Gigging

Fed and watered at Sakae, SC, SK2 and I sauntered over to Stan Lee's favourite pub, the Excelsior in Surry Hills, to see three bands I knew squat about. Black Lion (the anti-Kimba?) failed to hit any highs, though the guitarist was good. He had his own distinctive style and that's rare. Death Mattel – acquaintances of SC's – were fast and furious, the frontman's fringe flying as he worked mic and keyboard; it was impossible not to be swept up in their punky indie rawk. SK2 bid us adieu at the end of the set. Swimming Underground had plenty of energy but failed to hook me. I remember thinking the drummer was decent, but I was distracted. Outside, DM were filming a clip for their new single, getting punters to recite the lyrics. I did a line. They had me turn my cap sideways like a goofball. Too drunk to care. Look for the dude in the "Blue trash" Smurfs T-shirt. We kicked on to the Sly Fox in Enmore. Another group was playing, except no-one could tell me their name. At the risk of projecting (and tarnishing my spotless rep), the lead singer resembled "Anna" from porn web site nerdpr0n :-) We didn't stay that long. Staggered back to Newtown and went our separates. Chatted to dissident cabbie about lack of journalistic freedom in China. He used an expression I liked, in relation to how the state influences journos: "They bend your tongue." So tired I actually dreamt about sleeping, as if subconsciously seeking to double the effect. No dice.