The Thousands

Well actually a lion. One with no name. No Name Cafe! Why didn't we think of that? A 'No Name' issue! We'd write absolutely nothing that week. Just sit on the beach chortling with our gin and cigarettes about what was to come on Thursday. Actually that's a bad idea. We don't want you to miss out on Buck, Waiya, Old Growth Cola, Chasing Bow or a $10 haircut.

This week's covershot courtesy of Waylon Palmer. Be a dude like our mate Waylon and send us your covershots. We'll love you long time.

'Waiya' is the Japanese pronunciation of wire. Charlie Hillhouse took the photographs in Tokyo last year, but instead of bustling streets he photographed wires. Just wires!

This depiction of Tokyo stands in stark opposition to most people's experience of a city with overwhelming crowds and noise. In contrast, wires on empty streets exhibit an underlying anxiety. A feeling that the quiet and tranquility belies something which is a little more sinister. So much so that I was reminded of the first scenes of 28 Days Later, when Cillian Murphy's character walks dazed through the deserted streets of London.

This publication is as much a showcase of Charlie's photographic skill as it is of the Riso printing process. Awash in green, gradually more yellow ink is incorporated into the images causing them to slowly fade like a dream escaping from memories. Who'd ever think wires could be so captivating?

I once met a guy who claimed to have taken acid when he was just seven years old. I can’t possibly imagine the hell that would’ve been, however now that this 7" exists I like to think I’ve got a pretty good idea of what it sounded like.

Old Growth Cola’s untitled release is equal parts blissful, brutally simple pop music and eclectic off kilter noise. Noise-pop is hardly anything groundbreaking these days, however unlike the armies of Jesus and Mary Chain clones out there, Old Growth Cola’s haze-making is more in lines with a 60s band at the height of their powers, squandering away their success trying to recreate their drug trips with orchestras in expensive studios.

Pop songs are interspersed with buzzing synths, high pitched squealing guitars and I swear I can even hear some kind of horn section in the mix somewhere. Offsetting this eclecticism is Lewis O’Leary’s nasally voice holding everything together with an unflinching sense of childlike almost nursery rhyme-esque melody. It’s pretty deranged stuff and every song sounds like it’s going to fall apart at any moment, but it never does. Recommended for fans of The Pixies, Syd Barrett, Psychedelic Horseshit or well, drugs.

If anyone could draw down the moon, it'd be Mikala Dwyer. The backbone of her work disassociates itself from the rational, but there's always some calm within the chaos. The eye of the storm and such. Aside from making a wide array of works featuring plants growing in plastic, employing clairvoyants to do her dirty work, and invoking ghosts on Cockatoo Island, Dwyer seems set upon bringing a little bit of magic back into the old white box.

The diversity of materials and the sheer scope of her subjects is comparable to your boy next door conspiracy theorist who recites Zeitgeist while showing you pictures of dead witches, and all you can smell is Dragon's Blood incense. It deals with some hefty themes - mortality, death, the mysterious, but always in a playful way. Her work is somehow manic and calm all at the same time - perhaps the manic parts just come from a discomfort with the mysterious. It's a return to communication without technology.

Her materials range from Ouija boards to dressed up totems, candles and windsocks. Both spectral and profane, Draw Down The Moon is Dada without existentialism.

Local designer and Chasing Bow owner Kylie Ellis appears to come from one of those annoyingly talented families that conjure bitterness and jealousy from the average human. She’s taken her design talent, along with her stepfather’s photography skills and created a beautiful clothing collection that is prim and sexy, Australian and exotic, fun and sombre. The photos, by Col Ellis, are digitally printed onto the fabrics and turn you into a walking nature book or news story.

For ornithology fans, there’s the grey silk crepe Brides Maid Frock with a procession of Lake Nakuru flamingos across the hemline. It’s super floaty and drapey; so much so that the fabric may cause you to forget you’re wearing anything. Repeated cycles of panic, looking down, then feeling relieved you’re not naked may occur – it’s that goddamn soft.

