redneck lounge

Monster Movie Time!

2011-05-23T22:20:00.000-07:00

Homemade Monster
Directed by: Brandon & Leia Gadow
Year: 2008
Country: USA
Studio: Scumbag Movies
Running Time: 49 Mins

Made in 3 days for 400 bucks, Homemade Monster really is the Rockabilly Horror Picture Show! Except Leia Gadow looks a lot better in lingerie than Tim Curry and with half the make up. Remember when Tim sings, “I’m building a man, with blonde hair and a tan…” as he introduces us to his creation Rocky - well, that’s pretty much the same premise here in this Frankenstein meets The Cramps musical featurette. Domestic disharmony between our lead couple (also directors, producers, caterers, etc etc) Brandon and Leia results in Leia drugging her bullying boyfriend and then deciding she’ll make her perfect man with his body and a few other parts thrown in. Those parts coming from the nerdy mama’s boy with a good heart, the professor with the over stimulated brain and the cowboy pool hustler with the big dick. Put ‘em all together and whadda ya got? A sort of mismatched Rocky but with his sword of damacles right ‘tween his legs! And much like Rocky Horror the story is pulled together in song – grinding psychobilly provided by The Jim Rowdy Show that reeks of horror, bourbon and shitty back room crank. As Leia goes about her business we are treated to the best nurse’s outfit you’ve seen in a long time, her Wendy O Williams impersonation (only much hotter) and a striptease that would raise a dead donger! Oh wait, it did! The movie does waiver near the end though while Leia struggles to reanimate her new lover. But this actually works in the film’s favour as I found myself willing her on to succeed – not because I was over it all but simply because I’d been drawn in to her frustrations. Whether this was intentional or not is another thing altogether but it worked. A rather abrupt finale though but I guess where else could it go.

This sorta stuff ain’t for everyone but if you are as tired as I am of remakes and CGI big budget bullshit you might just dig this stuff as much as I do. Ain’t nothing wrong with being a little different – generic is for folks with no taste! Scumbag Movies have a bunch o’ flicks available on their website – download and hardcopy and a real DIY/punk/guerilla ethos that leaps out at you. Funny, messy, lewd and chock full o’ attitude… the way trash films should be.

www.scumbagmovies.com

BAD MOVIES RULE!

2011-03-07T01:20:00.000-08:00

Scream Dream
Directed by: Donald Farmer
Year: 1988
Country: America
Studio: SRS Cinema
Running Time: 69 Mins

For many, many years one movie has always stuck in my mind as the worst movie I have ever seen – Curse Of The Screaming Dead (aka Curse Of The Cannibal Confederates) but I have to tell you Scream Dream has come pretty damn close to knocking it off its pedestal. In fact the only thing saving this film from that no. 1 position is former Playboy playmate Melissa Moore… or at least the fact she took her top off more than once. If it wasn’t for that top shelf action, this movie would be on top of the pedestal looking down at those confederate cannibals!

Shot straight to video back in 1988 and now dubbed straight to dvd much like your mate might do you a bootleg copy on his vhs to dvd burner, the film’s saving grace is that it barely runs an hour. Starting off with a topless sheila tied to a bed while a chainsaw appears between her legs the movie then moves onto the heavy rock sounds of Rikk-o-shay and their lead singer, the demonic seductress Michelle Shocked (or Shock depending on whether you read the cover or IMDB!) Played by the make up and hair artist for the film Carol Carr, Michelle is one ugly broad but the fans don’t think so, in fact they are dying to meet her and some of them do. It seems Michelle is possessed by the devil or at least some sort of demon or something she ate maybe but she kills people and it is not good for business. In fact after the thirteenth victim disappears the band’s manager finally decides to sack Michelle and replace her with the gorgeous Jamie Summers (Melissa Moore).
But first the guitarist has to sack Michelle which gets a bit messy and results in Michelle’s unfortunate demise. As any good musician knows though, if you leave the body behind and just go back to work, things will turn out fine. Unless of course there is a rubber handpuppet demon crawling around the apartment. When Jamie needs to get some new stage outfits (of course you would take fashion advice from a guy who wears a turtle neck under his leather jacket!) she decides to go and raid Michelle’s wardrobe. Of course the body and the handpuppet demon are still there and of course Jamie is drawn to the body and has to taste Michelle’s blood. Now possessed by the demon she gets her kit off (FINALLY!) and shags the guitarist with the bad dress sense.

From here on in it’s a bloody mess of revenge and chaos as Jamie turns into a pretty decent b-grade Demon (so that’s where the budget went) and chows down on the manager, a coupla fans, some other nondescript folk… to be honest I sort of lost track of who was who – they were all pretty dull. The sight of a topless babe with a rubber claw is not something you see everyday but whether it’s worth the pain of the previous hour is another thing altogether. And then they pull the whole dream sequence routine on us and we don’t know whether any of it was real or whether we’ve just witnessed the film clip for a bad Alice Cooper concept album.

With a terrible soundtrack (I think we hear the theme song at least three times and no it isn’t metal, hell it’s barely music), moments where the actors are obviously on different sets trying to pretend they are interacting, a second or third generation vhs dub, laughable ‘acting’ and the ugliest lead actress (okay, semi lead actress) I’ve seen since Curse Of The Screaming Dead I can’t recommend this to serious movie fans. Hell I’m not sure I can recommend it to trash movie fans. All I can say is, thank god (or the devil) for Melissa Moore who went onto such classics as Caged Fury, Sorority House Massacre II, Hard To Die, The Invisible Maniac and Vice Academy 2. Will I ever watch this again? Probably, but only when I want people to leave after the party has well and truly finished. It’s that kind of movie.

Special Features: Trailers from such class SRS flicks as Horror at Blood Fart Lake (actually a very funny musical clip), Ski Wolf, I spit On Your Corpse, I Piss On your Grave and Inbred Redneck Vampire. And others but my will had been broken by then. Dumb thing is, I’ll probably watch them if I ever come across them. I can’t help it, I love bad movies… at least once anyway.

Apocalypse Then

2010-06-08T20:38:00.000-07:00

BOOBY TRAP aka Wired to Kill

D: Franky Schaeffer 1986

It’s 1998 and LA has been struck down with a killer virus called T.A.P.E.X. that has wiped out one hundred and twenty million people and left the place looking pretty damn bleak. Gangs roam the streets, property values suck and our heroine Rebecca (Emily Longstreth) has just been kicked out of home cos dad’s got himself a new gal and she don’t like the daughter cramping her style.

So Rebecca goes and stays with old friend Steve (Devin Huelscher) who has a nice clean singlet, a house in the hood and a ma and granny which contrasts nicely with the sleazy, greasy gang living in an industrial zone having bedtime stories read to them by their brainiac leader Reegus (Merrit Butrick) who should be played by Wings Hauser but isn’t. Steve is a bit of a brainiac too, in fact he’s that most dreaded of brainiacs - a bedroom musician!!! Only he’s in the shed with his keyboards, junk and dinky electronic music - oh and a robot named Winston. I guess in 1986 the idea of making yr own music from the bedroom was cutting edge but christ on a crutch the music he plays for us sure ain’t. Not unless wanting to cut yr wrists after hearing it counts. In fact the music is very, very 80’s as is the girl as is the boy. Actually if Franky had set the story in 2010 he would have been just about right!

Anyway back to the story, we are after all professionals. The evil greasy gang break into Steve’s place, crack his ma across the skull and grab Rebecca to do rude things to her. Steve saves her but gets his legs broken for his bravery (by Tiny Lister Jr who was Zeus in the WWF!) Couldn’t they have broken his hands, christ, didn’t they hear the music? When ma and granny go to the cops all hell breaks loose. The cop shop itself is damn effective. Barricaded with sandbags and barbed wire, anonymous voices over the PA repeating messages about yr rights and the 1800 number to call about them – very claustrophobic and bleak as is the hospital that Steve goes to. The same public announcements in the same bland voices really adding to the idea of a faceless bureaucracy that doesn’t care what happens in the barrios or slums as long as the rich are protected. Granny gets whacked and killed in a scene that unfortunately sucks and ruins the previous buildup of atmosphere and grime. Budget constraints me thinks. Mum then gets carnapped by the gang, forced into the back of a truck, car and all and crushed. She’s tough though and broken back and all, crawls out of the wreckage. Steve, now confined to a wheelchair, and realizing that the cops can’t do shit, decides to fight back.

He sends Winston the robot out on recon with a camera attached to follow the gang back to their slum lair. Strangely enough none of the denizens of this hell hole notice the ‘little robot who could’ whizzing about. Some white suited ghetto pimp gangstas show up to sell drugs to brainiac and his gang but Winston grabs the money and sneaks off with it. Now armed with some bucks Steve and Rebecca load up their arsenal with guns, ammo, more computer junk and a bike seat that Steve rigs with a knife that’ll gut you from the nuts up! OWWW! Before this though, Rebecca disguised as a hooker sells some wicked blow to a gang member that makes Ice look like Milo. The foaming fake head however was very wisely only shown briefly. Obviously the money was spent on the robot not the special fx. (or the soundtrack)

Rebecca in fact has to do most of the actual leg work since Steve is confined to his chair and his ‘puter screen where he steers Winston (now armed with a pistol) thru his paces. Of course, she gets caught but luckily brainiac has his own plans for her so the gang don’t get to taste the merchandise. In fact brainiac wants to bring some culture to the shithole he calls home so he puts on Romeo & Juliet for the slum suckers and hobos that share his world. I think he’s just happy to have found someone else who can read! Rebecca, chained up and hanging from her arms is forced to read her part in a very painful scene. I admit I squirmed, I must be getting old. Winston comes to her rescue though sending the gang into a frenzy. While they’re all shooting at him, a Klaus Kinski look-a-like frees Rebecca. Why? Is it because he feels sorry for her? Is it because Winston can’t untie knots? No, it’s so he can hunt her….of course. Meanwhile Zeus blows poor old Winston to pieces… awwwww and Klaus takes Rebecca for a drive in the desert. I think he doesn’t want to share. Unfortunately before he can get anywhere with his date he gets his head fried with a pair of booby trapped headphones and a shitty walkman. I’m guessing it was Steve’s music that did it. It was about now that I started to realise that Rebecca was becoming stronger and stronger as the movie went along. The whiney 80s girl was gone and this new girl wanted revenge. They booby trap the gang truck/people mover and in a weird dream sequence/reality segue the gang gets blown to muthafucking pieces that makes me think Frankie was either getting arty or running out of money and time.

The worst is yet to come though when Steve and Rebecca start kissing!!! Noooooo!!!!!!! Luckily brainiac saves us from the disgusting stuff by bursting in on them. Come on you didn’t really think he was dead did you?

I have to say this movie is much better than I expected. The start is slow, the 80s so obvious but once it kicks in there’s something about this movie that I really enjoyed. It’s not yr usual future sci fi apocalyptic fare, the girl is really the hero, she does the hard work, the cripple has to sit in his shed and make things. It’s slower than yr big action flicks but it does occasionally build tension too. Winston is a gas and the faceless bureaucracy idea works especially in hindsight and the shitty grimy cheap feel of it all adds to the movie. This was Schaeffer’s first film which he wrote as well, he went on to make Headhunter and then dropped out to write books. For the materials he had on hand, and the actors (and I use that word loosely) he did a pretty good job. I was pleasantly surprised, you might be too.

So What Did We Learn?

For one thing, you can’t rely on bureaucracy in the future or the police, they’re just out to protect themselves. Bad bedroom music will live on forever and Shakespeare is still the culture of choice for all budding greasy thespians.

Five frosty beers out of six for this one but don’t you dare dance to the music!

redneck lounge open for business

2010-05-11T19:43:00.000-07:00

That's right muthas! the lounge is back - thursday nite 13th May at The Squatters Arms Hotel, George Street Thebarton. Kicking off from 8pm with some spoken word from Adelaide's finest : Jenny T, Amelia Walker, Peter Puglsey, Tracey K. and live acoustic sets from: GG Alan Bindig and the TRIF Spinks Special! plus redneck lounging all night long!

six pack review - Trailer Park Of Terror

2010-04-12T03:35:00.000-07:00

Trailer Park Of Terror
DVD Approx 97 Mins 2008 USA MA 15+ Madman

In a trailer park full of the absolute bottom of the barrel, redneck, white trash, stereotype scum the gorgeous young Norma (Nichole Hiltz looking so much like Jaime Pressly I had to check the credits) is preparing herself for a date with Aaron, a boy from the good side of the tracks. You can tell he’s from the good side ‘cos he has a clean pick up truck and a shirt with sleeves. But the park boys don’t take kindly to losing their precious Norma to Aaron and indulge in a little ‘push me shove you’ teasing which unfortunately ends with Aaron impaled on a fence!
Her date ruined Norma storms off only to bump into the devil in the shape of Country/Honky Tonk singer Trace Adkins!! Yes, Trace Fucking Adkins!! How cool is that? Well I guess I just outed myself didn’t I? Adkins offers the distraught young hottie a deal she can’t refuse and soon the whole trailer park is wallowing in blood.

