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Goin' up the country Print E-mail
Wednesday, 25 January 2012

Sample ImageThe Country Music Festival may be  in full swing but there's life outside Tammers. For a start...Sweet Baby James and Rob Eyers will be rolling in rhythm and double voodoo blues at the Gilbert Street Hotel on Thursday January 26.

 

 

Sample ImageHollywood Gun Club is ramping up rehearsals for their Fringe show.

FRINGE 2012 - HOLLYWOOD gUN CLuB are “The 80’s ROCKED” See, hear and experience an arena style concert - in a pub. Add a hard rockin' horn section to spice up Aerosmith, Alice Cooper & Extreme and you'll be in Hair Metal Heaven! This show is high octane, exciting and unapologetic! Go to their facebook site for more info: http://www.facebook.com/hollywoodgunclub or www.hollywoodgunclub.com

Saturday February 4 The Gov. presents the return of a local favourite – Ronnie Taheny in '!Score – 20 years solo'.

Sample ImageRonnie – who has clocked up appearances with Fairport Convention and Ani diFranco and David Gray, Luka Bloom, Tom Robinson, Aimee Mann and Billy Bragg – brings her musical exuberance to Adelaide’s Governor Hindmarsh Hotel for one show, kicking off her 2012 “!Score” tour. Ronnie promises to deliver a zesty selection of satire-driven gems from her past two decades of work, lubricated with some of the ‘inspirational dirt’ that helped create the songs. She will be joined on stage by Jarrad Payne on drums.

Ronnie Taheny “!SCORE!” tour 2012 starts at The Gov., Sat Feb 4th then bounces into Europe from April till June.

Tickets: The Gov., Moshtix and Venue*Tix 

Table reservations: 0413 450521 or This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it   See: ronnietaheny.com

 Sample ImageGo here for gigs at the Wheatie:http://wheatsheafhotel.com.au

On Sunday January 29  you can  HELP THE YEARLINGS GET TO MEMPHIS! -

A FUNDRAISER to help the yearlings make it to Memphis to play the international folk alliance - featuring loads of special guests ! DOORS @ 3.30PM/$15

 

 

Gone up the country

The country music festival is a time when you hear a lot of music that shoulda been drowned at birth. But it’s not all bad and you can make your mark if you have a yen to bear your soul and your tonsils. Being a poorly-supervised show off I – and my cousin Leonard - thought we’d try our ‘turns’ at some the many competitions up there and I’m happy to say – with mixed emotions – that we done good. Gooder than expected.

Len does a pretty good turn singing country bush ballads and I do a sort of comedy Scotsman and bagpipe act where I get togged up in the kilt and stuff, tuck my tabby cat Vlad under my arm and squeeze down on his guts while biting the tip of its tail. The noise of the cat complaining is not too dissimilar to that of a set of bagpipes and always gets a laugh at my footy club which was enough encouragement to goad me into bringing the turn to a wider audience.

In all honesty, Len and I didn’t give ourselves any advantages for winning our round of the competition, we staggered home to our tent in the Tammers camping ground a tad before sparrow’s fart brimming with bravado that dissipated when the sun came up. While Len was running though his vocal practice he declared, horrified no – mortified – that he couldn’t find his C sharp. I couldn’t find my undedaks but that didn’t seem to concern him as much as his C sharp. You see, to my accordion accompaniment, Lenny sings the well-known old Australian Bush Ballad the Maiden from Kosciusko which goes....

Ohhhhh..... The maiden from Kosciusko; Had a motorised dong called Roscoe

With duel exhausts it was hung like a horse; And she rode it from Paris to Moscow

Singing Tralalala Dooley o day;That maid loved a roll in the hay

With a four-stroke whopper that could rattle her choppers

Oh deedley doodley o day

Well, the C sharp to which he referred apparently occurs in almost every line of the ditty and its loss from his vocal toolkit was going to spoil his chances of winning a prize There was no way he was going to hit that high note without physical assistance. That’s where I came in with the brilliant idea of attaching the handles of our jaffle iron to the ends of my accordion. I would then squat behind Lennie for our performance, and squeeze his knackers at each appropriate point in the song with a jaffle iron as I worked the squeezebox - it was a delightfully musical solution to the problem. The gentle pressure on his sensitive parts helped him to climb the Alp so to speak. Our practice run in the tent proved successful and with what little time we had left we hastily dressed and dashed off to the competition.

