Random Play by Graham Reid

I was about to write a lengthy lament for loss of the Long Lunch. And it would have started like this because it was all true . . . : “So I said to her (via e-mail of course) that I was disappointed that the Long Lunch had all but disappeared and she replied (via e-mail) that she was in PR in the Nineties and was having terrific Long Lunches. But everyone then spoke of how great the Long Lunch was in the Eighties and she was disappointed to have missed that era . . .

“And I said (via e-mail) that yes, I was around for both and they were all great days but now . . .”

And so on.

Briefly I’ll tell you where this was going because I got bored myself with the idea, but my argument went like this . . .

People don’t do the Long Lunch these days. Not because they are more busy (I was writing pages and pages for the Herald every week which didn’t include interview time and those hours writing up Listings which a 12-year old could have done), but that many people have lost the ability to plan their downtime.

Back in the Long Lunch eras we’d work like galley slaves for days knowing that meant we could check out at noon on a Thursday or a Monday (at least three times a month, all year -- not just in the weeks before Christmas) because all the necessary drudgery had been done.
We worked so we didn’t have to stay at work. And all the work got done.

Today that doesn’t happen. Many think they have to be “at work”.

I blame e-mail. Many today feel they have to answer the damnable thing immediately (think, just how many e-mails are so urgent they can‘t wait a few hours?) and they get attached to their screen.

They watch and reply to every frittering e-mail, trawl the Net or update their Facebook page, forward jokes and banal video clips and so on. What a crashing bore -- and an inadequate substitute for life.

There is life beyond the screen and it usually happens over a Long Lunch where people exchange ideas and bonhomie, stories and information. They are sociable occasions.

Don’t kid yourself kid, exchanging birthday wishes with strangers on Facebook ain’t being part of a “social network”.

Anyway, I was also going to say that many people today fear being face-to-face with others (like, so totally not used to it) so the idea of a Long Lunch is anathema to them. Those people I feel sorry for. They probably believe they have 724 friends because Facebook tells them they have.

And they don’t have the stories or off-line experiences to keep up their end of a conversation . . .

And so went my tedious Grumpy Old Man Rant, largely because I have enjoyed so few examples of the Long Lunch this year because of The Recession ™ and people being Busy.

Poor time management in most cases, fear of human contact (how can PR people not want to do a Long Lunch), lack of money (heard of split-the-bill?) and . . .

Oh and blah-blah more-such-nonsense from me.
But you should have heard me talk about this over a hilarious Long Lunch the other day. And they all agreed with me -- because over a Long Lunch that's what you do.

You agree, you swap stories about previous Long Lunches (so you need to do them to you have something for the next one) and you tell anecdotes (but never mundane gossip because it is disrepectful and the province of the shallow, that’s the Unstated Protocol).

You also don’t Drink Too Much. You always drink Exactly The Right Amount.

Anyway the season for such things has now gone -- and my fear is that with The Recession ™ they might be gone for a while.
Pity.

Irregardless (as they say in The Sopranos) I hope you have a wonderful Christmas and New Year.

For those who like music in their lives I have indulged myself at Music From Elsewhere and posted what I consider the 40 best albums of the year of those I heard (never heard Bon Iver, can’t comment) -- and I heard many hundreds. Honestly.

In a way that’s what I do -- because I work at home beside a CD player/turntable. I wish you could too.

Others are well read, I am well listened.
(Oh, and there are a couple of excellent DVDs posted and a very good rock biography -- all discerning gifts for Christmas, perhaps?)

Elsewhere might be the only place where the best music of 2008 means a kora player from Mali sits alongside mainstream rock acts, obscure alt.country, camp glam-rock, baroque pop, an album in te reo and . . .

Just so much more. You’d need a Very Long Lunch to take it all in. But you have time.
It is that brief window in the year when we can kick back and consider life, love, music, literature and the whole damn thing.

I sincerely hope you have had a good year and that 2009 treats you even more kindly.

Next year though, put aside time for a Long Lunch.

You -- and your off-line friends -- won’t regret it.

