The smashing Pirate Brides playing at the very last session of the
Madass Folk Club in Brisbane. We're short of something wonderful after
tonight...
Listening to: 'the sound of crickets from the madass stage...for now'
Thursday, February 26, 2009
The Last Madass
The smashing Pirate Brides playing at the very last session of the
Madass Folk Club in Brisbane. We're short of something wonderful after
tonight...
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
In Reply to Your Polite Questions...
We got this lovely email today:
Your Name: Confused
Your Email: (Was fake)
Subject: National?
Message: So, when you say you have a gig at the National, are you performing under a different name? Because under the "complete list of acts and artists", I don't see Sunas. Or perhaps you just mean you're going to the National as paying patrons? You don't actually have a gig there do you? It's just bignoting isn't it. And you probably thought nobody would check.
Dear Confused,
We tried to reply to the email you left, but there must have been a typo as it was immediately bounced back 'Sender Unknown' (and the address was rather silly). So in the Súnas tradition of attempting to answer all mail, here's your reply:
"Wow, thank you 'Confused' for your message & in depth sleuthing. It's true, we're not listed to perform at the National Folk Festival on the official program or the "complete list of acts and artists".
But we are however, performing. The brilliant Andrew Pattison of the infamous Troubador tent fame has given us the opportunity to play a concert at the Troub (which is privately booked independently of the Festival Proper). As yet we don't know when or what time (this is why our performance times aren't up yet); we will be informed when we arrive at the National. Needless to say, we're utterly thrilled about this.
So in answer to your question, no, we're not going as paying patrons, although Sarah did last year & had a fantastic time and Bridget has been going for many years. Even if we were going as paying patrons we would still aim to perform blackboard concerts and do our best to advertise it on our website (which we will also be doing anyway) and on posters around the National festival, as we have many friends who would be keen to see us after we performed at the Canberra Folkus Club last year. I don't seem to recall any Sunas blogs screaming that we're playing at the National, apart from our Gig listing. If artists are performing at the National, is it bignoting to list their gigs? If so, we're guilty as charged.
I hope this has helped clear things up. Thanks for spending your time checking up on this (and every other gig listed no doubt) and then spending the time to send such a nice email.
Yours, as always,
Súnas"
Your Name: Confused
Your Email: (Was fake)
Subject: National?
Message: So, when you say you have a gig at the National, are you performing under a different name? Because under the "complete list of acts and artists", I don't see Sunas. Or perhaps you just mean you're going to the National as paying patrons? You don't actually have a gig there do you? It's just bignoting isn't it. And you probably thought nobody would check.
Dear Confused,
We tried to reply to the email you left, but there must have been a typo as it was immediately bounced back 'Sender Unknown' (and the address was rather silly). So in the Súnas tradition of attempting to answer all mail, here's your reply:
"Wow, thank you 'Confused' for your message & in depth sleuthing. It's true, we're not listed to perform at the National Folk Festival on the official program or the "complete list of acts and artists".
But we are however, performing. The brilliant Andrew Pattison of the infamous Troubador tent fame has given us the opportunity to play a concert at the Troub (which is privately booked independently of the Festival Proper). As yet we don't know when or what time (this is why our performance times aren't up yet); we will be informed when we arrive at the National. Needless to say, we're utterly thrilled about this.
So in answer to your question, no, we're not going as paying patrons, although Sarah did last year & had a fantastic time and Bridget has been going for many years. Even if we were going as paying patrons we would still aim to perform blackboard concerts and do our best to advertise it on our website (which we will also be doing anyway) and on posters around the National festival, as we have many friends who would be keen to see us after we performed at the Canberra Folkus Club last year. I don't seem to recall any Sunas blogs screaming that we're playing at the National, apart from our Gig listing. If artists are performing at the National, is it bignoting to list their gigs? If so, we're guilty as charged.
I hope this has helped clear things up. Thanks for spending your time checking up on this (and every other gig listed no doubt) and then spending the time to send such a nice email.