That was 1981 and as we see the headlines and years roll by, it seems a lot of folk have gone missing since then in the area – cue 2008 and a busload of troubled teens. Yep, it’s victim time! Six kids and their pastor, caught out by bad weather and an errant abandoned truck in the middle of the road, find themselves at the trailer park where a surprisingly hot looking Norma greets them. Surprising because the last time we saw Norma she was blowing herself and the trailer park to hell. The kids, a nympho, a gothchick, a druggie, a gay lad, a thief and a hardcase tough boy are then regaled with Norma’s story. Seems that her stepdaddy Stank (Ed Corbin) had a sideline making dirty movies with Mama (Priscilla “Three’s Company” Barnes) as the main attraction. But one day it all went wrong and the sheriff put a bullet through Mama’s head – all in front of Norma. Who then had to finish the movie! No wonder she was so desperate to get out. After telling the kids her sad story she packs them off to kip down in some of the other trailers while she strips down in front of the window for the poor young preacher. Seems he’s having trouble resisting temptation but when his spirit finally breaks he gets a lot more than he bargained for.

Our gorgeous Norma who regularly patches herself up and pumps up her boobs with an air compressor is, along with the rest of the park’s denizens, doomed to an eternity of claiming souls for the devil. And the kids are their latest victims. One by one the brats are picked off, brutalized and destroyed with some serious b-grade brutality, bloodshed and imagination.
I mean the rockabilly zombie geetar slingin’ Roach(Myk Watford) cuts off a gal’s arm and she’s too drugged up to even know it’s happening. Roach then gets hisself blown up chasing gothgirl Bridget (Jeanette Brox) through his booby trapped dope crop. Later on we watch him getting’ gaffer taped and stapled back together. Another boy has his spine crushed by an Asian zombie hooker before getting his tackle ripped off. It also seems that Stank is still making movies except the kids don’t want to co-operate resulting in some nasty work. See, Stank’s other source of income is Jerky. And he’ll use whatever meat is available to make it. I’ve seen some gruesome and gory movie killings over the years but this was my first full body deep fry! And that was after the bully boy had been forced to eat little pieces of himself! FAAAAAARKKKK!!!!!! If that don’t make you sit up and take notice nothin’ will.

This isn’t your usual zombie flick though, this is more 80s stalker movie, just with dead folk doing the killing. If you’re looking for rampaging dead things sucking out brains you’ll be disappointed. But if the idea of comedy sitcom My Name Is Earl being invaded by redneck zombie crackers appeals to you then this is the film for you. With nods to the Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Deliverance (only with electric geetar instead o’ banjo), as well as the zombie genre and more than a touch of twisted humour this is one hell of a funny, bloodthirsty, violent and hilarious mash up of genres that comes up trumps.

For a direct to video release this is a surprisingly good quality product. Clear, clean and punching well above its weight. With good sound, so clear you can hear the blood drip and a soundtrack that’ll rip shreds off your lame ass top forty ipod shite. plus a 30 minute behind the scenes featurette and Interviews with the trailer park zombies (And I mean with the zombies! Not the actors) Great visuals, great acting (especially for a cast of unknowns and tv actors), the film sets a great pace, it looks good, sounds great – it’s a hell of a ride! Sure there is nothing new in the idea but hell it’s called Trailer Park Of Terror!! You didn’t pick it up because you were wanted Barry Luhmann did you? This isn’t b-grade this is B PLUS!!! And that soundtrack!! Hell, I want me a copy of that for my next barbecue and beer fest! Now get me a cold beer and chuck another possum on the coals will ya?

Director: Steven Goldmann
Writer: Timothy Dolan
Cast: Nichole Hiltz
Trace Adkins
Priscilla Barnes
Stefanie Black
Jeanette Brox
Ryan Carnes
Ed Corbin
Brock Cuchna
Matthew Del Negro
Dale Dickey
Brandon Ellison
Michelle Lee
Ricky Mabe
J.P. Manoux
Cody McMains
J. Brian Miles
Hayley Marie Norman
Lew Temple
Tracey Walter
Myk Watford
Duane Whitaker

CASSETTE CULTURE PART III

2010-03-29T19:52:00.000-07:00

Time to shake out the dust in my bones, dig through the drawers and on top of the cupboards and reload the K-Tel cassette selector with some more weaponry!

AEROSMITH – BEST OF one of them cheap series from the late 80s that all the majors seemed to be pumpin’ out at the time – only ten tracks but hell, it’s all the good early stuff – Dream On, Back In The Saddle, Walk This Way, Draw The Line… it does the job

DEEP PURPLE – BURN Fuck Machine Head!! This is the fucken album you should all have! With Coverdale singin;. Blackmore smokin’ the fret board, songs that nail you to the wall – this had the lot! Burn, Mistreated, Might Just Take Your Life… the fuggin’ real deal!

JIM CROCE – GREATEST HITS Complete with inserted lyric sheet, I picked this up for 20c somewhere and it doesn’t even have the song I wanted on it! But hell, it’s got plenty of other good shit. Croce’s trouble is that (A) he’s dead and (B) in Australia all he’s known for is Bad Bad Leroy Brown. Well lemme tell ya the son of a bitch nailed a lot more than just that pain in the ass song… Operator, Rapid Roy, Roller Derby Queen… just to name a few. And the damn song that wasn’t on here - Box No. 10… a great songwriter, a great voice… specially with a touch of bourbon in yr gut and the blues in yr throat.

V/A - FANTASTIC K-Tel compilation from very early 70s with the likes of Slade, Gazza, Free, Dingoes and a mess more. A strange mix as they always were but hell it brings back some memories – not always good ones but that’s my childhood right there…

COLD CHISEL – RADIO SONGS Everyone hates these guys cos of Barnesy! Well fuck you. When I was 12 or 13 this stuff was raw and loud and made perfect sense to an alienated kid in the mid 70s. The fact they made money and had hit singles seems to mean they can’t be ‘cool’… I don’t really care, I’d still rather get drunk as fuck and sing Goodbye Astrid Goodbye more often than not. This is bogan rock, nothing more, nothing less… and I’m embracing my roots cos I for one am damn proud of them.

WHITESNAKE – SLIP OF THE TONGUE/ SELF TITLED (1987) Maxell SLN90 tape I bought at a garage sale with two albums from the king of the long haired, botoxed rock and roll crowd of the 80s – David Coverdale. I mean really how can you not like a man that names his band after his dick, who has guitar slingers like Steve Vai on board and who got to bang Tawney back when she was still young and good lookin’. A role model for all of us. And more damn hooks that a Japanese Whaling Fleet.

ZODIAC MINDWARP – TATTOOED BEAT MESSIAH “Well I love TV and I love T.Rex, I can see thru your skirt, I got x-ray spex” what more do you need to know? Dirty, sleazy, glam rock bastards who understood what it was all about. And with a twisted sense of humour to boot. Couldn’t have existed any other time except the 80s but hell he made it fun for awhile.

CHARLEY PRIDE – GREATEST HITS One of many best of albums for the black country crooner – and sure there’s plenty of them sappy love songs but there’s also Miller’s Cave, The Snakes Crawl At Night, Kaw Liga and Crystal Chandelier so for 25 damn cents I ain’t complainin’. And on Sunday mornings, there’s not much better than Charley’s croon to slowly drag you back to yr senses.

JOHNNY CASH – GREATEST HITS VOL 1 ‘Cept of course for JC. This early comp has the good shit – Ring Of Fire, I Walk The Line, Ballad Of Ira Hayes… doesn’t get much better does it?

ANGELS – FACE TO FACE Another iconic Aussie pub band that cops flack for bein’ popular but hell, ain’t too many that done it better. And this early album o’ theirs is close to the best they did… Take A Long Line, Marseilles, After The Rain, Comin’ Down… fuck it’s all gold, it’s angry but it’s controlled and it hits the right spots. Beer drinking, front bar, fist pumping juke box rock and roll!

V/A – TRUCKSTAR MUSIC One of a bunch of cheap tapes I picked up from the scout hall, half of which didn’t even play but that’s the way it goes. Dave Dudley, Skeeter Davis, Red Simpson - lots of familiar country drivin’ tunes like Six Days On The Road and Give Me 40 Acres… sure as shit ain’t the best thing I ever picked up but far from the worst… if only it had Teddy Bear on it…

V/A – COUNTRY BALLADEERS Same batch but with the real deal goin’ off. Marty Robbins, Johnny Cash, Glen Campbell (Wichita Lineman – does it get any better?), Lefty Frizell – with this comp you get the feeling someone with some knowledge was around to put it all together… can’t go wrong and another Sunday morning ‘what the fuck is that mess on my shoes?” type o’ cassette.

MOTORHEAD/METAL CHURCH – BEST OF/ THE DARK One I put together myself way back in the day… and one I still crank up. The Dark was The Metal Church at their early peak – loud and aggressive and seminal… the Lemmy collection is one of many but this has a fair selection including the classics – Ace Of Spades, Jail Bait, I Got Mine, Over The Top, even Louie Louie… makes for a great way to wake the neighbour’s dogs!!

GLEN MILLER – CHATTANOOGA CHOO CHOO Not as good as listenin’ to Glenn on 78 but a dozen of his better known swing toons on tape and hell, I like the sweet simple style he had – the fucker could swing, what more do you want?

KEVIN BLOODY WILSON Another garage sale find Teac 60 minute tape of the bogan comedian who’s makin’ a fortune outta bein’ as blatantly rude, dumb and as funny as yr best mate on a Saturday night after the footy when all the wives have left and yr standing around the fire drinkin’ someone else’s bundy and cola cans cos they’re flaked on the front lawn. Love this bastard!

T.REX / ADAM ANT – VERY BEST OF A split tape compilation with ten Bolan tracks from Metal Guru thru to Laser Love plus 8 of Adam’s finer moments on the other side. Not sure why it was released or who decided to slap these two together but hell it saves having to look for the singles I guess. (I mean Ants – already got damn near all the T.Rex stuff but I couldn’t just leave the tape there lonely on the table could I?)

V/A – MUSIC FOR DEMENTED JELLYBEANS Back when I was 17/18 me and some mates, inspired by The Warriors and after seeing a pack of 12 year olds who called themselves The Cobras, formed a street gang, well – a car gang or something… we called ourselves Demented Jellybeans – named for our dress sense and our love of Monty Python… this tape was the soundtrack that I put together for our nights cruising the streets looking for girls, action, The Cobras or anything else to wash away the sawdust and blandness of our lives. Kiss, AC/DC, Thin Lizzy, Skyhooks, The Goons, Bowie, Ramones, Dead Kennedys, Slade and more besides… I still play this tape all the time though it loses something in translation now… we all got older, none of us wiser but the music still reminds me what it was like back then… a soundtrack for a nostalgic old drunk… hell of a way to be remembered.

The VeeBees – Live At Summernauts (Ocker Records)

2010-03-14T23:59:00.000-07:00

The bastard sons of the Cosmic Psychos and the girl who inspired AC/DC’s Whole Lotta Rosie cookin’ snags and playin’ loud at the biggest, drunkest, revhead-carfreak, tyre burning, high octane, beer guzzling frenzy that is Summernaut would seem like the perfect fuckin’ party!! And you know what? It fuckin’ is! After listening to this raw, straight off the board, fuck the mixing down, tidying up, let’s adjust the vocals type o’ shit LIVE album that just stinks of stale beer, sausage fat, bundy vomit and petrol fumes I’m fuckin’ jealous that I wasn’t there. Full of classic ocker rock toons, like Beer O’Clock, Pissed On Sunday, Shootin’ And Rootin’, Roots’n’Blues, Up The Shit and my personal fave – Drinkin’ Problem plus a cover of Verbal Abuse – Rock Your Liver and chockers with witty stage banter and offers of fairy bread and poofter sausages, this is an album you can’t listen to without cracking a beer or four or six. So don’t put this on if yre supposed to be having tea with the in-laws or going to church or meeting yr kid’s teacher cos you’ll be so smashed after listenin’ to this that you won’t be wantin’ to do anything but hop in the ute, drive down the bottle-o, load up with another carton, come home, light the barbie and cranking this damn thing up again. If you can listen to this and stay sober, you’re not really listening!