We started well; the C sharps were appearing perfectly when Vlad – the cat in, my act  (did I mention how he got his name? He has long and deadly claws hence Vlad, the Impaler) well, Vlad had escaped from his basket and wandered up onto the stage and started to bat my sporran with his clawed feet. Except... in the rush to get ready I had forgotten to wear my sporran -  and my underdaks. When Vlad clawed my knackersack in lieu of my sporran, I jumped and hollered like hell. And every time he clawed me I jumped and yelled and, as a consequence, so did Len because each attack with those rapier-like claws caused me to pump the squeezebox harder  - and Len’s knackers. Between us we broke the C sharp barrier and beyond and hooted and hollered our way to win the Yodelling Duet prize. 

With some of the prize money I had my knackersack professionally repaired and got some nice-looking stitch-work done on my lip from where Lennie biffed me. Personally I thought his attitude was a bit niggardly – I know the Yodelling Champions prize money was somewhat smaller than the Bush Balladeer prize money; and he didn’t like sharing three-fifths of fuck-all when he thought he could of won his chosen category outright but, let’s face it ... bush balladeers are a fukken drug on the country music market but a good yodelling duet is always gonna make people’s eyes pop. It certainly caused mine to bulge out a little.

 
Susie's Blues Day is on again! Print E-mail
Monday, 16 January 2012

Sample ImageGig of the week is Susie’s Blues Day with a cracking line-up of talent. Saturday January 21,  5pm-11pm. 6 hours of the best of Adelaide’s Blues featuring Done & Dusted, The Bluescasters, The Shades of Blues Band, Nikko & Dennis, Steve Brown & Dave Rhodes and  Paul Hay. This is a fundraiser for the V2 Classic Motorbike Run, Bikes Number 13 & 32, raising funds for Variety, The Children’s Charity. Pre-sale tickets $25, Door Entry $30, BYOG, Food provided. For details ring Susie 8379 5102 or email This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it .

 

Sample ImageThursday, January 19, SWEET BABY JAMES – SOLO – at Suzie Wong's Room (7pm)120 Port Road, next to the AEC. See: http://www.suziewongsroom.com/

 

 

 

 

Sample ImageFriday January 20 at the Whitmore has Smoke ‘n’ Mirrors.

 

 

Sample ImageAnd It’s pan!c at the Dan on Saturday January 21. Get the best entertainment and pub scran at the Dan (you may need to look up ‘scran’ in a colloquial dictionary but I can give yer a clue… Scran - slang in the British army and navy for rations.). So – here we go with the sequitur – get yer dancing shoes and yer scran spanners up to the Daniel O’Connell Hotel on Saturday January 21 for a cracking good time. Pan!c cranks up around 9 pm.

 

 

 

 

Sample ImageGo to: www.wheatsheafhotel.com.au for great roots music gigs this week.

 

 

 

Sample ImageThe Gov has Jay Hoad on Friday January 20 and Beth Orton Sunday January 22. Go here: http://www.thegov.com.au/gig-guide.html

 

Looking Ahead….

Saturday February 4 The Gov. presents the return of a local favourite – Ronnie Taheny in '!Score – 20 years solo'.

Ronnie Taheny brings her musical exuberance to Adelaide’s Governor Hindmarsh Hotel for one show, kicking off her 2012 “!Score” tour. Ronnie promises to Sample Imagedeliver a zesty selection of satire-driven gems from her past two decades of work, lubricated with some of the ‘inspirational dirt’ that helped create the songs. She will be joined on stage by Jarrad Payne on drums.

Ronnie Taheny “!SCORE!” tour 2012 starts at The Gov., Sat Feb 4th then bounces into Europe from April till June.

Tickets: The Gov., Moshtix and Venue*Tix 

Table reservations: 0413 450521 or This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it   See: ronnietaheny.com

 

The adventures of Tintinnitus and the Lake of the Brown Trout

Marlinspuke Hall. The wet area….

Wooah! Wooah!

“Put a sock in it, Snotty! Your infernal yapping is bouncing off the tiles and making my ears ring….”

Wooah! Wooah!

“All right, All Right! You want to tell me something, eh? What? There’s something in the toilet! An Otter in the toilet????? Let me see…. Why Snotty, you’re right… and yet you are not quite right…. It’s a dead otter. A huge dead otter. The captain, the dirty bugger, has forgotten to flush. Here let me try…..”

