You want to pour out all you’re feelings, tell them how you’ve loved them for so long, and all the times you wished you could’ve been together. You want to grab them and ask them to move in with you. You want to spend every waking hour with them.

However the problem is that by doing so you come off as a desperate, obsessive and pathetic coward, with somewhat stalker-ish tendencies, who didn’t have the balls to make a move. Really you’re better off just kissing them and seeing where it goes. You’re better off not trying so hard. You’re better off to just say ‘fuck-it’ and have a go.

With that in mind here is my ‘drunken-pash’ of a review of ATP New York. Enjoy.

So I missed The Drones and The Feelies due to an extended argument on the drive up with my satellite navigation system, or Sir Cuntington as I called it. Regardless of this fact I did happen to see The Drones a few nights earlier at The Bell House in Brooklyn, and judging from that performance I can confidently say that rocked their balls off. They always rock their balls off. I’ve seen them five times and every time they’ve left me a broken pile of sonically satiated flesh.

Anyway so the first band I actually managed to see were The Dirty Three, and sweet Jewish Jesus were they awesome. Joined by Nick Cave on piano and playing Ocean Songs the band were the best I have ever seen them.

Nick crowded the sound a bit and so it was hard to tell what guitarist Mick Turner was doing and what Nick was doing, but as a whole I’m hard pressed to think of a performance I found more uplifting and emotional. Ok well, maybe Sigur Rós and Bjórk, but talk about good company.

Warren Ellis spent a lot of the time talking to the audience asking if anyone had Ocean Songs on their iPod so they could tell him which song was next, or giving strange long introductions before being corrected as to the song order and starting all over again for the next track. My favourite moment was when Ellis told us he’d read on Pitchfork that The Dirty Three were seen by some as the father of emo to which he responded, ‘I’m sure that there are a lot of emo kids looking for someone to look up to, but I just think there’s probably some other cunt out there who can do it instead of us.’

Next up was Suicide. If you’ve never heard of them Suicide are a minimal punk band from the late seventies who made dark and disturbing music consisting solely of relentless drum machines and rudimentary synth pounding from Martin Rev while Alan Vega delivers what wikipedia describes as ‘muttering nervy vocals.’ It didn’t translate live.

I didn’t stay for long as I found the mixture of bad sound (their soundcheck involved nothing other that Alan Vega yelling ‘SOUNDCHECK!’ into the mic) and the bands age-weathered stage-presence rather depressing, but I think that’s what they were going for to be honest, as with Martin Rev wearing a loose fitting sleeveless top and ski goggles while Alan Vega looked like an old Italian pimp crossed with a wigger I somehow don’t think they were too serious about the whole thing.

Either way there is always something awesome about seeing two really old cunts do their thing.

Initially I found Animal Collective’s Panda Bear quite underwhelming, you know? Didn’t make an impact. Failed to grab me.

Then I sat down.

With the pain in my lower back gone and my ass firmly supported by a low wall I was able to relax. I often find certain artists’ music is ruined by having to watch them standing, as when you’re constantly struggling to keep a good spot while ignoring the whiny four foot tall bitch you just pushed in front of, it’s very difficult to just let the music and visuals soak in.

Anyway, playing with his eyes closed for the whole set while a parade of stunning and outlandish imagery washed over the screen behind him, Panda Bear built layers and layers of vocal loops and God knows what else into these wavering and tremulous, harmonised cacophonies. I could go on about this, but considering the build up of pretentious words in the last sentence I should probably move on.

Closing Day 01, The Jesus Lizard absolutely demolished everything when they took to the stage, with singer David Yow throwing himself and others off the stage into the crowd for most of the show, using what little time he spent onstage to wish everybody a ‘happy 9/11′ or throw himself and others around like a man possessed.

The crowd was nuts though, more so than for any other performance during the festival. There was an almost never ending flow of people coming forward, stage diving then coming back again. One man jumped up with Yow and was treated to an extended grope down the front of his pants. A woman started dancing with him only to have the dance turn into a game off ‘let’s-see-how-much-I-can-throw-this-bitch-around,’ before being jettisoned by Yow back into the crowd.

