Thursday, 14 June 2012


IMPORTANT: Unless you've read 'A Clockwork Orange', or have a basic founding in slavic futurist propagandan Russian (?) you might find part 1. of this weeks blog a little hard to digest... for translations please refer to the glossary here.


"... Oh my Brothers and only friends, on this day I have seen that all of ones jeezny is about realisation and acceptance. The problem is that both of these states are hard to achieve when you feel half beezoomny already. A cally situation indeed.....unfair bog above.

Your humble narrator does not know which way to turn and although I don't feel as razdrazzled or baddiwad right now as I did last week I feel no less confused, out of place and still on my oddy-knocky. I feel that my identity has been crasted away from me. When I look in the mirror the litso I viddy is unfortunately that of a starry chelloveck, oh my brothers. Trying to viddy who onesy was or who onesy should be is very difficult and just to find peace of mind without getting so easily drawn back into the grahzny reality of my train-wreck jeezny is near impossible. Everything I viddy and everything I slooshy of the ptitsa I loved so much makes me feel like creeching and blubbing. That's no way to live; to feel a nazz all the time?! 

I cannot stop the old red krovvy flowing over this devotchka. To accept the realisation that the ptitsa perhaps 'loves' me but is not 'in love' with me must be one of the most stracky, cally things to pony in ones vonny jeezny. Especially when I can see no fault lying at my own grahzny nogas. But, I fear, oh kind friends, that I cannot start to rebuild my plott and enjoy my train-wreck life until I take a glazzy at this painful truth, and break from these oozies.

The nochy-mares still visit most days but have decreased in there oozhassny viciousness to a level of dull pressing sickness and incessancy, allowing me to at least fall into the old spatchka, one nochy in two. Slooshying choodessny music from my droogs back home has been one of the only veshchs to keep me smiling. Having also had the old needles stick me with their inkfull blackyness three times already has increased my physical pain, but not decreased the mental! So much for that vareet!!!

How does one simply let go of seven years of jeezny? Ignore it and turn ones gulliever the other way? How do you unlearn so much learning? how do I forget, when my heart, oh dear brothers, be loveted?!

Devotchkas don't seem pretty, music sounds all cally, swilling the firegold and suds keeps me sober, pischa tastes rotten and sleep consistently invites.
I spend most of my time smoking the cancers and peeting the coffee....tis where most of my cutter goes.

I find myself in the midst of bolnoy once again and my plott aches daily. I have to pretend to every veck else, just to avoid seeming screaming beezoomny! It is true that we are what we pretend to be, oh my brothers, but pretending is a cally, grahzny business, my friends, and you are bound to get found out eventually.

My slovos are told like this to prevent your shilarny and worry (my appy polly loggies for the mystery), but those malchickiwicks and ptitsas in the know or willing to put in a malenky bit of work will be able to understand my slovos. I have a real proper horroshow gang of droogs here, and we have fun, but I find myself constantly missing; the never-present narrator...... oh, to smeck again!

I must press on, dratsing with my rookers held high....lest I snuff it!!!!
In just over one week this friendly nadsat goes to Brisbane to warm his heart and soul.

I will visit you in yet another guise next week....for now, oh my brothers and only friends, I must itty off to another mesto...."


Another funny week. Sometimes genuinely funny.....sometimes just weird funny or not funny, funny.

I've been genuinely trying to distance myself from my perceived former life out here. But the internet being, as it is, an omnipresent harbinger, it's never that easy. Sometimes you just stumble upon stuff huh?! I've been practicing the age old ancient Chinese art of 'not letting everything I see utterly fuck me up'. Right now it seems to be working.......right now.

I've been finding myself being pretty quiet though. 

Sometimes my mind is filled with a silent but sonorous inner monologue. Poetry, music, madness and darkness, gliding around, pushing and prodding me into confusion and crisis. Sometimes my mind is filled with nothing, nada, static. I realise however that everyone has my best interests at heart when I hear them say "why so quiet", or "what's wrong". Sometimes "it's probably better not to get into it", I say. 

