Check out Melbourne's very own throwback to the days of simple guitar pop, The Basics, as they blog on their adventures around Australia playing gigs at schools and remote areas. They'll be popping up every couple of days in our news section for the next month or so.
October 16 - WallyOur first gig of the tour is at Perth Modern High School, at 1pm! Did someone say rock ‘n’ roll? I should explain: we’re playing a number of schools on this two month tour in support of a foundation called Lifeline. We successfully applied for a grant from the government to do this, and we’re hoping to collect some gold coin donations from the students, raise awareness about Lifeline, and maybe also get some young music fans into the band.
Everything goes well; always nice for the first day of a tour. Our contact at the school is lovely and we’re able to find a good spot in a corner of the quadrangle. Although we’re all quite nervous and unsure of what to expect- definitely more than if we had a pub gig- there are a number of small groups of students who take the time to listen to the short set (25 minutes- Perth Moderners have a pretty strict lunchtime allowance). We do an encore of a tune called Hey There (“play the Spanish-sounding one again” a male student yells). We haven’t played live for over a month but it’s sounding really good, especially for a small vocal PA and an outdoor area. On the charity side of things, a lot of students take Lifeline brochures, and we get a good donation of gold coins from those that are listening. Maybe this school gig caper won’t be so nerve-wracking after all.
October 18 - Tim
Of course, one the many joys of touring regional towns, is meeting the locals. They come in all shapes and sizes, colors and smells, tastes...well, you know. Last night played in the picturesque town of Collie, south east of Perth, I got to meet some locals at the pub where we were playing. I wouldn't call them punters at our gig, because they had been in the pub all afternoon and well into the evening. So they were still there when we played at 12.30 am. I met the local hair-dressing twins, who liked my hair and decided to call me Curl. Throughout the night I kept declining offers to dance with them. They'd screech "Curly" across the room and I smiled a withered smile.
Another local I met was a woman (around 50 probably) who said, in her baritone rasp, "You look dashing. What do you do?" The hairdresser slurred, "'E's an innerleck." "Oh, an intellect..." I thanked her for the translation but told her I just a muso. "Oh..." and then I got regaled with her stories of the "when the scene was hip, back in the 80's".
But taking the cake in the Best Local category was the Dancing Baby. Probably in his early 60s, he came over to me at the bar and asked if I was in the band. He looked like a baby in an old man's body. "Yes. We're playing last...late. Probably 12.30." I said.
"Oh, the first band was great". No one had played yet.
"That was us," I replied, "soundchecking."
"When are you on?"
"Last.12.30."
I was wondering how dumb this ancient baby really was.
"Well, I won't stick around. I'm sorry, but I'll stay for the first band then I'll go home, so I'll miss you."
Ok. A-grade twit.
However, he totally redeemed himself, by dancing in a fashion that could only be described as horrific. He was the Dancing Baby. He waddled, he twisted, he clapped (out of time), stumbled and tripped, but never fell. He was a solo crusader in the world of freakish dancing. This provided much mirth for us and made the 8 hour wait bearable. God bless the Dancing baby.
