The Thousands

Hey you guys. It just went summer! There's so much to do. There's a new market down the East End. A swell new bar underneath another bar. Art here and there. A whole bunch of sales. And there will always be getting nipply in the ocean.

Cover photo by Jared Brown. Hit us with your best shot. Send yours to daniel@rightanglestudio.com.au.

“Once Boshell finally killed his neighbour he couldn’t seem to quit killing him.” The opening thirteen words set the tone for this collection of stories featuring tragically troubled characters - meth dealers, rapists, criminals and war veterans.

There’s Boswell, who killed his neighbour (multiple times!), the 17-year-old girl kidnapped while mowing a lawn, the jockey beaten with a piece of wood, oh, and and the guy who burned his neighbour’s house down because it blocked his bed-ridden father’s river view. This is a Di Morrissey nightmare!

Woodrell, best known as the author of the Oscar-nominated Winter’s Bone, returns to the Ozarks where his desperate characters fight crushing poverty and violence. From the past (one story refers to a racial murder in the 1930s, another to the murder of a Dutch drifter riding with Quantril’s Raiders during the Civil War) to the present, the characters have one thing in common: stone cold desperation.

Comparisons to Cormac McCarthy are hard to avoid as Woodrell’s prose is lean, mean and about as blunt as the two-by-four that crushes the jockey’s head in. At 160 pages The Outlaw Album could be read in 24 hours. I did – but that’s a lot of violence for one day!

It’s always a difficult task trying to categorize duo The Scrapes. 'Psychedelic', 'Cinematic', 'Ambient', 'Experimental', 'Orchestral', 'Apocalyptic' are all adjectives that the fine folks of the world wide web have used to try and pinpoint their sound.

While all of these terms encompass on some level the sonic landscape weavings of guitarist Ryan Potter and violinist Adam Cadell, there’s something deeply fruitful and fresh that can't be categorized on their latest release Kali Yuga Sunrise. Far more rhythmic (like the sound of a hundred sewing machines in an Indian sweat shop) than The Scrapes' 2010 release, Electric Mourning Blues, and much more mature and encapsulating, it’s almost like Ryan and Adam are creating the soundtrack to a British-Indian regimental experience rather than the tales of Brisbane.

Technically this is a perfect record. Its use of dynamics and looping completely cloud the outside world, like they’re creating a pocket of stories from the Dharavi Slums in Mumbai within each song. I’m finding it extremely hard to write a review about Kali Yuga Sunrise without delving into some sort of pretentious bullshit using forty adjectives per sentence to try and explain the world that Ryan and Adam have created within their record, but they make it pretty hard. As I said, they’re a really hard band to pin down, and now I’m starting to sympathise with others who have tried.

The East End loves to talk up its 'cosmopolitan' credentials. Sure, at 1am on a Friday or Saturday its cosmopolitanism errs more on the side of this or this, but on the whole they're onto something - footpath dining, independent stores nestled alongside the boutiques of selected Australian labels, decent coffee in all directions, and Ebenezer Place - oh you! You're lovely!

This summer Ebenezer is getting all Portobello on our asses with a Friday night market! It takes all the best parts of the actual metropolises that we're constantly checking Webjet for cheap flights to, and brings them to our very own cosy boutique-lined backstreet. A touch of New York via Burger Theory, a whiff of Paris courtesy of The Curious Cabinet, Seattle-worthy vintage from Clubhouse Lane Boutique, Heart On Her Sleeve and The Carnabetian Army Store, an outdoor dance party that wouldn't be out of place in Berlin, and even a dash of Melbourne thrown in with an open air cinema. Yes, the East End is a pocket of Adelaide that deserves its cosmopolitan moniker. Soak it up at The Local Market.

English writer-director Joe Cornish (of cult comedy duo Adam and Joe) splashes with a feature film debut that’s just plain fun. It’s the anti-Harry Brown – rather than painting housing-estate kids as alien monsters, Attack the Block has them fighting alien monsters. But audaciously, it kicks off with the heroes mugging the heroine, Sam (Jodie Whittaker), at knifepoint.

