What a handsome bastard(s)

Silky-D took time off from his life in Christchurch (where he is apparently busy working as a table-cloth at a local Pizza Hut restaurant) to meet up with Crafty in windy Wellington.

Preliminary scoping and logistics work went well and our Global Domination Summer World Tour should go off without a glitch after all the groundwork that was done, checking out the bars, cafes and pubs of the NZ capital.

While exploring, we came upon this intriguing find, which indicates that the great squid emperor has already made his presence felt across the ditch. Imagine our surprise at learning that Mr Bun had fled suburban Melbourne after having his artery-hardened heart broken by Mrs Bun, that young minx who inevitably could not stand her discontent with the horny toad and instead traded him in for a hot bit of crumpet.

It's good to see he's made a new life and successful business for himself across Cook Strait, where his swirls of ham and mustard are finding great fame. When Tedium has finished bouncing on his Swiss ball while repeatedly crooning John Lennon's Beautiful Boy, perhaps he can pen a sequel to what many regard as the Ink's greatest hit (I don't).

When rappers use powerpoint

It's the height of laziness to put up a post that is just a link to somebody else's post but I'm a lazy guy, nobody else is posting anything and I'm at work on a Sunday with some spare time on my hands.

The pic above is from the very loveable Madhattan Nights blog, which has a pretty cool series of hip hop songs expressed as bar graphs, flow charts etc.

It's a bit of an old joke but I still like it.

In other news I went to see a band! Two actually, as it was a Dirtbombs/Datsuns double bill with the Detroit natives cruelly relegated to support status.

The dirtbombs were pretty awesome, despite being handed the old 'opening act handicap' of shithouse sound. Mick Collins oozed more charisma than is to be expected from an overweight blind man with a receding hairline and no fashion sense. He looked at the fretboard a lot when playing (even more than me) which leads me to believe that his whole 'blindness schtick' is just a cynical ploy for record sales.

He also karate kicked and waggled his ass while playing blistering solos, none of which are things that I do.

The Datsuns were extremely competent musicians with incendiary stagecraft but the dullest set of songs you have ever heard. Scarcely a memorable note, let alone a hummable chorus. By the end I was yearning for them to launch into Gunna Hear My Sound.

Or is it Gonna Hear My Sound?

Certain things that bother me about my guitar teacher, Nick

Now that our album is recorded I've decided to learn to play guitar. Sick of being the Sid Vicious of the band (and unable to continue with the self-harm regime that goes along with that tag) I've started lessons with Nick from the Beggs Music Academy. I selected this school because it was the only place within walking distance and I did not have a car. I now have a car but am locked in after paying for 12 lessons upfront.
I have some gripes to share.

1. Nick is approximately 18 years of age.

2. All other students at the Beggs Music Academy are approximately 13 years of age.

3. Nick is a far greater guitar player than I could ever hope to be but each lesson is only 30 minutes and Nick spends most of it showing me how awesome he is.

4. Nick says ''awesome'' a lot. In response to pretty much anything (including many things that are, frankly, not awesome).

5. Nick refers to famous guitarists by their first names. ''This is more of an Eric lick''; ''bend and hammer, just like Chuck'' ; ''you wanna play it like Jimmi but not ''sound'' like Jimmi.''

6. This is not just annoying but also potentially confusing. Last week I thought he was talking about Hendrix when in actual fact he was name-checking Jimmy Page: ''nobody got the chops like Jimmy.''

7. Nick keeps trying to make me play Black Magic Woman. ''Carlos is awesome, man.''

8. One time I arrived early for my lesson, only to find him alone in the room, belting out an impassioned version of Counting Crows' hit Mr Jones. Complete with imperfect vocal impersonations. ''Sha la la la la lal la..... Mmmmmwahhhaw.''

9. One time I arrived for my lesson and Nick didn't show up. He got the time wrong. Instead of apologising the next week he said: ''hey that was some crazy mix-up, ay?''

10. Nick is attending Jazz School and so talks in a mixture of hep-cat slang and New Zealand accent. This is beyond irritating.

11. I don't really feel that Nick and I have bonded and I worry that we never really will.

12. Personal hygiene also something of an issue.

On the positive side...
1. He likes Django, whose gammy handed genius I have previously blogged about.

2. I guess I am getting a bit better.