Me te aroha nui ki a koutou katoa

As with most people I know, we were happy to see this new government doing something/anything so quickly -- and then viewed with alarm just what it was they were doing so quickly.

Others have already commented on that, so I won’t -- but have you noticed how the current political climate allows politicians and vested interest groups to rack up the hype and energy, and piggyback the mood of bustling busy-ness?

Everything suddenly has to be done, like . . . NOW!!!

Well, I’m just like sooo totally over that one -- and am certainly suspicious about how urban-Auckland projects now all have the spectre of them having to be completed "in time for the 2011 Rugby World Cup” (TM) hanging over them like that sword of the Dame of Cleves . . . or whatever that Irish patron saint of manic urgency is called.

We live near Eden Park and, credit where it is due, we've had very little if any interruption to our lives with the building programme there. It isn’t even that noisy and we have observed no trucks rumbling down our street. This is all good and although we are hoping to do a house-swap with someone in the south of France or Italy for the period of the Cup (offers anyone?) I’m very pleased things are moving along so well.

I hope the Cup goes well, I genuinely do.

And while I still wonder -- as do many of my smart friends who follow the money -- just how this renovation will be paid for once the rugby crowds have gone home (and please don’t tell me family-friendly stadium rock acts like Sir Paul McCartney again) it does seem excellent progress is being made. Everything is on schedule according to those building it -- so this is all good news, right?

Well, seemingly not. Because apparently a problem may occur when a consent application is made for various things like the temporary stands, pedestrian access and so on.

Now from where I sit it is only right that the usual civic protocols be observed in this matter and local residents be able to have their say, especially about the creation of a new walkway (which involves houses being demolished) and also the loss of public space that was promised.

These seem fair issues to be discussing at the consent hearing and I note that Eden Park Neighbours Association chairman Mark Donnelly said he doubted the community would try to prevent the issue of temporary seating going through. But that these other matters do deserve discussion.
Gosh, doesn’t that seems almost unreasonably reasonable.

This has come up because suddenly -- despite everything proceeding on schedule I remind you, and only the possibility of delays in the hearing -- the Rugby World Cup Minister Murray McCully is banging on about maybe over-riding public processes because the Redevelopment Board is concerned that appeals could bog down the approval process.

So McCully is hyping up the drama by saying the redevelopment may not be achieved in time for the Cup games, and that this was a nasty shock for an incoming minister. He also said the PM was concerned.

McCully is talking about giving serious consideration to legislating to allow for some fast-tracking (or sidestepping around) due process.

Okay, now hang on a minute, mate. People in whose best interest it is to ram this development through have only said they are concerned at delays -- and they would say that, wouldn’t they?

McCully told the Herald “I want to fix the problem first, then point the finger of blame later.”

Huh?
What problem?

As far as I can tell there is no “problem“, just a vague concern by those with a very specific vested interest. And what’s with this “finger of blame” thing? The job is proceeding, no one has yet said they are going to be wilfully obstructive when it comes to the consent hearings -- and in fact Neighbours Association chairman Donnelly seemed pretty moderate in his comments, right?

This is an old trick by a hyperventilating McCully: create a sense of urgency and give people only one option. We gunna legislate!

We saw this when the clownish idea for a waterfront stadium was suddenly dumped on Auckland by That Other Guy. (Do we need to mention egress? Sixty thousand people leaving the place at the same time and not dispersing in different directions. Yep, that‘ll work!)

Anyway, this current drama is, on the face of it, a fancifully concocted state of fear coupled with emergency. A crisis is coming down fast so we need legislation and huff huff huff . . .

Okay, these are early days for this government and I guess it was inevitable there would be some testosterone-fuelled excitement. But this one seems rather ill-placed and ill-considered.

Time for Mr McCully to breathe through his nose I think. And for the rest of us to look hard at just how this notion of “urgency” -- and the blackmail of the Rugby World Cup -- is being artificially hyped in any number of projects.

Sorry, not buying that.

Finally: Lotsa new music and stuff at Elsewhere, notably about Frank Zappa, who died 15 years ago this month and is still one of the least understood characters in rock culture. Nice footage of him playing a bicycle. Oh, and there's Paul McCartney like you’ve probably never heard him.
There are also newly posted essays and overviews of rock, jazz and Elsewhere musicians and much more.

