The Thousands

Bang Bang pho, boogaloo bennies, backyard brisket, blurry Brendan, backpacks and bitches. If this year is the alphabet we've made it to B, and to be honest we're probably staying here. Fax us from Z and tell us how it ends!

Covershot by Cathy Marshall. Be deadly like Cathy! Send covers to melbourne.photo@thethousands.com.au.

Albie Falzon's Morning of The Earth (1972) is sometimes described as the greatest surf movie ever made. Other times it is described by my uncle as "that hippie boogaloo benny rubbish." So, you see, it's not for everyone. But we all get a chance to give it a chance this week because it's screening at the Regent Theatre and the Dromana Drive-In, with live performances of the soundtrack.

Morning of the Earth documented an interesting time in Australian surfing - Falzon and his friends defined their lives in opposition to the 'commercial' wave riding business emerging in the late '60s and early '70s. They were also leading characters in the 'short board revolution' - the shift from slow turns and fluid movements to long 'tube rides', rail edge 'cutbacks' and other quick maneuvers on 5'9" boards, which Australians basically invented and subsequently ruled at.

The groundbreaking thing about the film was (and is) that it's edited without dialogue - or captions for locations - or anything other than psychedelic lens flare, solarisation, slow, optically reprinted sequences and hypnotic footage of Michael Peterson, Mark Warren, Nat Young and other Australian surfers travelling about the place. Shaping their own boards, growing their own food and - as Lars Nilson of Texas's Alamo Drafthouse puts it - "climbing Everests of blue glass and being borne down by the very hand of God." read more

From scrappy pop band to slightly less scrappy pop band. The growing interest in these Melbourne guys - Tom H, Tom R and Leon – helps sustain hope in the local music scene. While Tom H's deep baritone timbre on earlier 7” releases had many likening Woollen Kits to Beat Happening (a descriptor that has been unfairly overused) new songs such as 'Always' and 'Be Your Friend' are brilliant in their simplicity.

If it was early nineties Spin magazine would no doubt be calling this 'slacker' rock and yes it has a loose and relaxed feel but there is also an honest charm to the dual vocal harmonies and snappy drumming. The opener 'Sloan' is about a junkie who used to come into Tom R's cafe. 'University Narcolepsy' is an ode to all who have fallen asleep during a lecture.

The guys used to tell me that they had a stronger following in Sydney then they did in their home town but a song like 'For You' is too good for regionalism. It's universal in its awesomeness! File under 'Great Aussie pop albums' and place in the milk crate alongside your Twerps, Royal Headache and Dick Diver records.

The kooky queens behind Butt Magazine recently announced their latest issue shall be their last, and while gays everywhere mourn the passing with shrines of poppers and back issues of Drummer, it's nice to know there are newcomers able to fill the hole Butt has left. Little Joe issue 3 is an inspiring jolt of same-sex creative juices as they apply to the film world. But straight folks needn't feel uninvited, since, in the words of another beloved queer publication on ongoing hiatus, "You don't have to be gay to get it".

Editor Sam Ashby digs deep beneath the footnotes to true obscurities; director David DeCoteau talks about his (hilariously) homoerotic horror films; articles on and full color photos of camp b-movie gore maestro Andy Milligan (he shot his films and sewed his costumes at home!). The cover story features frank, funny Bronx-bred 8mm auteur George Kuchar, who was interviewed just weeks before he sadly passed away.

There's also a tribute to Times Square when it was sleazy, a Mike Mills zine (extracted from his Drawings From The Film Beginners book) and way more, all beautifully articulated in prose and pics. I know I raved about Little Joe #2 not-that-long-ago but if Issue 3 sold out before you could buy a copy, I would never be able to show my face at the Gay Mafia meetings again.

If Rob Pattison had a potting wheel hobby in Twilight would everyone in the world have their eyes on pottery? Its process and its product? Would the value of pottery change in our society? Jacob Ogden Smith thinks visual mediums have an incredible power to charge the cultural value of things and he is probably quite right.