TOTAL NON STOP ACTION?? DVD REVIEW

2010-02-23T16:46:00.000-08:00

TNA Wrestling - Jeff Jarrett King Of The Mountain

Madman
Region 4 – PAL
4 dvd set – 714 minutes

With TNA Wrestling about to enter a new era with Hulk Hogan and his cronies taking over the steering and aiming straight for the rocks this four dvd set is a handy reminder of TNA’s beginnings and early vision. But that said I must also point out the obvious…
A four disc set of Jeff Jarrett??!!!! What sort of egotistical maniac thinks we need four discs of one wrassler? I mean, nobody gets four discs! Not Eddie Guerrero, not Macho Man Randy Savage, not even Edge so why did Jarrett warrant four? Oh yeah, because he started TNA, that’s why. And he doesn’t let us forget it either. Actually this near 12 hour collection (that’s right 12 hours of Jarrett!) should have been called the history of TNA because along with Jarrett’s own history we also get the history of TNA from its first PPV right through to the modern Kurt Angle era. And say what you want about Jeff, he does know talent when he sees it – I mean AJ Styles, Samoa Joe, Christopher Daniels, Abyss, James Storm… these are the guys that are setting the wrasslin’ world alight right now. (or being copied by big brother WWE). And Jarrett himself bleeds for the company.

Now onto the serious stuff – the collection starts off with possibly the most egotistical and funniest intro I’ve heard in a long time before getting into Jeff’s early life and sporting history, offering us a glimpse at a teenager who could have gone to basketball or wrestling but whose family ties were so strong he chose the grapple. Matches from the early days of TNA are interspersed with Jarrett’s interview so we get the very first TNA PPV – a royal rumble with Buff Bagwell and Scott Hall amongst other has-beens and up and comers plus country singer Toby Keith getting involved before having to tolerate Vince Russo’s gimmicks as well as a young AJ Styles and a truly bloody and vicious match with Raven when he still could move freely. By this stage despite the gimmicks, the interference in every match, the ref bumps I was beginning to respect JJ who let’s face it was never really superstar material – not b-grade mind you but not a-plus either. Here though his mini-me Ric Flair strut and constant juicing fit in and come across well. The singles matches do start to drag though – I mean how many times can we see the same gimmicks over and over – ref gets knocked out, outside interference… blah blah blah, thankfully there are matches with the likes of Raven, Rhino and Jeff Hardy to break the “seen it, heard it, know what’s coming” feeling but really it was the interviews that were keeping my interest by disc 2. When we start getting into the tag team matches on disc 3 it picks up again – 6 man suplex!, Team 3D, Scott Steiner, Sting, watching AJ Styles come off a ladder on top of a cage and put James Storm (or was it Chris Harris?) through a table!!! This is what TNA is all about – they do things you don’t expect, they have wrestlers who really put themselves on the line and Jarrett for awhile was doing it too. The second half of the collection is more about TNA itself than just Jarrett’s story and for wrasslin’ fans it’s worth the look. Styles, Angel., Sting and all the background guys get a word or two in as well. Of course it is biased and one sided but it is an interesting peek at how things got going, even if a little whitewashed. When we get to 2007’s Slammiversary and Jarrett addresses the crowd about his wife Jill’s battle and death from breast cancer I dare you to have a dry eye. I’ll admit I cried watching it live that day and I cried again watching it on dvd. One of the most honest few minutes you will ever see from a sportsman, hell any man. It’s this willingness to let you in to his personal life that makes you forget just how much of wrestling is pre-ordained and planned. You get a glimpse of the man himself as well as the image he’s trying to create.

I still think 12 hours of any wrestler is too much, this would have been a great two disc set – one disc for the interviews, one disc with all the good matches and you would have had a damn near perfect distillation of what makes TNA so good. But then that’s what the chapter select is for. And for real fans, there’s a couple of bonus matches at the end – early footage of Jarrett taking on Jerry The King Lawler (back when he was a wrestler not a schlepp for WWE), Cactus Jack (ditto) and Hector Guerrero! Say what you like about Jeff Jarrett but he loves his wrestling. That above all shines through.

There's a little bit of a petrolhead in all of us

2010-01-27T00:57:00.000-08:00

Love The Beast
D: Eric Bana 2009

A documentary by an Aussie actor who’s a Hollywood star about his love for his first car doesn’t sound all that exciting does it? Unless you are a big Eric Bana fan or a revhead.
I’m essentially neither, having never seen Bana in anything except Chopper and having not owned a car for some years now (and being mechanically inept when I did own one.) That said though this is a great movie. Perhaps because I don’t see Bana as a Hollywood star I can quite happily accept him as a guy with a passion for cars, a guy who just happens to have access to Jay Leno, Jeremy Clarkson and Dr. Phil but also a guy who still gets together with his mates from childhood to play with their cars.
And really that is what this movie is about – passion. Whether its music, splatter movies, Jess Franco’s leading ladies, sports or yes, cars – everyone has a passion, something they love, truly love and will defend, collect, rave on about, watch, play, study… For Eric and his mates, it has always been cars and in Bana’s case his first car an XB Ford Falcon Coupe, bought for him by his father when he was just fifteen years old. As his mate Tony so eloquently puts it, “I’ve never met anyone who’s had a car for so long that’s been a heap of shit and been so in love with it.”
This film is all about that car “The Beast” and Bana’s plans to race it in the 2007 Targa Rally in Tasmania. Eleven years before, a younger and less famous Bana had raced there for the first time but now with the car completely stripped down and rebuilt he wants to do it all again. Along the way we are treated to the story of how he got the car, how his friends helped him to prepare it, we are given a look at the boy, the Melbourne suburbs he grew up in, the 65 T-Bird his father still keeps in the garage, refusing to get rid of it though it hasn’t been driven for ten years. There’s the mateship and bond that exists between Eric and his mates who despite their different lifestyles still get together when the beast calls.
And yes there are those special guest interviews. Leno shows off his aircraft hangar sized garage chock full of cars, Clarkson talks about how cars are more than just objects and Dr. Phil? Well, he is as irritating as ever. Doesn’t matter what the guy talks about, he’s a pain in the ass.
And then there is the race itself. Four days in, Bana crashed the beast into a tree, totalling the car but luckily not harming himself or his navigator Tony. Two days later Bana had to attend a red carpet premiere for a movie back in New York. In a great little scene he mocks the whole Hollywood scene before getting out there and doing what he has to do to promote a movie he only vaguely remembers making. Meanwhile his one true love sits in a garage, broken and bent and waiting for him to come home.

Bana has done a beautiful job with this doco, it could have quite easily just been a “look at me, aren’t I cool? I race cars and I act and I know all the stars” type thing but instead it’s just another guy and his mates, his family right behind him, trying to live a dream, trying to finish a race. The fact he does know a few famous folk helps get the interviews but its not played out as a ‘cool buddy’ thing – in fact Clarkson rags him about his car! This is purely about a bloke’s passions, about family and friends, about what is important to people. To some of us, it is our car, to some it’s owning every Beatles record ever made, for others its following a football team or a movie director, or playing guitar or collecting books – forget about Bana the actor for awhile and think of Eric Bana, revhead kid from the ‘burbs of Melbourne, Eric Bana rally driver, father, son, mate – that’s the guy in this documentary. Do that and you’ll enjoy the ride.

PUPPETMASTER

2010-01-20T19:51:00.000-08:00

D: David Schmoeller 1989

From the house of Charles Band, the Roger Corman lite of the new millennium comes a classic example of late 80s exploitation and madness. With well over 200 movies under his belt either directing, writing or producing, Band knows how to entertain. Sure it’s all low budget, small time television actors and washed out ex-stars, strange stories, cash-ins and exploitation but he does it so well. With Puppetmaster he’s come up with a story that can best be described as just plain nuts but entertaining never the less. Schmoeller, who directed Tourist Trap and Crawlspace amongst others, would seem to be a kindred soul and he’s put together a beautifully looking film using the main set of a 1930s hotel to its full advantage.
Our story starts in 1939 at the Bodega Bay Hotel where a strange old man is making puppets, evil looking little buggers that he then brings to life. Seems the old man is the last in a long line of alchemists who know the secrets of the after life as passed down from the Egyptians. Of course we don’t find that out until later in the film so for now we just know he’s a clever bugger. When two men in trenchcoats with German accents show up though we also know the old guy hasn’t got much longer to live. Unperturbed he hides the puppets, bites the bullet before the trenchcoats can even be opened and we then segue to ‘now’ where Paul Le Mat (American Graffiti) , looking remarkably like Peter Gabriel circa Sledgehammer only gone to seed, is having bad dreams about leeches and guns. It turns out that Paul’s character Alex is part of a small group of psychics who have been brought together by a man named Gallagher (Jimmie Skaggs) to do something though they aren’t quite sure what. When the group consisting of Alex who dreams of future events, a white witch Dana (Irene Miracle – Inferno’s Rose Elliot) who has a dead dog as a companion, a couple of scientists, Frank (Matt Roe) who doesn’t do much except look like a pimp and Carlissa (the very hot Kathryn O’Reilly) who can tell who’s been shagging in this bed, bathtub, elevator etc just by touch (nice work if you can get it) gather at the Bodega Bay they discover that Gallagher is dead, having bit the bullet himself. From there it’s a magical mystery tour as the story slowly unfolds, puppets pop up everywhere and people start dying. The puppets are awesome too. There’s a pinhead with human size hands, a puppet with a drill on his head, a Klaus Kinski lookalike with a hook on one hand and a knife on the other and a seductress who spews leeches! I kid you not!! While Alex dreams strange dreams about Gallagher and his wife Megan (Robin Frates) who owns the Bodega Bay, the puppets knock off the others one by one. Gruesome, bizarre and in the case of the leeches just plain disgusting, this is a film you wouldn’t want to watch while on psychedelic drugs. Unfortunately for all involved, it seems Gallagher has discovered the secret of eternal life but wants to eliminate his quartet of psychic companions before they can stop him. Unfortunately for Gallagher he upsets the puppets who then turn on their master and in a gory, twisted finale, give him a real seeing to. Luckily for us, Le Mat doesn’t have to do too much because, lets be honest, a bloated, gone to seed Peter Gabriel lookalike is not what you would call hero material.

Savage Messiah – Insurrection Rising (Candlelight)

2009-12-07T17:29:00.000-08:00

Guitar work that will make you drawl, riffs that will make your head bang, songs that will make you punch the air – UK band Savage Messiah have put together a near flawless thrash metal classic!
Savage Messiah’s second album Insurrection Rising, their first on Candlelight screams old school thrash metal with names like Metal Church, Exodus, Meliah Rage and Testament slapping you backside of your head as soon as the drums roll out and the guitars come pounding in over top of the opener and title track Insurrection Rising. In fact right through to final track He Who Laughs Last the pace never lets up.
Lead vocalist and guitarist Dave Silver has a voice that at times reminds me of a young James Hetfield but he’s just as capable of going the poppier Jon Bon Jovi route too particularly on Silent Empire. And between him and co-guitarist Sy Taplin you get some blistering dual guitar workouts as drummer Ernie Nogara and bassist Sasha Cron hold down the rhythm while still managing to really keep the pace moving forward. And while Enemy Image drags you into early Metallica territory overall I wouldn’t say that they are the first band that comes to mind when you hear Savage Messiah and that is a pretty neat trick in itself considering the style of music these guys are wallowing in. Not that this wouldn’t sit nicely next to Master Of Puppets or Ride The Lightning, let alone The Dark or Bonded By Blood.
The promotional material would have you believe the band have combined the old with the new but to these old ears this is classic riff driven thrash metal – no nu metal tendencies, no remixes or pissing about with gadgets, just some amazing guitar work, a pace that never lets up and most importantly songs that hold together for repeated listening. And at 43 minutes this is an album that doesn’t overstay its welcome, in fact it leaves you begging for more. Finishing as strongly as it starts, I can’t fault this album at all – it is a beautiful thing. The more I listen to it, the more I love it. Crank this fucker up and enjoy.

W.A.S.P. – Babylon (Demolition)

2009-10-29T16:28:00.000-07:00

Look, I love nostalgia as much as the next old fart but I love it even more when a band shows me they’ve still got something fresh left in the tank. Ace Frehley surprised me with his latest, WASP have done the same. Pity about Kiss but you can’t have everything can you?

From the opening chords of first track Crazy I thought I had stepped back into Last Command era WASP and I had to check the band credits to make sure they hadn’t reunited the band! But no, that didn’t happen, its just that Blackie Lawless, erstwhile leader and the man who is WASP has got his mojo back and this album proves it. At only nine tracks, just over 40 minutes and with two covers, Deep Purple’s Burn and a Chuck Berry groover Promised Land this is a short powerful shot in the arm of “nostalgia” rock. Its proof that you don’t have to relive your past glories all the damn time, you don’t have to just roll out the old songs. Sure it sounds like 80s era WASP but it doesn’t sound dated and old, far from it, instead it sounds like a band with some balls, some belief and a hell of a lot of energy. With former employee Doug Blair back on guitar, Mike Dupke joining in on drums and long term bassist Mike Duda still hanging in there and holding it all down the band sounds fresh and keen and Blackie hasn’t sounded this good in a while. With the four horsemen of the apocalypse on the cover and song titles like Babylon’s Burning, Seas Of Fire, Godless Run and Live To Die Another Day you know its not an album about love and roses but then neither is it back to the childish sex and silliness of the early days. That was funny when we were nineteen, it does date though. This album however shows us a stronger, more mature and tougher outfit and that ain’t a bad thing at all.
This is mutha fucking stereo cranked up driving music, with a beer tucked between your legs and a woman in a tight singlet sitting next to you as Blackie Lawless wails and the guitars burn. If the apocalypse is coming, I’m going to go out in style! Crank this baby up, wind down the damn windows and get on the road.