13 flushes later

“I dunno, Snotty. The bastard doesn’t want to go to turd heaven....”

Wooah,wooah!

“What’s that Snotty? Something something something where…? Oh yes. Right again Snotty. There’s something on the side of the greasy brown behemoth? Written in undigested sweetcorn kernels. It’s a message... it says: ‘Help. Kidnapped. Trapped in septic tank with nothing to drink but brown water.’ ”  

“Holy fuk, Snotty! The Captain’s been kidnapped. We’ve no option but to take the brick out of the cistern and give the fukker a decent flush while you and I ride the dead otter down into the sewer pipes.”

Wooah wooah!

“What’s that, Snotty, take my typewriter?... to write a story of our adventures for le nationale Geographique? What a good idea, Snotty. Let me strap it on your back. There… and I’ll take my camera just in case there are some topless natives as well.”

“All set? Right, I’m pulling the chain!”

Kerfloooooshh.

“COWABUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!......”

Wooah, wooah.

Sweeping crazily through the putrid pipeline, Tintinnitus, the intrepid reporter and his faithless mutt, Snotty, rode the crankingly huge turd through the reeking darkness for seemingly endless seconds before shooting out into a vast ocean of septic waste in the massive tank behind Marlinspuke Hall.

“Look, Snotty! Over there! It’s the Captain. Marooned on a soggasshole sea of toilet paper and womens' absorbency products.  But wait! There’s someone with him! Look, it’s that filthy Greek bastard Rastapopopopopopopopalot! Look what he’s doing, Snotty! He’s torturing the poor Captain. He’s got a bowl of soggy Greek salad and he’s making the captain eat it. No! Stop! You old goat-fukka! Salad will poison the Captain!”

Wooah Wooah!

“What's that, Snotty? the Typewriter...? You’re right, Snotty! Lets write a story to the paper to put a stop to these heinous, inhuman practices….”

Wooah, Wooah!

“What’s that, Snotty…? Oh! I gotcha! That is a better idea….”

With a mighty gut-busting grunt, Tintinnitus hurled the typewriter at Rastapopopopopopopopalot, smacking the bastard right in the ear with an almighty earsplitting yelp!

“Shite! Should of untied Snotty before I did that. But we’ve saved the Captian!

“Captain, you’re saved!”

“Aye! And a fat lot of fukken guid that’s gonna do me now... he was about to open a bottle of restina to go with the bowl of weeds' n curd, ya daft wee chicken-choker.”

“We’ve no time for jolly chat now, Captain... we need to find a way out of here.”

“Well, ye’d better be quick aboot it; we’re aboot to be murrrrdered by a rampaging brown trrrout the size of a double-decker bus. AAiiiiiieeeeeee!”

“Just a moment, Captain. It certainly looks like a humungous dinosaurus turd but take a gander at the front end where the heat shield should be…. There’s a window! And look…. whose dopey face can you see in that window????”

“Billions of blistering bilious blue arthropods belonging to infraclass Cirripedia in the subphylum Crustacea! It’s …. It’s….. who is it, ye merkin-headed little twat?”

“It’s Professor Catheter Khuntbubble, you drunken Shetland sheep-shagger, in a submersible power-driven poo-shaped pigboat! We’re saved!”

“Hello, Tintinnitus. Hello Captain,” piped the ratbaggy professor. “Get on board, but be quick. I’ve dropped a packet of senna pod powder and a litre of chili oil in Bianca Castalloy’s spaghetti bog and she's gonna be hitting the Marlinspuke dunny screaming in precious few seconds.”

Tintinnius had barely closed and sealed the hatch in the submersible mechanical turd when the tidal wave hit.  The huge swirling tsunami of acrid, burning loose bowel movement hurled the marvellous vessel across the surface of the septic pond and drove it toward the overflow pipe at breakneck speed. With an almighty clang the vessel lodged in the pipe and the tide surged behind it. Then, with a colossal wet pop, the tin turd shot out and skidded to a stop in the silage pit. The occupants breathed a sigh of relief. Then somebody farted.

“Ohhhh, my guts,” groaned the Captain. “After that oily mess of Rastapopopopopopopopalot’s rabbit food I could manage a Brad Pitt meself. Give us that copy of Reader’s Wives, Pubehead; I’ll see you in half an hour.”

