Cracker by Damian Christie

It seems these days almost every post I write I'm tempted to throw in a disclaimer, explaining my increasingly characteristic space between blogs. Every day or two I have something I feel like sharing, but then a day or two passes and it seems to have dated too much to bother with.

For example I won't tell you about the Music Awards. They were great, by the way, not that I saw too much of them – halfway through the PM's "Ain't New Zealand Music Grand, take 53" speech, I felt the need to purge the martinis I'd been quaffing on arrival. But somewhere between the bathroom and the awards, I found a room known as the media room, where the bar never closed (unlike the rest of the venue during the actual awards, which was drier than a Mt Roskill supermarket). I never emerged.

I won't bother to tell you about a wonderful Labour weekend spent at Pakiri (but I will share this photo), with an incredible night watching Fat Freddy's Drop at the Leigh Sawmill. It was definitely One of Those Nights When I Remember Why I Love Music So Much.

Which kind of brings me to the point of this post, such as it is. As a no-spring-chicken radio guy, I find it increasingly difficult to come across good new music. Gone are the days when I was self-employed and could spend hours rifling through records down at BPM or Real Groovy, pulling out things at random just because I liked the look of the label. I hate to say it, but my music collection is largely dated. Of course "old music" can be pretty good, but there's a difference between classics – well-known, obscure or otherwise – and music you played because it was new and quite good, but now it's a year old and still only quite good.

I am quite well looked after in some regards. Care packages from some of the more betterer record companies arrive from time to time, and recent musical delights include the new Black Seeds album Into the Dojo and and and and Shapeshifter’s phenomenal third album, Soulstice. Such is my respect and admiration for the latter band that when I met Devin from Shapeshifter at a recent party, I was reduced to the level of a quivering fanboy. Realising I was raving at him like, well, the Shapeshifter fan I am, I tried to extract my dignity by establishing my credentials:

“Um, I do, um a show, a show on student radio,” I wittered. “And I, um, I know your friend Graeme. Graeme that you know.”

Step aside Fonzie. There’s a new kind of cool in town.

Anyway. It was on that weekend I heard many people playing so much amazing music I hadn’t heard before, I realised I need to start making more of an effort. I might not have a whole lot of time for reading NME or browsing through record shops these days, but I do have several thousand people reading this blog, and if each of you told me just one new song that’s been rocking your world, even with a far amount of overlap, I’d be drowning in hot new tunes. That’s assuming you don’t all listen to Shania Twain or The Feelers or some shit.

You can recommend whole albums, but what I’m really looking for here is individual songs, tracks, tunes, ditties, call them what you will. New would be good, but new to me is good enough, if you have something obscure enough from the past. Please don’t write to tell me that “Wild Horses” is a great track, or “Revolver” is a great album. Let’s take that as read.

So would you mind? Please? Messers Bastard and Grigg, I’m particularly looking your direction.

In return, I will publish all the recommendations. It’ll be like our own little record club. Let me get you started with three of my recent favourites:

1. Shapeshifter – One.

Fantastic local drum ‘n’ bass, atmospheric and soulful, when P Diggs’ vocals kick in it’s just sublime. Track 10 on the Soulstice album. Gives me chills.

2. Ladyhawke – Back of the Van

Blondie meets Kim Carnes meets the Pretenders, but despite me thinking this was new wave nouveau from the US, turns out Ladyhawke is actually from Wellington, albeit living in Sydney. Fantastic but as yet unreleased – listen to it on her myspace page. It’s the sort of tune I wish I had my first ever pash to. Maybe I still could.

3. The Knife – Heartbeats

An electro cover of the Jose Gonzalez track on the Sony Bravia ad with the bouncy balls (which it turns out is actually all real, no fake balls were used – check out the Making Of Video!)

The Knife are a brother and sister duo from Sweden. Another very retro sounding track, it reminds me of nascent emotions at school discos when I lived in Singapore.

Correction: Simon helpfully points out that Jose covered The Knife, not the other way around - cheers.

Okay, I’ve showed you mine. Bring ‘em on. Click the reply button, you know you want to.