Metal Church – This Present Wasteland (SPV GmbH)

2009-06-28T20:47:00.000-07:00

One of Heavy Metal’s most under rated bands reminds us just how good they are.

Metal Church are one of those bands that always seem to sabotage themselves whenever things are looking good with line up changes, break ups, mediocre releases or just bad timing. Their second album 1986’s The Dark was a classic heavy metal release, then they changed vocalists but still managed to put out a killer album in Blessing In Disguise (1989) before more line up changes ruined their momentum and the 90s were not kind to them at all. Various comebacks ensued but its fair to say it wasn’t until 2004’s The Weight Of The World that the band really got back to their best. With a stable line up (at least for Metal Church! – only one drummer gone and a new guitarist for this album Rick Van Zandt) the band has managed to keep the momentum going and with This Present Wasteland have delivered the goods once again. Led by mainstay guitarist and the only original member left, Kurdt Vanderhoof and vocalist Ronny Munroe the band delivers ten slabs of hard, heavy metal that show them at their best. From the opener The Company Of Sorrow right through to Congregation the band rarely lets up. Munroe has been compared to Rob Halford in the past but for me it was another unsung vocalist who immediately came to mind – that of ex Rainbow and Alcatrazz singer Graham Bonnet, particularly on tracks like Deed Of A Dead Soul and Monster. And Meet Your Maker wouldn’t have sounded out of place on The Dark – it’s that good. With a solid rhythm section, Steve Unger (Bass) and Jeff Plate (Drums) to hold it down and push the pedal to the floor this is a good old fashioned fast paced mo-fo heavy metal album. Nothing fancy, no electronics or sampling just guitars to the fore, a screamer that can actually hold a note and a pace that is relentless. Great to see them back at their best.

RETARDEAD

2009-06-24T23:54:00.000-07:00

RETARDEAD
D: Dan West/ Rick Popko 2008
4321 Films/ Brain Damage Films

I haven’t seen something this bloody, this funny and this dumb since Peter Jackson’s BrainDead.
A low budget fun loving romp through the zombie genre that starts off firstly with Herschell Gordon Lewis voicing an intermission ad that isn’t quite kosher then runs movie trailers for two non existent films - Frankenstein & The Bloody Beast Of Terror and Dracula Versus Jack The Ripper complete with lousy acting, bad dubbing and all the thrills and spills of 70s drive-in advertising. It’s only then that the movie actually kicks off.
And what a movie. Following on from West & Popko’s previous movie Monsturd, about a mad scientist and a “poop monster” this time around, the mad scientist Dr. Stern having escaped in the last flick, has come back to Butte County to test his miracle serum on the local special education kids hoping to turn them into geniuses. Stern gives these kids daily injections that soon have them playing classical music, solving mathematical equations and being generally amazing. The side effects though include turning a strange shade of blue and wanting to feast on human flesh. In short, zombies.
The local cops, played in an Abbot and Costello type partnership by West and Popko are too busy chasing a local flasher known as the “weiner wagger” and trying to crack an elementary school lsd ring to notice the goings on though. Things soon turn nasty as the retard zombies hit the streets, spreading their virus and turning the whole town into flesh eating monsters. This is when the blood, guts, sausages and latex really start hitting the screen! Special FX man Ed Martinez is obviously a big fan of the old school Tom Savini zombie days and he pulls out all stops with arms, legs, heads and body parts going everywhere. Vivid red fake blood pours, spurts, dribbles and splashes all over the screen, sausage links are chowed down on, heads are ripped, hell it’s a flesh eating frenzy!
Dr. Stern himself goes out in style when he bumps into the living dead girlz, a zombie stripper troupe but hell what a way to go. I’ve always been a sucker for a redhead but a dead redhead? Damn, that’s my new fantasy death.
Throw in bad jokes, zombie priests, Jello Biafra as the mayor, acid trips, a zombie with a crayon stuck up his nose, David F Friedman, a zombie in a wheel chair and more stupidity besides and you can see why I laughed so hard. Finally in a massively over the top but funny as hell finale, the zombies are lured into the morgue by using one of the deputy’s as bait (covered in human body parts) and the blood frenzy continues with guns, chainsaws, knives, laser weapons, anything that can kill being used to wipe out the flesh eating fuckers. And even then, they ain’t finished with a beautifully done moment of “oops” to finish it all off.
This is a real damn treat. Good old fashioned, fun loving, blood and guts done on a low budget with lots of help from family and friends, everyone chipping in, a great sense of humour and an obvious love for the genre. West and Popko are two guys to watch out for.
With Peter Jackson seemingly forgetting his roots and now being trapped in the dull world of middle earth we need more guys like these. Guys who still want to have fun with the genre and have an obvious love for it. And I for one would love to see Dracula Vs Jack The Ripper!!

Time for some pussy

2009-05-21T00:09:00.000-07:00

Nashville Pussy – From Hell To Texas (SPV/Riot)

Amphetamine fueled rock and roll that’ll have you screaming “YeeHa” and guzzling straight shots of whiskey.

It’s been awhile between drinks for Nashville Pussy – their last album came out in 2005 but they haven’t been wasting time, hell no, they’ve been touring the world, getting shitfaced, partying hard, collecting stories and coming up with the twelve stone cold classic rock and roll party anthems that make this album their best effort yet. From the get go with Speed Machine their blend of Motorhead meets Lynyrd Skynyrd meets Willie Nelson just hits the right damn chord. In the past the band have been guilty of maybe ploughing the same furrow over and over and their albums can lose a little steam half way but with From Hell To Texas they’ve stepped up and really come up with the goods. The down home rollicking porch stomper that is Lazy Jesus, the 60’s Brit invasion meets Tommy James chorus that is Why Why Why (although I don’t think Sir Paul ever wrote a lyric like “I shaved my balls for this!”) change the pace and strengthen the album. But don’t worry, these bastards and bitches (Hubby and wife guitarists Blaine Cartwright & Ruyter Suys plus stalwart drummer Jeremy Thompson and since 2005 Karen Cuda on bass) ain’t going soft on you, they still deliver the kick in the crotch they always have with songs like Ain’t You Business, Pray For The Devil, Late Great USA (with a touch of Peter Criss drums – or maybe that’s just me) the title track and the song to play whenever you’re feeling suicidal and need a reason to live – Dead Men Can’t Get Drunk. Like a decent bottle of bourbon you just have to have it all and damn the consequences. This is a band that refuses to compromise, refuses to go mainstream and god damn but you gotta love ‘em for it. Now if you’ll excuse me it’s my shout.

book launch - get ready to party

2009-02-18T18:42:00.000-08:00

Paroxysm Press presents S. F. & T.* (sucked fucked and tattooed) by Kami
reprint and re-launch
Friday 20th February
TUXEDO CAT
Rooftop 15-19 Synagogue Place off East Rundle St, Adelaide

2009-01-05T01:13:00.000-08:00

ISLE OF THE DAMNED
D: Mark Colegrove 2008

Supposedly directed by Antonello Giallo in the 80s and lost to the public, this twisted spoof on those classick 80s cannibal/jungle bungle/eyetalian horrors that haunted nerdy collectors lists is badly dubbed, poorly acted and complete with grainy lines running down the screen and washed out 80s colour. Hell if it wasn’t for the obviously fake wigs and facial hair you’d almost think you had stumbled across a lost spaghetti cannibal flick long consigned to the bottom shelf at yr video emporium. That’s how good it is!
Our hero Jack Steele complete with Chopper Read moustache, mirror shades and a glorious head of 80s hair has been hired by treasure hunter Harold Thompson to help find the lost treasure of Marco Polo in the jungles of South America. (where, after all, life is cheap!) Steele’s poor troubled foster son Billy has come along for the adventure. And boy does he get himself into some sticky situations. Seems Billy has victim written all over his forehead, cos Thompson just can’t keep his hands of Billy’s butt! With a ship’s crew that consists of Captain Feather sword, Phil Lynott and Dave Navarro our heroes head off to find the treasure. Of course, it has to be on an island that is populated by wild animals and cannibals namely the Yamma Yamma tribe, a hairy bunch of metal heads not unlike the guys from Immortal who we first encounter castrating and de-sacking some poor soul while his daughter looks on in horror. It’s all down hill from there with gut wrenching, cheesy, bloody, vivid red gore – limb lopping, fetus munching, piranha chomping fun, not to mention the bloke on a stick! Yep this baby has it all.
After rescuing the catatonic daughter, Steele and Billy bump into Alexis Kincaid and his mute sidekick Cain, a former Yakuza assassin (even if he is a tattooed white boy). Kincaid, an anthropologist, lives on the island with a couple of native slaves and Cain in a nice little mansion on the hill where he offers Steele and company a place to rest. Thompson meanwhile has been captured by the Yammas and is caged up ready for a horrifying ritual – A nu-folk music festival!! Actually no that was just the warm up, Thompson is considered such a coward that he ain’t worth eating so after the music fest he gets sodomised by the tribe!! Oops, must have been a black metal festival. Kincaid and Steele rescue the bum bleeder though and take him back to the mansion to recuperate. Thompson hasn’t given up on the treasure hunt though despite his bleeding butt. Meanwhile Cain and Catatonic gal have something going on and it seems love has come to the island. Of course, it’s all downhill from here with blood, guts, sodomy with a knife (!) and some fitting Day Of The Dead type deaths.
This is a well crafted tribute to those dumb ass days of 80s grue, hell if it wasn’t for the obviously fake wigs you wouldn’t know this wasn’t legit – it is that tacky, sleazy, badly acted and dumb. These boys know their movies and obviously have a love for them. What with the mysterious anthropologist, the native rituals, token wild animal footage, the greedy treasure hunter, catatonic gal, the mother fucker of a hero, grotty natives, sodomy, gut chomping gore and monkey chops with iguana semen gravy you know these guys have watched every great (and not so great) cannibal flick there ever was, probably shitty 3rd or 4th generation dubs that they traded with some other nerdboy half way across the world. One of the funniest, sleaziest, bloodiest and dumbest movies I’ve seen in a while. I can’t give it any higher recommendation!

bang that head that doesn't bang!

2008-11-17T17:08:00.000-08:00

METALHEADS
the good, the bad and the evil
D: Bill Zebub 2008

Written, directed, produced, edited, starring and probably catered by as well, Bill Zebub comes on like a yankee metal slightly nuts version of comedian Bill Bailey at times but damn he’s good at it.
This film is a slice of the life of a couple of metal head schmucks who do nothing much at all but get wasted, dream about making money, look at girls, take trips, drink, look at girls, get wasted… in short, this is pretty much what most of us are doing.
Our main men, Bill and Rich are a coupla losers who need to grow up but don’t seem in any hurry to do that. Bill’s girlfriend Elaine is constantly giving him shit cos he’s got a little dick, no car and no future. In fact she’s even thinking that maybe she should “date outside of metal.” That’s how desperate she is! Rich, well he’s just there for the ride, that dependable mate with a car and some sort of common sense or at least more sense than Bill anyway. You know the guy, he’s at the bar now buying you a beer cos you’re short of cash and he’ll drop you off home later and he’s always around to get drunk with you and play some air guitar… that guy. So we’ve got Bill and Rich and Elaine. Bill keeps finding money laying around, things just don’t go anywhere but you’ll recognise every sentence and every person and then when Elaine kisses Rich cos she thinks that maybe he’s not a bad guy, well then things go a bit haywire but you sort of knew it would happen cos it did just Saturday at the bar didn’t it and you still aren’t sure what you’re going to say to your mate when you see him next. Bill ends up tangled with a mad metal head, who tells him he’s been “living with the volume turned down.” and now it’s time to get things rolling. It’s party time now, with naked girls, light bondage, stealing, drinking, revenge and Bill looking well out of his depth.
Meanwhile Elaine is fantasizing about a muscle bound, well groomed metal head with a car and a job but though her hand is getting right into it her heart belongs to that idiot Bill. Billy boy soon realizes that he doesn’t need the volume turned up that loud and goes back to his friends but it just ain’t gonna be a happy ending. There’s a real nasty, misogynistic sting in the tail of this movie that at first sort of disturbed me but I realized that it had to be there. If we’re honest, the whole metal scene is in general, bloketown. It is misogynistic, it is sexist, it is dumber than a box of politicians – that’s why we like it. We want naked women and beer, loud music, perennial adolescence and a shit hot guitar solo. Bill recognizes that but he’s not afraid to just make us just a touch uncomfortable about it too. There’s some great laughs in this film, there’s those moments where you go, shit, that’s me! There’s a lot of very recognizable people and ideas and actions and you’ll be sitting there shaking your head thinking “what a goose!” before you then realise that you’ve done exactly the same thing, or your mate has or the guy who plays in that band that you see every weekend has… For a low budget, labour of love, one man band this is pretty damn good. No one’s a great actor but there’s a certain natural feel to the whole flick and I get the feeling there was a lot of improvising as well. The girls are hot looking, the boys are dweebs, the soundtrack rocks… this is metal, this is the real world as lame as that world may be at times. No super heroes, no government conspiracies, no zombies, no future… I can’t recommend this dumb ass, no nothing, going nowhere movie high enough. Forget Hollywood, the low budget/no budget scene is where it’s all happening now.