Up on a balcony outside the glorious Marlinspuke bathroom, Bianca Castalloy hung herself over the railing, looking white and ill. “Ohhhhh, Captain,” she groaned as the air behind her shimmered greasily. “You’ll have to tighten your nipsy….. I’d give it at least ten minutes, if I were you! Bloooooooargh!!”

 

 
The best of Roots Music in January Print E-mail
Monday, 09 January 2012

I can’t believe the year is getting away like it is! It’s already …what? ... er, Monday the 9th of January ... it’s like time is just going day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute by minute by minute I keep holding on, I keep holding on....  Minute by minute, and so on...whatever happened to the Doobie Brothers. They were a rock band, weren’t they... then Mike McDonald came along and turned them into girlies.

Anyway, despite the Dewpie Bros and Old Father Time gnawing away at the young bones of the year, this is a week or two of delicious old bones to gnaw on.  The Gov is serving up a trifecta of great live music treats…

 Friday January 13 is Roots night at the Gov.  

Featuring The Yearlings, The Huckleberry Swedes and The Streamliners – a trifecta of three of Australia’s Sample Imagebest roots/blues/country/soul bands. Regular readers will not need any information about the Streamliners.... they are unique, wonderful musician, great songwriters and brilliant interpreters of blues and RnB music and should be part of any music aficionado’s memory.  The Swedes are another band to add to your live music experience. The Yearlings bring a glowing international reputation to the local stage and round out an unforgettable presentation of brilliant live music.

For the money – a lousy twenty bucks – you should do yourself a great favour.

A NIGHT OF ROOTS MUSIC - Fri Jan 13th @ THE GOV

Featuring The Streamliners, The Yearlings and The Huckleberry Swedes.
Doors open at 7.30pm bands on around 8.30sh
$20 on the night or Pre sales $18 + booking fee (link below)

http://admin.moshtix.com.au/event.aspx?id=52374&ref=moshtix&skin
See:  The Streamliners http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=_lOuDjKBnlI www.thestreamliners.net

See: Huckleberry Swedes http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xw-IQyPkio0 www.huckleberryswedes.com

See: The Yearlings http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NnkIX3mw8n8&feature=related www.theyearlings.net

 

Sample ImageFriday January 13th also puts the Steve Brown Band on stage at the Semaphore Workers Club. Brownie is one of the great blues/soul groaners with a voice to murder for. The band comprises some of the States finest musicians and performances are renowned for spontaneous outpourings of musical wizardry and stuff.  The Semaphore Workers Club is the home of Blues and Roots music in South Australia. Live music kicks off around 9 pm.

Sample ImageFriday January 13 Hoy Hoy! at the Whitmore Hotel, city. Texas Blues at its finest from the Hoys.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sample ImageSaturday January 14  - The Steve brown Band plays the Mt Compass Supper Club.   This venue – gig – has become a ‘destination’ for bands that perform roots music. It's the new 'vibe' in entertainment for people to whom 'doof-doof' means 'boof-boof'. Don't know how you go about getting tickets but I guess I could find out... if I tried a bit harder. Not hard to find though; in the old community hall on the Western side of the Victor Harbor Road almost in the middle of the village. 8 pm kick off. Might see you there.

 

 

 

 

Sample ImageSunday January 15 and it’s The Cats’ Pyjamas back at the Robin Hood Hotel. Playing both Rock and/or Roll music loud and crazy, the Cats Pyjamas open the year with a cracker at The Hood. Be there at 4 pm to see the Cat’s Pyjamas still fukking around with the PA and having a beer or two. Rock to the sounds of “Testing one-two-three” and “Can I get that a bit louder, please”.  But be there and get ready because once the Cats start they only stop for beer and toilet breaks. Family-friendly except when the Preacher gets a bit narky and drops a stinker or two. 

 

 

Sample ImageSunday 15th January - Rodney Hutton EP Launch at The Promethean, 116 Grote St, City.   Doors open 6:30pm; Tickets $20 (includes EP) Available through MoshTix or at the door. (support by Emily Davis.)

 

 

 

Sample ImageThe Wheatie (Thebarton) always has great live music. Check: http://wheatsheafhotel.com.au/gigs

 

 

 

 

Looking Ahead….

Saturday February 4 The Gov. presents the return of a local favourite – Ronnie Taheny in '!Score – 20 years solo'.