Yours, as always,
Súnas"
Monday, February 16, 2009
So You Think You Can Krump . . . to a Tuneset?
Last night we performed down the coast at one of our regular pubs. Every now and then we have a night which causes images that you don't freely forget to linger in your mind.
We were playing our mental Triple A tuneset, which is one that I quite enjoy playing, as I go to town on the improv :) Sometimes when we play tunesets I get lost in the music, other times I watch the audience intently. Last night I was watching intently as a girl krumped to our tunes.
For those who are unaware (Ps, I'm not an expert on this subject; actually far from it), krumping is an urban street dance-form that originated in South Central Los Angeles and is characterised by free, energetic and highly expressive moves involving the arms and chest (source, www.wikipedia.com). Or for a more entertaining definition, please visit here.
I was utterly transfixed. Being completely dance-challenged I watched as this girl, on the courage of a few drinks & wearing insanely high heels moved her body to our music. To say she was great is a bit of an overstatement; at times it bordered on obscene. But to her credit, she didn't fall over and, despite the environment, everyone couldn't help but watch her dance. In all my days as a performer I didn't know you *could* krump to tunes!
It just goes to show that anything is possible.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Cygnet Folk Festival -A Paul Perspective
So, Tasmania.
This blog has taken me ages to get to simply because there’s just so much to write about. I guess I’ll use the time-honoured tradition and start at the beginning:
We had three days between the close of Woodford (we stayed on at the site those extra couple of days) and catching the 6am plane for Hobart. Luckily, it was just a matter of washing the Woodford stuff, restringing and then putting everything back into the bags. 6am flights are nasty. It means a 3am get out of bed. Nasty (and I’m still sorry Sarah –there really was no later choice). The flight was fine, the nice person at Virgin let us check in those few extra muso kilos without any trouble and after a wee changeover at Sydney, we were in Jackman & MacRoss before we knew it, hugging Helen and eating our beloved friands, pies and coffee. I won’t bother extolling their virtues here –just look at any of the previous blogs.
That night we played a small little gig at the Lark Distillery as part of the program launch, and it gave us a great opportunity to catch up with all our good friends and of course sample Bill and Kiera’s fabulous whiskeys and liqueurs.
We were asked back in March to perform at this year’s Cygnet Festival, and we’ve been looking forward to it since then. We played a guest spot there in 2007 and it’s just a wonderful little festival, set in the town of Cygnet in the Huon Valley, which is about an hour’s drive south of Hobart. It’s a beautiful area, lush, green, full of orchards and organic food producers. The days were hot, but the temperature dropped quite dramatically when the sun went down, and just coming off the heat of Woodford, we probably hadn’t packed as many warm things as we should have. Still, that’s what the alcohol and tunes were for! So, once again packed in to Helen’s big red ex-fire truck Hilux, we set off on adventures. We had a wee bit of a surprise as we found we were staying in the scout hall at the main camp ground, quite literally four mattresses inside a large hall. That was fine until the Scouts came in at 5am to fire up a campers’ breakfast BBQ in another section of the hall. Every so often, a uniformed lad would sneak through a door and then, head down, bolt for the kitchen to get a fork or something, then thunder back. Of course, after an hour or so, the hall was filled with a sausage-tinged haze that made sleeping (and indeed breathing) a bit tricky, so it was off to the bucket showers (I kid not).