10 out of 10.

a goddamn movie moment

2008-10-23T16:06:00.000-07:00

DEMONS AMONG US
D: Stuart Simpson 2006
Accent Underground 2dvd set

A long term labour of love this Aussie independent horror film first saw the light in 2001 as a short film before Simpson expanded the storyline and started filming the long version in 2003. It took until 2006 to complete it with a volunteer crew, a cast of unknowns and more balls than Wendy O Williams.

Kicking off with an opening segue of yabbie races, roadkill, powerlines, dirt tracks and railway lines in washed out black & white with spatterings of colour you straight away get the feeling that this is not your usual horror/splatter fare.
The story starts with city slicker Joe Melton (Nathaniel Kiwi) wandering into the local roadhouse in Miranda Falls on Christmas Eve to stock up on catfood where he meets Kylie (Laura Hesse) and they do that flirty ‘new boy in town’ stuff (and I come from the country, Simpson nailed that scene perfectly) before Joe is then accosted by a local who in a tribute to F13’s Crazy Ralph babbles about the signs and the evil before downing a tinnie. Joe then goes home to feed his cats but they don’t come for their tucker before sitting down to start his article on the evils of advertising. Meanwhile Kylie’s workmate Sally Winters (cover girl Hollie Kennedy) can’t get hold of her mum on the phone and is starting to worry about her. Things start to get a bit weird here. Joe wakes up to see something bloody and disturbing, he runs out of the house, the scenes fall apart, the colours wash out, the picture starts to drag and roll and stutter and I’m sitting there thinking, I’ve had this feeling before, what is it? Before I can work it out though, young Joe has stumbled upon the Winters household only to find blood, guts, grue and the entire family massacred in their lounge room. Seems Sally’s brother Jack was killed just a few days before in a car accident and now he’s back looking like a poorly paid extra from a Marilyn Manson video and he’s chowed down on the family and Joe’s moggies! Joe runs into the night only to bump into Sally who has arrived home to find her family dead and the weird city guy covered in their blood. Fast talking ain’t gonna get him out of this situation especially when the local cops find all his dead cats and Sally nailed to a tree. Of course, being possessed by demons, Sally ain’t really dead but her initial discovery by the local coppers, based by the way on the two dingbats from Debbie Does Dallas 2, is a good laugh but a real waste of a good looking sheila. (much the same as Debbie Does Dallas 2) Luckily Joe manages to convince Kylie that things aren’t quite right out there but not before Sally pays them a visit. It was about now too that it dawned on me – the fucked up flickering vision, the gap toothed fading out, the hazy pictures, the black & white movies, the split screens and blank memories… this is exactly like the end of a three day bourbon bender complete with DT’s, blurry nights, stumbling around on unlit roads in the dead of night, too bright mornings, blood all over yr clothes, monsters lurking, faces fading in and out… this is a horror movie not for the drug fucked but the booze fucked!!
And when the local cop Sgt Harding (Peter Roberts) started talking to himself before reaching for a bottle of Jimmy Beam to neck, well then I knew I was on the right track.
And though the pacing and style made me occasionally think I was watching an SBS late night short film with the use of colour, the split screens and blurry vision not to mention the hand held claustrophobic camera work I forgave Simpson – its a case of knowing your limitations and using them to your advantage. And when was the last time SBS showed a Demon-Noir flick drenched in bourbon, beer and blood anyway?
And despite the artistic bent when the demons are unleashed it’s a frenzy of blood, guts and grue that’ll have the horror geeks popping their loads in very short time. Throw in Joe in a dress carrying a talking axe (just a touch of Bruce Campbell there) car wrecks, dead bodies, demons on park benches, the copper with a drinking problem, parasitic eels and an advertising guru bastard arsehole (Ed Winters played by Peter Roberts in a dual role though you wouldn’t pick it) and you’ve pretty much got country life in Australia nailed. Okay maybe not the advertising guru but hell he’s really just the arrogant bastard who always stands at the back yelling out advice at the footy or cricket, who could run the country and still be home in time for tea if only someone would listen to him but is never there to clean up or sell raffle tickets or help out on working bees or remember his wife’s birthday... every little town has a family secret they try to hide away, little monsters and demons they don’t want people to know about, it’s just in this town it turns out to be the bloody devil himself. This is supposed to be a film that is having a dig at advertising and marketing but to me it’s a movie about life in the country. Either way, it doesn’t throttle you with the message, just lays it out there for you to find.
Forget Hugh Jackman and Nicole Kidman, forget all those high falutin’ arty champagne sippin’ aussie directors – Christ those fuckers wouldn’t know how to have a decent bender anyway… this is the real Australia, this is the real deal. These bastards are gonna turn the industry up on its head, or at least they’re gonna gate crash the party, drink all the piss, crack onto the hostess and not remember a thing in the morning. And as for Stuart Simpson I only have one thing to say – you silly, twisted boy.

redneck lounging in newcastle

2008-10-01T04:39:00.000-07:00

The Anti-Social Social Club
Saturday 4th October, 3:00 – 5:00, Festival Club Newcastle
The Anti-Social Social Club resides in the outside lawn at the
Festival club. Grab a deck chair and kick back.
Saturday: The Redneck Lounge,
where fun activities include recovering from Friday night, Country n' Western toons and beer-ku poetry.

Beer Drinking Rock and Roll

2008-09-25T19:14:00.000-07:00

The Veebees – Get It In Ya + Fair Dinkum Rock’n’Roll CD
The Veebees – Crack Us Anotha! EP
The Veebees – Drive Thru Bottlo DVD (All thru Ocker Records)

Like their namesake beverage these bastards are light on taste, light on bubble but fuck they’ll do the job to ya!! In the tradition of such other ocker rock scum as the Cosmic Psychos and the Meatbeaters these bastards are even more bloody Aussie (if that’s possible) with songs about barbecues, drinkin’, goin’ to the bottlo, utes and my fave – drinkin’ problem (two cans, two hands, one mouth) . After listening to this I was so thirsty I had to tell the missus and kid to piss off to nanna’s, buy a slab of beer, stop off for some snags, get home and fire up the barby, dig out me vhs of the 2000 grandfinal between port and glenelg and relax for awhile in true ocker fashion. Fark, but it was nice. This is Aussie Ocker rock the way its supposed to be played – a sense of humour, a sense of place and no bloody keyboards or nu-metal shite or any of that fucking hiphop/r&b jism sucking, gold chain yank wank. Just loud and proud three chords (ok two) oi oi oi aussie aussie aussie get a dog up ya crack another can where’s the bloody remote go you liddle bewdy fuck I’m so drunk even y’re sister looks good rock and roll! And the bloody extras on the dvd are funny as fuck – worth yr money alone!
www.veebees.com.au

two buck video review

2008-07-02T19:17:00.000-07:00

UNHINGED

D: Don Gronquist 1982

Gronquist cowrote, produced and directed this early 80s slasher entry but maybe he should have let someone else have a say too. An attempt at a gothic/splatter/scary movie this doesn’t quite work as well as it should.

Problem number one, boredom. Three gals go off in a beat up old car heading to a rock concert. So we start with driving and more driving and more driving interspersed with mumbling, then it rains, more driving and then finally a crash. Only its the lamest crash you’ve seen since… since… well probably since John Boy Walton had his infamous fall from grace off the back of the hay cart. Really, they drove off the road at a very slow speed and went into a ditch, I mean come on – this is how we get them to the spooky old mansion?!

Oh yeah, the mansion. See, the girls wake up in an old house after a local handyman found them and their car in the ‘ravine’ they drove into. One gal Gloria is in pretty bad shape and upstairs somewhere, the other two Terry (the heroine) and Nancy are just shaken not stirred. So now the gals are stranded in an old house with a crazy old lady and her middle aged daughter Marion while they wait for the terrible storms to blow over and for Gloria to heal. Well, we assume Gloria is healing since we don’t see her for the next 45 minutes. (maybe Don couldn’t afford the extra actress) The old lady has a pathological hate of men, has had since her husband (and Marion’s daddy) was caught with an underage child back in the day. Unfortunately the old duck played by Virginia Settle, chews up the dialogue and spits it out in a bout of overacting not seen since the Golden Girls were at their peak. Christ, she’s not even a good over actor, just irritating. She keeps going on about Marion having men upstairs at night which as it turns out is a key plot point later on but its so fucking irritating that you ignore it and her.

Despite their accident the gals seem to have salvaged their hair supplies and the 80’s hairstyles (straight outta video clips) are truly beautiful. Nancy in particular does herself and the 80s proud. Now nothing much has happened yet, despite the shots of lightning, rain and the dark dark house. Of course we soon have the eerie keyboards and someone outside the window breathing heavily (that’d be the rain, get inside you fool before you catch a cold) Its trying to be neo gothic but its just dark and dull. There is someone inside though because they’re spying on the gals in the gratuitous shower scene (thank you Don) and breathing heavily a lot. So heavily that it wakes Terry up but no one else hears it?! Yeah right.

Nancy wants to get to the village because she’s run out of hair products or something so she sets off through the woods only to be tracked by shitty synth muzak and a killer with a scyth! Finally some action and not too badly done in a cheapy blood squib and cutaway style. No more hair worries for Nancy. Back at the house, Terry finally goes up to see her friend before we discover that someone is lurking. In fact the old face at the window routine made me jump! Yep, they’d lulled me into a complete state of boredom and I missed all the cues… turns out there’s a brother, a simpleton of course, who has to hide in the woods since his mad mother hates men and refuses to acknowledge his very existence. Oh and lots of gals have gone missing. Gloria gets hers in a bloody axe attack which strangely enough Terry doesn’t hear. She does however end up discovering a room full of body parts and her pals in slo mo. Finally things are beginning to happen, it took over an hour but the last ten minutes damn near make it worthwhile.

JE Penner as Marion pulls out a stunner finish that I admit I didn’t see coming! Either I’m getting old or I was just so dazed with the bad acting and slow storyline that I just wasn’t paying attention. Finally the old duck’s whinging about the men in the attic makes sense. I just wish the film had gotten us there quicker. Hard to say whether I recommend this or not. Those last few minutes are great in a slasher 80s B-grade fashion but the first hour of over acting, under acting, tedious dinners and 80s hair really test yr patience. Fast forward thru the dull bits, watch some of the overacting to get an idea of what’s happening, pause at the shower scenes and then watch the killings. That would be the best way to do it. And maybe stock up on the Stone’s too. you’ll need it.

green ginger wine two buck video review

2008-06-05T21:00:00.000-07:00

THUNDERGROUND (Busted Up 2)

D: David Mitchell 1989

Okay, when was the last time you watched a movie that had Huckleberry Finn, hobos, bloodsports, buddies and boozing as its story line? While you’re thinking about that I’ll run this baby by you.

