The CDs I was given for my birthday:

• Law and Order (1981) by Lindsey Buckingham
• H2O (1982) by Hall & Oates
• Long After Dark (1982) by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
• The Final Cut (1983) by Pink Floyd
• Building the Perfect Beast (1984) by Don Henley

Expect reviews of each soon!

(Yes, I realise the vintage of these albums is predictable, but… I don’t really care.)

So today marks my 29th birthday, and yeah, I’m feeling a year older, too. Last night I received another one of those wonderful paradigm shifts:

People will lie to your face — even people you meet who may seem lovely and sweet. Until someone proves themselves to be honest and trustworthy, don’t take what they say at face value. Seemingly normal people may be anything but — you just don’t know.

Cynicism may be warranted. I don’t mean the faux cynicism of angst-ridden teenagers; I mean the cynicism of someone who’s seen what life’s really like.

The truth is, there are many disturbed people out there, and many people who’ll screw you over in the service of their own egos.

But there’s beauty to be found in the hearts of a few. And that’s all I need for life to be worthwhile.

And that’s my birthday.

I bought the special edition of Kate Miller-Heidke’s debut LP Little Eve today, only one day after hearing the single “Words” here.

My first impression is quite favourable — I’ll maybe write a review either tomorrow or next week, after I’ve fully digested it. In any case, if there’s any justice in the world, Miller-Heidke will break into the international market.

Yeah, okay, she reminds me of Kate Bush a bit — just look at the promo image above! — but she’s unique enough to deserve attention.

It’s always fascinated me — and seemed counter-intuitive at that — that some countries use the solstices (the longest and shortest days of the year) as being the start of summer and winter.

Wouldn’t it make more sense to regard the solstice as the middle of the season?

Not quite. Temperatures do lag behind the amount of daylight by about a month or so. In other words, the coldest period in the southern hemisphere really does map almost exactly to 01/06 - 01/09 — June, July and August. Indeed, that’s apparently the meteorological definition of winter.

So the Australian definitions of the seasons really are more accurate. Ha!

See here for a more thorough discussion on the topic.

softly singing
cool green pastures
windswept field
hidden murmurs
aching sorrow
joyful laughter
sharp steel shelters
it feels like home

I just discovered the key to my tastes (and personality in general): audacity.

Audacity, to me, is a boldness in breaking conventions — an enthusiasm in pushing the boundaries, to go beyond the limits of conventional thought. (Not coincidentally, it was while listening to Faust that I had this epiphany.)

Whether it’s A Saucer Full of Secrets by Pink Floyd or Brazil by Terry Gilliam, the artists who excite me the most use conventions as their playthings, using them and undermining them simultaneously.

People tend to think of Star Wars as being terribly conventional, but Lucas’s inventiveness in seamlessly combining fairy tales, westerns, samurai films, space adventure serials, war movies and hot-rodding makes the 1977 film a triumph of the same DIY mix-and-match aesthetic that pushed progressive rock forward earlier that decade. There was no respect paid to genre boundaries — anything could be plundered for inspiration and nothing was off-limits.

Of course, the irony is that once you create two or more works in the same unconventional vein, new conventions form. The most daring move Lucas could have made after making Star Wars was to make Apocalypse Now! as originally planned. The Empire Strikes Back was sufficiently shocking, however, turning audience expectations on their heads in those final climactic scenes. And had David Lynch accepted Lucas’s offer to direct Return of the Jedi, we quite possibly could have ended up with a cinematic masterpiece. But as the series progressed, fans’ expectations became more and more entrenched and Lucas found himself hoist by his own petard.

So true audacity leads to progress and growth. Get out of that comfort zone — break your own conventions. Life is for living. Be irreverent and audacious.

How have my last.fm charts changed in the last six months?

Artists

1. Porcupine Tree, previously at #4, are now my most played artist/group
2. Genesis, which had lagged behind both Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush at #3, is now ahead of both
3. Peter Gabriel, one of the most reliable threads in my musical taste in the last 20+ years, has fallen from #1 to #3 — the king is dead!
4. Kate Bush, another artist I’ve been captivated by at various times, has dropped from #2 to #4 — what a reversal!
5. The Police stay at their comfortable resting place of #5

Tracks

1. Pink Floyd — “Comfortably Numb” has moved from #5 to #1!
2. Toto — “Rosanna” has suddenly appeared at #2
3. Porcupine Tree — “Trains” remains at #3, while Toto — “Africa” (another newcomer) materialises at equal third place

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers — “Refugee” has moved from #1 to #5.

Disappearing from the top 5 tracks are Porcupine Tree — “The Sound of Muzak” (from #5 to #8), Prince & The Revolution — “Mountains” (from #3 to #12) and Rush — “Tom Sawyer” (from #2 to #24).