The winning piece for me is the Bow Tie Shirt Dress. Here’s where things get sombre. The photo on this little number is of Duffield’s Grave in Canberra after the Black Saturday bushfires. The dress feels poignant and important, and elicits the overwhelming desire to paw at it admiringly for awkwardly long periods. Believe me.

The rest of the collection features jumpsuits, dresses, skirts and tops in a variety of prints and textures. They’re all recent arrivals and limited edition so the chance of you seeing someone in the same feeling-naked frock or awkward-pawing dress is slim to none.

The term ‘horse whisperer’ carries faintly ridiculous Dr Doolittle connotations, but there’s definitely something beguiling about horse trainer Buck Brannaman’s cowboy drawl. Brannaman, who consulted on Robert Redford’s film The Horse Whisperer and was one of the models for the title character, is a legend in ‘natural horsemanship’ and travels America holding clinics. Cindy Meehl’s documentary is a study in his wry, blunt charm; only a total dickhead would emerge from the cinema not liking this guy.

Rather than ‘breaking’ horses, Buck ‘starts’ them, using empathy and kind authority to inspire a seemingly uncanny transformation. Meehl shows Buck shrewdly sizing up clients along with their horses. Some are amazed, others ashamed. Some cry. Some hug him.

It could’ve been a cheap, melodramatic revelation that Buck’s sensitivity to abused horses springs from his own childhood – he and his brother were cruelly beaten into becoming child rope-trick prodigies ‘Buckshot’ and ‘Smokie’ – but Meehl lets the full picture emerge gradually. Buck’s deliberate choice to be gentle in his family life as well as his work is very moving. His foster mum is another inspiring presence – stay for the end credits to see her tell a very funny joke!

RELATED LINKS: We spoke to Buck Brannaman about the movie about him

Hairdressing needs one of two things: sass, or simplicity. After recently visiting the hairdresser with much elated anticipation, I was sorely disappointed to learn that my general cynicism was intact. Fair enough, that $120 I spent on a wash 'n' trim did look, well, neat... and I respect the profession, but if you're just after a simple yet effective cut sans the big bucks, look no further than African Braidz and Hair Extensions.

Claudia, Jacinta and Tina (hairdressers at African Braidz) are no-bullshit, respectable ladies who know that accolades count for peanuts unless you're styling the next Valentino fashion shoot. Plus, these ladies have what's known in the industry as 'tude'. They also do extensions, braids, and sell a whole range of hair dyes and products that don't include detergent (aforementioned $120 hairdresser tipped me off to the fact that detergent in hair products is hellish).

The main point, though, is the haircuts are $10-$20. If you're not dexterous enough to cut the back of your hair, or you want some corn rows for that Snoop Dogg dress up party you're going to on the weekend, Claudia, Jacinta, and Tina are catching what you are throwing.

Not quite sure what to do with the cavernous space below his New Farm studio, Paul did what every man should. He built a door and inside that door he put a coffee machine. Not just any coffee machine. One of those levers only an old man named Gino would know how to wield. What else would he need for the hordes to come in? Definitely not a name. Or concrete opening hours. Don't even think about a website.

Fret not. This aint one of those “If Paul’s home he’ll make you a coffee" type of places. Paul’s got some hired help in the form of Darwin, a (too?) chatty young barista who I dare you to start talking coffee with.

The perfect cup is all they’re about here, so unfortunately there’s nothing to report in regards to a food menu but there is jazz music. And art books. And antique furniture. Real antiques! Not the cafe cliche kerbside junk that was picked up at West End over the weekend.

Sounds boring, right? Well, good! Everyone needs a bit of a respite and the insulating exposed stonewalls make No Name just the place to read a book from 7am until whenever Paul kicks you out. My mum says it feels just like being back in the old country. She always says that, but basically it just means this place actually has some character and elegance about it.

BEAF. No, I’m not talking about the delicious and iron-rich produce of organically-farmed bovine. I’m referring to the Brisbane Emerging Art Festival (like you didn’t already know that though).

