Not deep enough to never be found

Last week, I was lucky enough to have the chance to check out the one day only Frightened Rabbit Pop-Up Gallery on Carnaby Street. Ah, the joys of working in Soho!

For those who don't know, Frightened Rabbit is an amazing indie Scottish band. Their new album, Pedestrian Verse, was released yesterday and I cannot recommend it enough. Go. Get. It. I've been streaming it basically non-stop for a week, it is brilliant.

Anyway, the pop-up gallery was a promo for the album and featured loads of great prints, including the framed song lyrics from the new album, and objects used to create the album artwork. There were also guitars strewn about the place that were used to record the album, and docos projected on the wall. It was very cool, and an excellent use of our lunch hour.

There was also a free acoustic gig that evening. Now I've only ever seen Frightened Rabbit once (on NYE 2008, at the Purple Sneakers House Party at Manning House, instantly fell in love), so I wasn't going to pass up this opportunity - especially when I don't have tickets to their upcoming London show. So, off I went.

As I headed down after work, I had to stand around for quite some time (being a free show I figured it would fill up pretty quickly and I was definitely right about that) but it was well worth it in the end. Scott and Gordon played a selection of songs from Pedestrian Verse, including the brilliant bonus track 'If you were me' (and 'Holy', my personal favourite), as well as two old songs ('Old, old fashioned', yay!) Scott is such a charmer and with people sitting cross-legged on the floor, and spilling out through the doors into the courtyard, the whole set had a lovely communal atmosphere.

I'm just so thrilled I got to hear the new songs live, if only a couple of them. They're definitely one of my favourite bands around at the moment, such fantastic depth to the songs and often surprisingly twisted, which is the best kind of song, let's face it.

Do yourself a favour and check out Pedestrian Verse. Get February off to a good start for a change!

Music: Backyard Skulls - Frightened Rabbit

You want nothing to do with me

It’s been a bazillion years since I last went to a gig…in fact, I think my last gig was the trial in patience that was We The Kings/You Me At Six at the Roundhouse. So needless to say I was quite looking forward to getting to see some live music again. Or I was, when Abbi reminded me that we did actually have a gig to go to, since I had entirely forgotten. Ah, life.

Anyway, point is, we went to see Head Automatica at The Garage last night. I was thrilled to finally be going to a gig in London that wasn’t in a stadium. Living the life, people! Apparently The Garage isn’t classed as a small venue here, but I thought it was by Sydney standards – imagine a Metro Theatre if you stitched the floor and the bar together, and took out the tiers. That was pretty much the size.

Ab’s had been researching the opening act prior to our arrival and we were not filled with confidence – they were called Worship and was classified as Doom Metal. We were afraid. Very afraid.

Completely needlessly however because it turned out Worship is rather brilliant. And really not doom metal-y at all. Their sound is quite different, definitely, but riveting. The lead singer has a voice reminiscent of Ville Valo, but entirely his own. The overall effect is heavy and melodic, with lots of electronic touches weaved throughout (according to the band's Facebook page the Guardian described it as "a sonic cathedral", so you know, there's that.) I think it’s actually the closest I’ve ever come to identifying the sound of our fictional band Evil Spacemonkey – the way we described their sound really sort of resembles what happened on stage last night. I'd recommend checking them out.

So, enthused by a decent opening act, we were looking forward to getting our upbeat dancing on with Head Automatica. Ha. Hahaha. What actually happened was the strangest gig I’ve ever been to. Mainly because they insisted on playing material no one had never heard of, and which sounded like it had been written under the careful supervision of the Spirit of Jazz, but also because Daryl Palumbo seemed to take offence that the audience wasn’t 'participating' enough. I’d go so far as to say he resented having to play old material. Except to us it’s not old material cause they haven’t released an album since 2006’s Popganda. So Daryl, while you may have written and recorded an album three years ago, it was never released, so you can’t expect us to know it, okay? You may also want to consider actually facing your audience a bit more while you’re performing. Just a thought.