Next week I’m picking my Best of Elsewhere 2008 albums. And I’m encouraging people to look through the couple of hundred very diverse albums posted at Music From Elsewhere (go back to page 21) and, using the Post A Comment link, tell me what they think their three best were. Easy.

Subscribers who do so are in to win A Major Bloody Big Prize -- but anyone can have a go. Although if you want to subscribe (it’s free, as the best things in life are) to be in to win . . .

Enjoy. And breathe through your nose.
You have until, if not the 2011 Rugby World Cup, then at least until Sunday night . . .

I honestly thought that the new Keanu film The Day The Earth Stood Still was the worst movie I had seen in decades, then last night we saw Australia.

Far be it from me to be a spoiler -- and please go see it, if you must -- but we thought it the most trite, sentimental, predictable, cornball, overblown epic ever. And I’ve seen some clunkers from the Fifties -- which stand up better for their sheer camp value.

About 10 minutes in when Hugh Jackman gets under a bush shower in a scene that looks like a commercial for a new shower gel with gay appeal -- and Nicole eyes him with the kind of cliched shock that only an English gentlewoman can muster -- I turned to Megan and said, “Can this get any worse?”

It did. For another couple of hours. And then some. (Tip: take a packed lunch.)

It also comes with a patina of A Very Serious Issue as it bookends the marathon with something about the Stolen Generations. Insulting, but nice to see Jackman desegregate a pub just by being steel-eyed. If only MLK and Mandela had thought of this approach.

I think Australia is a truly awful film on every level -- it’s a rare one when you can not only predict the next line but also how the next scene will be staged and shot -- but as I say, don’t let me spoil it for you. You might even like the Impossibly Cute And Obligatory Kid (The Day The Earth Stood Still has one too) and the sentimental use of The Wizard of Oz. You might even think the characters who are drawn with cartoon simplicity (bad man, wise Aboriginal etc) and the appallingly bad matte painting of the scenes in Darwin are deliberate and therefore delightfully kitsch.

This film was expected to bring droves of tourists to the Outback and Darwin (I’ve been, you should go despite the movie, it’s worth it) and although it’s early days that looks like it might not happen as the film could tank at the box office in the US and Oz amidst indifferent reviews. There are hate sites about Kidman (cruel and unnecessary I think, she will have to live with this film and that should be punishment enough).

Oddly enough director Baz Luhrmann undersells the spectacular Outback aside from a couple of chopper fly-over scenes. Maybe he was saving the footage for the ad campaign Tourism Australia got him to do for around A$50 million. Might be a case of the ads being better than the film.

Anyway, I started to think about what an epic called New Zealand might look like. Given our “cinema of unease” history I see it panning out like this.

It is the late 19th century and Lady Jane Champion from Rutland has to rush to New Zealand where her husband Vincent has been injured in an accident while breaking in land near Wardville on what was Maori land.

The first three minutes deal with her six month journey to New Zealand and the hardships on the way: on the ship a woman dies in childbirth, a drunken sailor throws a little boy and his cute dog overboard and they drown slowly, a mysterious Maori man inhabits her dreams and she wakes up screaming . . .

Lady Jane arrives in Auckland and for a few days stays in a boarding house run by a woman who plays divine piano and performs abortions on the side. A woman dies during a procedure. Another two women in the boarding house are secretive lesbians who have murdered the husband of one and now live with the shame. It rains a lot.

One night the husband of the woman who owns the boarding house comes home drunk again, beats up his wife, and cuts her fingers off with a butcher’s knife. The lesbians kill him. Lady Jane witnesses this and flees in the rain.

She heads down to the farm where her husband is now slowly dying surrounded by a pinch-faced Bible-quoting pastor, and sympathetic and handsome Maori -- and one who looks suspiciously like the man in Lady Jane’s dream.

The farm is on the picturesque West Coast. Denniston in fact where it rains constantly and women die in childbirth. Children work in the coal mines, men get drunk and beat up their wives.