A B-Grade Chuck Norris type (Paul Coufus) jumps off a freight train and hits a hobo jungle stepping straight into a bare knuckle blue which he wins quite handily before teaming up with Casey, a hobo hustler who turns out to be a gal (Margaret Langrick from Harry & The Hendersons no less!). Chucky Jr don’t know shit about the hobo life, but Casey does, Casey can’t fight, Chucky Jr can. So the two team up. But it has to be in that buddy/not really buddy type scenario of course. So what we have is a 1940s hobo flick but its 1989. You get the feeling that director Mitchell who co-wrote the script originally had written this as a 40s flick but when he was offered the chance to adapt it to make this sequel he just went “sure, why not?” Trouble is that don’t quite gell. And anyway, there’s no mention of the previous movie anyway so why bother. Chucky Jr might still be the same character from the first Busted Up (which by the way I haven’t seen) but there’s no mention of his previous life or how he ended up on the bum anyway other than a sort of life sucks mini monologue that doesn’t answer any questions or matter. So what we have is a sequel that isn’t. Does that make sense? Ah who cares? Anyway, Chucky Jr and the gal go on the road heading down to New Orleans where “the Man” a legendary bare fist fighter is said to reside. So now it’s a buddies on the road, bickering and all that type of movie as well as a bloodsports flick and then Chucky Jr starts to show signs of serious booze addiction and the Gal starts reading Huck Finn and shit, we got it all then! Literature, fighting, boozing, getting of wisdom and I might add some absolutely stunning cinematography to boot! Who’d a thunk it? So the twosome head off to New Orleans and meet up with a slumming M. Emmet Walsh as a conman who offers them a blue with The Man but only after they can get some stake money together. He then offers Chucky Jr a fight against a big black son of a bitch called Mongo for a thousand clams in front of a bunch of rich decadent locals. All Chucky has to do is lose the fight. Which he does but only after being a stubborn son of a bitch himself and making Mongo earn the victory. M. Emmet cons them anyway and they walk away with a measly hunnerd bucks. (expenses and a small handgun) But at least they’ve got a fight against The Man now. Oh yeah, The Man is none other than Jesse Ventura!! Hope to hell he’s a better governor than he is an actor. Ventura meets them in a crypt and explains the rules. Basically there are none. It’s a fight to the death, no rules, no spectators, their $91 up against $9,000, survivor take all. Jesse has yet to lose of course. So then we get Chucky Jr and Jesse Ventura beating the crap out of each other in some swamp (the thunderground of the title apparently) until finally… well, I think you know the rest. Anyway Chucky Jr and the gal ride off into the sunset, well okay they jump a freight train, with their meagre winnings and goddamn it if they don’t kiss. Yuck!!!

This is such a weird hybrid that despite the bad acting, slow plot and inconsistencies, (bruises that come and go, the strange 40s/80s thing, the white clothes that stay clean despite them bumming it) I still enjoyed it. Hell, in the end I was smiling, until they kissed anyway. Of course it might have had something to do with the half bottle of Green Ginger Wine I’d consumed as well but its just such a bizarre mishmash of ideas that I couldn’t help myself. And like I said at the beginning, when was the last time you watched a movie that had Huckleberry Finn, hobos, bloodsports, buddies and boozing as its story line?

Another $2 VHS review

2008-06-02T00:36:00.000-07:00

DEATH SHIP

D: Alvin Rakoff 1980

A mean spirited and bleak movie from the days of yore that I found on vhs for a lousy gold coin at some country market recently, Death Ship has always been one of those films that I remember watching in the grand days of videos, beer and stinky finger.

George Kennedy plays a crotchety sea captain of a luxury liner on his last voyage before forced retirement with Richard Crenna as the new captain in waiting who’s by his side learnin’ the ropes. While Cap Kennedy grumbles and farts we meet the rest of the cast. A coupla precocious kids that belong to Crenna, his wife, a horny crewman and his babe, the ship’s MC and bad comedian and an old lady who’s there, well, because you need victims basically. Anyway, while the horny crewman and his bit get it on and Cap K and Crenna and the brood sit at the Captain’s table, a dark and gloomy ship is bearing down on them, with wheels turning, engines pumpin’, orders flyin’ but no sign of a crew. The liner is in darkness, the gloomy ship daylight but hell, that sort of thing don’t matter in a b-grader like this anyway. Anyway, the ship rams the liner, things go haywire and then its daylight and surprise surprise the raft of survivors is… Crenna and his family, the horny crewman, his babe, the old lady and the comedian. You can almost see victim written on their foreheads. Cap Kennedy pops up out of the water miraculously and then so does the dark and gloomy ship. In fact how does a big fucking freighter sneak up on you and drop anchor without you noticing? Anyhoo, they all clamber on board although the cap and Crenna and horndog have to do it the hardway when the boat drops the ladder halfway through. And comedian immediately gets hooked upside down and dunked over board to either drown or get chopped up by the propellers as the boat ups anchor and takes off. Cap K starts hearing voices in German and seeing things, having flashbacks and generally looking dirty and wacked out. The rest of the survivors tumble around trying to find the crew, clean clothes, food and all that other survivor stuff while ignoring the fact that the ship is moving, the lights come on, an old rekkid player keeps playin’, the phone rings, the doors shut by themselves… it takes longer than you would think for Crenna to get that “what the fuck?” look on his face. And even then it takes horndog to point out that there’s no one running the ship before he catches on. The old lady eats some 40 year old humbugs that give her the worst case of acne you’ve ever seen. Cap K finishes her off thankfully cos she was way overacting. The ship dumps the life rafts on em and then Cap K shows up in a spankin’ new uniform and informs Crenna that Kennedy is still captain of the ship. Whoo hoo, Cap K has got himself a new command. The babe ends up trapped in a shower that covers her in blood before Cap K throws her overboard. This is a great scene with the gal spinning and screaming cut with one of the precocious kids getting spooked by the german music blaring out of the speakers… damn claustrophobic and very effective. In fact the whole flick is gritty, dirty and claustrophobic especially for a b-flick, there’s a real clammy uncomfortable feeling about this movie. Of course watching on a very old tape that’s worn out and dirty itself adds to the occasion.

But back to the story – Crenna and horndog follow the captain and stumble on a white supremist’s wet dream when they find a room full o’ nazi paraphernalia and soon realise that this ship was some sort of interrogation/torture boat, sailing around the Atlantic while the hold was full o’ folk to torture and kill. Horndog loses grip on reality in the film room when the movie just wont stop and ends up in a net full o’ bodies (which we had a flash of right at the beginning of their journey on the bucket o’ rust) and Crenna pulls himself together enough to stab Cap K who’s informed him the boat runs on blood and his family is its next meal. Grabbing his family he finds a freezer full of dead seamen (ex victims maybe?) and finds a raft and life jackets and hallelujah his family is saved. But of course not before Cap K takes a shot or two at him. Takes more than a kitchen knife to slow ol’ Cap down. In fact it takes the ship’s engine room to do it in a scene that’ll make you grimace even though you don’t actually see anything. Lots of people bag this film but hell, everytime I watch it I get the creeps. It’s dark, damp, nasty, mean spirited and bleak and I don’t care about the inconsistencies, the ship is used beautifully and to it’s fullest to make you shrink back and feel like you’re trapped too. It’s out on dvd but hell I just love the old worn out tape, it just seems right. This is a keeper.

Really Good In Theory

2008-05-27T19:05:00.000-07:00

This Saturday May 31st Really Good In Theory is back! A market day of local DIY zines, music, art and sundry fun plus second hand books, music, mags and more... a great day to mingle, buy, join in, meet folk and see what adelaide has to offer on the 'unprofessional' side of art. A badge i wear proudly. Paroxysm Press will be there will all his literary wares, Harry Butler with books, music and more from the DNA/EC Productions stable, Karl the perfect gentleman and many many more. It's at the Irish Club in Carrington Street in the city and kicks off at Noon. Click on the poster for more details and come along. its a cheap day out so get out of the house!

Drive In Movie

2008-05-23T20:27:00.000-07:00

RATTLERS

D: John McCauley 1976

This baby is in a ten dvd set I picked up for $4 called Drive – In Dusk ‘til Dawn that I gather is actually part of a bigger set put out by some one called Millcreek Entertainment (well, their damn watermark/logo kept showing up during the flick anyway) There’s a real early 70s tv film feel to this flick and it aint helped by the direct to dvd transfer of a really crap copy complete with crackles, pops and frames slipping. The movie kicks off with a coupla all American Disney kids out in the desert playing, blonde hair shinin’ in the afternoon sun, jiving each other and looking for bones when they stumble into a snake pit and get their asses killed. Cue Title and then we jump to our dorky hero, Dr Tom Parkinson, (Sam Crews) snake expert and all round cheesy dork but with immaculate hair and a nice safari suit. He gets called in by the local sheriff to help out with their investigation. And when a whole family including the pets gets attacked well, then Dr Tom gets an assistant to help him, a photogapher sidekick who just happens to be a feisty chick with a feminist bent. Another snake attack on a plumber (with the snake sneaking up his leg – lemme tell you I flinched) then gives us the snakes in the bathtub… so that’s where Wes Craven got the idea. He did it better too or at least he had a hotter babe in the bath not a nagging divorcee who only shows her back. Anyway, as the investigation continues, we find out the army is involved. Seems they dumped some chemicals down a mineshaft and Dr Tom needs to find that mine. Of course the colonel wont tell him where cos the colonel is completely nuts. Luckily the drunk army doctor with the bad toupee helps out with some info and soon the doc and the girl are wandering around a mineshaft with a torch looking for snakes, dangerous snakes, dangerous killer snakes… duh! Of course they stumble on em too (well, one at least I think, it was pretty shitty filming/editing at that stage) and they have to run back out in a truly pisspoor segment of bad filming, bad overdubbing, just bad everything. After that of course Dr Tom mentions that he’ll have to go to Vegas to find out where the mine is. Oh yeah of course. And so this girl who gave us a huge rant at the start of the movie about women’s rights and the workforce and all this guff goes all weak at the knees because he mentions Vegas? Cue, two minutes of holding hands, kissing, and dancing together in Vegas (or at least some fountain and a woodgrain lounge somewhere) then its back to the desert to be attacked in their tents by rabid rattlers. But then an army guy shows up out of nowhere, blows them all away and drives away again. Doesn’t even stay to check if Doc and the babe are okay. Turns out the mad colonel dumped some nerve gas down the shaft that is sending the snakes whacko and seemingly giving them the intelligence to group together and climb up pipes and into houses and all the other shit they’re getting up to. Mad colonel kills drunk doctor, goes out to the mine shaft and blows it (and hisself) up after firin’ a few shots at Dr Tom and the sheriff and then the snakes are sealed in the shaft, the doc gets the girl and we can all go home after we hang the speaker back on the rack, rearrange our clothes and drop the empty beer bottles in the bin.

Is it an eco disaster flick or just a disaster?

Well it sure as shit aint no Kingdom Of The Spiders or Frogs or even Piranha (which by the by is in the box too) but it was just so corny that I had to watch it. I’m a sucker for punishment. And hey the snakes were real, I’ll give them that and that certainly added an edge to it cos those fuckers bite!

shopping old school style

2008-05-11T19:03:00.000-07:00

The local video ezy is getting rid of a shitload of old vhs videos for $2 each (would have been less if the boss wasn’t there!) and what man can resist such bargains. There will be a slew of reviews when I find time to actually watch these babies (oh my aching liver) but here’s the list of treats I picked up.

Thunderground starring Jesse Ventura! Streetfighting men.

Hired To Kill simply because it was directed by Nico Mastorakis and Oliver Reed is in it. You know it will be bad.

Fat City – classic boxing movie with Stacy Keach. Maybe just about the best boxing movie ever made.

Semi Tough – Burt Reynolds, $2 why not?

Action Jackson – Oh yeah! Carl Weathers, Vanity – come on what more could you need?

Booby Trap – it’s 1998 and LA is a lawless quarantine zone!

Moonshine County Express – New World Pictures, John Saxon, moonshine, gals!!! Would have paid $3 for this

Circle Man – Vernon Wells. More street fightin’

Penitentiary – come on $2 I had to.

Cherry Hustlers – sure its cut down to R rating but its Vanessa Del Rio. I had to rescue her.

Shakes The Clown –Christ I nearly came in my pants when I saw this on the shelf.

Over the last few months I picked up a coupla other treats too – it seems no one wants their videos anymore. Well, that’s fine by me.

Death Ship – no not the wanky new flick this is the one with George Kennedy. Sleazy grimy and a dollar.

The Thing – John Carpenter’s greatest movie? Anyway, it’s a corker and again it was a lousy dollar.

Confessional Murders – directed by Pete Walker so its gonna be good.

Savage Streets – yeah I know its censored but hell it still kicks arse.

Young Warriors – some dumb 80s vigilante flick but hell it was three movies for ten bucks and I needed a third.

Boulevard Nights – classic and underrated gang movie that wasn’t as colorful as The Warriors or the Wanderers and so has been forgotten. There were three copies of this on the shelf. Does no one have any taste anymore?

redneck lounge goes live!

2008-04-08T18:15:00.000-07:00

yes siree, next thursday 17th March sees the redneck lounge open its doors at La Boheme Grote Street Adelaide for a bit of country, southern rock, punk, lounging, beer drinking music as we launch not one but four different zines. Sprak!, Corrupt Me, Analogue Apocolypse and Feminista. $4 gets you in the door and gives you a choice of two zines. the others you can of course buy as well, we wont mind. there's a bar, zines to read, people to talk to and Mark Of The Beast and Kami are the DJs for the night. So expect a damn good time.

redneck lounging

2008-04-01T21:26:00.000-07:00

REDNECK LOUNGING

I got Joe Walsh cranked up loud

a block of wood under one corner

of the turntable

to keep it balanced

blue singlet and cold beer

sitting on a deck chair

flicking through old boxing magazines

no one home but me

I was white trash once

but now I’m middle class

suburban husband

school concerts and Saturday morning sports

I don’t fall down drunk anymore

or throw cups of warm beer

at the band

and I would never

get behind the wheel of a car

whilst drunk

these days I offer coffee to my friends

as we talk about the better

private schools

and circle dates on the calendar

for playtime & sports days & family

commitments

but on days when I’m alone

I get the block of wood just right

throw three cans of beer

in the freezer

slide Joe or Lynyrd

out of their sleeve

and watch the needle drop

I walk over to that patch

of weeds and clover

I’m cultivating behind the shed

and I piss away that first beer

as Rocky Mountain Way kicks in

lounging it redneck style

until the front door opens

and I have to turn the stereo down

and put my collar back on

songs to get hammered to

2008-03-13T17:56:00.001-07:00

STINKING DRINKING SINGALONG BOOZED UP SONGS.