And did I mention there was no barrier or guards, just crowd, stage, band? So, as I’m sure you can imagine it was a fucking shit fight at the front of the mosh, and David Yow jumping on me every few songs, while exhilarating and entertaining definitely made staying upright for the rest of the weekend a much more arduous task.

And that’s where this part of the story ends. Look out for the Day 02 review, featuring Animal Collective, Sufjan Stevens – Performing Seven Swans, Deerhunter, Melvins, El-P, Dead Meadow, Akron/Family, Sleepy Sun, Black Dice, Autolux, Atlas Sound, Shellac, Bridezilla and more.

It is fitting such an idiosyncratic figure should have been involved in curating Australia’s first All Tomorrow’s Parties, a boutique event which has carved out a unique niche in the increasingly crowded rock festival scene.

Along with Nick Cave and his Bad Seeds bandmates, Ellis began throwing around names for the festival on tour across Europe. The group soon settled on a wish-list, which they forwarded to the organisers, who contacted bands, often more in wild hope than expectation. In keeping with the festival’s history of highlighting some of the more obscure corners of the musical universe, artists that were well outside the normal run of festival bands, reluctant tourists or groups that were long disbanded were all on the list. “You just throw anything out there in the hope that someone might grab,” Ellis explains.

The remoteness of Australia presented its own challenges, Ellis says, with some of the performers being too old to make the long journey. And having previously curated an All Tomorrow’s Parties festival in the UK with The Dirty Three, he is familiar with some of the challenges of assembling a festival lineup. “I remember at the time asking Jerry Lee Lewis and [his management] came back with a fee that was totally out of proportion to anything else…it’s a real minefield when you start out with it.”

Overcoming the logistical problems to assemble the lineup for the festival proved “a real feat, a real achievement.” He is full of rambling enthusiasm about the prospect of seeing New York cult act the Silver Apples as well as Ed Kuepper playing with both the original Saints lineup and the reformed Laughing Clowns. Arranging for Kuepper’s inclusion was actually the easiest part of the process. He was playing with the Bad Seeds at the time, along with Laughing Clowns drummer Jeff Wegener, and instantly registered his interest in playing in the initial tour-bus discussions.

Perhaps the group Ellis is most looking forward to seeing is the reformed Harmonia, a seminal 1970s band who get described as krautrock and electronica. “They were a super-group that was put together out of Neu! Kraftwerk and Cluster. They’re kind of the greatest band out of all that movement. They put out this one album with a bottle of detergent on the cover [ Musik Von Harmonia ] which is so fantastic. Everybody took from it – Bowie, all the bands around at that time.”

The last time Ellis was involved in curating All Tomorrow’s Parties he had a crack at reuniting some of his favourite bands like The Jesus Lizard and Pavement. Neither ended up playing, but the festival was home to an ever more unlikely coup, reforming the legendary The Only Ones, who fell apart after penning Another Girl, Another Planet, arguably the greatest rock song of all. “Do you like The Only Ones?” Ellis asks. I say that would be an understatement. “Then I tell you, you would have been in tears…They sounded exactly like The Only Ones, as soon as they started even though they hadn’t played for years. It was incredible.”

Such unexpected triumphs are the very essence of the festival for Ellis. “It’s kind of the whole spirit of All Tomorrow’s Parties, what it’s about. Always within each lineup there is something that is an incredibly unique one-off kind of event…I remember walking around and people confidently saying, ‘Thanks, I’ve just seen so much stuff I never would have seen, ever.’ That seems to be something that is genuinely exciting about the festival.”

One of the unique aspects of this year’s All Tomorrow’s Parties is Ellis’ The Dirty Three playing their classic 1998 album Ocean Songs in full. With the band members having reached the age where spending time with family is increasingly a priority (Ellis’ children can be heard in the background of this interview, at one point enquiring whether you have to pay money when you’re in monopoly jail) and with Ellis based in Paris, their live shows are increasingly rare.

