dylan, Lemmy and locally, people like Barnesy and Chisel.

The Eagles epitomise this. Compare their really early live work (still pretty good admittedly) to what they have turned out in recent years. Some people call it over-produced and just too perfect. Others appreciate the talent, the time and the work that goes into producing works of art, whether you like it rough round the edges or smooth as silk. But you can’t deny the mastery that produces the words and music of Hotel California.

Glen Frey died today and at 67 still had years of excellence ahead of him. It’s hard to imagine the Eagles carrying on without him and I’m not sure they should. We saw them five times over 39 years – every time they came to Brisbane. And I’ll still be listening to their music and watching their shows long after Australia’s Got Talent and The Voice and other shouting competitions have been confined to the garbage can of history.

Speaking of instant fame, it’s interesting to observe how people get noticed now compared with the pre social media and reality TV days of yore. Consider the following – a drug habit, a drink problem, a troubled childhood preferably with one parent and even better (cynically) the victim of abuse, an early brush with fame (we used to call this being a “groupie), regular wardrobe malfunctions, a stint in jail for unpaid traffic offences or drug induced shoplifting, some plastic surgery, a sex tape, a stint as a celebrity lesbian, the subject of unsubstantiated rumours, abusing a Twitter account, having “colourful identities” as friends, hooking up with someone exactly like you and generally behaving like a wanker. If you can tick half a dozen of those boxes, welcome to the world of celebrity. This automatically makes you an expert on climate change, famines, world peace and nail polish and gets you on the judging panels of those short-cut to fame and fortune (closely followed by obscurity again) talent shows.

Assuming there’s a rock and roll heaven, Glen Fry and Bowie and Jack Bruce and Jerry Garcia and Roy Orbison and Lou Reed and now Tom Petty and all those members of the 27 club like Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Amy Winehouse, Gram Parsons and Janis Joplin must be wondering why they bothered.

But I, for one, am glad they persevered and practiced and worked and drank and partied and shagged (all work and no play makes Keith a dull boy). Because out of all of that came the music of our time.