People left the gig in droves. I’ve never quite seen anything like it. And then while some folks were diligently waiting it out, hoping that some old material may surface from beneath the unknown noise (not that the new stuff was bad, it’s just hard to engage with something live when you have no idea what’s going on and while new material at a gig can be brilliant, you don’t want the whole set to consist of it), they decided not to come back out for an encore. I imagine they were having some sort of band dispute backstage… that’s what I would have done (and let’s be thankful I am not in a band.)

The moments when they played songs we actually knew, it was pretty epic. The version of The Razor was fantastic, and while Beating Heart Baby was a bit different, it was still more listenable than most of the other stuff. That’s why it’s so disappointing that we couldn’t have more of that to balance out the new stuff. I really think the crowd would have been more engaged if it didn’t feel like such a spectacular act of self-indulgence.

Bizarre. That is really all that can be said about.

In other news, London crowds are much more respectful than Sydney crowds. No one shoved into me once without apologising. This is unheard of! But poor Abbi did get a shoe full of beer… I guess you can’t have it all.

Hey, that seems like a good way to sum up the Head Automatica performance – it was like getting a shoe full of beer. One moment, you’re blissfully unaware of any impending doom, the next you’re uncomfortable and just want to escape.

Perhaps not the best imagery anyone’s ever come up with, but I am tired, so it’ll have to do.

Music: Olympics, of course.

My pockets hurt

Here follows the tale of my odd weekend. Shenanigans kicked off Friday night as I helped a family friend plan her upcoming holiday (with all this trip planning going on I’ll soon be able to start my own touring company.) For some inexplicable reason I was craving a martini but after packing out the entire liquor cabinet, I came to the sad conclusion that we didn’t have vermouth. (I did find a bottle of tequila though – no idea where that came from.) So instead I made kamikazes which is great, yes, but not really what I wanted. First world problems, people. Fell into bed sometime after 1.

On Saturday morning I woke up with that parched, awful feeling in my mouth that I always have when I’ve had too much vodka. I’d have happily slept for another eight hours, but instead I dragged myself entirely unwillingly out of bed and into the city. I’d made plans to go comic book shopping with a uni friend and I definitely couldn’t cancel again (did that the last two Saturdays.) Anyway, after comics were acquired I dragged him along to Darling Harbour so I could stock up at the British lolly shop and then decided that, you know, I could really still do with that martini. Oh dear. A couple of martinis later, we found ourselves laughing our way through Conan The Barbarian (just...don’t. Trust me. All the action in this film is driven by a girl falling down a hole.) What even. I finally got home to more assisted trip planning and rugby. Fell into bed sometime after midnight.

On Sunday morning I woke up with that parched, awful feeling in my mouth that I always have when I’ve had too much vodka. I’d have happily slept for another nine hours, but instead I had to help my mum move all the living room furniture. This took an inordinate amount of time. All I wanted was a nap, do you think I got it? Short answer – no. I shambled my way through some chores, sat in the sunshine and read Deadpool: Suicide Kings (new obsession alert!), took Oreo for a walk until I finally had to concede defeat and drag myself entirely unwillingly out of the house and to the Roundhouse. I honestly kept forgetting about this gig. You Me At Six were co-headlining with We The Kings and I, for one, was rather put out when I discovered YM@6 would be playing last. It’s a Sunday night people, I wanted to go home early! Sigh.

As I waited for my gig buddy to arrive, I watched the crowd massing (doors were late, as per usual), quietly sang ‘Teenagers’ to myself and valiantly resisted the urge to smack at least five of them in the face with a serving tray. Self-control, I have it. I’m getting too old for this stuff. A shared my sentiments so it’s no surprise that we spent most of WTK’s set outside commenting on a) the noise, b) the disturbing demin cut-off shorts trend (especially with the black ankle socks – what the hell is that about?), c) the prevalence of underaged smoking, and d) how easily pleased teenagers are. Would that I were 17 again and just so happy to be at a gig that I didn’t care every song sounded the same or that everyone kept squealing cause the lead singer kept saying he wanted to marry them. Oh wait, no, that’d be horrible. Get off my lawn! Man, I’m so jaded.