Established in 2010, the festival is in its third year and is rapidly becoming a stalwart for good reason. Travis Dewan has rounded up a cracking team of this city's local producers and curators with events spread over four hours and ten different spaces within Metro Arts.

Get your finger-clicking beatnick on with spoken word artists Darkwing Dubs and Fern Thompsett. Fancy a spot of custom light sensitive electronic music? Ross Manning and Joel Stern have got it covered with their experimental sound art, and Outerwaves will be playing the good kind of techno. Or maybe improvised primitive caveman techno is more your style - enter: Wtem.

The visual art component centers on Triangulate, an exhibition curated by Tess Maunder and Laura Brown, and includes the works of Louise Tahiraj, Daniel McKewen, Leena Riethmuller, Liam O'Brien, and we hear that Martha Poggioli is making an installation from all the blue clothes she's collected from friends. Noelia Ramon’s film Simply will be there to remind us that it’s the little things in life that really count. And then there’s MakeShift, a collective of experimental dancers and dance-makers who make it their business to shake up tradition and convention. Phew! It's either all or nothing.

Say what you want about those theatre kids from high school, they were the happiest weirdos around. If theatre is the key ingredient to cult-like life satisfaction, then praise be to Xenu, because it’s time for the World Theatre Festival 12 (yep, WTF?). There are polished productions from Australia and overseas, masterclasses for wannabe happy weirdos and unfinished, in-the-making theatre installations where audience feedback is welcome - from resounding cheers to blank stares.

We can't put this any other way. This sounds like a pick up night. And why not? We're all guilty of, well... being single at times. This was being passed around the office this week and we wished we were all featured on it. Then Wilfred mentioned that bloggers should stay behind blogs. Just like faces for radio! But, if you're single and looking, it could be either fun to watch and / or 'pick up' and if not, at least there'll be good tunes.

Test Pattern is like an artist's version of dipping your toe in the water to see if it's okay to dive in. Plus, Ryan Renshaw has a reputation for being spot on with finding talent. Said talent includes Dana Lawrie, Yavuz Erkan, Hannah Piper, Caitlin Franzmann, Jared Worthington and Dord Burrough. There's little doubt these emerging artists' toes will be fully submerged soon.

If Lost Race Records are referring to a certain brand of music that they feel is lost, aka. the experimental kind where aural aesthetics matter, then they're doing a fine job of keeping that race alive. You could literally get lost in the sounds-like-LSD-feulled-but-isn't sounds of Primitive Motion, the downtempo creepiness of Nite Fields, the psych-punk of Aquatic Lifeforms and big-hands-Harry's solo project, Bag Lady. Get to the inaugural night to plan how you'll get lost in the Nite Fields with some Aquatic Lifeforms.*

*or just lay off the weed, brother

This is dire, people. Your community needs you to take some desperate measures. No accosting strangers. No planting trees needed. All you have to do is watch Velociraptor, The Horrortones, Dune Rats, Keep On Dancin's, Tape/Off and El Motel blast out the watts (pun) at the Spring Hill Hotel to help raise funds for a much needed new transmitter for 4ZZZ. Do some community service and get yourself along!

Marie Tussaud may have thought she was the ultimate wax when she decided to make life-like sculptures of Rousseau, Voltaire and Benjamin Franklin in the 1700s. But here we are in 2012, in need of some wax stimulation yet again. And you will find it in these here candles that become massage oil that become body balm.

Yes, the Kindle Kandle is a massage candle designed and made in Melbourne from a natural blend of cosmetic-grade soy wax, scented oils, shea butter and vitamin E. It can be used in three ways: As a regular candle, available in six scents including Orange & Mango, Shannonpea, Tahiti Rosette, Cane Sugar, Gardenia and Butter Bean; As a massage oil for yourself or your significant other once the wax has melted; Or as body balm once the wax cools down.

A list of Kindle Kandle stockists is available on their Facebook Page or you can enter to win a Shannonpea right here! As always, you must answer the cryptic question.