Sample ImageRonnie – who has clocked up appearances with Fairport Convention and Ani diFranco and David Gray, Luka Bloom, Tom Robinson, Aimee Mann and Billy Bragg – brings her musical exuberance to Adelaide’s Governor Hindmarsh Hotel for one show, kicking off her 2012 “!Score” tour. Ronnie promises to deliver a zesty selection of satire-driven gems from her past two decades of work, lubricated with some of the ‘inspirational dirt’ that helped create the songs. She will be joined on stage by Jarrad Payne on drums.

Ronnie Taheny “!SCORE!” tour 2012 starts at The Gov., Sat Feb 4th then bounces into Europe from April till June.

Tickets: The Gov., Moshtix and Venue*Tix 

Table reservations: 0413 450521 or This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it   See: ronnietaheny.com

 

The Cricket.

It’s good to see the cricket back where it’s worth watching. The slashing triple century of that feller the other day brought to mind a yarn my dear old Grandfather Ogilvy used to tell me about how the family found its fortune. Quite by accident but it was all due to a cricket match. The story went back to when WC Grace was out here on holidays back in 1883. He was visiting a cousin who had a rock farm at Thargomindah when he waltzed into the middle of a grudge match between the Dubbo Drongos and the Ceduna Front Bottoms being played on neutral territory near the two states’ border at the end of the Barrier Range at the place called Broken Hill. The township at the time comprised only tents and rocks and people travelled there in horse and carts but they made the journey to see the well-publicised two States' Test match.

 Grandad Og was the Ceduna Front Bottoms demon fast bowler and the team was built around him.  Some of the others were fair players but there were a couple of dubious appointments: Darrell the Barrel was disastrously put in charge of the drinks trolley – skulled the lot before morning tea and fell down drunk on a bull ant nest – and one-hand Wassie from Whyalla was made the wicket keeper.

“Why’d yer give him that job,” whined Og. “He can’t keep wickets with one hand!”

“He keeps chickens, don’t he….? Can’t be much difference,” Said Dudley the Dud, the team manager.

As it turned out on match day Wassie stopped more balls with his head than his mitt but Og was the leading wicket taker having killed and maimed a fair number of the Drongos before lunch. Then Grace turned up for a look and was nabbed by the Drongos and sent in to bat.

The dynamic of the game quickly changed as Grace Hammered Og mercilessly all over new South Wales, Victoria and South Australia, running up a s score of three thousand and sixty-five when, Twatface,  the captain of the Ceduna Front Bottoms told Og to pull out the ‘big guns’. 

“Righto,” said Og, “I’ll lengthen me run up.”

“And,” whispered Twatface, “Give him a grubber. He’ll never hit it!”

Grandad Og stepped out a fair old run, kicked a line in the dust at the edge of the Mungo Lakes and took off.  The team boiled a billy while Og steamed in, faster and faster. They had a smoko while he swam across the flooded Darling River and swapped a few Pommie Jokes with Grace when all of a sudden a dust cloud was seen on the horizon.

“Here ‘e comes,” drawled Twatface. “Eyes on the ball, chaps.”

When Og hit the crease he was runnin' so fast the dust under his feet was catching fire. He slammed that ball so hard it dug into the ground and travelled at the speed of sound thirty feet under the surface. There was no way Grace was gonna hit the fukker when all of a sudden there was an almighty underground bash and the ball rose up out of the earth right in front of Grace who eyeballed for a split second and clouted the fukker into Far North Queensland.

Og complained of an uneven subsurface to the pitch but as the batsman was able to play the ball the umpires overruled him.  The game went downhill for the Ceduna Front Bottoms from then on. After the jubilant celebration by the Drongos that arvo Og went back to see if he could find out what caused the ball to rise. He dug down under the pitch and discovered the biggest deposit of lead pencils in the universe. 

Orders came in from every high school and bookie in the land and the family fortune was made. Grandfather Og became an overnight thousand-aire (Millions hadn’t been invented then) and built the first two-story tent in Broken Hill. He also commissioned the construction of the first two-storey horse and cart and famously forgot to build a two-story garage in the tent. He came home stonkered one night from the Broken Hill working men’s club brought the whole lot down when he drunkenly crashed the two-storey horse and cart into the one-storey garage and set fire to it with the cigar he was puffing on at the time.

That’s it. Bit of a shit ending, isn’t it? What if I added: And he never played cricket again.

There…that’s better.

 

 

 

 
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