Anyway, back on point, I don’t think I’ll be bothering with We The Kings in the future. It felt like the set just dragged on for aaaaaages and while Travis clearly knows how to target his audience, it’s also very clear that I am not that audience. That ship has well and truly sailed. And I’m fine with that, there are plenty of pop-punk bands who do it better. On the other hand, You Me At Six was electric and Josh’s ridiculously adorable smile made up for the fact that we’d spent three hours waiting in some sort of teen purgatory where boys with McAvoy-blue eyes asked if they could kiss me and girls fought over Travis Clark in the bathroom (I wish I was joking).

It’s so easy to get swept away by a band when you can tell that they absolutely love what they do. Every time the crowd sang back, I thought Josh would combust with happiness. It’s enough to make anyone grin like an idiot. They put on a fun, solid set (despite the rather shit sound) and I’m glad A convinced me to go. Even if it does mean I woke up this morning with that parched, awful vodka-induced feeling in my mouth for the third day in a row.

What is my life, seriously. It was meant to be a quiet, uneventful weekend. Now I’m yawning so much I fear I am in danger of swallowing my own head. Something tells me this is not going to be the most productive of work days.

Music: Trade mistakes - Panic! At The Disco

Get off my lawn

Where do my weekends go? Actually, where does time go in general? I have none of it. If you see some, kindly send it my way.

So close to being on holiday and yet I am filled with horror at how much I have to do before then. Breathe, remember to breathe. Tonight alone, I need to draw another 2,000 words out of my hat - magically naturally - so I can have the full amount necessary for my meeting on Wednesday. I also kind of wanted to finish my editing assignment before I left, but that hasn't happened. Alas, alack, all that.

Not to mention all the people I owe emails - I will get round to it before I go, promise!

So what have I been doing with my time? Well, Friday night I saw Jimmy Eat World with L at the Enmore. It was her Christmas gift, and I think it was a lovely gig. They're really one of those bands that just nail those anthemic sing-a-long songs, and they played all my faves so I was happy. This is the first time I'd seen them in a smaller, indoor setting and it was so much better. Some bands are just not cut out for festivals or stadiums. It just loses too much in translation.

While the band delivered a great set, the crowd annoyed me to no end. We seemed to be in the crazy photo section, and if one more person stuck an iphone up to take a group photo, I was going to shove it down their throat. Also, people who talk during sets are going to a very special circle of hell. And why pray tell are people constantly walking around? What are you doing? Where are you going? Stand still, dammit! If you want to stand around drinking beer and yelling at each other, why pay $70 to see a band? Stay home, turn up their album really loud, and you can do that for free. And yes, I realise this makes me a jaded, grumpy old lady but still....get off my lawn! Or in this case, get out of my gig! And people are so rude. So fucking rude. You expect some pushing and shoving while at gigs, naturally, but I'm talking about common courtesy. Apparently it doesn't exist anymore. Bah.

Anywho. Busy, if generally unproductive weekend. Got hair done cause I couldn't stand the thought of a two week holiday (and holiday snaps) with the coppery mess it faded to. I like the violet hair, it's dark and subtle and you know, nice. But I do wish it had more of a kick to it. I got so many comments on the red, it was so much bolder, and I miss that. Vanity, I know. But anyway, it's pretty again, that's the main thing. I dropped by R's as well, watched The Princess and the Frog which is a lot like an updated Beauty & The Beast with ethnic diversity and accents. It wasn't bad, but I don't know if I was really that into it. We also watched another episode of My So-Called Life, which I am pretty much insisting on watching every time I'm over so I can shamelessly drool over Mr. Leto. Well, I say shamelessly, but it's really not. It's filled with lots and lots of shame. But oh well.

I spent today shopping with mum and spending money I don't have. Bought new jeans for the trip, and a cheap little digital camera that I can take places when the SLR won't make it in. Mostly, I just spent money on horse-riding gear. I've got some proper stuff now, including boots and jodhpurs. I figure as this is something I genuinely enjoy, I might as well do it properly. It's good exercise, gets me outside, and I have a great time. I'm pretty committed to it as my new hobby - only took me 23 years to wise up to it.