The gigs went down really well. We had an extra workshop that we weren’t aware of (and some of the programming had been changed but not updated in the program or with us), but other than that, we had a great time. The highlight once again was Dougie MacLean. Bridget and I bumped into him on the first night, wandering around in search of some fun and we ended up hanging out. Now, this is where I come to the only real downside with the festival. After dark, Cygnet becomes…belligerent. That seems to be the best way to describe it. As we walked the High Street, we were abused from the dark (one guy told Dougie ‘Get a fucking haircut and a job, hippy,’ which we all found hysterical) and there are quite literally gangs of kids roaming around looking for trouble. This isn’t my over active imagination at work, as there were even ‘guards’ on the entrance to the camp site. It’s a odd thing, and it sparked much discussion over the weekend. You’d think that people would be happy for the custom and tourist influx (I know we spent a great deal of our fee eating at the superb Red Velvet Lounge and the wonderful coffee at the Lotus Eaters Café), but friends who live locally tell us it’s a fairly common thing in the area. There just isn’t anything to do after dark (except harass folkies once a year apparently). But enough of the negative, it really was only a small thing and didn’t impact on our enjoyment at all (although Bridge and I did walk Dougie home at about 4am –and I’m not sure if that was for his protection or the local populace…)
So, Dougie. We’d chatted about the idea of us doing a song together, and he was still keen, so we decided to have a crack at Green Grow the Rashes. We met up with him the next morning (we had a gig right after his in the main town hall that afternoon, which was perfect) and pretty much spent a wonderful morning jamming on a picture-perfect verandah surrounded by flowering shrubs and rolling hills. This was also the first time Helen got to meet him (she’s been a fan for many many years) and that was really special (we’d gotten Dougie to leave a message on her answer machine at Woodford that she’ll probably never delete). It wasn't long before Helen had spoken to Jenny MacLean and they'd agreed to come to Stanton after the festival for some chill out time. Helen is just amazing. She could sell a eunuch Viagra if she wanted to. Towards the end of the session, the subject of didgeridoos came up, and Dougie showed us this new, tuneable one he’d bought outside of Eumundi. It was great; plastic, not too heavy and sectioned so that not only was it tuneable to all keys, but it telescoped down to be very portable. And it sounded brilliant. So, pushing our luck, we asked him if he’d like to play on Travelling Man as well, which has a didge on the album, but obviously very rarely live. He agreed, the pointed out he’d not played for about 11 years (he was actually taught by Aborigines in far north Queensland during one of his tours many moons ago). So with Sarah hurriedly learning the Scots words to Green Grow the Rashes, me trying to remember the intricate little guitar runs he’d shown me and Dougie remembering how to circular breathe, it was going to be a great afternoon.
And it was. The crowd that showed for Dougie stayed for us, and we played a really nice set of originals only. I was in a personal hell because something in my guitar floor rig hadn’t survived the flight (I was hoping it was only the power transformer and not the irreplaceable EQ unit), but halfway through one of the songs Bridget cracked up. She told me later it was because she had seen Dougie off to the side of the stage peeking at the audience through his didge as if it were a telescope. It was an amazing personal experience to play on stage with him, but in such a reciprocal manner too; one of his songs, one of our songs. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.
It was a great festival. We met up with Queensland friends Dave, Judy, Martin and Narelle there (for the second time) and also got to catch up with people we’d performed with before like Ethereal, Andrew Winton, the inimitable To’rags and of course Women in Docs.
There’s a second part to this blog, detailing the gigs and events that happened on the rest of our Tasmanian trip, but I think I’ll knock that up as a second entry, as there’s quite a lot still to tell.
This blog has taken me ages to get to simply because there’s just so much to write about. I guess I’ll use the time-honoured tradition and start at the beginning:
We had three days between the close of Woodford (we stayed on at the site those extra couple of days) and catching the 6am plane for Hobart. Luckily, it was just a matter of washing the Woodford stuff, restringing and then putting everything back into the bags. 6am flights are nasty. It means a 3am get out of bed. Nasty (and I’m still sorry Sarah –there really was no later choice). The flight was fine, the nice person at Virgin let us check in those few extra muso kilos without any trouble and after a wee changeover at Sydney, we were in Jackman & MacRoss before we knew it, hugging Helen and eating our beloved friands, pies and coffee. I won’t bother extolling their virtues here –just look at any of the previous blogs.
That night we played a small little gig at the Lark Distillery as part of the program launch, and it gave us a great opportunity to catch up with all our good friends and of course sample Bill and Kiera’s fabulous whiskeys and liqueurs.