Pottery Practice Project is Smith’s commentary on ceramics represented through the telly - and for this he will be displaying a historical pottery timeline alongside Pottery Stills, “a collection of images taken from film and television, which depict popularised examples of pottery and pottery practice.” While pottery is usually relegated to the shelf, dismissed either for its blatant functionality or ‘hands-off’ breakability, it’s interesting to explore the traditional craft as translated through such a diametrically opposed medium. Think Patrick Swayze versus ancient greek amphorae, Coca Cola versus the Han dynasty…

Known for previously expressing himself through ceramic depictions of orificies and excretement - to explore the “curious nature of the art object” - Smith also wantonly throws his hair at potting wheels. Drinking my tea from this apparently boring old coffee cup, I look forward to a new appreciation post-checking out this quite hard-to-explain molding of mediums.

I got this really good feeling the first time I looked at Maripossa jewellery because straight away I knew exactly what it reminded me of. That's Waterworld, post-apocalypse jewellery. People washing up on shores, seaweed tangled around their bodies. And then I read an email from the lady behind Maripossa, Lauren Besser, explaining her new range: "El Homenaje is a personal collection, paying tribute to past experiences and encounters with the unpredictability of nature's elements." SHUT. UP.

This instant recognition of a fashion or jewellery collection doesn't come along all too often for me. Or, at least, when it does I'm just totally misconstruing the artist/designer's intentions. But Lauren somehow communicates "nature's destructive forces" via metal - and I think that's very impressive. Maybe it's because when she was a teenager she was caught smack bang in an earthquake, true story.

Though she's competing on an international stage (Maripossa won Young Designer Award for Accessories at Berlin's Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week last year), Lauren remains in her Melbourne studio painstakingly weaving and knitting fabric-like metals by hand. Her meshes are then adorned with a feature: cast sterling silver, natural earthen crystals, or some hand-painting and dip-dyeing for colour.

"Look it's not you, it's the system. I'm in grade eight so I'm important. You're in grade seven so you're totally embarrassing." - Stephanie Kaye

Since some of you weren't even a conversation about a zygote when Stephanie Kaye was in year eight, I'll have to tell you about her. Bitch-slut-queen of Degrassi Junior High, Stephanie became class president by swapping kisses for votes and dressing like Kelly Bundy crossed with 'Ring My Bell'-era Collette.

But she was forced to live a double life. To throw her mother off the scent, she would walk to school in a fetching long skirt and shirt ensemble with a pink jumper draped, Martha's Vineyard-style, over her shoulders. Then she'd strip it all off in the bathroom to reveal her horrible harpie get-up underneath.

As you can probably tell, I'm building up to something here. Something rather Gen X, but you kids can like it or lump it. As if to vindicate the nine-year-old stylist inside me, Stephanie Kaye's walking-to-school skirts are finally in fashion! In fact you're probably wearing one right now. If not, go to the Gorman sale this weekend and buy one in blue, brown or 'fruit pattern'. What's that? Someone's talking to you, HEY, you've got a new friend.

Where Ian Fleming’s espionage is flip and glamorous, John Le Carré’s is dreary and cynical; George Smiley is the anti-James Bond. Still, director Tomas Alfredson (Let The Right One In) wrings unexpected elegance from the ugly ’70s using beautifully composed, observational shots and camera movements.

In Alfredson’s hands, the MI6 offices – “the Circus” – become suffocating brown panopticons whose tea-sipping inhabitants scrutinise each other’s smallest gestures, squirming with fear that their secrets will come to light.

Control (John Hurt) suspects there’s a mole in the Circus when agent Jim Prideaux (Mark Strong) is disastrously ambushed in Budapest. When rogue field agent Ricki Tarr (Tom Hardy) seems to confirm this news to his supervisor Peter Guillam (Benedict Cumberbatch), retired spy George Smiley (Gary Oldman) is persuaded to unearth the mole. Who’s working for Soviet spymaster Karla – thuggish Roy Bland (Ciaran Hinds)? Suave Bill Haydon (Colin Firth)? Conniving Percy Alleline (Toby Jones)? Or urbane Toby Esterhase (David Dencik)?

The plot’s intricate, but it unfurls lucidly, with plenty of tension and evocative micronarrative moments in which bewildered spies reveal the sacrifices and compromises they’ve made for their work. Perhaps the removal of Smiley’s final illusions makes him the perfect investigator.

