The Thousands

We've hit 5K 'likes' and we're having a party to celebrate! If you don’t fancy a cocktail how about some beer? We have lots of it. Someone's going to get [Oliver] tanked! Uke Jams, Young Collectors and Surafina, and we're batting our colourful eyelashes for you too.

This weeks covershot comes courtesy of Leila Amirparviz. Be a total babe like Leila by sending us your covershots and funny jokes.

What this is, is a pack of 'Pacs drawn by kids all over the world whose utter idolisation of Tupac trumps their ability to represent it. But the intention is not mockery. Mark Drew, whose artwork revolves heavily around music, and the conscious or subconscious impact it has on us, saw this Makaveli fan-art phenomenon as a way to highlight his cause. Tupac died before some of these kids were even born but still, 15 years on, they want to draw his face, tattoos and middle finger.

Beginning as a homemade zine, after its first issue in 2007 TUHG LIFE is now big enough to be a 48-page, bound, hand numbered (1st edition of 100) book printed by Smalltime Books. The title of the book comes from one fan's typo, which happened when he was penciling in Pac's legendary stomach tat.

What's great is that most of the images are inspired by the same press shot or album cover, so genius and flair are interestingly comparable. Some others are pure sci-fi fantasy. Like the one of 'Pac with a samurai sword punching a robot, who's wearing two hats, in the teeth - which could be a prediction for when Tupac finally comes out of hiding.

Crowbarring post-Internet music into genres is inadequate. This is inconvenient for the writer, as pigeonholing is such an easy tool. I say this as a caveat to excuse the gap between my enthusiasm for Oliver Tank's EP Dream and any ability to describe it.

There is delicate forcefulness to the sparse, deracinated glitch-pop (sorry) of the record. Deracinated, because there are identifiable sounds (orchestral strings, basement soundscapes, acoustic guitar, clips-and-clops), entirely removed from their context and repositioned in Tank's world. It's an expansive minimalism that I can't help but feel could be the soundtrack to someone experiencing a quiet epiphany in a cave.

Flitting across the tops of these songs are the gentle vocals - either of Tank, or collaborator Fawn Myers on a couple of tracks. They're rich, full of sentiment, but never mawkish. The effect prompts James Blake associations, though the comparison is, at this point in their respective careers, unfair.

Because it is so graceful, I found the record could be overwhelmed by things like emails and coffee shops, and is best enjoyed inside your own head - walking somewhere, and presumably in a small club. I'm happy to be proved wrong on this though. Dreams will grab, maintain, and reward your attention.

Watching a documentary on contemporary art collectors makes any young artist cringe at the 'art market'. For some, it motivates, for others, it completely obfuscates any sense of 'making art' for the sake of saving the world or whichever other grand plan an artist can tend to have. For most of us, we'd just like to own some amazing art to put on our bedroom walls, and Young Collectors is the opportunity to do so. Did I mention you have to be under 35 to buy the art? Aspiring collectors - this one's for you.

Featuring the works of eleven artists, all of varying temperament, the show is set to have you pulling the guy next to you’s hair out while handing over a small wad of lobsters. From Luisa Rossitto’s watercolours, to Sam Cranstoun’s drawings, Martin Smith's photographs, and James and Eleanor Avery’s sculptures, spend your reserved Christmas present money on something that will make your parents think you’re cultured.

Let's face it - unless Aunt Peggy Guggenheim is not just a nickname for our pet cat, we're not affording contemporary art. We can now be Herb and Dorothy. Thanks Young Collectors. I'll be purchasing the whole set. Love, Sarah de Medici.

What's going on here, Bianca? The last time I checked the trees were green and we're still in the midst of on again, off again heat waves. Yep another unmistakable summer, but for Brisbane designer Bianca Batson, it's all about that blustery red leafed season. Confused? Don't worry, it'll all makes sense in the end.

In just the second Batson collection, Bianca's taken inspiration from autumn, adopting the season's colours and visuals, and adapting them for summer. Photo prints showcasing the gold, yellow and red trees at the peak of their autumn beauty are set against one of those picnic perfect March skies. In the fashionable form the graphic prints have been applied to high-waisted bikinis, stiff mini skirts and shift dresses, marrying the vivid beauty of autumn with the fun of summer.

Other collection standouts include peek-a-boo cut-out pieces and the ‘cherry tree’ short suit, for those hot summer days that require the smarts of a suit sans the leg sweat. It's nice to know that if summer gets too steamy you can always switch seasons.