Next three days are going to be insane at work. Too much to do. Don't even want to think about it. I'll be working late tomorrow and Tuesday to try and get through it. Wednesday, off to uni. Thursday morning, bright and early flight to Christchurch. Aaaaand, exhale.

Music: Hallelujah - Leonard Cohen

Braaaaaains

I cannot get this song out of my head. It's stuck on some sort of loop. It's starting to drive me a little mad.



Music: Blue jeans & white t-shirts - The Gaslight Anthem

I’m breaking habits, you don’t want to know

If I am required to stand for longer than an hour at any point during the rest of this week, my legs will mutiny. Just so you know.

Right then, last night I headed to The Metro to see The Gaslight Anthem. Heading in after work and grabbing a quick bite aside, I arrived just before 6.30. There was already a line of about 20 people and so, in true rock n roll fashion, it was time to stand around and wait. Doors were only scheduled for 7.30, and it was sprinkling on and off, leading to much shuffling under awnings and slouching against stage doors. Inadvertent brush with fame when guitarist Alex Rosamilia materialised (seemingly out of thin air, but I am very unobservant when I sink into my mindless waiting state) to be let in. So there you go kids, if you’re lining up, it might as well be right at the stage door.

They let us into the foyer around 7, so it wasn’t too bad. I was immediately annoyed by the couple behind me, but later I would join forces with obnoxious boy so we could be united in our obnoxiousness…cause let’s face it, with all my eye rolling, I suppose I’m not much better. I think I’m just, well, tired of this whole scene business. Long gone are the days where I’d walk into a gig and feel an immediate sense of connection, homecoming, whatever. Everyone says the same things, has the same arguments, discusses the same topics every time and it just gets so stale and repetitive. As soon as you identify a “scene”, you’re doomed to this. It inevitably becomes a caricature of itself. But I’m just jaded, I know. Anyway, I don’t come for the people so if they want to stand around discussing the downward spiral of AFI from Decemberunderground – because really, we haven’t heard that before – that’s their business.

When they finally let us in, I managed to get a nice little second row spot just off centre stage. Waited what felt like an age, exchanging small talk with strangers and suppressing aforementioned eye rolling, all leading up to the explosion that is Foxy Shazam. I spent a lot of time thinking about how I would describe them later – the stage show is a bit like The Matches meets Mindless Self Indulgence meets Gogol Bordello (last one mostly because of the sheer randomness) – but Brian Fallon perhaps put it best when he described them as “if James Brown and Freddie Mercury had a baby.” It’s just the craziest thing. At first I thought I’d stumbled into Scott Pilgrim, but it’s almost impossible not to get swept away by the sheer exuberance of it all. There’s much posturing, jumping about, handstanding, rolling around, mic abuse, ridiculous stories, twitching, you name it. Their keyboardist was playing while standing on his head at one point and I think every band member had vocalist Eric clambering on them at one stage or another during the set. I’m not sure how they measure up on record, but live it is one hell of a good time. I think you’d be hard pressed to find another one of them around – check it out for yourself.

The Gaslight Anthem took the stage to huge cheers from the sold out crowd, and it was hard to decide who was happier, the crowd or the band. They were grinning most of the night and were just obviously having such a good time that there was no way you couldn’t love them. It’s always great to be in the front of a crowd when it’s a band you adore because all the other die-hards are going nuts around you, and it’s just such an intoxicating atmosphere. And of course you miss nothing onstage – the looks, the smiles, the nudges, the silent mouthed ‘oops’ when a chord is dropped. Win. There was a brilliant energy that thrummed through the place, from the dancing to the loud sing-a-longs to Brian’s meandering stories that start with sharks and ripcords and end with girls breaking your heart.

The hour and a half set was a nice balance between old and new, including a brand new song that I’m already utterly in love with. The drums on it, hmpfh. I’m trying to remember what the set list was exactly but it’s just too much awesome for me to compute right now. I don’t know what it is about this band, but they just hit something in me that nothing else does. While the emotional resonance when listening to their albums vary greatly, seeing them live was nothing but an all out amazingly fun time. I think musically they measure up pretty much flawlessly to the albums, and whatever they may lack in polish, they more than make up in heart. I’ll take that any day of the week. They ended with a fantastic cover of Baba O'Riley that, from where I was standing anyway, took the roof off the place.