It strikes me that one simply cannot be quiet anymore. And though I know I have reason, it 'just isn't the done thing'. If, at a party, you stand alone and stare out of a window, you are a weird, lonesome, pathetic idiot. Yet with a cigarette in hand, you are a fucking philosopher.

Though, fear ye not, oh fearers of thine knots, I'm having a good time out here in Oz. Much in the same way I was having a good time in Plymouth before I left. That kind of unfocused, slightly unreal, numb, pretend fun that it is possible to have regardless of how messed up you feel. Perhaps all this pretending will solidify into reality at some point eh? Perhaps I use the word perhaps too much..... perhaps.

It's true to say that my physical state isn't the strongest it's ever been and obviously this will effect my mental state greatly. I do understand that the old adage "You'll get better when you're sick of being sick" is correct, I've seen it in motion, but quite how to apply this to my current life situation is blinding at best, but.....oh fuck it, i'll work it out.

I promised myself months ago now that I would not let things make me bitter and cynical (lord knows i've seen enough of that over the last year), but I can already feel myself thinking that I was too soft in many parts of my life. A walk over, unattractive and pathetic. But.....oh fuck it, i'll work it out...

Onwards, once again, to the good stuff....

So, "what have you been up to?" I hear you cry in your millions untold. "Please tell, Simon!" I hear you shout in unison, as if the very heavens themselves were to demand of my tales and tomes....

Well....bits and bobs, as it goes.

On Thursday I was honoured to be asked to conduct the Kew Band from Melbourne for the night (Former Aussie Champions don't you know!!!). The band were on their last rehearsal before their break and I was essentially on holiday so this was a great, relaxed way for us to make music together for the evening. I was able to be a slightly less hardcore version of my conducting self for the night, not a situation a conductor will find themselves in all that often. Much fun. I was very lucky that the band were open to playing through some on the compositions wot i've written in recent years and although the music sounded fairly far-out to start with the band gave it some and ended up finding pretty clear musical direction and making a good sound. They could swing too!!! 

The bands normal conductor, a lovely gent by the name of Mark Ford asked if I could run the band through some sight-reading and presented me with the fearsome, fiendish, primal, hideous and sarcastic 'Blitz' by pommie composer Derek Bourgeois. "Uh huh", I said, "let's hit it!!!!!!". Despite the ferocious nature of this music the band coped pretty well and we spent a real fun hour smashing our way through the deepest, darkest recesses of a brilliant mind and coming to a thunderous close bang on finishing time. It was a real pleasure to be welcomed so warmly.... hopefully I'll get to work with them all again sometime.

Waving my arms around, often with gusto, infront of the wonderfully welcoming Kew Band, Melbourne.
Following a chance meeting with a jazz dude in the local coffee hangout, the Black Cat last week, I was advised to book a ticket for a gig that marked the last night of the Melbourne International Jazz Festival. The show last Friday was called 'Future Now', and as the name suggests showcased the possible future direction of Jazz. The show was expensive and very nearly sold out, so I got straight on it and booked my $70 ticket and made my way into town. 

Anyone who has read my former blogs will know that confidence has been an issue. Baby steps. I didn't know the guy who asked me to go to the gig, or anyone else there, but got hooked up with someone to meet for dinner before hand. I walked to a cool japanese restaurant in Swanston St. and called 'some random chick' (that was just to make myself feel cooler, she was actually called Gemma!). She and her friend, an Australian called (and I shit you not) Rory Patrick O'mally, invited me to eat dinner with them, and they were dead cool. We got a few cocktails in us and sauntered over to the gig. The show was at Melbournes Forum. A serious venue.... Never quite seen a stage surround like it.....honestly felt for all the world that the gig was outdoors in 17th Century Italy. Sick. Have a butchers here.

