Part 50 - Mike Patton looked me in the eyes

The opening was definitely unexpected. The band treated us to the favourite “uncle from Tasmania”, a philanderer of unimaginably bad jokes ripping through the bands or artists Faith No More clearly don’t like. They were testing us; see how long it would take for us to crack. It took about 7 minutes. After much jeering and booing, Faith No More emerged and played a song called Reunited.

Reunited! Fucking smart arses.

The pit exploded when the first notes of From Out of Nowhere burst through speakers and hit our expectant ears. A great throng of energy pulsed through us, and suddenly there were heads banging, bodies pushing and limps flaying everywhere.

The bass drove through us, pumping like a bass should but so often does not. At times, a funk bass line would emerge from a heavy rock song. Fucking crazy.

Be Aggressive was much more, yep, aggressive than I have ever thought it to be. The song slows in the middle, and then ruptures into a blazing solo, backed by the hard drumming. Sweat was flying everywhere: these Faith No More fans had gone nuts. I was going nuts. The tempo slowed right down for Evidence, which seemed to please the crowd and placate my sore knees. Last Cup of Sorrow, and then The Gentle Art of Making Enemies followed this, and we proudly roared “I’m ‘bout the best fuck you ever had!” Cuckoo for Caca went off wonderfully, and then we were treated to a fucking great rendition of Easy. I think at this point, I will stop listing every track played and describing in detail they way each track made me feel.

The set list was a wonderful surprise for me. There were some obvious choices, but then tracks like Be Aggressive, Cuckoo For Caca and Surprise! You’re Dead came out of nowhere. No pun intended. I thought they would stick to the singles and maybe jam a little. I did not expect the band to be enjoying the show so much. For Mike Patton to be enjoying the show so much. I was up close. He looked me in the eyes once, and it was amazing. If that man was not enjoying that particular performance, then he is a brilliant professional.

Epic came and went, and by this point I was in a cloudy haze of happiness. Pure happiness. And then Just A Man started. Arguably my second favourite track (I like the sentiment, the gospel aspect of it and the over whelming positiveness of that track). I lost my mind a little. In fact, I lost my mind. My brother and I exchanged glances of exhilarated astonishment. We turned to our choir leader, our Messiah and basked in his infinite wisdom. They left the stage, but returned to play two encores. This Guy’s In Love with You was dedicated to Burt Bachurach and they finished oh so appropriately with We Care a Lot. Thank you very much Faith No More.

I was very pleased to read the set list changed from show to show. Not massive changes, but it is always nice to know you got one particular track while another place at another time got another track and so on. Just a Man destroyed me, but This Guy’s in Love with You absolutely killed me. I don’t think I have managed to successfully recreate what an amazing two hours I had that night. If they had just gone through the standard routine, it would have been a great night, but they threw so much more at us. Faith No More threw in some Crowded House, they played Chariots of Fire. They took the piss out of themselves and out of the audience. The genuinely had a laugh, and we laughed right with them.

I emerged from the small mosh pit drench in sweat. Someone exclaimed that they had dry patch on their shirt. I laughed with him. I was thirsty and fucking sore and so tired, but I just saw one of my top 5 favourite bands and/or artists blow my fucking mind. I have still not come down from my high. It has been 5 days.

Part 48 - Raggamuffin and Lauryn Hill

There was heat but no sun. A Fugee but no Wyclef. Raggamuffin 2010 was a nice day in the park, but it cost a lot.

It was a shame, because there was a lovely feeling in the air. Was it the marijuana mixed with the cool breeze and occasionally spitters of rain? Or maybe the chilled out tunes that rolled gently up the hills, to be greeted by the dancing, the sitting, the shirtless and the cool?

Highlights. Sly & Robbie and Lauryn Hill aka L Boogie aka Miss Hill. Sly & Robbie played a fantastic one hour dub set. The beats bounced of the concrete and made your feet hop up and down, side to side. The horns flew mischievously over the guitar and bass, and the drummer (only 1!!!) was fantastic, sounding like a percussion guru and drummer all in one. I am not the biggest Sly and Robbie fan in the world. I didn’t recognise a single track (I first heard of them The Fugees’ 1996 album, The Score). But I know dub and we got some dub and some dub. I wished somebody has passed the joint over.

Lauryn was only for about 45 minutes. She didn’t sing Zion. She didn’t sing Do Woop (That thing). She didn’t bust out that amazing cover of Blame it on the Sun (Stevie Wonder) which was the last track on the single for the Fugees’ last single, No Women, No Cry. But she put on a show. Her band were incredibly tight, and the jam sessions were fun, crazy but controlled. She hopped about, threw out incredibly fast rhymes (I bet she can still battle) and lavished us with her beautiful voice. I did not expect to hear much Fugees’ work, and was VERY impressed by solo rendition of The Score’s How Many Mics. She sang the Delfonics classic Ready or Not before dropping the beat we all know. She gave so much in so little time.

But we all wanted more. Oh so much more, but “Miss Hill” did no encores. It was short but oh so sweet.

I have to admit, I had more fun at ReggaMuffin than I thought I would, but the festival is flawed. The ticket price is too high, that was too much free space. There should have been a shit load of people milling about, grooving and chillin’. The place wasn’t empty, but Melbourne likes reggae. We like dub. Market it better. Charge less. Don’t have Sean Kingston on the bill. And don’t fucking headline with fucking Shaggy.