It’s an age-old truth that the best way for a bro to impress other bros is to climb something really big and jump off it (double bro points if you yell really loud while falling, triple if can manage a backflip). According to this video I found on Youtube, Turpins Falls in central Victoria has long been a ceremonial proving ground for this kind of bro out.

However a healthy amount of rain over the past year or so has meant it’s now a fully functioning waterfall that’s way too slippery for any kind of launch party. In fact, the smooth rocks at the top of the falls are now only really suitable for lazing about on and listening to the water rush past. Also, the lagoony part at the bottom is now in peak swimming condition. It’s also a very good idea to paddle under the waterfall itself and let the water pound your hair like you’re in a Garnier Fructis ad.

Getting to Turpins Falls can be a little tricky because it’s not very well signposted (we got lost several times, but that could be because we thought it was called Turbin Falls). Once you get there and ignore the signs warning that ‘deaths have occurred in the area’ it’s really a very relaxing time.

IMAGE: By Zoe Loftes

It has been one of those pie-in-the-sky things but I've always wanted to convert the disused fridge in my driveway into a cold smoker. Which I did. It all started with a day off in that stormy period between Christmas and New Year's. Normally my days off are a non-event but this time I called an old friend. Let's call him Raphael. I asked him to bring his power drill over, showed him the fridge, tipped it on its side and removed the engine. We couldn't work out what to do next so we watched some YouTube clips about making smokers, got bored, said "fuck it" and headed straight to Bunnings. Which is, seriously, the best place on earth you can't buy a drink. Spend a day there and you'll be convinced.

After about two hours of arguing, looking at brass tap fittings, pizza makers, PVC piping, exhaust fans, irrigation fittings, garden hosing and myriad other shit we found exactly what we needed: read more

Bang Bang. What a name for a restaurant! Or anything else for that matter. Perhaps it has some cultural relevance, but we’ll never know because of the great Wikipedia blackout. How am I meant to sound like I know what I’m talking about?

Bang Bang. It’s the new Vietnamese joint on High Street. I know, I know, good Vietnamese food is only meant to exist in certain places – your Victoria Streets, your Footscrays and, reportedly, your Prestons. The disturbingly long simmering time required to achieve a really deep, spicy pho stock seems to bypass all other areas. But word on the street is this place is up there with the best of them.

Bang Bang. I went there yesterday, with my friend and his daughter. She wouldn’t talk to me; being near me made her cry. My awkward attempts to win her over only upset her more. Eventually, I gave up and focused on the pho. It was great, really heady stuff. Spicy broth, fresh pink beef, a really good sambal. We asked for pickled onion, the man told us “No”. I respect a good vibe out. Bang Bang!

So Alice is closing in Feb...

...FOR A MAJOR RENOVATION! We had you there for a minute didn't we. Stop weeping. The new-look shop will re-open in March, but before all this upheaval begins they must make some room for the builders. That means a sale and the sale means up to 80% off Arnsdorf, Carly Hunter, Colony, Dhini, Dress Up, Ellery, Ellison, Emma Mulholland, Josh Goot, Jolet, Lonely Hearts, Lover, LP33, Magdalena Velevska, Michael Lo, Sordo, OK OK, Rittenhouse, Romance Was Born, Serpent & The Swan, The Eleventh Hour, Thursday Sunday, Tovah, TV and more! Also, because some of it is rather bulky, they're taking 30% off jewellery for the first time ever. This has got to end on January 31. It really does.

Okay so far as 2012 goes this is definitely the best gig up until now. There will be others of course but few will match the quality of this line up. On the eve of their US tour Tom H, Tom R and Leon of Woollen Kits launch their debut album and it's a bloody pearler. Nic at RIP describes it as “an earnest sentiment similar to Television Personalities and The Modern Lovers” and he's pretty much spot on. Songs about falling. In and out of love and asleep during university lectures. To keep the 'launch' theme going, Sydney's Dead Farmers are coming down to launch their new 7” and give the WK guys tips on US touring as they did that circus last year. UV Race need no introduction. Get there early for openers Loose Grip from Brisbane on their first trip to Melbourne. Well Joe from Bedroom Suck / Kitchen's Floor and Harry from Per Purpose are in it, so have been to Melbourne before but not with this punk band.

