St Jerome’s is the BEST. FESTIVAL. EVAR.. No ifs. No buts. The BEST.

Every year, the acts are well chosen, the venue is superb, and the vibe is shockingly pleasant and, dare I say it, grown up. Perhaps the greatest indication of how great the atmosphere is can be summed up by two things:

1. The number of shirtless, Australian flag carrying, southern cross tattooed yobs in attendance: zero - in fact, I didn’t see a single shirtless male, which means no sweaty, icky unpleasantness as people push past you.
2. The music played between sets was not the usual inappropriateness (seriously Enmore Theatre? Sinatra between Grinderman and The Bad Seeds?) but included songs like Lisztomania by Phoenix. It’s a small thing, but this sort of attention to detail makes a real difference.

The change of venue from Macquarie Park in the CBD to the Sydney College of the Arts (SCA) in Rozelle had the potential to be a disaster, as the temptation to add more tickets and ruin the vibe was a possibility. I shouldn’t have worried though, because the venue not only maintained the intimate feel of the CBD location, but was set amongst beautiful sandstone buildings, complete with the obligatory “sniper goes crazy on campus” clocktower. The new venue is, well, it’s a bazillion times better than the old one, in every way, and about the best venue I’ve been to.

And the music? Whoever selects the acts is a genius. If the only new CDs you stumbled across each year were acts playing at St Jerome’s, you’d have a great collection. The move to the SCA, and the accompanying reduction in the number of stages from four to three, seemed to have the effect of concentrating the quality, although the lack of the usual off-the-wall craziness may not have made everyone happy. Then again, if you really need to see a man in a Darth Vader costume play a toy piano two years in a row, you probably need help.

The standouts of the show, beyond the Vibe, where this year’s Zeitgeist band, Mumford and Sons, and my personal favourite band, Frightened Rabbit.

Mumford and Sons set left me one massive regret: that I didn’t get tickets to their sideshow. Their set was pure brilliance, and achieved the rare feat of being best when it was quiet. Getting a festival crowd to sing the harmony to a song that has had as much airplay as Little Lion Man, or to go crazy when the tempo is up, is easy. Getting a restless crowd to remain still and quiet whilst you sing heart wrenching lyrics like “So tell me now where was my fault, in loving you with my whole heart” is the sign of an original and hypnotic band. Mumford And Sons popularity in Australia should mean they’ll be back before soon, though praise Jebbers it won’t be at a shite festival like The BDO, and if you get a chance to see them, do.

But the best performance of the day, played at the ludicrously early time of 2:25 in the afternoon in sweltering heat, was Scottish band Frightened Rabbit. Maybe it is because Midnight Organ Fights is my favourite album of the last 5 years, but I just don’t get but how Frightened Rabbit aren’t more popular here, and playing at a later, more reasonable hour.

To say I had high expectations of this set would be like saying The Beatles were an OK group, and had a few catchy songs. I literally punched the wall when I read the announcement they were playing. From the opening accidental acapella of Modern Leper through The Twist, Backwards Walk and a new song that was really good, Frightened Rabbit didn’t disappoint.

There is something compelling, heartbreaking and powerful about every single Frightened Rabbit song. Each song builds so well, they lyrics are superb (Midnight Organ Fight is the best Euphemism for sex ever) and, for a Scottish band playing in heat they have probably rarely experienced, the energy and passion they played with, so key to the atmosphere of the album, was extraordinary. I honestly thought lead singer Scott Hutchison was going to pass out at least twice, and his brother and drummer Grant, who pulls the best Drummer’s face ever, was so dripping with sweat he looked like he had taken a dip in the harbour. Yet through it all, they sang and played every note like it mattered.

Even better, due to the vagaries of the Australian music listening public, I get to see them perform all over again at a free (as in Beer) gig at the Beach Road Hotel in Bondi Wednesday night. Frightened Rabbit playing a free gig 200 metres from my home is like all my Christmases came at once.

As for the other acts, no one disappointed. In the order I watched them:

• Black Gold were really good which is hard as the first act of the day.
• Seekae suffered the indignity of a sitting crowd, not the best look for an electronic act, but played a solid set. Would really like to see them in a dingy room sometime.
• Oh Mercy surprised me, I thought their album was a tad bland, but they were good live.
• Hockey, whose album Mind Chaos was made to be played live, were solid, although the hgeat took its toll, with the lead singer looking like he was going to faint on several occasions (although maybe he is always that pale) and he had trouble keeping up with the fast tempo of their songs on occassion. Despite this, it was a really good set.
• Wild Beasts played on a stage that had a lot of shade (i.e. I can’t remember much else).
• Black Lips featured the oldest (average age probably 30), most smiley moshpit in history… and put on a frenetic and entertaining show, which I really didn’t expect and really enjoyed.
• Dappled Cities, clad in the extremely weather-inappropriate gold spandex uniforms, were upbeat and vibrant, and the song they performed with Sarah Blasko was great.
• And last (and sadly least), the half of Echo and the Bunnymen I saw, before sunburn forced me to retire early, hurt, seemed OK. To be fair, I was a bit headspin-y.