Part 46 - Fantastic Mr. Fox

Wes Anderson’s wonderful adaptation of Roald Dahl’s wonderful novel is a rollicking fun film and should bring plenty of smiles and loud laughter to most viewers.

The story is very Dahlian: Fox steals food from evil, ugly farmers and then hosts big party for all the animals of the surrounding area. Anderson and co-writer Baumach use this base and add in a character here there, give it a post-modern edge and then chuck in heaps of British Invasion and folk french music. Anderson has a very specific film making style. Everything from his presentation to how his actor’s speak through the characters is charmingly Anderson-ian (Yes, I have made this up). The open sequence begins with a the Roald Dahl’s book held in front of the camera by an unseen animal. It is reminiscent of the opening sequence of the Royal Tenebaums and Rushmore.


The world Anderson creates is very set and defined. The attention to detail is magnificent, and makes repeated viewings more pleasurable than they normally should be (you always see pick up on new things, happening somewhere in the background). As usual, his actors produce a little something special, and their performances are all fantastic.

I should also add, an obvious point really, but Fantastic Mr. Fox is not a children’s film. Ignore the PG rating and non-film format. If this had been a regular, live action film, it would have been at least rated M for “adult content.’ Don’t take your young kids, their attentions will wain once the gloss of the ‘different’ animation wears off.

A must see film for “Anderson-ians’; they will love the unique and nerdy touches to a rather loved childhood novel.

Part 18 – Corrupted: El Mundo Frio

When it comes to doing things their own damn way, in their own damn time, it is hard to beat the Japanese.

Corrupted are yet another mind-bogglingly band from this little country. A dark, doom, sludge metal band. You think that would be enough. Extreme Metal is normally enough. But no, they feel the need to also sing in Spanish.

So, a Japanese doom band singing in Spanish. That’s enough, surely? Nope. 1 track. Just over 70 minutes long.

El Mundo Frio.

It’s more than a song, or an album. It’s an experience, a wonderful experience. It opens up with 10 minute introduction, a gentle build up. Guitars strumming, low, deep base. Some might say slow. But I say wonderfully gentle. You sink into a light, floaty space, and then the bass kicks in and the doom begins. Commences. Still relatively low key. You’re still floating, but the floaty space is now quite dark and a little choppy.

And then the vocals kick in. By this point, 25 minutes have passed, and you have lost total control. It’s all gone. The singer, whatever his name is, speaks, in his dark, heavy Japanese accent, reciting Spanish lyrics over the music.

After this, he starts to sing: guttural sounds, low, deep and fucking fantastic.

The song does all of this twice. TWICE. And that’s not enough. The first time I heard it, I thought I was in a trance.

A fucking great album.

Part 44 – Old Dogs

I was unfortunate enough to have to sit through this poorly directed, and poorly constructed film. Purchasing the ticket was embarrassing. But waiting at the front of the cinema with hordes of children, parents and old couples was almost too much to bear.

The film itself was terrible. Bad writing, bad acting (Robin Williams really out did himself – a caricature of an actor) and just a ridiculous sequence of events pasted together made it ludicrous film to watch. This was not even pop corn fodder – some scenes, particularly the camping scene, seemed tacked on. Terrible and loud.

A waste of time and money. I thoroughly recommend you tie up your ex-boyfriend of ex-girlfriend (assuming they broke your heart) and subject them to it.

Part 11 - The French Kissers (Les beaux gosses)

Not quiet a literal translation, but certainly one that works for this film, The French Kissers (Les beaux gosses) is Riad Sattouf first foray into the glistening world of cinema. A fun and seemingly honest take on French teenagers in modern, multi-ethnic France.

My poco amount of research into this film had located an interview with Sattouf in The Age. He came across as an ambitious writer (not fazed by any criticism of his literary work), but as a director, possibly thought he may not have had what it took to finish see project through. But he did, and a great job he did too.

Sattouf clearly adores his characters and the world he created for them. Sure, there are times when you laugh at them because of how they look, or the silly things they say, but this is part of their journey: looking awkward, feeling stupid and saying the wrong things all the time. One can see that a main priority of Sattouf’s was to depict ‘coming of age’ as closely, and awkwardly as he could. This is an average story about average people. The cast are all first timers and are rather exceptional, playing their roles superbly. The more senior characters are all rather delightfully portrayed, with Noemie Lvovsky as loving but playful mother stealing the show.

Stylistically, Sattouf seems to revel in his ‘first-timer’ status and has fun with the direction of the film. As can be seen with most modern films, we can see the affect of the music video generation, but there is an unique, playful freshness to his directorial style. The film itself employs, in my opinion, the successful ‘episodic’ style of story telling – it has no specific starting or ending, it is rather an episode in their characters’ lives. This style of story telling means the audience hits the ground running. There is no time wasted on building up the character in front of the audience: we learn about them as their adventures unfold. Good writing shows us, it doesn’t tell us.

Sattouf seems to approach the world of cinema much like the characters in his film; full of amazement and wonder, but with a strong sense of self. You will enjoy this film and laugh and cringe along with the characters. A great first effort and a wonderfully enjoyable film.