First on stage was Bobby McFerrins son, Taylor, playing a live vocal beatbox and production set. Sickness. He opened with his dads 'Thinkin' about your body' and tore the place up. One man with a mic. Skills. Next up was smooth jazz crooner Jose James and his tight band, including an off the hook Japanese afro-sporting trumpeter called Takuya Kuroda. They were good, but didn't really rock my boat that much....however, last up was the 'Robert Glasper Experiment'. Holy sweet jebus. You know when you hear music that you've never heard anything like before? I stood mesmerised for two hours, screaming "Blow man, Blow!" like some deranged version of Kerouac's Sal Paradise, while they rocked, flew and slid their way through and around every genre i've ever heard, inventing new ones with every measure and beat. SAVAGE!!!! needless to say when they finished with a future fusion, vocoder rippin' version of 'Teen spirit' I barged and elbowed my way to the merch counter, Nuff said. Do yourselves a favour and check them out here

Rory, Gemma and I.
The Forum, Melbourne.

I had fun. I returned home exhausted to find my house mate Albert and friends Liam and Dave, smashed and tattooing each other (that seems to happen a lot here as i'll explain later). After a few shots I fell tired as hell into a fitful sleep whilst my friends went out on an inevitably unfruitful search for a booze filled house party to crash.

Saturday....we all surfaced groggily at about midday and shrugged at each other. After breakfast (I had blood orange martinis) we ended up at the bottle shop (the offy for us pommes) and soon were with our lovely talented friends Kyle and Chris "Hancock" (read last blog for stuff wot is about Chris and his awesome artings). Saturday descended into party madness and was hectic to say the least. My friend Liam, it turns out, is pretty handy with a tattoo gun and so set about inkin' my arm up good. I thought some more Dylan, to match my left arm would be good. This time, the ever perfect 'Keep on Keepin' on' struck me straight between the eyes and with some original "Hancock" text (people pay serious money for that shit here) we were off.....amidst crazy girls doing interpretive dance to Prince, Liam held his nerve and did a great job, I love it, thanks mate. I'm sure you've seen the pix. It hurt like hell. A great night... 

(Oh, and I inadvertently became involved in the ad-hoc birth of a new band.... A mariachi country mash, albert and 'hancock'. We have our first thrown together gig on Saturday night, opening a onesie party at another local coffee haunt, the providence, for Ruby and Kyles joint birthday thats gotta be joy!)

Sunday didn't happen.....

Monday blustered in, but then cleaned up to a beautiful, sparse, cold blue dream. We played frisbee in the park, an excuse to exercise the house dog Major (HE IS A GOOOOOOD BOY!), then I went to get another tattoo (I'm on it!)....this time a wonderful design by my friend Jim Nolan. I reckon he didn't even know I was gonna do this, and certainly didn't design it as such, but the thoughtfulness, focus and energy of the whole thing seemed too perfect. So a few hours and $200 bucks later, I'm the proud owner of my first back piece. Curious in design, sure, but cool as hell!!!! A magikal symbol, known as a 'sigil', enfused with the creators belief and desires. Thanks bro..... 

Thanks're a legend.

Tuesday I became a tourist again and went to visit both the Melbourne Aquarium and NGV (the National Gallery of Victoria), The Aquarium was ace....I literally felt like a kid again....oooooh sharks.....MASSIVE SHARKS!!!! and penguins. Ninja. 

Lemon and Lime
The Gallery was amazing too. Saw a huge show of beautiful Aboriginal art. Made me think. I honestly think from the small pickings of evidence that i've seen here so far that the plight of the indigenous people of Australia is a huge bloody stain on the modern countrys consciousness. The heritage trails and art galleries seem like mere lip-service considering that most aboriginal people i've seen so far have been unfortunate and likely blame-free drunks, shouting on street corners....their anger no doubt a very thinly veiled commentary on the rape of their lost land. Very sad.