EDIT: Stoopid stoopid stoopid Damian. On the day we launch a new community feedback thingy, I go all old skool on it and encourage people to send me emails? Which you have, in droves, and thanks for that. But why not have your say directly. Flag the reply button, let's discuss

(Wellington Opera House - 10 October 06)

If I was like, a proper gig reviewer I would also mention Hammond Gamble in the title bit up there. But we arrived late, so that didn’t happen. I’m sure it was, um, great.

Let's start with the bad eh? Honestly, Hello Sailor were disappointing. The only energy seemed to be provided in an oddly sporadic fashion by Graham Brazier, at inappropriate times. For example in his crooner-classic 'Blue Lady', each time he sang the eponymous words, he sort of let off a James Hetfield-like growl at the end of the word ‘Lady’. When he sang 'New Tattoo', again the chorus line was overly emphasized as though he was about to burst into a punk rendition. They might have had more hair than Th’ Dudes, but that was about all I can offer.

Still, I do have the line “you in my brain, you in my heart” (from 'Gutter Black') running over and over in my head today, proving that a great song is still a great song, decades on, even when it's not played that well any more.

Sailor’s relatively lackluster performance only served to emphasis how fucking great Th’ Dudes were, and still are. I’d spoken to Dobbyn the week before, when he was suffering pretty badly from bronchitis, or something throat-disabling, so I was a bit worried he might not be up to it. Similarly, I’d interviewed Peter on my Radio Active show on Saturday afternoon (1-4pm, listen on-line if you’re out of town) and he was pretty hoarse from the unaccustomed return to touring. But, sheeee-it, you wouldn’t notice it last night.

Urlich was right when he told me Dave’s guitar playing is better than it’s ever been. He’s so understated on stage, weedy and a lot shorter than the other guys, and he doesn’t bounce around like PU, but by God that man rocks. Jesus is obviously doing him a lot more favours than alcohol ever did. Ironically, his choice of non-alcohol refreshment provided the only technical hiccup of the evening, as he spilt cola on his gear.

In between songs the banter was great. Peter clearly appreciated the overwhelming response from the audience. Ian said the f-word and it was kinda like your dad trying to be cool. Dave joked about being run out of town by the Opera House manager twenty-six years ago after kicking lights off the Opera House stage. Apparently on returning this year, the very same manager was sitting in the ticket booth. “Decided to show your face, have you?” he asked, stone-faced.

I had chills as Dobbyn launched into ‘Be Mine Tonight’, and while I’ve never been a huge fan of ‘Bliss’, I was in a minority last night. As Peter jumped into the crowd so everyone could eagerly contribute their share of “yahhhhh, yah yah yah yahhhh’s”, it was hard to believe this was a band who reached their peak while I was discovering the wonders of rock pool marine life at Manurewa West Primary.

And they look great too. My flatmate and gig-partner Karen – who, much like me, was delighted for once to be amongst the youngest in the crowd – made positive murmuring noises about Ian Morris. The gyrating mums in the front row suggested she wasn’t alone. They might not be brand new, but Th’ Dudes have certainly still got it.

I know my birthday is still, like, ages away, but you’ll need time to save. Maybe pass round a virtual hat, because one way or another, this little beauty is going to be stinking out my bedroom come March…

If you have any issues remembering what day it is, it's exactly nine months for the day baby Jesus was born. Annunciation Day, the Catholics call it. "The Day the Virgin Mary Got Some from God", I prefer.

This is something I've been thinking about for a while, what with it being my birthday and all. I mean, if you were Joseph, how gutted would you be? Your fiancé is a virgin –sweet– and then the first person she does it with is God? I often imagine how that conversation would have gone at the Christ household the next morning.

"So, um, you stayed out late last night"

"Yeeeeeah. About that. I was, well, I was with someone else."

"I bloody KNEW it. Who was he?"

"Well, it's more like He"

"Huh?"

"It was God, Joseph, God."

“Yeah right… it was that fucking Simon of Nazareth wasn’t it? I’ve seen the way he looks at you…”

“No, Joseph I swear, it was God.”

“Shit. I see. Hmm. So, was he, better than me?”

“What do you mean? We’ve 'never had sex' remember?”