In the final washup, St Jerome’s is my personal musical highlight of the year. A music festival for grownups who love music, staged by people who not only love music, but love finding great, but not super popular, acts. The organisers do an unbelievable job catering to their audience, with short bar queues, tasty and varied food and, as a man, non-existent queues to the toilets, although the angry, 120kg Lesbian bouncer who kept women from using the male toilets rather ironically didn’t make many women happy.

I can’t wait until next year’s St Jeromes, and want to thank whoever runs the event for not only putting on, year in, year out, the best festival I have ever been to, but also giving me solid cliff notes on what acts to listen to. Kudos, thank you and see you next year.

Hordern Pavilion
August 2nd, 2008

I don’t believe in God, but after seeing Sigur Ros at the Hordern Pavilion I’m left with a burning conundrum: who am I supposed to thank for the fact that they exist? It seems a wonderful and unlikely miracle that music so uniquely and sublimely beautiful can be created so consistently. Listening to their recordings is a joy – seeing them perform live is close to divine. Read the rest of this entry »

In an effort to combat what is currently known as Gulf War Syndrome (but is more commonly known as Shell shock or Battle Fatigue) U.S. pharmaceutical companies have stumbled upon a lucrative prize: psychotropic drugs.

Psychotropic drugs are already used to treat many forms of mood disorders from depression to hyperactivity. The U.S. Army has, for sometime, been investigating the creation of an anti-remorse pill to create better soldiers. Now the private and public sectors are sharing their research to fulfill the desires of one of the largest markets in the world.

Col. Dutton from U.S. Pharmaceuticals explains: “Desire is pain, say the Buddhists. To escape the Kharmic wheel of life one must eradicate desire. But desiring not to desire is itself a desire. Well now we can eliminate all desire with one pill! Every single Buddhist will reach Nirvana, or wherever the hell it is they want to go anyway, for only seventeen dollars a month.

“God bless America!”

TV Viewers Treated with Conempt by Stations!
By Farinelli

Arthur Grum has commenced legal action agianst the big five free-to-air telveision networks in Australia. “They’re treating us with contempt!” he rages. “Just listen to the crap they talk on the weather! They use terms like ‘upper level low’ and ‘experiencing the back of a front’, What the hell does that mean!? ‘Peak of a trough’ for God’s sake! ‘Sunny with a few showers’ is the shortest odds each way bet I’ve ever heard of! And ‘Cloudy with storms’! Have you ever known storms to happen without it being Cloudy? They are talking a load of dribble and rotting away what little is left of our already emaciated brains!”
Mr. Grum has been listening closely to the weather forecast on television and the radio and concludes they don’t know a thing about what the weather will be. “It seems each of the stations is trying to outdo the other with their porridge talk!”
Updates as they occur.

After his State of the Union address, U.S. President George Bush is tipped to announce he will be making cuts to the defence budget.

The first to go will be conventional bombs. These will be replaced with Pork Rings which can be plentifully produced at a fraction of the price of munitions.

“Plus”, Strategic Analyst Randy Grunberg told the Yowie, “the Pork rings will desanctify any Muslim it touches. Drop enough Pork Rings, and you effectively shutdown the country. If nothing else, retributive Pork Ring bombing on sites holy to Islam could prove very effective.”

Cosmetic surgeons are bracing themselves for the next big thing in fashion: Moving hair. That’s right, you read it in The Yowie first, hair that moves by itself is soon to be within the average persons reach. Pretty soon we can all look like the BeeGees with our hair blowing around us while in a draftless room.

And best of all it doesn’t need batteries.

The Yowie has found out (after a hard night getting one plastic surgeon roaring drunk) that the energy used to make one’s hair move will come directly from the electrical impulses in the brain. “The amount required to power the undulating hair is surprisingly small.’

There are, however, potential side effects. “Well, some people may experience the loss of some fine motor skills such as speech and swallowing. And of course,t here have been reports of of some patients losing the capacity to create short term memories. But look around you, who does that anyway?”

Man Penised Chiron

It isn’t easy being half man, half horse and getting your genitalia from your father’s side. Whilst all my mates are wondering around the country side packing a member that they could use to beat small mammals to death with, I instead wander around with this tiny man dick.

And before all you humans tell me “it isn’t all that bad”, have you ever tried to mount a female centaur? I don’t get within a foot of getting it in, and that is if the female even gives me half a look in, which given my plight, many simply won’t do.

And at least humans can reach their privates, no matter how small they are. Have you ever seen centaur arms? I can’t even scratch my belly, let alone offer myself any sort of hand relief.

And the taunts and the teasing! My god, who ever knew other centaurs could be so cruel? “Chiron not on” is one name I get called. “Can’t-get-on” another. And if I hear one more horse phallused centaur say to me “isn’t that your jockey’s?” I will absolutely scream.

What’s more, it isn’t like they make penis pills for Centaurs, and the one Doctor I approached about a transplant from a real horse refused to work with me. I tell ya, it is enough to make a centaur as mad as heck.

That is probably why I try so hard to excel. I am always in the gym working out, and no one can run 5 furlongs like I can. And the fighting! Many a centaur has rued the day he chose to call me “man dick”. I may not pack much in the lovin’ department, but I sure do pack a mean kick when provoked.

I only hope that one day I can find a nice female to settle down with, one that can see past my tiny member, and see the real, living, breathing, feeling Centaur underneath.