Gay Paris Tour Diary part two

MAY 19 – Phoenix, Canberra ACT

Now, for whatever reason, our mighty overlord and owner of the great Kung-Fu Boobs Trophy, B-Zool didn’t come down to the nation’s capital with us, so there was a weird vibe in the car as we slowly crawled out of Sydney, complaining bitterly about the traffic and possibly listening to The Bronx or maybe Surprise Wasp, it’s hard to tell.

Maybe I was just a little non-plussed with going to Canberra now that my high speed internet connection has made the need to go to huge porn emporiums obsolete. Also, Six Guns is a black powder specialist from way back, so when it comes to blowing up heaps of shit, I can just stay home.

To make matters worse, Black Tooth rocked the new Beastie Boys album in it’s entirety and there is only so much of three dudes introducing themselves for a whole song that I can take (I’d had my fill by about, oh, Ill Communication). Word to the wise, rap gods, evolve or get out of the game – that said, Snoop Dogg really would have been better leaving his style back in the day, nine trizzay.

The best thing that came out of the southern drive was the decision to forevermore bring at least three golf clubs with us on any trip lasting longer than an hour. I’m sure that my idea of what to hit with them differs markedly from the more staid and sportsman like ideology held by my band mates, although with the rapey looking truckers that we encountered at every pit stop, I’m not sure that I’m all that keen on getting out of the car unless I absolutely have to piss.

Speaking of piss, this was the day/night that saw the end of the great ‘Keep Slim Hydrated’ experiment. Dude just doesn’t like taking so many leaks in a day – his loss, more expensive bottled water for the rest of us.

As far as the actual gig itself went, all I can really say is that I was pleasantly surprised. Now that everyone in Canberra is unemployed due to the closure of most of the porn warehouses, they’ve become rowdy drunks that love nothing more buying shit loads of awesome merch (ours) and serving pints as the standard sized drink on the rider. Take heed, Sydney!

I would be remiss not to mention the fact that the other bands on the bill, Super Best Friends and The Rumjacks were not only dashingly handsome and polite to me, but also put in fine efforts musically,  providing very decent bookends as I sprinted from cold sober to dead drunk in record time.


MAY 20 – The Great Northern, Newcastle NSW

Having reconnected with BZ, and, delightfully, my favourite soul diva ever, Kira Puru, we split into two cars; our luscious ladies, the lovely Slim and myself in one vehicle and the stern but arousing Six Guns and Blacktooth in what I will call our heavy artillery machine – why do we need so much gear? Because shut up is why. Dance, monkey.

Now, if BZ is my band Mum and she is also looking after Kira Puru & The Bruise, I guess that makes Kira my sister – and that makes a lot of what I was feeling in such close proximity confusing at best and downright southern America if anything ever came of it. Should I feel shame? Or just be happy to have such a hot fake sister?

If I could just get BZ to marry Craig from The Vanguard/Tenderloins fame, they could give me the happy childhood that I missed out on.

Blasting north to a hip-hop and soul soundtrack, Kira let slip that she could easily defeat Slim or I in a freestyle battle. No shit you could defeat Slim, he’s all leg bones. I’m another kind of bone entirely.

One day we’ll find out, I’m sure

Once again, Slim’s chemical balance was in disarray, with his constant mantra of “I need a beer, I need a cigarette, I’ll go to sleep,” taking on threatening undertones as we drew closer to our destination.

Even though I’d had a touch more sleep than the roguish Mr Pickins (probably for the first time ever), I wasn’t in a much better way as I downed bourbon, cough syrup and various prescription medications.

You know when the silver bees flicker around your peripheral vision? Yeah, it was like that.

The good thing about playing with a band like The Good Ship is that even if they suck, a ten piece band kinda fills the room out nicely if they stick around to watch.

The Good Ship don’t suck.

They are party incarnate.

If I could buy a yacht and put The Good Ship and God God Dammit Dammit on board, I don’t think I’d ever return to dry land (so obviously I’d train sea lions to steal six packs and whiskey bottles from under age beach parties and bring them back out to us at Black Knife Cove).

Despite my best attempts, not a single member of the ten piece would make love to me that night and I left feeling a little let down, but then I realised that I had a shit load of cough syrup and beer in the car for the ride home –  and this time there weren’t even any rapey truckers about to spoil my buzz.


MAY 21 – The Vanguard, Newtown, NSW

Hometown advantage? Yeah, but after all the shit I talked about Sydney when we got back from the first leg of our tour, I was a little worried about how this show was going to turn out. Sure, we had my hot sister’s band on the bill (and anyone who missed their set really can suck it and had best not be such an idiot in the future) and our new party pal sailors/possible drug mules (I’ve seen some weird photos on Janey Mac’s phone), The Good Ship.

Ambling up the street and into the venue, I was really feeling the effects of the last week and a half – I’d lost shoes, socks, boxers, bandannas, vests, a little blood and hopefully one or two kilograms.

The Vanguard is the ultimate succour, from the fridge full of free booze to the delicious pizzas and the spot on the floor where I saw a dude piss himself, everything about this place brings a great joy to my soul every time I step inside.

Even when the joy becomes something more sinister, let’s call it deep seeded need to hump things, I still always have a grand old time.

This night was no exception.

Even though I only got to watch about half of The Good Ship get dressed, I felt that my need for voyeurism had been met for the evening and really got down to business – making sure that Craig would have to constantly restock the fridge in the band room. This was not a tough assignment considering the gusto of the near twenty band members (and one Johnny Wishbone) who convened upon the booze cabinet.

I would like to take this opportunity to throw big love to my favourite creepy clown/sound guy, Daz. I will keep giving you back love every time I see you because you make being on stage the pleasure that it should be rather than a cursed romp through feed back and muffled tones. If I had money, I’d buy you a present. But I don’t, so just deal with the sloppy hugs.

Debuting our new clip for The Black Tooth Supper Club at the end of the set may not have been the brightest idea we ever had, though recruiting Pauly K of The Snowdroppers to dance on stage while it played was a stroke of genius – at that point in the night, I was looking to slip back into my clothes and get on with enjoying the adulation of our more attractive fans.

Even though I have often said that I really like big girls, I’m coming around to the skinny ones too.

That said, nothing beats a sexy boss.

See you soon, Russall S Beattie (thanks for letting us wreck up your club)

Catch Gay Paris at on the QLD leg of the 4 Drink Minimum Tour

Fri 27 May The Loft Gold Coast, QLD

Sat 28 May Ric’s Bar, Brisbane, QLD

Read Gay Paris tour diary part one here

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