Led by Moses (John Boyega), the gang then kills a strange dog-like creature and brings it to the block’s weed den, staffed by the amiable Ron (Nick Frost) but owned by drug lord-slash-rapper Hi-Hatz (Jumayn Hunter). When huge, black, furry, glow-toothed aliens arrive for revenge, Sam and bourgie stoner Brewis (Luke Treadaway) find themselves joining Moses’s gang to defend their turf.

Attack the Block feels delightfully effortless. Thuggish hoodies become endearing kids (“This is too much madness to explain in one text!”) and the class commentary is gently subversive (“You swear too much,” the kids chide Sam). The action scenes crib from the Alien movies, creating tense cat-and-mouse chases through corridors, stairwells, lifts and car parks. With its constant forward momentum, pulsating Basement Jaxx soundtrack and judicious gore, Attack the Block is a London riot everyone should endorse.

Hipster photography – sometimes I feel like I've seen it all. Teens sucking home-made bongs, emaciated girls, androgynous boys, friends playing naked in the forest/mountains/beach, dangling legs in sparkly tights, endless summers, suburban share house backyards filled with crumpled old Macca's bags, Lomo, lofi, whatever.

Kat Botten owes something to that whole schtick, but she's got something of her own. Kat collages photographs taken with disposable cameras into doubles, sometimes triples – repeating and rotating the original image and then reprinting them. What I like best about her images is the way she makes the original subject of the photo – a dilapidated building,  a cliff face, some hipster, their messy bedroom – disappear. I mean, it doesn't actually disappear, it's still there and you can make it out if you turn your head and squint, but the image becomes kind of abstract, reduced to textures, patterns and colours. Like a lot of young people taking photos Botten's images are a documentation of her life, her friends, the places she goes. But instead of romanticising her own youth and affecting a narrative of emotional disorientation, she makes pictures that disorient you.

Anyway, maybe I'm over-analysing. Go see the show – it's one night only.

Deadly ponies should exist in reality. They would greet geeks off the street with high-kicks not handshakes, only ever wear balaclava hats, trample on stereos playing Powderfinger, steal everybody’s icecream and just basically be furry four-legged legends.

Okapi Rider is the name of label Deadly Ponies’ latest range of bags and accessories. This range is not designed by my imaginary four-legged friends, unfortch. Or not so unfortch, as you will find once you clap eyes on the stuff crafted by Kiwi Liam Bowden. The line-up takes inspiration from the weird but beautiful ink drawings of Walton Ford, the crispy fierceness of the safari, the tug-and-tackle of the animal kingdom.

Lovers of DP will recognise the brass hardware, the slouchy shoulder styles with added sling, the capacious sizes perfect for squeezing illegal mammals and six-years-worth of your favourite fattest novels in. But this time round Bowden has also downsized to some neat pouch, laptop folios and square satchel options for those to whom less means actually less crap. These people exist, I am sure.

The bagstuffs are not what you’d call cheap. Is a trip to Africa cheap? Hells no! This is pretty much the same thing, except you can’t carry Africa around on your shoulder.

Plus, there’s some goat mohawks dangling in ways that would make my nasty pony gang members proud. Yihhh boi!

For the last few months the rumour mill has been buzzing with whispers of a new bar opening in the city. A few were privy to the finer details of this establishment but most of us were left to curiously peek into vacant properties, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever was about to pop up but seeing nothing but half bricked walls and building materials strewn about the place.

Then a few weeks ago information started circling the realms about Two Ships. Nestled underneath the Jade Monkey via an entrance next door, Two Ships is the place you always wished existed. A small, cosy, den-like atmosphere, with limited capacity (you’ll always have somewhere to sit and get served in a reasonable time!) where you can regale your friends with tales of the seven seas over a quiet beer or two. If you go there at the right time you’ll be able to check out all sorts of wonderful projections and art, or shout at your friend from the other side of a foosball table. Pretty neat!