Most people will go to some effort to explain to you why you should attend their party. Vice just lets you know there will be free tequila and leaves it at that. I'm sure it will be great but I, unfortunately, won't be in attendance. Any time I attend a Vice party Mikey and Royce look at me with their hungry eyes, call me 'Sylvia' and constantly put their fingers in my mouth.

Don't ring in the new year. Rock the bells into twenty duz. Grouse is back, two-zero-oh-two style. Invigorated and educated by an object lesson in p-popping courtesy of the Queen Diva, Big Freedia. Straight backed with a steely glint in their eyes. Ready to ravage your  ears, your mind and your ass. An all-female DJ lineup because who needs 'em, amirite? High five. DJ M.A.F.I.A. who, at this point, we may as well cast in bronze and leave votive offerings of sneakers at her feet, consecrating the sacred contract we fulfill every time she is behind the decks. For her to kill it and us to be killed. Figuratively speaking. Amen. Who else? Oh, just Mz Rizk, Melodee Maker and Ann Ominous. Auld lang fine. May old acquaintance be forgot in the morning. Hakuna matata. Et cetera.

This is more like it. A party that feels like a true adventure. A possibly dangerous adventure. One that involves vague directions, an industrial waterfront and Forces playing late at night like some weird cross-bred Pigs in Space / Lost Boys for the Mayan apocalypse. But seriously the Wax Volcanic people are throwing a wild party this Australia Day eve with Juggers DJs, Butcher Blades and New York City's Soft Circle, aka Hisham Bharoocha, who is perhaps best know for his involvement in Lightning Bolt and Black Dice. All quality entertainment but make sure you have found your way to the location in time to catch Forces. One of the best bands in the city at the moment. The brooding EBM two piece play hypnotic industrial dance that's been receiving a lot of attention, recently supporting Gang Gang Dance and Amanda Brown's from LA Vampires. To see them play at the docks late at night is going be brain blowing!

Love Tempo is back and this time it’s silky, 100 per cent silky. Silky like how you feel when you’ve had just enough party punch and all you want to do is slide through the disco fog in your sparkliest pair of socks, dancing to the erratic house and techno of NYC’s ITAL (100% Silk), who’ll be playing two Melbourne shows before heading off on a European tour. What’s more Australian than spending Australia Day eve going coo coo bananas on the dance floor to a DJ from New York? Nothing! But on a serious note, wear shoes, you might get splinters from The Buffalo Club’s old wooden floorboards if you only wear socks. Also featuring the deep house of Kovacular Spectacular (Rainbow Connection).

Not only are the mans with a vans (men with a ven?) adept at moving your ugly shit to yet another share house, they can also throw a king hell party. Their inexorable, manifest increase in size requires a new depot so they are throwing a knees up in the current one. The theme shall be 'Un-Australian heroes and villains.' Which you are encouraged to take as you will. Bands start at 6.30pm and feature many of the mans who drive the vans: Bish Bash Bosh, Numero De Estacion, Nervous, Alex Robb. DJs Ms Butt, Lazer Ferrari, Chestwig, Arsey Ajax/Isnod, Nakedd. Most importantly the bar is open and free between 9pm-1am. Drinks beforehand are to be had for a most reasonable $5. Just don't ask the men to move anything. They are trying to have a good time.

The classic American College movie needs no introduction. Kid leaves home, kid goes to their first mixer, kid returns to their dorm to find their mother boning their roomie, kid becomes valedictorian. And while all this is happening, the kid in question NEVER TAKES THEIR BACKPACK OFF. Maybe we're not the right people to pyschoanalyse the backpack phenomena, after all it never really took off here. But things are about to change, because the traditional, all American-made backpack has just landed in Australia.

Eastpak's newest stockist is The Store on Flinders Lane, which means no more international postage fees or stalking FedEx employees waiting for your backpack to arrive. Now the fix is instant. The Returnity is the real deal, divided into a large main compartment and small zippered front pocket, it's the perfect size to comfortably conceal your laptop without becoming crimbait. The back and shoulder straps are both padded, and all Eastpak products come with a 30 year warranty. Now that's a subordinate and subservient, lifelong companion - no wonder the all American kid never takes them off.

Thanks to Eastpak, we have two black Returnity backpacks to give away. (To enter, just answer the following question.)