Vincent dies, Lady Jane decides to stay and work the land with the help of a young artist called Colin who has A Dark Secret and paints landscapes of black mountains and grey skies. He never speaks. It rains constantly.

A sullen Maori man called Heke is carving a canoe for reasons which are never explained.

A dark stranger arrives in Denniston. We see him kill some chickens.

The pastor berates Maori for their godlessness, Heke kills the pastor and pushes out to sea in his canoe. He drowns.

A little girl disappears from a nearby village and suspicion falls on Colin. The moronic looking villagers surround his hut intent on killing him and only disperse when Lady Jane appears and speaks to them sharply.

The mysterious stranger confesses to murdering the little girl and is thrown down a mine shaft by the villagers, a woman dies in childbirth while calling out for husband who turns out to be the pastor, there is a mine accident and many children are killed, Lady Jane and Colin help the survivors and fall in love -- but he dies the next day of influenza.

At the end Lady Jane is standing on the farm when the mysterious Maori man appears and smiles at her. She smiles back and knows she’s found her home at last.

The rain stops.
Then it just fucking buckets down again and the village is washed away.

It’s called New Zealand -- and it has been in a cinema near you. Far too many times I suspect.

And so despite derision and disbelief from a few people, I went to Kylie last night. But I wanted to see a costume-change pop show and have lived with the disappointment of missing Cher twice.

We had tickets for Christina Aguilera (I think it was her) who cancelled at the last minute.

So Kylie it was -- and it was pretty good. It had to be: we‘d paid $140 each in what I think were the nose-bleed seats in what I am now calling the Northern Stand. (They should have put Beckham in the Vector come to think of it.)

Frankly I thought the choreography barely missed a cliché when it came to Vegas-style “boy dancers”: quite why they dressed like fencers in welder masks I don’t know; but the sequence of grid iron/cheerleaders was fun; and then came the dreadful navy uniform thing (what is it with these acts that they like uniforms so much?). At that point you get that hilarious sequence when gay men appear to whisper suggestively risqué things into the ears of girl dancers and they go coy and slightly shocked. Very funny, very Hollywood in the Forties.

But as to the music, it was a whole lot more interesting than I thought although I did say later “it was very Eighties” -- which seemed like stating the obvious, but not in that way.

In a show which I think we could charitably say enjoyed sound enhancement, the synth/programming at time referred more often to whooshing ambient German electronic outfits like Tangerine Dream and in the dance numbers even, at times, Kraftwerk. Kylie also borrows heavily from Giorgio Moroder. And that’s fine by me.

The big Indo-psychedelic electro-beat number towards the end (which I initially thought was Madonna’s Ray of Light) was terrific (anyone help an old man out on this one?) and when it wasn’t visually interesting there was enough great pop hookery going on to get me through.

I know very little of Kylie’s music. I do know that the Lola/showgirl number she did complete with ballet-disco dance visualisation was originally from that camp old trouper Barry Manilow -- and that just made me think very soon Kylie will be taking a trimmed back version of this to Vegas for a short season. Maybe.

The “lucky” one I do know because it is the line most favoured by headline writers, although I didn’t recognise it until she -- or more correctly we, who all sang along -- got to the chorus.

So that was Kylie, flat in spots, mostly fun -- and better visuals than Kraftwerk who a couple of weeks ago I thought exceedingly dull and not a patch on their energised appearance at the Big Day Out.

But what was of as much interest to me in the run-up to this concert was just how many people responded in a negative or dismissive way when I said I was going.

“What? You?” was a pretty common response -- or laughter until they realised I was serious.

There seemed an appalling musical snobbery at work of the kind which I cannot abide.

If going to the re-formed Headless Chickens and grooving gently to George or seeing a resurrected Kiwi punk band 30 years on to relive your musical youth is your thing that’s fine, but that doesn’t make you any better than someone who gets dollied up in stilettos and pink tank top and waves a light wand in the air when Kylie sings “I should be so lucky“.

Just different tastes that’s all.

And I believe it is actually possible to enjoy all kinds of music.