By the end of the night I was completely hoarse and my cheeks ached from smiling. Just love. In fact, when I emerged onto the street, I was genuinely surprised to find it was 11pm. I could have happily stayed for another hour, or two, or many. But as soon as the distraction was gone, and my brain remembered my body again, I started paying for it almost immediately. Worth every aching muscle. Not so sure whether I’ll agree when my hearing goes, but right now nothing could make me happier. Short term goals, people.

More photos of the gig here - see if you can spot me :P

Edit: Set list here

Music: Bulls in Brooklyn - The Academy Is...

Want every last little light in New York City

Now, Soundwave. Where to begin?

When I woke up to the soothing sound of rain, things were already looking more promising than last year. I had secured provisions of water and a bag of lollipops, crammed a light jacket and umbrella (and book) into my trusty bag, and organised a ride to Lidcombe station around 11. A train arrived as soon as I got there, and within ten minutes I was shuffling through the gates. Everything worked so well, so smoothly, no major lining up anywhere. Brilliant. They did make me throw out my umbrella however, so that was a bit lame. After all, last year it was our only shade, but thankfully I didn’t actually need it this time. It was also broken, otherwise I’d have been much more annoyed.

So, all things told, I managed to arrive one song into The Starting Line’s set. Stage 3 was in a ‘tent’, hot but out of the glare/rain. I counted that as a win. It was the first time I’d had the chance to see Kenny Vasoli and the guys, and it was easy to see why they have such a die-hard fanbase. When they all cleared out, I moved in and managed to secure a spot at the front for The Gaslight Anthem. It was everything I could possibly have hoped for. I really just adore this band so much. They’re up there with Green Day and Brand New as my all time favourites. The set was hopelessly too short, but as I’m catching their sidewave anyway, I could live with that. The great thing about TGA being on so early was that I already felt like the day had earned its worth, and everything else was just secondary.

So with my minimal expectations already well exceeded, I set off and had a look around to get my bearings and figure out where everything was. It was good circular set-up, and seemed to manage the crowds well-enough. There were a lot of people of course, and even though I knew heaps of people attending, I didn’t see a single one of them. Don’t know why that always surprises me, but it does.

Getting my pop-punk fix, I saw We The Kings on stage 5 next. Their energy was catching, and the crowd were certainly loving it. I was surprised by the strength of Travis’ voice, especially since I have found out that both he and Dan are sick. You couldn’t tell by their performance. I’m a little tired of bands voicing their desire to sleep with everyone (The Maine did this as well), but that’s just me getting old. The crowd still cheered.

By this point, my company texted to alert me to their arrival, and I set off back to stage 3 to intercept them. This failed but led to a funny moment where I was standing around wondering who was covering Sum 41, only to realise it was in fact Sum 41. You just never know. Anyway, figuring I’d meet up with them at some point, it was off to the main stages in the showgrounds to finally see Bullet For My Valentine. Oh Matt Tuck, I love you and your (for some reason rather hilarious) accent. This actually all worked out rather well, as I found M and N waiting when I arrived. They were there purely to watch Thirty Seconds To Mars and wanted to get as close to the stage as possible. Neither had been in a mosh before, and we had to get through almost three hours of headliners in Stone Sour, Primus and Slash. But hey, it’s an experience, and everyone’s gotta mosh sometime. So with vague warnings and telling them to brace themselves, I led the way into the front section. The BFMV fans were clearing out or shuffling left to stage 1, so we got to the front with no trouble.

What followed was an agonisingly long wait. The Primus fans behind us kept yelling at Stone Sour to shut up (quote of the day definitely goes to the dude yelling “You’re not fucking Foreigner!” when they played their new single, cause it was kinda Foreigner-y) and then Primus came on and utterly bewildered us. What IS that? Seriously. I don’t get it at all. So much repetitive noise, it was torture. The most baffling part was how many people were so into it. And they were really, really into it. It nearly broke me. Longest. Set. Ever.