To understand why Riot Grrrl mattered, you need to know that '80s punk and hardcore shows were a major sausage fest. Mostly male bands played to mosh pits full of middle class white dudes with shaved heads. Girls stuck to the sidelines, and for an 'alternative' scene, it was distressingly misogynistic, homophobic, and even racist.

Kerri Koch's documentary Don't Need You shows how Riot Grrrls disrupted the patriarchy of punk, forming their own bands, starting their own record labels, running live music venues, and making zines, all with a pro-girl attitude and a variety of female perspectives. Their antics made audiences think about gender, from telling guys to move to the back of the audience so the girls could be up front for once, to charging entry fees of "$3 for boys, $2 for girls or boys who come wearing a bra". The effect they had is still palpable in Ian Mackaye's inability to describe just how awesome it was the first time he saw Kathleen Hanna's Bikini Kill. Ian and Kathleen feature prominently alongside Allison Wolfe (Bratmobile), Corin Tucker (Heavens To Betsy / Sleater-Kinney), and many more.

It's disheartening to watch how the mainstream media portrayed the movement as a group of trendy, grudge-toting man haters. And it's a bummer to think now about how rampant misogyny still is in other creative arenas (read Tina Fey's Bossypants or the New Yorker's Anna Faris article, 'Funny Like a Guy'). Recommended viewing for both girls and boys.

If the recent theft of the Marc Jacobs and Louis Vuitton collections prove anything, it's that the fashion world is not dissimilar to an episode of Underbelly. There are lots of nipples to be seen, lots of shady characters to avoid and obtaining cold hard cash can be tricky. And so it should be commended and appreciated that Brisbane based Surafina has survived the struggles of a local upstart and made it into their very own floral flagship store in Paddington where designers Rechelle Vidakovic and Laura Hart sell Surafina's latest range, as well as custom made pom-pom headbands and exotic beaded jewellery.

If you didn't catch the label's debut at this years MBFF, Surafina is very much a sunshine state label. Vibrant hues, light fabrics, loose layers and soft tailoring are the modus operandi. Nothing comes even close to complicated or scary. It's 100% free of skin tight synthetics and salary sucking pieces. Price points do vary as some pieces are produced locally in the label's Valley studio, while others are made overseas, leaving you to decide where your pennies go.

When I first visited the store I couldn't decide what I loved more, the flower entwined hula hoops, the lavender high-waisted linen trousers or the fact that Rechelle had her Saturday afternoon wine ready and raring to go in the back sink. Talk about a welcome.

What punks! Opening The Scratch in the shadow of the XXXX Brewery and not serving XXXX? I give these guys two weeks before locals burn the place down. If not the locals, then some other liquor license holder will finish them off out of vengeance for again raising Brisbane bar standards. Oh what a year it’s been for boutique watering holes!

Ooops. Don’t say boutique around these parts. That makes one of the three young owners, Ben, cringe. He prefers the word ‘craft’, as he likes to think Scratch is a place for appreciators of the finer things rather than those purely seeking to avoid the status quo. He has a point. Alternative isn’t always best, but probably every one of the countless beers served here do outshine XXXX’s offerings. Oh great. Now our offices are going to get burnt down too!

Park Road isn’t where you’d expect to find one of Brisbane’s best new bars but Scratch does a good job of combining comfort and class, and it’s unfashionable location gives it a laidback lack of pretense. So too does the lack of dress code.

Step in for a cheese platter, cider or complimentary taste of the ever rotating tap beers and feel at ease while some daggy dad blues and jazz plays in the background. It’s just the way the owners wanted it. If you’re not picking up on the theme here, let me spell it out for you. Scratch isn’t trying to be cool, which is exactly what makes it so.

How many beers could a brewhouse brew if a brewhouse could brew beers?

This brewhouse has six on tap - including Sunset Gold, Honey Wheat Sunshine and Star Lager (I’m sensing a theme here) - but don’t let their modesty fool you: there are plenty more kegs waiting for their turn at the tap and dozens of other beers which are brewing as we speak. This is no ordinary brewhouse - the Brisbane Brewhouse is actually Queensland’s most awarded microbrewery and it has taken over the old Clarence Corner Hotel. All their house beers are preservative free, or if you prefer, get some preservatives into you with local or imported grog, cider or wine.

They have the alcohol down pat but the pleasant surprise is the food. The Brewhouse Grill is affordable and adds a touch of class to the humble bar snack (not too much class, though). This is the kind of place we rely on to defend the honour of pub grub, which is actually totally under-rated (did anyone else know that Jamie Oliver's dad owned a bar in Shoreditch?) There’s a definite East/West Berlin feel to the place (sports bar versus restaurant) and you should take advantage of their online booking service if you want to go the ‘polished floorboard’ option. But hey, if you’re a fellow Keno fiend, we can slum it together.

