Hooray.

So we went to the Grammies.

Far out.

Here’s a quick run down.

Worst bits:

Getting shut out during a commercial break during Kanye’s performance.
I’ve only been waiting ten years to see Daft Punk after all.

Kid Rock? WTF? That was the most ordinary piece of car crash television ever (aside from the majority of my career).

Best bits:
Aretha Franklin’s amazing voice (and even bigger dress. Oh my god, it was made parachute material and not much parachute left over)

Tina Turner. She’s 69 and slamming still.
Beyonce. The woman is a perfection machine.

Watching the ENORMOUS African American body guards of all the rappers come and go during the ad breaks. These guys would need three seats on the plane. I’m serious. I’m talking 200kg guys. Crazy. And they wore tailored suits, too. They must use Aretha Franklin’s tailor.

Hands down, absolute brilliance from Morris Day and the Time.
Oh thank you, thank you thank you.
What a triumphant return.
Here’s where I first loved them:
(It’s from the film Purple Rain, one of the many and fabulously crap films from Prince, but I still love them).

I interviewed Panic At the Disco today.
I was mightily impressed with the exquisite musicianship of their new album.
Truly superb.

I was also truly blown away with how incredibly talented, friendly and young they were.
I think all of them were born after I started high school.

I was also super-stoked that they were fully into Silverchair’s last two albums, which you can REALLY hear on their new record.

All this listening to that kind of music gave me a hankering for what it sounded like for me the first time around.

Behold.

Nick Cave in 1979, at Twenty Two, being as fabulously morose and hot and amazing and just great.
I fuckin’ love this song.
Please enjoy, before emo, (*not that PATD are emo, though it all reminded me of Nick) there was always Nick Cave, firstly with the Boys Next Door, then The Birthday Party, Then The Bad Seeds, and sometimes The Dirty Three and Kylie Minogue (I’m sure I’ve missed a few).

Oh how I love this song.

One of the best anti-love songs ever, ever written.
I hope Brandon et al. cover it soon.

xx aa

Today I was able to set something straight.
Something that has been troubling me for over a year.

Two Arias ago, I was at an after party. It was about 3am and I had been partaking in the complimentary beverages rather vigorously for a good eight hours. (The awards and the drinking actually start around five pm). So I’m at this after party, in the basement of some club somewhere and it’s dark and loud and my friends are there and everyone’s a little mashed. I had a fish-eye camera with me, and I had been taking Black and White film photos all night of us being silly.
So Jesse McCartney is hanging in the corner with us, and he starts chatting up my friend. No biggie, I think he’s a nice enough guy, and my friend was into him in a kind of interesting way, so all good.
Anyway, Jesse reaches into his pocket and lit up a cigarette. At that point, I turned around, shoved the camera in his face and foolishly snapped a shot.
The look I got from him (and his security guy) said it all. He kind of looked at me with this disappointed and broken look that said “Man, it’s 3am, I’ve been on my feet all fuckin day getting screamed at by a squillion people, I’m jet lagged, I’m over it, I find one girl who won’t squeal in my face when I talk to her and relax enough to have a quiet beer in a corner and light up a cheeky dart, and you take my photo? Duuude!”.
I felt like the stupidest, biggest punisher in the world.
Even my friend (who’s in a band called The Punisherz) looked at me with eyes that said “you’re a fuckstick”.

He tried to look at my camera, thinking it was digital (and maybe hitting the delete button) and looked even more quizzically at me when he realised I was shooting film. I tried to explain to him that the photo wouldn’t go anywhere and that I was really sorry, except it came out like “Shhoo shoouldn’t worrymaaan eeeyyy wunna publussssh it”. Not quite as eloquently as I’d hoped.

I went home soon after thinking I’d made enough of a smashed up fool of myself for one night.

CUT TO:
Today, and Take 40 is in Los Angeles, backstage at the 2008 Grammy awards, and we got a chance to chat with Jesse.
After the few regular run of the mill questions, I clenched my toes, and launched into my apology.
The fine young man was gracious enough to accept and said he may even buy me a digital camera so that when I punish people in the future I can delete the pic then and there.
I was so nervous that my hands were sweaty when I shook to say thanks and goodbye.
I haven’t punished anyone since, and doubt I will ever again.

Thanks Jesse McCartney for being a gentleman.
x aa

One of this country’s finest ever musicians passed away this week. Jackie Orszaczky was a legendary Bass Player, vocalist, arranger, band leader, and all around smooth cat. As a bass player, when watching him, my mind was completely blown at his every move. He played piccolo bass, jazz bass, funk bass, you-name-it bass, with the best in the world. Truly, a master at his craft and nothing short of a legend.
He was dearly loved by the tight-knit Australian muso fraternity, and will be a gaping hole in the scene for years to come. Though you may not have known who he was, you know records he’s worked on. If you hadn’t digitally downloaded every song you own, I’d ask you to look at the liner notes to some of your favourite Australian bands’ records and find his name, but they’re lost on anonymously named MP3s by now.

So today, please take a moment to reflect on someone you know that is unsung in the public eye, but a true hero nonetheless, and acknowledge them for their awesomeness.

x aa
(he’s the super-cool guy in the beret to the left of frame strumming a piccolo bass. outtasight)