Seeing Slash was pretty cool though, it is Slash after all. Both Sweet Child of Mine and Paradise City went off. The sun had appeared at this point and it was becoming a little uncomfortably warm; a crush had settled into the mosh, including your standard contingent of 16 year old fans who would later be lifted out; and the world’s most annoying couple decided to come jump around and push and shove and generally be those people everyone in the mosh pit hates with the fiery strength of a thousand suns. Now I know that when you’re in the mosh, personal space doesn’t apply and you can’t expect not to be pushed about or whatever, but common courtesy can still apply. And so it is with no shame whatsoever that I say I got a huge thrill when, later, another fed up mosher picked her up and chucked her over the barrier. Her boyfriend had by this time already been removed. They were most probably wasted, and I hope that today she’s suffering from the bazillion bruises my elbow worked very hard to inflict in her ribs and lower back.

Like all things in life, moshing comes with a wall. It eats away at you, and wears at you, but as soon as you get past it, everything clears and you just enjoy it. You just have to get to that point. I drank a ton of water, had even more poured over me, pushed and shoved…and then somehow, not far into 30STM’s set, I found myself having a good time. I can’t remember Jared sounding that much like Billy Corgan the last time I saw them, but he does now. And yes, he still spends more time jabbering away and getting the crowd to sing for him than he actually does, but funnily enough when you’re in the front of that crowd he’s lavishing attention upon, it doesn’t really matter anymore. Some frontmen, like Billie Joe, have the ability to make everyone feel included, regardless of the size of the venue. Jared doesn’t have that ability, and when you’re standing in the back of that gig and he never actually finishes a bloody song when you have, and it’s crass to say I know, paid him to sing, it’s annoying as fuck. But when you’re in the front lines, that’s sort of secondary and it’s just a lot of fun.

It felt like they only did about five songs cause of all the showboating and crowd shenanigans…and I’ve just realised they didn’t even do From Yesterday, my personal favourite, but what the hell (or maybe they did and I just didn’t hear it cause he wasn’t actually singing, anything is possible.) I had zero expectations of them, was just in it for my own warped sense of humour and the spectacle, and on that they certainly delivered. Plus I got to chuck one of those balloons around. Jared, it must be said, is completely off his rocker. And also far too thin – eat a sandwich dude! Anyway, despite the fact that I don’t think he can actually sing live, I found myself defending him at one point. That’s right people, it’s snowing in hell. He also won the award for man most hated by security, hands down. First he encouraged people to clamber on each others shoulders (big no-no), then he encouraged them to crowdsurf to the front if they wanted to be on stage for the last song (even bigger no-no). More people got ejected than they got on stage, and security were looking very harassed. But overall, I actually enjoyed it, and I know this is only cause I expected nothing from them. So I guess we’ve learnt that if you’re going to a 30STM gig, get as close to the front as possible, or don’t bother. Or take your ipod and listen to the songs while watching them perform? Shannon’s very good, he always does his part. As do the others. You sort of forget they’re around.

This gets the biggest write up cause it was the most major thing of the day and memorable too, as my bruises can confirm. I was still damp two hours later. You get so overheated, it’s nice to cool off, but it’s also so unexpected that you’d be standing there minding your own business and suddenly there’s water dripping in your eyes. Ah, the glamourous life of the gig junkie.

Anyway, extracted ourselves for some much needed sugar and time out, before returning for Queens of the Stone Age. Another first for me, so I’m happy with that. Josh Homme’s hair kept distracting me though, it’s so awful. He really looks his age too and I had quite the time convincing everyone that he’s actually younger than Jared Leto (look, say what you want, he looks incredible for a guy turning 40.) I thought the set was great, and hey, they played Burn The Witch which is really all I ask for. M and N decided they’d call it a day, so as they went off, I headed over to catch The Maine on stage 5. The smaller crowd was something of a revelation after the crush of the main stages, and it was a nice way to wind down. Of course the big headliner of the event was Iron Maiden, and I couldn’t end the day without catching sight of such legends – even though Mayday Parade who I love was playing on another stage. I didn’t stay for the whole two hour set, knowing I’d have enough trouble getting up for work as it was. I was home, with absolutely no waiting and no trouble, just after 9.

