Kraftwerk

So this poignant little laser light hit me in the head the other day. The phone rings and suddenly someone on the other line chooses to remind me of just exactly who I am and what I do. I guess when you travel a good deal and have a drink or two people who call choosing to remind you of things makes you a bit apprehensive. I'll always remember the wise words of Tupac Shakur.

"Always looking for a payback, some punk that roughed up way back."

EEEK! Another fine reason I chose to be a lover and not a fighter. So said person is ringing to tell me he hired me for a job. Admittedly he did text me the day before and told me to keep a certain day free. When I asked why his response was, "Look, if it was any of your business I'd let you know. Until then, just shut up." Somehow, some way that translated into, "Hey mate, there are some prominent musicians coming to town and we are covering the gig." I still have yet to figure out how it translated but it did, now just shut up.

And so goes another fantastic dj booking. Global Gathering Festival is hosting Kraftwerk (the godfathers of electronic music), as well as Dj Sneak and a few other choice folks. This is set to become a crown jewel in the music photography collection so stay tuned for some bits and bobs from the show in a few weeks.

Something (not) So Funny

So I was reserving this space for a bit of humor. I mean who wants to just gripe, or moan, or wank on about the state of the world? Our depressing economy? A presidential election? I wise someone once said, "It is easier to say what you don't like than what you do." Oh so true.

So I have been meandering through the mire of stagnation... or sitting still for those less dramatic, and it seems to get tougher by the day. There is something to be said for free wheeling through life. It seems as though most of the modern ails I appear to have cropped up only because I stopped moving. Now that I am still it makes them worse. Sometimes things are viewed much easier in passing. Like in the back of a taxi while passing a wreck. I am not sure that my being attached to this scene is of any help to said scene!

I live right outside of King's Cross in Sydney and for all the travelers out there you know it can be the biggest scary smile you have ever seen on a weekend. I pass through it sometimes and just look in disgust. How could society become this manky? But then, I have a few saturday night beverages on the other side at the Darlo Bar, a personal fav, and end up walking back through to get home. It always seems to be more alive and colorful... as if maybe it is looking at me with same eyes saying how could he be that manky?!

Maybe I am just worried that the burbs have eyes! Alas though they do not. Thankfully at least the week has shed a little light my way as I will be photographing Kraftwerk when they touch down in Sydney in 4 weeks. Music always brings the week back up.

Unusual Headache

So my mate Damien says that we are going to see the movie, "The End to Poverty?" as part of the make poverty history day. He was a few minutes late so I found myself in a pub with a much awaited Guinness in front of me watching the cricket. The split second did pass where I realised I could just stay there, sun coming in the window, a beer I had waited weeks for, and no doubt a proper smashing of the Indians by the Aussies.

Not so.

Pulled from the pub I found myself out front of the theatre, cigarette in hand, contemplating if I was in the wrong for attending a movie like this wearing a man bag that I clearly remember purchasing in a hidden room of a dodgy mall in Malaysia... undoubtedly produced from child labor. Of course halfway through that thought Mr. Mandla appeared with some crack about beer and fags and I found myself being whisked in.

Somewhere in the beginning of this whole process I was standing up with the whole theatre reciting a poverty pledge which was to be recorded in the Guinness Book of World Records. This was not only a first for me, being in the book that is, but also a stern reminder of my favoured beers old slogan, "Guinness for Health!"

That's where the fun ended. By no means am I going to belittle the poverty movement, it is a serious issue and does need everyone's attention... but holy begeezus brainwarp. Your mind just shrivels up by the end of the movie. With so many raw, real, and generally depressing facts laid on you there is no choice but shrinkage. My head hurt from facts that no one person can change. To put this in context, I don't get headaches. Maybe after that 10th coffee of the day at 3 o'clock when I know its my own damn fault and I just need to drink water but that's about it. For those of you that might have caught Massive Attacks 100th Window tour where they used the giant, stage sized screen to pummel world military facts into your head so that you just left a mental mush, that's what it was like. In essence they were just laying it down for us, telling it like it is but, well... IT is bad, and it hurts... and you should see for yourself. If that doesn't pry you out of your seats, which most likely doesn't, it was also an official selection at Cannes this year.

Inform yourselves. Make your own decisions... I hope you don't get a headache too.

www.makepovertyhistory.org

Stan Getz Had It.

The question is where did it come from? I have spent the day walking around this city trying to muster up the conviction to believe that what I was doing was actually some form of job hunting. I know it was, I just find it hard to convince myself. All my life I have walked to find the answers but more importantly I have found that if you walk you end up in more of the right places at the right times.

And then there are days like this where no amount of walking will relinquish any answers, clues, or even a small hint as to what in the hell you are actually supposed to be doing with yourself. Overcast was not only the sky. So I turn to good old Stan Getz to ease the malaise I find myself in.

Settling down, most likely, was never meant to be easy. I just don't think people talk about that part of it, especially not in some kind of infomercial way while having pints at the pub. I can hear myself now, "I walked for days and days, the city was like a vast desert wasteland I couldn't over come. And then it hit me!" Who tells stories like that?! Most likely me when I am older and more of a wanker than currently prescribed to be.

I spent a lot of times, good and bad, walking the world's streets looking for some kind of resolution to something. One time in Singapore I was slightly tipsy, my good mate Jason and I heading down these little lane ways onto our next adventure. For some reason a 7-11 was calling my name. Amidst the laughter I stepped in for what was most likely a tobacco related purchase. (what goes better with alcohol?!) The song playing inside then hit me like a bamboo rod someone had been holding back waiting to let go of just for me. Another memory dredged up of something gone wrong long ago. While it didn't ruin the night it did however mean that this memory would be stuck with me for the evening, ready to reappear the minute the conversation went quiet, the glass empty, or the queue at the bar was just 30 seconds longer than I wished. I still can't shake that memory.

Moments like this where nothing is really wrong, just a bit intangible and confusing like a coarse memory, that is today. There is always tomorrow right? Maybe tomorrow I'll be more settled. Maybe tomorrow I'll be employed. Or maybe I'll just have an even deeper grasp of the subtle nuances of daytime programing.

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What happens when you stop moving?

A good question no?

The thought does scare me a bit but what can you do. This year sees me settling down in Sydney in search of things I can't quite put my finger on. Don't get me wrong, when settling down a city of 4.28 million people is a good start. Tons to do and see, plenty of niches and cracks to fall into. Forgive me for saying so, but this doesn't feel completely right. Look I have always loved Sydney as a stop over, a small break, or even a week away. This city is pretty serious on the scale crawl to breaking land speed records. Travel has taught me that not all cities are meant for everyone, I love Paris, but it still holds more bad memories than good ones.
Needless to say this little hiccup in time here in Sydney is destined to have some of those adult like leaning curves. Domesticity is not something you pick up over night and I find most days I feel like a dog allowed in who is knowingly going to pee on the carpet but has no way of stopping it. Couple that with the almighty job hunt in this lack luster global economy and one might come to see why at least 3 cups of coffee are necessary to make it through the day. Where does it all lead is the big question, what happens at the end just seems a bit large at the moment.
So all these years that have passed I swore I would kick start this blog. Seems I was too busy traveling. Most of my traveling stories rank up there on some weird Tucker Max level which do not always make them conducive to randomly sharing. I guess that's what happens when you live for the night and photograph those that do.
Bring on the hindsight and I'll see what bits I can dredge up for you. It all begins here, it has to go somewhere, might as well do the driving.