We were asked back in March to perform at this year’s Cygnet Festival, and we’ve been looking forward to it since then. We played a guest spot there in 2007 and it’s just a wonderful little festival, set in the town of Cygnet in the Huon Valley, which is about an hour’s drive south of Hobart. It’s a beautiful area, lush, green, full of orchards and organic food producers. The days were hot, but the temperature dropped quite dramatically when the sun went down, and just coming off the heat of Woodford, we probably hadn’t packed as many warm things as we should have. Still, that’s what the alcohol and tunes were for! So, once again packed in to Helen’s big red ex-fire truck Hilux, we set off on adventures. We had a wee bit of a surprise as we found we were staying in the scout hall at the main camp ground, quite literally four mattresses inside a large hall. That was fine until the Scouts came in at 5am to fire up a campers’ breakfast BBQ in another section of the hall. Every so often, a uniformed lad would sneak through a door and then, head down, bolt for the kitchen to get a fork or something, then thunder back. Of course, after an hour or so, the hall was filled with a sausage-tinged haze that made sleeping (and indeed breathing) a bit tricky, so it was off to the bucket showers (I kid not).
The gigs went down really well. We had an extra workshop that we weren’t aware of (and some of the programming had been changed but not updated in the program or with us), but other than that, we had a great time. The highlight once again was Dougie MacLean. Bridget and I bumped into him on the first night, wandering around in search of some fun and we ended up hanging out. Now, this is where I come to the only real downside with the festival. After dark, Cygnet becomes…belligerent. That seems to be the best way to describe it. As we walked the High Street, we were abused from the dark (one guy told Dougie ‘Get a fucking haircut and a job, hippy,’ which we all found hysterical) and there are quite literally gangs of kids roaming around looking for trouble. This isn’t my over active imagination at work, as there were even ‘guards’ on the entrance to the camp site. It’s a odd thing, and it sparked much discussion over the weekend. You’d think that people would be happy for the custom and tourist influx (I know we spent a great deal of our fee eating at the superb Red Velvet Lounge and the wonderful coffee at the Lotus Eaters Café), but friends who live locally tell us it’s a fairly common thing in the area. There just isn’t anything to do after dark (except harass folkies once a year apparently). But enough of the negative, it really was only a small thing and didn’t impact on our enjoyment at all (although Bridge and I did walk Dougie home at about 4am –and I’m not sure if that was for his protection or the local populace…)
So, Dougie. We’d chatted about the idea of us doing a song together, and he was still keen, so we decided to have a crack at Green Grow the Rashes. We met up with him the next morning (we had a gig right after his in the main town hall that afternoon, which was perfect) and pretty much spent a wonderful morning jamming on a picture-perfect verandah surrounded by flowering shrubs and rolling hills. This was also the first time Helen got to meet him (she’s been a fan for many many years) and that was really special (we’d gotten Dougie to leave a message on her answer machine at Woodford that she’ll probably never delete). It wasn't long before Helen had spoken to Jenny MacLean and they'd agreed to come to Stanton after the festival for some chill out time. Helen is just amazing. She could sell a eunuch Viagra if she wanted to. Towards the end of the session, the subject of didgeridoos came up, and Dougie showed us this new, tuneable one he’d bought outside of Eumundi. It was great; plastic, not too heavy and sectioned so that not only was it tuneable to all keys, but it telescoped down to be very portable. And it sounded brilliant. So, pushing our luck, we asked him if he’d like to play on Travelling Man as well, which has a didge on the album, but obviously very rarely live. He agreed, the pointed out he’d not played for about 11 years (he was actually taught by Aborigines in far north Queensland during one of his tours many moons ago). So with Sarah hurriedly learning the Scots words to Green Grow the Rashes, me trying to remember the intricate little guitar runs he’d shown me and Dougie remembering how to circular breathe, it was going to be a great afternoon.