I noticed that no one among what I might call my “Kylie friends” said anything derisory about me going to Kraftwerk. Not one observed “boring German electro-rock from the Eighties”.

One acquaintance however, whom I have known for decades and was in alternative bands for a while, made some astonishingly derogatory comments about Kylie and her fans.

I told him he was a prick.

Then he made some aspersion along the lines of me not ever knowing much about good music and going to Kylie just proved it.

Oh well. He’s probably right, who would care to argue with someone like that?

Most music, whether we like to admit it or not, is at some level an entertainment: for some artists that means going the full Kylie.

I have seen more than my share of bands where its male members try to make themselves “dark and interesting” (as my mother used to say) and increasingly I look at them and think like Alan Partridge, “oh just get a girlfriend”.

Anyway. I thought Kylie was okay . . . And a joyful start to an interesting musical week for me.

This morning I am going to be on 95bFM with Charlotte talking about the Canadian indie-outfit Broken Social Scene and people like
Jason Collett who have come out of it.

I’ll also note that this is the anniversary of John Lennon’s death and be speaking about the new and I think very interesting biography of Lennon (reviewed at Elsewhere, and doubtless I’ll mention my recent interview with Yoko Ono (my fourth I think) about
the current Lennon art exhibition in Parnell. I got a (terse) comment out of her about this biography which she previously assisted with and now disapproves of.

So that’s new folk and old farts dealt with.

Then on Thursday I am on National Radio: Concert’s Upbeat programme talking about Leonard Cohen’s most recent (2004) album because in my experience very few people have any idea what he sounds like these days. (There’s a show I’d like to see, but cannot afford the whopping ticket price).

On my Sunday afternoon show on Kiwi FM (1pm) I have a mad special in which I am playing Christmas music from the likes of the D4, Deja Voodoo, Rainy Days, Spelling Mistakes and many many more.

I am hoping that by doing this gritty, noisy alt-indie show of Kiwi bands I can re-establish some real tough street-cred with my indie-rock mates who will take years to get over the fact that not only did I go to Kylie -- but actually thought it pretty good fun.

Whadda loser I must be.

Because I have previously posted about our lack of coverage of Thai politics starting way back here and, not linked, about the joys of old vinyl from time to time I guess it was fair a couple of people sent me mail via Elsewhere asking “why the silence now?” when the situation is volatile in Bangkok and Real Groovy was in strife.

Fair point -- but Thailand was, albeit belatedly and in the case of television somewhat badly, being covered, and Russell had posted so well about Real Groovy that my comments would have just been more of the same, but less so (as we used to say about Bob Dylan’s Christian albums.)

Anyway there was enough bad news around recently that it is nice now to say something positive.

Yesterday Chris Hart of Real Groovy sent me an e-mail saying as of today all was going to be well in their world, which I am delighted about.

I had done my best to help them trade their way out of difficulty -- but buying half a dozen $2 albums every week maybe wasn’t going to get them over the hump. Although the Jackie de Shannon album and Solomon King’s oddball collection of his hit (She Wears My Ring) and mad songs like Happy Again (“I’ll be sad when you’re gone, but I was happy before and I’ll be happy again”) have kept me going over the past few weeks.

Anyway the gist of the Real Groovy thing is this: they have a new partner/investor who has all the right credentials . . . and by “right” I don’t just mean money. It seems that their new non-executive director Ralph Brayham is, like many of us, a longtime Real Groovy aficionado.

Chris said in his e-mail, “Ralph is a long time Real Groovy club member. When he first arrived from Canada he used to drive up from Tauranga and come to Real Groovy to get his music fix. He understands that Real Groovy is all about the best music, DVDs and games and no other music retailer in New Zealand has our range or expertise.

“Ralph therefore has first hand knowledge and understanding of the sheer depth and breadth of our new and second-hand catalogue (of all formats - CDs, DVDs, 45’s, 78s, tapes and 12”vinyl); as well as our ability to track down rarities and imports from across the globe with our long-standing supplier relations and our practice of buying extensive private collections from America.

