novembs and steelworkers
here is a video of the novemberists from a show at the cb fudge co in, well, november of 2012. it was shot by jenni welsh c/o caper radio, and edited by ashley harding. check out some of ashley's awesome photos here. she's been photoing some recent shows, including the novembs and two yellow sets, and the results are awesome.
also i recently wrote a poem thing about steelworkers hall, the one-time all ages venue in sydney that is now a sears department store. walking in there last year brought me so many weird sad feelings that i almost had a recent parcel delivered to a distant sears in coxheath to avoid having to go in there. but that was a silly waste of gas, so i did it, but got all stirred up again and wrote this. it's weird, you don't always realize the impact a place can have on you til it changes, or is suddenly gone -- i always thought it was just a dirty old hall, and looking back it's one of the homiest places i can think of. i bet the people who owned it never knew it meant anything to any of us. anyway, i posted it to facebook and some people enjoyed it, so i thought i'd leave it here as well. maybe one day i'll turn it into a song.
Last summer I bought a dress online
It was just something to go over a bathing suit; I’m scared of getting burnt
And when it came I had to go and pick it up.
I parked in the lot where we smoked and played hackey sack
I walked past the railing where harry hurt his knee skating
And pulled open the door that never quite closed all the way.
I winced at the big grey handle and the sound of the metal bar on the second door and
I walked into the room where my younger self stood.
She would never have worn a dress; even bathing suits were too girly
She swam in shorts and a black band t-shirt.
I walked across the beigy grey-flecked tiles
Dirty, not from mud and cigarette ashes on the bottom of 50 chucks,
but streaked with parallel lines of rubber from wheeling the fridges and ranges in.
The stage is a washing machine showcase – their chrome handles sparkle at eye level
You can just imagine the clothes whirling through the polished glass portholes.
In the small room, the green floor was carpeted over and lined with shelves.
The floor where Isaac stood
and sang into the mic as Slowcoaster set up,
The background in that picture of Melissa.
I got my stupid dress, and the counter girl didn’t understand
Why picking up this particular parcel should make me so sad
Or why next time I’ll be angry or sullen.
Who wouldn’t be stoked to get some duvet clips?
The pinnacle of adult life is luxurious bedclothes.
Maybe one day we can turn all our music places into stores
And we can shop til we’re so tired and thirsty
That we line up in the drive-thru for shitty coffee to sustain our shopping
Until the lineup spills onto the street and we block the traffic going somewhere else.