When I suggest we’re out of time, Ellis is keen to continue, but a record company minder suggests he has other interviews to do. His passion for the Dirty Three show is clear, and he enigmatically suggests that while the sentiments that inspired the record have passed, the three-piece are still able to find ways back into the record’s emotional core. Such a possibility is likely to appeal to any music fan longing for new experiences, wanting to explore the fringes of contemporary sound. Better still, it’s only a small part of the smorgasbord of avant-garde acts included in what promises to be a festival experience completely unlike any another.

Illustration by Nick Jones

(If you think I’m a twat, and don’t want to read me ranting about how sick I am, skip the first paragraph, but the second and third are definitely worth reading.)

Well wouldn’t you know it I’m fucking sick. Remember how you used to look forward to getting sick as a kid, stay home from school, mum looking after you watching TV and playing video games all day. Now remember how much it sucks when you live out of home. I do. And it sucks, but whatever let’s get on with this bullshit editor’s letter that you can all not read again.

Despite my sickness and overwhelming pessimism there have been a few rays of light that have penetrated the wall of phlegm and despair I’ve been imprisoned behind these last few days, predominantly Dark Was The Night.

Release locally by Remote Control, it’s a double disc compilation of original songs to benefit AIDS victims or research I’m not too sure. Featuring artists such as Antony Hegarty of, surprise surprise, Antony & the Johnstons as well as The Arcade Fire, The Books and Jose Gonzalez (covering cello song by Nick Drake, sooo good), Beirut and a whole swag of other artist so trendy they’ll give you a side fringe just by listening to them (Bon Iver for example), the compilation features an unending series of great songs you won’t be able to find anywhere else, well except the internet but then you’re cheating people with AIDS and who need that sort of karma.

Another ray of light, has been the just recently unearthed Old Men Of Moss Mountain recordings. Discovered by Perfect Sandwich Records’ Rollo Augustus Anderson in Budapest (check the article for the full story), these old-school as it gets recording have blown me away. Who writes a chorus like ‘we’re entering the wood now, with our hoods down, preparing to battle werewolves and clowns,” it’s hip hop insanity at it’s finest.

Anyway I should probably talk about the mag a bit. This issue is actually pretty fucking rad if I do say so myself. Sydney psychedelic stronghold The Dolly Rocker Movement are on the cover, and with the story being our long time friend and pommy penwizard James Parker’s last story for us it’s worth checking out, if only to read how front man Dandy Lyon helps our Anglo mate overcome his fear of dolls. Fuckin poms, who’s scared of a doll.

That fiery haired and eyed vixen Amelia Schmidt gives us the down low on Gary Numan’s free flying machinations, while the latest addition to our team Corinne O’Keefe talks music, weed and love with serial dub cover artists The Easy Star All Stars leader Michael Goldwasser.
Photographer Kurt Davies, having recently recovered from his chemical peel, gives us a wide look at Sydney’s Laneway, at least wider than he can look considering the scab around his eyes, never understood platic surgery myself, then why mess with perfection, ha ha haaaaaaa… I’m so alone.

Back to the mag. Thomas Mitchell as usual has delivered a swathe of stories this issue with local indie heroes Made In Japan, Victorian fiction obsessed Sherlock’s Daughter and the inimitable Mia Dyson all opening up to the cherub faced writing machine.

Dan Clarke catches up with afrobeat creator Tony Allen, and the ever unexpected Martin Martini as well as going clothes shopping with up and coming psych fiends A Silver Moon Uprising, while Daniel Herborn makes his Music Feeds debut talking to Warren Ellis, albeit having done so a few months ago, and Matt Lausch takes a trip to the Blue Mountains to chat with the areas latest tourist attraction, Sister Jane.

All that and a little more awaits you so turn the page and stop reading my late night, pseudoephedrine and bourbon addled rantings.

Your forever in desperation and intoxication.

Mikey

Music Feeds, Baby! Tighter Than A Nun’s Schedule

Oh, and remember if you think I’m a stupid ego maniacal cunt who deserves a beating tell me so by emailing thosecunts@musicfeeds.com.au