So, in other news, being that im mostly out of the loop (thank god) with what has been released recently in the UK, I thought i'd write a few sparing and paltry words on the latest album i've heard. Admittedly I cannot profess to be much of a review writer, nor can I claim to be anything but utterly biased, but the new (yet to be released) album by my three oldest friends 'The Patrick James Pearson Band' is surely going to be hailed as a work of art. 

Perhaps (there it is again!) that may seem like quite a claim. Think of it like this. I live my life as a professional musician. I'm sure what I do and create isn't to everyones liking, very often not even my own, but I would be a blind fool if I had not over the years noticed that certain friends of mine had placed a certain amount of faith and confidence in my musical opinion. Yes, i've know the band members forever. Yes, I'm on the record. Yes, I was there whilst the album was recorded, but nothing could really prepare me for listening to the final mix of the album end to end.

The band recently won the listeners choice award on the BBC Radio 1 review show with Edith Bowman. One of the reviewers said the song 'I am a Racer' wasn't his thing because it was too earnest. I feel sorry for that person. Thank god I say! A group of musicians cutting through the hype filled mediocrity that the music industry seems to drag from even the most incorruptible  musicians! '...And so it goes' is a whole album of joyous, and, yes earnest songs, to make you dance, laugh, cry AND FUCKING THINK! I'm not going to go into too much detail except to say that this album is one of the rare records where there isn't a filler track on it. Every track is worth something and came from a place of truth and meaning. If you believe that modern popular music is worth anything at all, please have faith in my ramblings and get behind this record from the start to the end. Teaser trailers to release this will be an important piece of art for my three oldest and most valued comrades and I think for the wider musical world!!! Yeah.....I said it! Check out the PJP band here

Anyhoooo......It's winding up to my last week in Melbourne before I head to old friends, new music and adventure afresh in Brisbane (don't worry, i'll bore you with another blog before too long). I cannot wait to get to real adventuring now. I need to cut loose and get into some scrapes.....and once again try to lose this funk for good! In the next week I'm going to play a Mariachi country gig, plan some things and do some stuff..... sorry I can't be more to the point right now. Its 10:30 and I drank too many pots at The Grace Darling.

I'll leave you with a comment I saw written on a wall near the National Gallery here in Melbourne. Its kinda morose, but it made me laugh.....darkly.

"Life, it would appear, and I wouldn't assume to be the first person to have thought this, is a disease. Sexually transmitted and invariably fatal".

Take that as you will....
As ever I've really enjoyed writing. I think I enjoy the technical side of composing words because I know deep down I should be composing notes....guilt free non-creativity! More about that anon. I have some great blog ideas in the pipeline....

Please feel free to follow this blog, comment, RT, share or whatever the hell you please.

Much love to my tribe in Plymouth. Pat, Mike, Tim, Angelique, Rach, Vicky, Jono, (other) Tim, Kev, Josie etc etc etc etc to my family, and love to the gin strewn, junkie ridden benches of our fair town.

oooooh, the dots......

Until next time, oh my brother and sisters.

...and so it goes.


Oh, and I've been thinking a lot about this


  1. Simon,
    I work with some of the Aboriginal communities in my area. Your initial impressions of the plight of the original Australians are "spot on". But it is not a total loss. Aboriginal Australia is the real Australia. The talent, especially in art and music, and future prospects are amazing. Its just a matter of allowing people to do what their talent enables them to do, without all the political and racial bullshit.
    Happy to introduce you to some of my community friends if you ever get up here in NW NSW. Never have I felt more at peace than when I have been working with them.

    Phil Anderton
    Gunnedah Shire Band
    Visiting Optometrist Gunnedah and Tamworth

  2. Hi Simon, really loving your ramblings. Especially ideas on time. I'm sure you've come across it,Eckhart Tolle's book the power of now was a thought provoking read for me whilst travelling around and has some interesting ideas on Time. Take Care, from Windy Plymouth. Ness :)


Feel free to let me know what you think about my new blog, and what you're up to!