“Sure, right, you just keep telling yourself that. And I suppose you’re still going to keep calling yourself ‘Virgin Mary’ after this latest God-shagging incident too? As far as nicknames go, I’ve gotta say Mary, it’s getting a bit tenuous, and those business cards you got made up at that vending machine ain’t fooling nobody. So was he better than me?”

“Joseph, it was God, what do you think?”

“Damn that’s cold woman. I think I preferred it when you used to fob me off by saying ‘it wasn’t better, it was just different’. I hope you were safe at least. Did you make him wear a sheep intestine?”

“Yeeeeeah. About that…”

And before anyone tries to accuse me of being blasphemous, it’s all right there in the Bible. Well, sort of. But even this Brethren article backs me up, and if it’s alright with the Brethren then far be it from a simple atheist like me to say otherwise.

Sticking with the animal theme (remember this all started because I want a WakeNBacon for my birthday), here are a couple of websites you really should waste an hour or so perusing if you have the time:

Beedogs just gets better the further you wade through it, while Catsthatlooklikehitler.com blurs the line between cute and disturbing (“Oh, isn’t he just the most adorable fluffy little genocidal maniac!”)

Do any Cracker readers have pets that resemble fascist dictators? Please send your photos via the usual channels.

As Forest & Bird and DOC point out, cats aren’t exactly the most innocent of animals anyway. Well mine is, he’s far too big-boned to be a threat to anything other than my landlord’s carpet. So I was quite excited to see a new range of nicely packaged catfood at the supermarket, with flavours such as Fantail, Tui and Skink. Why should Tonka miss out on sampling such delicacies merely because he’s a great lumbering oaf of a cat, rather than a nimble hunting machine?

Sadly, it turns out it’s a marketing campaign by the Greater Wellington Regional Council, telling us something about cats. The details escape me. Much like skinks escape Tonka.

Maybe I’ll get him a WakeNBacon for his birthday too.

…Not as far as I know, but given that it’s now apparently a perfectly legitimate tactic of “investigative journalism” to go on a public fishing expedition despite any evidence, let’s see if any Public Address readers can dish any poof-dirt on the anything-but-elusive Mr W.

While we’re at it, can any Public Address readers please supply evidence to support the persistent and seemingly self-propagated rumour that Ian Wishart is an investigative journalist? I submit the following in support of the contrary:

Sean Plunket: “Okay, well when did you first hear about the incident?”

Ian Wishart: “I first heard about the incident in early June”.

Not bad Ian, not bad at all, considering the “incident” had been promoted and broadcast on free-to-air television nine months beforehand. Damn this guy must have some sources! Perhaps Wishart’s comparison to Woodward & Bernstein isn’t actually a complete load of self-aggrandising bollocks after all? Although I suppose, in fairness, it was on Prime’s Holmes show…

As a rule I shun any magazine that doesn’t feature a bikini-clad Home & Away star, so I don’t get to read Investigate that often. Last time (before the most recent “Smoking Gun issue”) was at the dentist, and I can report the experience was about as enjoyable and educational as the root canal which followed. On that occasion the topic “investigated” was Intelligent Design. Turns out ID’s not just a big steaming pile of faeces – honest. Even Woodie & Bernie never managed to prove the existence of God. Wishart 1 – W&B nil.

At least that other magazine catering for the NZ conspiracy nutter market isn’t malicious. Other than towards shapeshifting reptilians, and it’s right to be speaking out against them – those buggers are almost as dangerous as them people from Islam.

Speaking of which, didn’t the Islam-type-people who shot the nun in Somalia and threatened a suicide bomb attack against the Vatican really stick it to the Pope? “Accuse us of being ‘evil and inhuman’ will ya? [bang!] Well take that, muthafukka! You’d better retract all that shit you’ve been saying about us ‘spreading faith by the sword’, before we get medieval on yo’ ass.”

They really need to work on their sense of irony, those Mujahidin.

As for the Pope – who I have it on good authority has been a regular reader of this blog since his days in the Hitler Youth – starting all this mess by quoting a 14th century Byzantine Emperor, that’s pretty f___ed up right there, dude. You know what these people get like, stop poking them with sticks.