For the longest time the ukulele has more or less been the unicycle of the instrument family: showy, impractical and used only by desperately whimsical people you just wouldn’t trust around clock towers and firearms. I always suspected its pigeonholing had more to do with those playing it than anything about the uke itself (Tiny Tim, Uncle Moe Keale, Adam Sandler: fuck you guys) but when that giant Hawaiian chap released this song, precisely how much those turquoise suit wearing jerks had been keeping from us was made clear.

While it still lacks the indie profile Joanna Newsom gave to the harp (this endorsement either comes close or undoes about a decade’s hard work in the anti-twee department, depending on where you stand Deschanel-wise), we have at least entered an era where the uke is no longer just the punch line to a prop comedian’s slow death.

Black Star and The Joynt feel the love and are hosting ukulele jams (care of the Brisbane Ukulele Musicians School) at their café every second and third Friday of the month until they’re shut down by the feds. Bring your old uke or buy one from the Kelvin Grove / West End Twilight Markets (alternatively, 'temporarily thieve' one from your friends' sharehouse). Email them if you're scared there won't be enough room, or just rock up and watch every other musical genius.

Your vinyl is as good as gold next Friday night at our '12 Inches of Christmas’ party. Yeah we know it sounds like a porno so feel free to grow a mo. Here’s the deal - rock up to The Hideaway with a record to get free entry plus free something else! Hint - it's made from mouldy apples. The Thousands' DJs will then be spinning the records you bring as the soundtrack for the night so maybe don’t all bring 1950s Christmas carols. Facebook invite here!

Cross-Stitch sounds like your grandmother’s needlework, but isn’t, unless your Nan’s idea of craft is an ambiguous amalgam of live music and visual, live and performance art over two big nights. The final Cross-Stitch event of the year, You Are Everything I Want You To Be, is a handpicked selection of Brisbane’s artists and musicians, making extended metaphorical eye contact with the audience via their work. Stare right back, I dare you.

If you haven't heard Kurt Vile's cover of Springsteen's 'Downbound Train', hear it! If you haven't heard his collaborative cover of the Rolling Stones' 'Before They Make Me Run', hear that also. If you haven't seen his flowing locks, see them. If you haven't danced to Kurt Vile and his Violators live, head to Woodland to dance the night away. Blank Realm's new song has an equally tropical stoned vibe, which ensures your dancing won't violate the dancefloor.

So Fucked Up aren't for all of you. They're the kind of cult band that you'd have followed since their inception ten years ago in Toronto, because you were heaps into fun-time hardcore music that wasn't all about 'picking up the change'. But, if you have just been introduced, they're experimental yellers who are comparable to Les Savy Fav live. If you feel as though your body needs a good cathartic thrashing around and a few smiles, Fucked Up will cure all that ails you.

Avoid that bloated feeling you get from indulging in too much psychedelic, surf, shoegaze, dreamy pop. Eight Miles High is a bite-sized mini festival featuring bands proudly existing on the fringe of today’s musical landscape. This 60s-influenced event dishes up bands like Richard In Your Mind, Belles Will Ring, Sand Pebbles and beloved locals Dead Shades. Headbands atop matted locks are a must.

The Lodge are opening their garage (yep, they have a garage - it magically takes over their space during the day and all these weird diurnal animals/garage music buffs come out of the woodwork) for two Saturday daytime garage sales. They're making coffee and croissants for you, while you, stallholders and shoppers alike sell/receive your wares. Register for a stall here, or just head along for a brew and peruse.

These jeans are cheap and they look good. No jean porn about it. Japanese selvage denim? Nup. Hand sewn zip? Absolutely not. Customisable stitching? Cut the crap. They are just cheap and they look great, which is probably what most of the young people wearing them are like.

Ziggy Denim's latest collection has just dropped in stores in time for summer. If you need a pair of pants for festivals, parks and the general activity of the silly season, get some.

Burnt oranges! Classic blues. Yellow! Denim. Deep reds. And you can get most of them in full pant or shorts versions. Damn it, just look how much cheap fun you can have wearing them! They're all $90 or less. It's probably a public pool those models are in and they didn't even pay an entry fee.

You can get these Ziggys at Myer Brisbane City. Or, thanks to the mysterious Mr Z, you might win a pair today (girls or guys, your choice). To enter, just answer the following question.