And it was. The crowd that showed for Dougie stayed for us, and we played a really nice set of originals only. I was in a personal hell because something in my guitar floor rig hadn’t survived the flight (I was hoping it was only the power transformer and not the irreplaceable EQ unit), but halfway through one of the songs Bridget cracked up. She told me later it was because she had seen Dougie off to the side of the stage peeking at the audience through his didge as if it were a telescope. It was an amazing personal experience to play on stage with him, but in such a reciprocal manner too; one of his songs, one of our songs. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.
It was a great festival. We met up with Queensland friends Dave, Judy, Martin and Narelle there (for the second time) and also got to catch up with people we’d performed with before like Ethereal, Andrew Winton, the inimitable To’rags and of course Women in Docs.
There’s a second part to this blog, detailing the gigs and events that happened on the rest of our Tasmanian trip, but I think I’ll knock that up as a second entry, as there’s quite a lot still to tell.
Cygnet Folk Festival – A Bridgey perspective
Pick the member of the band who doesn't have an iPhone or Mac permanently attached to them… well that would have been a good excuse if I hadn't been home for 2 weeks. So, it's been a while, and we've been very busy. Paul's Woodford blogs explain far more than I could ever hope to write about so I'll just skip that and go straight to Tasmania. Or to be more specific, the Cygnet Folk Festival. (There's also the Stanton adventures starring Helen, Rabbit, Di, Sam, Buffy and Twinkle… but I dare-say one of the others will fill you in about that).
Beautiful 15-degree Tasmania. Much more civilised than walking around with a wet sarong and a fan. Well that's what we thought until we saw our 'showers' and longed to be back in the Woodford campground. We arrived at the Cygnet folk festival in Helen's red truck and quickly went off to find out about our accommodation (being an interstate act we were being billeted… or so we thought). Our accommodation for the weekend turned out to be a massive scout hall, thoughtfully equipped with mattresses and bedding (mine, Paul's and Sair's up one end and Mannie way down in his snore-proof corner), our own toilets and to our delight – a kettle and coffee! A huge thanks to Leanne for setting us up so comfortably. The showers however, were a different story. Picture this: a bucket, a rope, a temporary stall and shower curtain and one monster wind sweeping through the room. After attempting to shower using the kitchen sink, Sair and I eventually braved it, taking turns holding the shower curtain in place for each other so we could at least use our bucket in private. (The next day Roz Pappalardo took pity on us and offered us the use of their shower – thanks Roz!).
So I guess I should actually go back to some sort of musical reference, seeing as we were at a festival with quite an amazing line up. Within minutes of arriving we had run into Dougie MacLean, Andrew Winton, various To'Rags and Roz, Geoff and Silas from Women in Docs. It was going to be a good festival. We kicked off the night watching Women in Docs rock it out in the town hall, before heading down to our own gig at the RSL. Despite some technical failures (and a very unhappy Paul having to play without his gadgets), the gig was great and it was amazing to catch up with some old Tassie friends (and a few that followed us all the way from Brisbane!).
Later that night, still on a high from the gig, Paul and I left sleeping beauty 1 and 2 in search of some fun… and maybe a wee dram. As we wandered the treacherous streets (bit of a Paul-writer moment there) we wound up at the middle pub (as opposed to bottom pub or top pub – I'm not joking), and were instantly claimed by none other than Dougie MacLean. Having made it through the streets himself (not an easy task after dark in Cygnet) and studying the choice of sessions being played madly throughout the pub, we decided that instead of playing it was necessary to drink and solve the problems of the world. Which of course we did. Take that world! We also decided that an inter-band, inter-country, inter-festival gig collaboration was necessary and settled upon a time and meeting place for the following day to hatch our plans.
So it was that we found ourselves on the verandah of Dougie and Jenny's cottage, playing and singing, taking silly photo's, and watching Helen's absolutely delighted expression as she convinced the MacLean's to visit Stanton after the festival. The end product was a guest appearance of the Bronzed Super-god himself (a bit of a joke after Dougie had played wearing sleeve-less tops and shorts up at Woodford and had acquired a decent tan) during the Sunas concert that afternoon. With a newly arranged version of Green Grow the Rashes, and the debut of Dougie's newly purchased tuneable didgeridoo during Travelling Man, you couldn't wipe the smiles of our faces. The day only got better with an impromptu session in the beer garden of the bottom pub, where Sair and Dougie attempted to out-smut each other through song.