I’ve noticed that whenever I overindulge in the amber fluids (be it beer or bourbon) I tend to play the same rekkids over and over… or at least until the neighbours bang on the walls … so here is my list of drunken, I really should go to bed now, I’m so fucked up I just dropped the cover on the floor, lets put that song on repeat I love it, teary eyed, smashed as fuck favourite pissed, maggotted, I really should no better songs.

Suicidal Tendencies – War Inside My Head (Join The Army)

Not only when I’m drunk, this song has come in handy on more than one occasion when my mental state has been, well let’s just say, unsound. I put this on as loud as the neighbours can stand (that’s the neighbours six houses up) and prowl around the garage punching my fist into the air until I’m exhausted.

Stan Kenton – Artistry In Rhythm (any good best of) The fucker invented rock and roll in 1945!– have a listen, the buildup, the chorus, the crescendo, the wind down… so far ahead of his time. If only I’d discovered this when my old man was still alive (I inherited his jazz collection), fuck we coulda got smashed together and punched the air instead of just me at home alone, punching the air while crying about it.

Bruce Springsteen – Badlands (Live Version) Hey, I’m a dumb shit country kid, working class, poorly educated, never made no bones about it… this song speaks to me, fuck… it shouts to me. And I shout back!

Kid Creole & The Coconuts – I’m A Wonderful Thing Baby (Tropical Gangsters)

Because I am.

Millionaires – Please Don’t Mention The Junta (45) Aussie 70s band who made the mistake of coming from Melbourne, wearing wacky costumes and signing to Mushroom right after Skyhooks. This song is white label one sided, don’t even know if it really came out. A catchy little political pop ditty with a South American beat well before womad would suck the life out of world music. Oh yeah, and highly fucking danceable/ stumbleable.

Body Count – Cop Killer (CopKiller) Come on, do I have to spell it out? Ice Mutha Fucking T bitch!! When he was still funny.

Motley Crue – Generation Of Swine (Generation Of Swine) The reunion album that died in the arse – too many cooks, not enough coke… but the title track kicked butt.

Flash Cooney & The Deans Of Discipline – Future Fox (Horror Glitter Transvesto Billy) With lyrics like “the only thing between us is a little pair of panties and almost twenty years” this is a staple singalong after a night at the pub looking at the nubiles.

BuckCherry - Whiskey In The Morning (Time Bomb) The song that will be played at my funeral. This band was first brought to my attention by Tony Grudge. He said they were great. For once he was right.

Boozoo Chavis – Zydeco HeeHaw (Self Titled) Boozoo claimed he invented zydeco and I ain’t arguin’ with him. This is the song I finish the night with, dancing badly around the room to the zydeco shuffle! Not a pretty sight.

Nickelback – Figured You Out (Long Road) Ok, ok so they’re crap but hell, when this came out it was the only song in the top ten that had a fucking guitar, a hook, real musicians and I can almost play it on air guitar! So fuck you and yr taste buds - this is what I play where’s yr list?

why do i watch so much CMC?

2008-03-06T19:20:00.000-08:00

well here's a couple of good reasons!

Cassette Culture Part II

2008-02-21T16:40:00.000-08:00

Ok so I’ve loaded up my genuine, original K-Tel Cassette Selector for the easy flick thru, high rotation twenty cassette pick of redneck lounging goodness, all scientific of course - some I play all the time anyway, some cos they just look right and feel right as I flick thru lookin’ for that heart starter pick em up that will get my head cleared, my day started and the neighbour’s dogs howling…

RADIO BIRDMAN – RADIOS APPEAR. Yeah Hup, that’s right… original cassette copy bought back in the day when I was like 15 and discovered this band and a whole new world opened up. Me and my mate Ganders would play this on my pissy little tape deck as we trekked out of town to the caves up in the pines. We had a little cubby hole with posters on the wall, dirty mags to read and this tape echoing off the cave walls and thru the pines. It still holds up pretty damn good in the shed too.

MANITOBA’S WILD KINGDOM – AND YOU? Handsome Dick, Andy Shernoff, Ross the Boss… it’s the Dictators in all but name! Attitude, balls and rock’n’roll. Just a dumb shit party album that gets yr heart raising and yr pecker rising. What more could ya want?

fEEDTIME – SHOVEL. The greatest band Australia ever produced? I can’t think of anyone else who comes near them, except maybe early Tatts and X. Solid blues grunt, gospel beast funneled thru this thumping rhythm section that takes no prisoners. Cant say I lounge to it cos it always makes me get up and howl.

CREEDENCE CLEARWATER REVIVAL – 20 GOLDEN GREATS. Sure, we’re all sick of Proud Mary and Grapevine but shit this stuff still sounds great and I can listen to em anytime. One of the first rock bands (per se) that I discovered as a kid via my old’s record collection. I think I’ve still got the Proud Mary single in its picky sleeve rolling around in a box somewhere.

ROLLING STONES – STICKY FINGERS. Cost me a buck secondhand and worth it jut for “Cant You Hear Me Knocking” . I read somewhere that Gram Parsons and Keefy were very chummy around this period and it shows. Some real country pickin’ style filtered thru the stones art skool/ rich kid slummin’ it blues.

VARIOUS – DYNAMITE I had to have at least one genuine K-Tel release in the damn thing. This ‘un is as obscure as they come though and I found it at one of them bootslaes somewhere. Wizzard, Suzi Q, Nazareth, Mud – early glam, rock and Pommy one hit wonders. Clifford T. Ward? Who the hell is he?

T.REX – THE SLIDER Bolan was one of my first rock heroes. He still is. An original all the way even when he was a coked up fat prick. I still remember the day I bought this album, paid for with my own pocket money. It’s still arguably his best work and I play it all the damn time.

SLADE – WHATEVER HAPPENED TO? The album no one remembers. Heavier than previous efforts, the band had just come back from Amerikka, soaked up the vibe, came home and found that no one cared anymore. Pity, cos this is a lost straight out knees up rock and roll classic.

VARIOUS – LITTLE IMP An NME giveaway back in the 80s? that I found at a record fair so I didn’t even have to buy the shitty mag. 22 trax of solid R&B (the real shit not the kiddie porn they produce today and dare to call R&B), blues and early rock from the likes of Fats Domino, Louis Jordan, Amos Milburn, Patti Anne… not a dud amongst em and plenty of beer drinking songs strangely enough.

ALICE COOPER/BOB SEGER Picked this up for 20c at the scout hall junk sale. Someone’s home recording job with Welcome To My Nightmare on one side and mid era Seger on t’other. Cheap shitty brand o’ tape but its hanging in there even if Bob don’t get that much of a play.

CHARLIE DANIELS/ VARIOUS Same sale, same price. Best of Charlie, with all the good shit plus a pile of fifties rock like Hey Little Cobra and The Crusher. Decent brand of tape too. Love them sales.

HELIX – AIN’T NO REST FOR THE WICKED 80’s canuck heavy metal band who knew how to knock out a coupla sub ac/dc riffs, add some fine hooks and then fade back into obscurity. (‘cept at the redneck lounge where they’re a staple diet. I even got this on vinyl)

NEIL YOUNG – WELD This was a double but I taped this myself off a mate’s rekkid. It’s the Hey Hey sides up to Cortez The Killer. Didn’t think much of the other sides. I just can’t listen to Powderfinger knowing what it inspired

MOTLEY CRUE – DOCTOR FEELGOOD The band might have been straight when they recorded this but I rarely am when I listen to it!

MOLLY HATCHET – FLIRTING WITH DISASTER. Molly gets (unfairly) blamed for killing Southern Rock but hell I still like this album. A stew of boogie, metal and southern boy roots. It’s just dumb enough to be fun. And it gets plenty of play in the lounge, plenty of play.

GLEN CAMPBELL – GLEN CAMPBELL COUNTRY Galveston, Phoenix, Where’s The Playground… all that’s missing is Wichita Lineman. I make no apologies for likin’ old shiny face’s great takes on Jim Webb’s classic songs. I’ll put up with his shiny happy people schtick any day to listen to Jimmy’s songs. And most of you do too, its just I’m the only one with the balls to admit it.

CHARLES MANSON – WHITE RASTA Prison blues from an old hippy who shoulda known better. At least he don’t play no beatles on this! There’s an ambience about this tape, it’s dubbed down so many times now and you can hear the prisoners going about there business as chuckles strums his geetar and tries to spread some kind of message. Last I heard they took away his rights to have a guitar cos it’s not good for him or it’s a weapon or some shit like that.

NAZARETH – HAIR OF THE DOG 1975 release that still kicks rock and roll arse. AC/DC and Motorhead are rightly revered for their rock and roll stance but what about Nazareth? No bleached hair shit, no fancy boy Jet retro bullshit, no metal dweebs who don’t even scare their mothers – this is straight ahead sweaty beerhalls and years of touring type rock and fucking whiskey drinking roll!! Took me years to find a decent copy of this cos they’ve all been flogged to death and then I found the tape and the record in the same week! Now that’s rock and roll karma.

VARIOUS – KINGS OF CAJUN VOL II Suds suckin’ dance hall, toe tappin’ party music. Boozoo Chavis, Rockin’ Dopsie, Clifton Chenier… When I’m in the lounge pissed and can barely stand they’re ain’t nothin’ I like better than two steppin’ to Boozoo.

METALLICA – MASTER OF PUPPETS The last good album these fuckers ever did! Bought this back in the late 80s and it’s still hangin’ on despite the years of constant play. I can’t listen to these songs without throwing that waver in when the tape tightens up and then lets go again. Bow to the Leper Messiah!

Cassette Culture

2008-02-06T19:04:00.000-08:00

So we took beezlebubby down home to the country for a week so nanna could spoil her rotten and I could relax a bit. After the tree pruning, taking down the goddamn xmas lights and spider proofing the place. Which is still better than last time when I had to get up on the roof and clean five years worth o’ shit out of the gutters. (I thought that’s what the grandson was for – hell he’s eighteen now he’s gotta be good for something besides feeding)

The first day we hit town though, the goodwife, beezlebubby and I went out to my mate Gander’s property for a bbq. Ganders and his goodwife have got a coupla acres of rock and dirt, a house, a big shed, a calf and an old ram in the paddock out back of the homestead, chooks, possums, crows and a coupla teenage kids of their own and Ganders and I have been best mates since the first day of primary school and that was a long, long, long time ago now. First thing they had to do was show us the new John Deere. No not a tractor, a ride on mower. He was proud of that baby, showed us all the bits, talked us thru the purchasing process, haven’t seen him this proud since he was a kid and came round to tell me he had colour tv, the first in town in fact. I used to go over there to watch The Goodies cos all we had was a shitty old b&w that couldn’t even get the abc and the other channel rolled anyway.

Anyway after we cooked up some dead animal and sawdust (sausages) and ate of the salads that they’d prepared cos we were totally unprepared, Ganders wanted to show us what else he’d been buying. Seems his boy has left home, moved to the big town some 50k’s up the road for work reasons, though he was still home every weekend to fill up on food anyway, and Ganders well he’s been out at the garage sales looking for furniture and cutlery and what not for the boy. Though he seems to be really just buying more shit to put in his bigass shed. Knives and bowls and shit he don’t even know what it is (like the world’s smallest juicer?) but he did pick up an old Phillips radio for me cos I collect shit like that and it can sit in my tiny shitty ass shed (size does count when it comes to sheds!) and then he pulled out the piece d’resistance!