Current median year of release for my top 5 tracks: 1982
Previous median year of release for my top 5 tracks: 1984

Great — more reason to think I’m obsessed with the ’80s!

Well, I’ve spent a week immersing myself in the classics of funk. Here are my findings:

Sly & the Family Stone — There’s a Riot Goin’ On (1971)

“Dark and depressing” is how I’d describe this album. It’s historically important, but not exactly a pleasant and easy listening experience — there are bright(ish) spots, but a track like the drug-fuelled “Spaced Cowboy” reminds you of the context of the whole album. I’m glad I’ve heard There’s a Riot Goin’ On, but it’s not an experience I necessarily enjoyed.

Curtis Mayfield — Superfly (1972)

It’s perhaps unfortunate that the blaxploitation genre has been so widely parodied that Curtis Mayfield’s impassioned lyrics may sound cliched and overdone to younger ears. Listen closely, however, and you’ll hear socially-conscious commentary on inner-city life in the early ’70s. Soulful and heartfelt, this album deserves its place in the soul/funk canon.

Stevie Wonder — Talking Book (1972)

I’ll never forgive Stevie Wonder for the atrocity that is “I Just Called To Say I Love You”, but 12 years earlier he was putting out some really great music. His ballads make my teeth hurt, but tracks like “Superstition” are so perfect that they make the rest that much more frustrating. This is a fantastic album, but I’m still not a fan.

Herbie Hancock — Head Hunters (1973)

Funk meets jazz in this incredible album where virtuoso Herbie Hancock goes to town on synths and electric pianos. This is great, innovative music that bowls you over with the sheer energy of its execution. Simply amazing.

Parliament - Funkentelechy Vs. the Placebo Syndrome (1977)

George Clinton’s Parliament-Funkadelic collective is legendary, with its sci-fi mythology and masterful grooves. With names like Bernie Worrell (later of Talking Heads’ augmented lineup) and Bootsy Collins attached, the Parliament-Funkadelic name carries with it great expectations. Does it live up to them? Yes, yes it does.

Other artists this week: Cameo, Earth, Wind & Fire, Funkadelic, Kool & the Gang, Prince, Zapp & Roger

Next week: krautrock (e.g. Amon Duul II, Ashra, Can, Cluster, Kraftwerk, Neu!, Klaus Schulze)

(Note: By the fifth day, I think I was losing my mind — at least three people commented that I seemed “flat”, and when I returned to my comfort zone, I immediately brightened up. Next week I will only persist for four days straight.)

It’s about bloody time.

Micallef has reportedly teamed up with SBS to produce Newstopia, a half-hour comedy that takes a satirical stab at world news. The program is co-created by Micallef and his long-time collaborators Gary McCaffrie and Michael Ward.

Newstopia could follow a similar format to the popular Daily Show with Jon Stewart, which airs intermittently on SBS.

I’m a big fan of The Daily Show (and an even bigger fan of its spinoff, The Colbert Report), and if anyone can pull of an Australian version, it’s Shaun Micallef.

Micallef is my favourite Australian working in comedy, not the least of which because his writing is loaded with absurdist humour. His hosting of the Logies — matched only by Andrew Denton’s two stints — is one of the few highlights of an otherwise dull affair.

Sport, sport, sport.

To me, bogan culture is intrinsically Anglo-Australian and involves watching the footy/cricket a lot — something I cannot relate to at all.

My father’s family were immigrants from the former Soviet Union with a background in the arts, and my mother’s family tend towards intellectual/academic pursuits. In neither case would you expect to find the footy-watching demographic.

Frankly, I’m not just apathetic about sport-watching — I actively hate it. Far too much attention is paid to something so frivolous. The arts at least can inform and educate, and academia can improve our world, but what did Don Bradman achieve that made our lives better? Fuck all, that’s what.

Australia’s fawning over sport stars — people who contribute nothing of worth yet often behave in the most obnoxious manner possible — is sickening, and we’re all lesser for it.

What has to be one of the most profound, deliriously surrealistic web-application around is the Nietzche Family Circus, where random Family Circus panels illustrate randomly-selected Nietzche quotes.

Here’s one I prepared earlier.

I grew up listening to Triple M in the mid-’80s, which means I was served a large dose of classic rock from the ’70s and ’80s: AC/DC, Pink Floyd, John Mellencamp, Cold Chisel, Midnight Oil, Bruce Springsteen, Eagles, Dire Straits, Creedence, etc., etc. When you also factor in that I listened to things like Status Quo and Deep Purple from my mum’s record collection, the picture becomes clearer.

(Disclaimer: I don’t actually think I’m a bogan.)