Overall verdict of the day? So good. So very, very good. It is amazing what a difference a venue (and overcast weather) can make. I’ve never been very appreciative of the Sydney Showgrounds/Olympic Park precinct, all the concrete and epic amounts of walking I’d done at easter shows didn’t seem particularly enticing. But after the horror of Easter Creek, and the logistical problems of Sydney Park, this was a revelation. Why didn’t they just have it here from the start? Everything works. There’s water, and showers, and tons of food. The only horrific line I saw all day was for the ATM, but really, that’s your own fault and could easily be avoided. Not to mention that the easy access to public transport makes it much easier to plan your day.

So, yes! I had a brilliant day, a brilliant weekend and I’ll post up some dodgy camera phone pics with this later. Right now, it's back to writing profiles and attempting to rehydrate myself in prep for tonight *dances off*

Edit: Photos as promised. My phone actually takes the worst photos, but never mind.

Kicking things off with The Gaslight Anthem

We The Kings getting the crowd involved

Self explanatory, really. 

Setting up for Primus. Should have known weirdness would follow.

Placing Jared's little platforms, it's a step up from the infamous 'Leto box', our measure of all grandstanding since our first encounter with his penchant from clambering on things and talking a lot. 

Chilling to Queens of the Stone Age.

The Maine drawing a crowd on Stage 5.

The sun starts to fade over the showgrounds (and QOTSA).

Music: The Queen of Lower Chelsea - The Gaslight Anthem

Rise up and take the power back

On Thursday, Lizzie and I met up to see the illustrious Muse at the Acer Arena. It was, in a word, awesome. They brought their full Resistance tour out and it's always such a treat when bands actually bother to do that - it being such a logistical nightmare to get things to venues and all.

I'll admit that I was rather apprehensive as it started - the big reveal of the platforms was cool and all, but I could not see a piano anywhere. Then they played New Born and I was almost immediately heartbroken at the thought of being deprived this particular thrill. Oh, ye of little faith! I think Lizzie summed it up best really when she said I pulled the most manically happy face the minute Matt hopped on the piano. It's entirely true. I was glee-ing like an idiot. Not that I don't appreciate his musicality in general, everything he does is so effortless, like he was born doing it, like it's an extension of himself. But the piano is just something special.

Overall, it was an excellent set and as always, a fantastic tech show. Lots of lights, lasers, confetti, smoke, the whole lot. Moving platforms, insane visuals, rotating drum kit. It's just a great set-up all round. It's so odd how they don't really speak during their sets at all, there's very little verbal interaction with the crowd. Matt said maybe all of three sentences, which is two more than the last time I saw them, and again Dom did most of the general chitchat - even then significantly less than any other band I've seen. It's extremely minimal. Yet Matt still gets the crowd to respond to him, so he clearly has the whole enigmatic frontman thing down. Maybe he just hypnotised everyone with his reflective tinfoil suit. It's just interesting in comparison with some of other bands at the same level.

It was a great gig and I completely enjoyed it. I'm still amazed that three people (well four if you count the guy lurking in the background) can make so much noise. Speaking of noise, Biffy Clyro opened and tore it up. I did not expect them to be that loud. Brilliant set though, I was very pleased. They're doing a show at the Factory tonight but I had other commitments, so I'm glad I got a chance to see them. I'd say the aussie weather wasn't agreeing with their scottish sensibilities, but then Simon is always running around shirtless anyway. So yes. Good gig. Great night. Go team.

Warning: Matt's reflective clothing can cause blindness.

Edit this setlist | More Muse setlists

I'm in quite the chipper mood. Things took a charming turn. Now off to book club. I have sangria and dessert. I am clearly the best guest everrrr.

Music: A praise chorus - Jimmy Eat World

Mood: Pleased