A genuine, original K-Tel Cassette Selector.!! You ‘member them don’t ya? They used to advertise them back in the 70s on the back of all the K-Tel compilations. The Record Selector and The Cassette Selector – finds your favourite music in seconds! I had a record selector but it was a piece of shit really, it didn’t hold gatefold sleeves properly and you had to get the weight just right for the damn thing to work or it wouldn’t flick forward properly but the cassette selector it looks the goods. After all, cassettes all pretty much weight the same right? Of course it doesn’t hold double cassettes but when did you last see a decent one of them? It’s always Pink Floyd or Frampton Comes Alive or some hokey 80s thing with a bonus remix tape. The last decent double cassette I owned was Osibisa - Black Magic Night and that has long since disappeared into some other bastard’s pocket. So now, I gotta select twenty tapes and get this baby set up in the music half of the shed on top of the family radiogram which sits in the corner waiting for me to fix it up, next to the stereo with the block under the back corner to keep the $20 record player balanced. Between the two stereos in the place there’s four tape players plus my old double deck unit that plays two tapes at once cos I left the damn thing in the tiny ass shed for about three years and the cockroaches chewed through something but hell that can be fun too but anyway there’s plenty of places to play the old cassettes and since the scout hall across the road has these regular like shitty ass garage sales where Ganders would think he’d died and gone to heaven, full of mismatched china and three legged tables and lots of clothes no one, not even the poor, would wear but most importantly cassettes, boxes of shitty tapes and dubbed stuff and religious rubbish and all for twenty/ twenty five cents each, well I got lots of tapes floating around. Some I grab to play some I grab cos at twenty cents that’s cheaper than new for a blank tape and some well… I just feel sorry for em sitting there looking like they need a new home. But anyway, I’m gonna sort through them tapes and slap 20 of em in the K-Tel cassette selector and then when I’m sitting out in music half of the shed I can just grab one and play it instead of looking through the three drawers of crap or under the stereo or behind the radiogram or wherever else I keep dropping, stashing, throwing the fuckers when I’ve got a sixpack and a coupla shots of Nelson County under my belt and the feet think they can dance even though the rest of me knows they can’t. and when I do you can be sure there’ll be a list here of what’s made the cut.

Twistin' by the pool

2008-01-29T17:56:00.000-08:00

I might be grey bearded, old school, balding and better than you but I haven’t abandoned the modern world altogether. There are a few things/devices/cons that I don’t mind in this modern, technological, I spy, its gotta be digital and bigger and better and 36 months interest free, world - like the internet for a start – it sure makes looking at porn a hell of a lot easier and I can always check boxing results from damn near anywhere in the world as well as keeping up with TNA rasslin’ and other shit like that. And I got an mp3 player and I’ve got limewire (though I had some help from my 11 ½ year old daughter beezlebubby to get that damn thing workin’) so now can I download music off the wires… it’s just that I’m searching for Molly Hatchet, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Hank Jr., Joe Walsh (pre Eagles softcock era) cos I’m putting together files of pure redneck country southern boy blues for the Sunday arvo lounging at the pool sessions while beezlebubby and her friends frolic in the over chlorinated manmade waterhole where the boys bomb and dive, ducking each other’s heads and generally being loud and stooped trying to get the girls to notice them while the girls play cool and pretend not to notice but secretly giggle and nod and smile to themselves at the attention.

And I’ve got ZZ Top and Trace Adkins buzzing out of those tiny tinny speakers in my ears while I keep one eye on the beezlebubby and the posin’ boys ready to step up if need be to scare the little jack-offs away and the other on the mamas, still crammin’ themselves into the two piece bikini though they mighta gained a little more weight over the winter since they bought that little green number at last year’s post xmas sale. Not that I mind cos I’m at an age where the waif like, smack whore, bleach blonde and ribs look does nothing for me anymore anyway – gimme a woman with just a little to hold onto, a woman who fills out the top shelf, spilling some flesh o’er the edges of the (straining) elastic, someone who’s maybe lived a little, knows what it’s like to wake up swearing never to do tequila shots again before cracking a beer cos it’s the only thing that’s gonna take the edge of the morning. A full bodied, life lived type o’ woman in last year’s colours but who’s still got the know how, despite the hangover and the kids nagging to get going to the pool as soon as the sun is up, to pack some sandwiches, chips, watermelon and two bottles of softdrink into the jim beam esky that was a give away when you bought two 700ml for 52 bucks from some beer wine and spirits barn in the burbs and the bourbon wasn’t even for her last boyfriend, the one who fathered the little redhead boy who’s running around on the grass right now, no way, that jim beam was hers for Friday night when the girls get together while the boys are at the club picking Sunday’s team or when he’s on arvo shift at the car factory, and when the men folk get home the women folk are buzzing on spirits and coke and laughing lewdly, watching Friday night footy and that young gun full forward in his tight shorts or already asleep, snoring blissfully and that little smile on her face ain’t for you, oh no, that’s for the young gun full forward, who, in her dreams, is peeling off those tiny shorts.

And I watch those women from behind my $10 mirror shades cos I refuse to spend more than a blue note on something I know I’m gonna lose sooner rather than later, and they seem so relaxed, so ready for whatever comes there way, whatever gets thrown at them and I wish I could relax like that, just take what comes, step over the bad, soak up the good and truly lounge like I want to. Cos I’m still too fucking uptight despite the mp3 full o’ loungin’ country redneckin’ music and the ability to waste a full day at the pool (hell a whole week) without barely moving except when my foot or my arse gets numb from sitting in one spot too long. It would be something to pass on to beezlebubby who has all the technological know how already at eleven and a half but still can’t peel an apple properly and is only just working out how to make me a decent coffee. She needs some lesson in redneck lounging, hell her whole generation does! So me eyeing these women, watching them as they pour the drinks, one bottle sugar free, colour free for the kid the doctors have decided is a.d.d. or a.d.h.d. or some other bunch o’ initials but who really is just full o’ beans and bored by the rules… watching as she plunges into the pool, or lays in the sun, all that extra flesh glistening with sunscreen and water, the scraps of cloth straining in defiance of her winter bourbon and cokes and lunches with the girls – all that is just research, is just me studying the true loungers, just me learning to really let go and relax so I can pass those lessons onto beezlebubby, help her to chill a little and to roll with it. Of course, that vague idea I have of that internet site with the MILF’s that’d probably do it for the 2 for 52 bucks deal and cooler or maybe even the commemorative tin shaped like a car, is still fermenting in the back of my head too but, hell I still cant’ work out how to download music properly let alone set something like that up so I can’t see that getting off the ground. Anyway sounds too much like work and I ain’t goin’ there again. No, this is research pure and simple so we can all learn to lounge it redneck style and do it properly. And some song just came up on the player that I sure as shit didn’t download – who the fuck are fallout boy anyway?! BEEZLEBUBBY!!!

Damn I gotta learn to chill...

Back In My Day...

2008-01-16T20:20:00.000-08:00

You know I used to hate it when my old man would raise his glass, take a long drink and then say, “Back in my day things were better.” Fuck I hated that, I still do but you know what? When I say, “Back in my day things were better.” I’m fucking right!

Cos that lame arse shit they’re trying to tell you is music right now… it ain’t! Not even close. If y’re lucky it might make a decent ring tone or maybe even a new car jingle that’ll having you humming along for that 45 second attention span all you little shits seem to have these days but it no way could you call that crap they dress up, ink up, slap a video clip to and then churn out to pimp yr dollar for, music.

Hiphop exists just to get dumb ass black kids laid and even dumber ass white kids thinking they might get laid – and it ain’t even threatening anymore, Christ its just sampled r&b popsongs with some bling thrown on top, skinny black boys trying to look gangsta, bitches shakin’ their fake breasts and you’ve forgotten the toon before the two and half minutes is up anyway. Punk, hah, a bunch of rich white boys who won’t come out of the closet, getting tattooed, putting on eyeliner and expensive t-shirts, waiting for that big break with some bleached blonde movie actress who’s fallen off the wagon so they can get their own reality show together, singing generic rebellious teen anthems about being individuals while all wearing the same labels and then trying to tell us they’re rebels!? Oh yeah, I’ll buy that (especially if they endorse it) Shitty singer songwriters who know both chords and are so lame they actually make Ben Lee sound threatening, Pop Divas who can’t hold a note without computerized help, backing tracks and a lot of overdubs, country singers who don’t even look like they shave let alone know what a honky tonk is and who have probably never played a footy cabaret in their lives…

So fuck all this new shit – I’m going back to vinyl (and no I don’t mean that cheap fake biker jacket you bought at the markets to get girls to talk to you) I mean vinyl records – big, black, shiny 12 inch slabs of grooves kinda vinyl, now that will get the girls talking to ya. Redneck glory like ZZ Top, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Joe Walsh before he turned pussy, old school punk like the Dead Boys, Richard Hell, Black Flag, some decent nigga soul and Motown grooves, art grant free noize loops and hell, you wanna hear a singer/songwriter? Pick up Tim Bukley’s Lorca album you limp dicked poseurs. He makes his son sound like the tofu eating, pussy whipped, lame ass 90’s ‘troubled soul troubadour’ wimp he really was.

Yeah, that’s what I want – real musicians, real feeling, real soul, real pain – a bunch o’ miscreants who had the choice between jail, pimpin’ their ass or rock and roll and made the right choice. I don’t want some lame arse anonymous producer/geek type sitting behind a desk remixing every fucking decent beat he can find into some generic mishmash of soulless, sexless robotic 3 minutes of fame for some plastic fantastic whose name we’ll have forgotten before the songs even over. Christ, when did I get so jaded?!

Oh yeah, that’s right… every time I turn on the radio, watch the tv or read the music press.

Jeezus, you can’t drink a cold beer with a bourbon chaser to that shit. No siree. When the redneck lounge opens its doors, it’s old school vinyl on my twenty dollar market bargain turntable with the block o’ wood under the back right hand corner to keep it balanced, jacked into the shitty amp/tuner that I’ve had for twenty years now that still works if you let it warm up first. And I’m droppin’ the needle on "Country Stampede" or "Atomizer" opening that first beer, flickin’ through the box of old Ring and Boxing Digest mags I picked up in Melbourne and I’m not even thinking about yr ringtone muzak.

Back in my day… don’t you fucking hate it when your parents are right?

welcome to the lounge

2008-01-14T21:11:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I know that redneck ain’t a particularly Aussie slang word and it conjures up American type images and stereotypes but bogan lounge didn’t quite have the same ring to it nor did feral manifesto and hell, I am a fucking redneck, no denying it, just not the racist, dumbass, backwoods, backward stereotype mountain cracker that they portray us as on TV and in the movies. I’m an old school, shaved head, touch o’ grey in the beard, if you don’t dick me around I won’t dick you around, misanthropic, I’ll hate you purely on your lack of intelligence not yr skin colour, creed, religion, sexual preferences or aspirations type o’ redneck. And my neck is always red even when I wear a collar. And until recently I only owned two collars anyway, both polo shirts, both free, a coopers pale ale shirt and a port power shirt. I don’t particularly like the beer or the team but I’ll take ‘em when there’s nothin’ else left. Then I picked up a coupla more collar jobs – my Mt Burr Football Club Polo shirt that I paid money for and the Millicent Country Music Association shirt I picked up form Lifeline for $4. Them babies I wear with pride.

And now, I gotta admit, since the goodwife has continued her climb up the corporate ladder, the one I jumped off of some twenty years ago, well, I’ve had to buy a coupla more shirts, good ones for social occasions when I play the stepford husband and keep my mouth shut while nodding and trying to get some of that free beer in before she notices and warns me not to get too tanked. But only for those occasions you understand.

I’ve spent the second half of my life in the city after the first 21 years were spent in a town of maybe 500 people where every one knew everyone else and the grocery store was the post office, the newsagent, the toyshop and there was a bakery over the road where they baked on the premises and we went to footy every weekend and everyone else called us ‘zooeys’ cos we were animals and the parties continued on at our house until the wee small hours and you could leave the front door unlocked (at least for the first twelve years or so then some jd’s started making their tiny presence known) but when I got to the city I sorta forgot my roots. Hell, I was still proud of being a ‘country boy’ and all that. I mean I was a ‘zooey’ for fucksake but I was living in the big smoke now so I toned down my redneck roots, got rid of the flannelette shirts and the cowboy boots, didn’t listen to Slim Whitman or Johnny Cash (although JC was still cool apparently). I had to find some clean city type jeans and t-shirts that didn’t have crude sayings on em, even polish my damn shoes every now and then. But I still leaked redneck every now and then. I was blunt, up front and loud and I could hold my booze pretty well if not my mind or my mouth. In fact The Publisher, another country boy from the Tuna side of the state, and I have a theory that we did better with the girls than our city brethren and fellow drinkers cos country boys are plain blunt. We say what we think while our nancified city friends are too busy trying to weasel their way into the girl’s affections with lies and deceit or at least just being plain suck up nice to em. We just wanted to get back to the drinkin and partyin’ so we were up front about our dicks and our ambitions and more often than not it worked. We both regularly got women well above our stations, we still do and all we can put it down to is country charm cos it sure as shit ain’t our looks or our wallets, I can tell you that.

Now I’m at an age where I don’t seriously care what other people think though I still gotta be careful at the good wife’s work functions cos she needs to keep climbing that ladder so I don’t have to even think about puttin’ a foot back on it.

And hell why am I making excuse for owning a coupla Ed Harry shirts? I already know I’m better than you, have been for a long time now and the sooner you realise it the better things will be.