“It is this deep catalogue that provides Real Groovy Auckland customers the ability to trade unwanted music for music they can discover and love and at a fast turnover.”

I certainly remember buying great obscure jazz and rock albums when the store first opened at the top of Mt Eden Rd in early 1981. It moved to Queen St in ‘89. Not many people know this, but the building it occupies has a long history of music. In the Twenties it was the site of a famous jazz club.

I know this because the other night my friend Chris Bourke was up in Auckland and we went out for dinner and drinks while Chris debriefed.

He is writing a book about the history of popular music in this country (up until about the time the Beatles changed everything) and because he is a scrupulous scholar he is unearthing much wonderful and sometimes trivial information. (Who knew that Cole Porter came here on a cruise ship?)

Chris wrote the excellent study of Crowded House (Something so Strong) and writes an always interesting blog.

He told me that the Real Groovy building once housed a club called the Dixieland and this is what he wrote to me this morning to confirm it.

“For 150 of Auckland’s smart set, there was only one place to be seen on 11 April 1922: at the corner of Queen and Waverley Streets, for the grand opening of the city’s first large-scale cabaret. Called the Dixieland, the extravagance of the venue could only have been achieved by the visionary, stylish – and rich – entrepreneur who developed it. Dr Frederick Rayner and his wife Ethel had emigrated from Canada in 1900; she was a well-travelled heiress, he was a dentist with business savvy, and more energy than ethics.

“Rayner made a fortune from founding the American Dental Parlours, which specialised in high-turnover ‘painless’ tooth extraction, and replacement with dentures. He launched the Hippodrome Picture Company which evolved into the Amalgamated chain, milled vast tracts of West Coast kauri and subdivided Piha, then built a mansion on the slopes of Mt Eden. He also owned a lodge, with launch, at Lake Rotoiti. His launch was called Moose, and both houses were named Moose Lodge and decorated – like the Dixieland – with his deer trophies.

“Advertisements prior to the opening emphasised that this glitzy venture was taking place in the Jazz Age: ‘You’ll hear the latest Jazz Music as it should be.’ In the evenings, the music was provided by the Jazz Band, directed by Arthur Frost, formerly of the Tivoli cabarets in Sydney and Melbourne; his violinist had been a member of the Dixie Five and the Ritz Hotel’s orchestra. Each afternoon thé dansants – tea dances – were on offer, served by ‘picturesque waitresses’ to the strains of the Dixieland Jazz Band; patrons could take part in the jazz dancing and enjoy the vocal items.

“Inside the Dixieland was a 3000-square foot sprung dance floor, chandeliers, quality fittings, tables to book in advance, and couches on raised platforms from which guests could watch the dancing . . .

“Although there were only soft drinks available – and the city’s first fresh orange juicer – the laxity shown towards patrons smuggling in their own alcohol also helped. ‘The liquor brought a lot of people in, carrying sackfuls of booze into their cubicles. It didn’t cause any problems with the police, and it helped make the jazz popular.’ “ *

That is typical Chris: he connects the past with the present and makes it come alive. I did a little transcription work for him and it was terrific fun. It made me want to go out and find music by some of the characters in his book -- and that is where Real Groovy and various record fairs came in.
I have quite a few singles in te reo by Howard Morrison who was putting out Maori language songs when that must have been a tough call. I play this kind of thing quite frequently on my Kiwi FM show Sidestreets. Some of it is awful, some fun.

This kind of historical stuff fascinates me, not the least because I am contributing material to a website and some of that is about the few old buildings left in the central city.

Auckland has a woeful track record when it comes to looking after its heritage and I have often said that developers don’t see an old building as anything other than a target.

But this is an all-good-news posting: Real Groovy lives to sell another day (purchasing and trading, honouring credit notes again); Chris is writing what will be a terrific book -- and I am sitting here listening to lovely old scratchy.
Like that song of Solomon says “There was music before, there’ll be music again . . .”

Life is what you make it I guess -- but for me, and I guess the Real Groovy guys, this is another good day on the planet. I hope yours is too.

* Chris would like me to note that this is the unsubbed and un-fact checked draft. But you can get the tone of his tome, I am sure.