Somewhere in there was a workshop, another gig, more catching up with friends (in particular sitting outside the pub for a good few hours with Chanel and Geoff, before being taken over by extremely enthusiastic Morris dancers!), drinking, the discovery of the curry box, and poor Sair battling the flu and coming very close to losing her voice. Sickness aside, it was a brilliant weekend and the fun only continued as we headed back to Stanton for another week or so.
That's all for now…
Beautiful 15-degree Tasmania. Much more civilised than walking around with a wet sarong and a fan. Well that's what we thought until we saw our 'showers' and longed to be back in the Woodford campground. We arrived at the Cygnet folk festival in Helen's red truck and quickly went off to find out about our accommodation (being an interstate act we were being billeted… or so we thought). Our accommodation for the weekend turned out to be a massive scout hall, thoughtfully equipped with mattresses and bedding (mine, Paul's and Sair's up one end and Mannie way down in his snore-proof corner), our own toilets and to our delight – a kettle and coffee! A huge thanks to Leanne for setting us up so comfortably. The showers however, were a different story. Picture this: a bucket, a rope, a temporary stall and shower curtain and one monster wind sweeping through the room. After attempting to shower using the kitchen sink, Sair and I eventually braved it, taking turns holding the shower curtain in place for each other so we could at least use our bucket in private. (The next day Roz Pappalardo took pity on us and offered us the use of their shower – thanks Roz!).
So I guess I should actually go back to some sort of musical reference, seeing as we were at a festival with quite an amazing line up. Within minutes of arriving we had run into Dougie MacLean, Andrew Winton, various To'Rags and Roz, Geoff and Silas from Women in Docs. It was going to be a good festival. We kicked off the night watching Women in Docs rock it out in the town hall, before heading down to our own gig at the RSL. Despite some technical failures (and a very unhappy Paul having to play without his gadgets), the gig was great and it was amazing to catch up with some old Tassie friends (and a few that followed us all the way from Brisbane!).
Later that night, still on a high from the gig, Paul and I left sleeping beauty 1 and 2 in search of some fun… and maybe a wee dram. As we wandered the treacherous streets (bit of a Paul-writer moment there) we wound up at the middle pub (as opposed to bottom pub or top pub – I'm not joking), and were instantly claimed by none other than Dougie MacLean. Having made it through the streets himself (not an easy task after dark in Cygnet) and studying the choice of sessions being played madly throughout the pub, we decided that instead of playing it was necessary to drink and solve the problems of the world. Which of course we did. Take that world! We also decided that an inter-band, inter-country, inter-festival gig collaboration was necessary and settled upon a time and meeting place for the following day to hatch our plans.
So it was that we found ourselves on the verandah of Dougie and Jenny's cottage, playing and singing, taking silly photo's, and watching Helen's absolutely delighted expression as she convinced the MacLean's to visit Stanton after the festival. The end product was a guest appearance of the Bronzed Super-god himself (a bit of a joke after Dougie had played wearing sleeve-less tops and shorts up at Woodford and had acquired a decent tan) during the Sunas concert that afternoon. With a newly arranged version of Green Grow the Rashes, and the debut of Dougie's newly purchased tuneable didgeridoo during Travelling Man, you couldn't wipe the smiles of our faces. The day only got better with an impromptu session in the beer garden of the bottom pub, where Sair and Dougie attempted to out-smut each other through song.
Somewhere in there was a workshop, another gig, more catching up with friends (in particular sitting outside the pub for a good few hours with Chanel and Geoff, before being taken over by extremely enthusiastic Morris dancers!), drinking, the discovery of the curry box, and poor Sair battling the flu and coming very close to losing her voice. Sickness aside, it was a brilliant weekend and the fun only continued as we headed back to Stanton for another week or so.
That's all for now…
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