If my memory of the opening night serves me well the dancers among us need not worry, it's a good place for busting shapes. The joy of Two Ships is that it’s open till late, offering a perfect alternative for those who’d like to stay out after the gig, but don’t want to deal with a bunch of flashing lights messing up their vision.

If you check the BOM (or go outside) you'll find it really is warmer than yesterday (if you went outside yesterday). Yesterday it was spring. Now it's summer. That is pretty much some kind of miracle. Now who do we thank for that? Probably not My Little Pony, she's satanic! Now what to do with these long days of warm sunlight? Apart from the obvious, like screaming "my eyes! my eyes!" and finally cutting your jeans up to unleash those pasty Wolverine legs you've been hiding for the past 6 months? It's beach time dudes, but not any old beach time, it's the best time of beach times - it's Second Valley beach time (echo) time, time, time (/echo).

Second Valley is a mystical valley among other mystical valleys, just down the coast about and hour and a bit from the CBD where the land spectacularly falls into the ocean. On your way there you can op shop at Yankalilla or Normanville, see Madonna and Child, eat fish and chips, or even hit balls if that's your kind of thing, but the destination is really where it's at.

The valley itself is a beautiful little cove strewn with old fishing sheds and rocky cliffs, as well as a fishing jetty inhabited mostly by old men killing squid. There's a caravan park if you want a weekend camp out too but the real reason to head down to Second Valley is for adventure. Just a little scramble away from civilisation is your own rocky swimming hole where you can pretend to be a sexy Sicilian and nuddy up while jumping off the rocks into the deep blue. There's nothing quite like slapping the ocean from a great height. Take your boyfriend there, think about me.

I went to a Kitty Came Home sale couple of years ago, and let me tell you, it was BRUTAL. I had to hip and shoulder some girl out of the way as we both dived for a magenta floral diary, battle past a grandmother or four to load my arms up with a 3-for-2 wallet deal (I had birthday presents for the following twelve months sorted!). I manically talked myself out of buying some cute silver earrings and into buying a prototype wooden ring, and ended up finishing the frenzy with a bulging bag and extremely light wallet. I'm looking forward to doing it all again this year. Get in my way at your own risk.

Hey guys, it's Christmas already! Usually it comes but once a year, but for those Format kids it happens when they want it and as many times as they want it. They are ca-ray-zee like that. For the first instalment of Format's Xmas celebrations they are putting on a pop show featuring the sweet minimal pop of Swimming, the glitchy sweat-thrust pop of the duo Glisk, and the harmonic garage of Gold Bloom. Upstairs there will even be the latest addition to Adelaide's pop-up food renaissance, hot and fresh toasties by Toasterrific. Cheese, booze and tunes - all you will ever need.

You thought that Dancing Room was limited by four walls, right? Nuh-uh! They've been to the Elder Park rotunda, man! That has a little fence around it! This week they're binding themselves with water at Adelaide's premier idyllic lakeside location - the Rymill Park island. I imagine it will be sort of Where The Wild Things Are meets 24 Hour Party People, only with way less drug use and far fewer Joy Division songs, because Dancing Room is a happy, happy place for happy, happy dancing. Did we mention they're holding it on AN ISLAND?!

Among science fiction blog nerds, Star Trek is often credited with the invention of the flip phone and the tablet/iPad. They predicted the future by matching their current technology with human desire, and then some very smart people raided the prop department and turned their ideas into a reality.

What we know is that before you can predict the future, you must understand the present. So, as The Thousands continues to think about how we can make our content more convenient and mobile, we want to understand what mobile means to you. And, that’s what our Mobile Survey is all about.

In the survey there are only 12 multiple-choice questions that are so quick to answer you might even go back in time. We are also dangling the proverbial carrot with an iPad 2 to give away to one lucky survey taker. The draw is random and we’ll announce the winner on Twitter and Facebook next Wednesday. It’s simple, all you need to do is click here.