And saying that it was just a quote, not your actual opinion is not on. It’s about as “on” as Ian Wishart pretending he’s just trying to “investigate” something, rather than running a tawdry little smear campaign by implication. You don’t want to start stooping to Wishart’s level, do you Pope? Huh? No, that’s right, you don’t.

As any Aucklander will attest, getting a mention in the NZ Herald’s ‘Sideswipe’ section is about as good as life gets. My mum certainly thinks so. Sure, she was happy when I told her I was off to Oxford. She was very pleased for me that I’d got a cool new job on the telly…

But the day that I was mentioned in Sideswipe, I'd never seen her happier. Within minutes she was frantically calling Aunts and Uncles all across the greater Auckland area: “Did you see it?”

As it turned out, it wasn’t even me that had earned the rare privilege, but instead an impersonator (Wallace Chapman, but enough about him already) using my name to try and buy a Taser over the radio.

So the Taser trial starts today. Shall we place wagers on whether there’ll be a Tasering this weekend? I bet there are a few itchy trigger fingers out there…

I went to the Taser demonstration in Porirua, the one that’s been splashed all over the telly and the papers. It was a great morning out, although it would’ve been soooo much more entertaining if the police getting zapped were dressed in uniform, rather than dressed as archetypal criminals (the look for baddies this spring: Bush-shirts). I probably shouldn’t say that, but you know what I’m talking about, right?

Superintendent John Rivers, who is in charge of the trial, made a good point at the demonstration. Most of the objections about the Taser coming here have to do with issues of trust in the police, rather than the weapon itself. And it’s a fair comment, because as I’ve written before, I’ve seen and heard enough to have limited – but still considerable – faith in our thin blue line. It’s of some reassurance that for now the Taser will only be wielded by officers with two or more years’ experience. Again, from personal experience, police officers with a few grey hairs seem to have a lot less to prove than their juniors.

The first question to be asked is do the police need these things? The list of police injuries by weapon type in 2005 was quite informative. How many police injured by firearms last year? None. How many injured by a telephone? One. A shoe? Two (I can’t help but think of Sione’s jandal-weilding Mum from Bro Town). They’ve even got a category defined as “some sort of weapon”. Last year three police were injured by “some sort of weapon”. The point is, how at risk are our police in a country where they are infinity times more like to be assaulted with a shoe than a real live gun?

Secondly, I think it’s notable that the police refuse to be drawn on how many times they expect the Taser to be deployed during the trial. Not even a ballpark. The Taser can be deployed against a spectrum of assailants (from “Assaultive” to “Death/GBH”). There are already a number of alternatives available to police in these situations, such as batons and dogs, to the carotid hold and firearms. Wouldn’t you suspect that given the choice between pulling out a baton, or a shiny new unused Taser, most people would opt for the latter? On the other hand, given the choice between a zap and a bullet to the chest, wire me up and call me Tinkles.

None of this would matter too much if the Taser was completely safe, as in non-fatal. As Keith explains far better than I can be bothered (and he has great video links too), there are deaths associated with Taser use. (I should point out, while Keith refers to the Taser as "less than lethal", the preferred term is "less lethal" - it's a subtle but important distinction) The police seem to dismiss some of these as being linked to people all hepped up on alcohol/drugs. But in the same breath, Supt Rivers pointed out that seventy percent of people arrested on the weekend are similarly under the influence. So wouldn’t it be good to have a little more information about exactly what the risk is for those people? Hey, I’m as against taking drugs on the weekend as the next person but if a device intended to incapacitate has any risk of killing someone on the spot, then maybe we should think twice. Arming the police by stealth is one thing, killing people with amphetamine psychosis is quite another. Although I quite like the idea of an LTSA-style billboard that says “Get High. Fry. Die”. Just ‘cos it rhymes.

Anything else? Not really. Except, um, that I love you. Have a good weekend. Oh, and ten dollars worth of Bonus Bonds to the first person who can verify they were Tasered this weekend.

Update: The remake of Dambusters I wrote about in May, which Peter Jackson then said he wasn't going to be making - well now he is again. Choice.