Monthly Archives: May 2007

Vids featuring people dressed uniformly

As suggested, here follows a homogeny of vids featuring people dressed uniformly.

Black out fall out – Polysics

This could also be categorized under my forthcoming theme ‘vids featuring singing tofu’.

Float on – Modest Mouse

Ok, I’ve thrown a red kipper in the works here already. Yes, it’s the sheep that I’ve decided are ‘dressed uniformly’. Before you scoff, remember that sheep are people, too.

Welcome to the terror dome – Public Enemy

Security of the First World gots the moves, and in unison.

Heartbeats – The Knife

Kids in stripy tees skating down a hill = gnarly.

Last chance to save the polar bears – Polyphonic Spree

I think with the Spree you fall into one of two camps: A) mindless adoration or B) Cold War suspicion (at least in my domestic situation, where I am ‘A’ while the hubz is an unequivocal ‘B’).

In camp A)

Eyes cartwheel into whirring daisy petals, which command one in semaphore to go don the nearest white nightie.

In camp B)

Steadfastly NOT-whirring eyes are narrowed, arms are crossed like a hammer and sickle, and many a reference is made to the comet ‘Halle Bop’.

Here, the Spree throw off their robes and look like ninja automotive mechanics.

(Oh yeah, like it says at the end, this an anti-video of sorts, composed of 2341 photos, like a magic lantern. Kinda.)

Tour de France – Kraftwerk


Parlez-vous Francais the Kraftwerk way.

Disco inferno – The Trammps


Disco Inferno is my favourite disco song EVER. This is a tough call, cos, like Popeye and spinach, how I loves me disco, Olive. Yet, I was a blazingly disappointed to discover the video was set on a ferry and not in an actual discotheque. That said, the day-glo orange bodysuits almost make up for it. Almost.

Deceptacon – Le Tigre

Jumpin’ Jehosaphat! And that’s all I’ve got to say.

The bucket – Kings of Leon

‘Uniformity’ achieved via that cinematic tool I like to call ‘The Brady Bunch effect’.

Polyester girl – Regurgitator


Polygon polyester.

mOBSCENE – Marilyn Manson

Squadron of can-canning hot chicks dressed like that comically non-comical ‘comic’ character, Beetle Bailey.

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Vids featuring bars

Shaken and stirred, here you have it, a whole bunch of vids featuring bars.

It’s no good – Depeche Mode

How I love everything about this vid: Handsome Dave Gahan as sleaze-dog cabaret performer, the boob ogling, the bottles smashed over heads, and, most especially, the gold lame (pronounced the French way) bobby-dazzler suit.

I want you so hard – Eagles of Death Metal

Cock rock to blast your kit off and everyone’s favourite extra, Dave Grohl, as be-wigged barfly = fully rad. I want to be best friends with the be-nuded business dude at the end, if only for that look he gives. Don’t worry, you’ll catch it.

Lived in bars – Cat Power
True, there are many benefits to going to a bar where everyone knows your name, particularly at that stage of the eve when you can’t quite remember if you’re called Suzie, Sally, or… er… Stephen.

Barbados – Models
The narrative for this is more Mid-80s Definitive Australian Experience than the World Expo ‘88 up in Brisbane (which, if you take in the date there, was actually a Late-80s Definitive Australian Experience. However I never got to experience that Experience because my family was too stingy/poor to go up north to Queensland). Take a look, it’s all there!

1) Being towed to the pub on a speedboat already pre-drunk
2) Singing into a mop, which, in turn, you use as a pool cue
3) Making a sly pass at your best mate, and, finally
4) Being dragged home by your mum who looks like she might just be a man.

All that’s missing is a six-pack of West Coast Coolers.

FASCINATING ANECDOTE!

See, about nine years ago, I passed by James Freud in a bakery in South Melbourne. In fact, he held back the plastic fly strips on the door for me. In my hands was a loaf of banana bread and a rather large and sticky Boston bun. Then, I knew that not only was James Freud a fine singer of songs such as Barbados, but he was also a gentleman.

And so ends my fascinating anecdote.

Love is the slug
– Fuzzbox


Any bar/dodgy nightclub where you can sneak in a coffee mug containing your favourite spirits is a good one in my books.

Stay – Oingo Boingo


Midgets, tables that split in half like a cartoon earthquake, sinister eyeballing, and waltzing ghosts. All in one bar.

I love rock n’ roll – Joan Jett and the Blackhearts

Look, for assorted reasons, I cringe whenever I hear this song. And yet, I kinda… well… love it. There, the filthy truth’s out there. Yes, I love Joan, on account of her work with the Runaways, razor-sharp cheekbones, and long service of being a fully hot chick with dark hair (like myself). And I just generally love people named Joan, mostly because one of my grandmothers is a Joan. In fact, I wouldn’t mind being called Joan, but I’d probably insist on the softer epithet ‘Joanie’. Moreover, I love jets and aerospace technologies as a general ‘idea’, despite my increasingly morbid fear of flying.

Right, I’ve covered the ‘Joan’ and the ‘Jet’ (sic) aspect, so what’s up with me and I love rock n’ roll? Basically, it’s the fact it’s such a bogan singalong song, and, if you knew where I grew up, then you’d understand why bogan singalongs kinda rankle me. (And I’m not meaning to offend anyone, Shane.)

It could also be all that raunchy chit about the 17-year-old dancing there by the record machine. With that, memories of every smooth talkin’ kid with grey long-shorts, 8-hole Doc Martens, and an undercut and/or seriously girlie bobcut I cavorted with when I was 17 or thereabouts, come wafting back like a Pepe Le Pew-esque plume of ‘Jazz’ by Yves St Laurent tempered with Southern Comfort swigged from a 2L Coke bottle.

Still, if I’m in a bar, and I’ve had enough shandies, and an I love rock n’ roll singalong strikes up there by the record machine, I’ll be the one rocking my Joanie-ness before you can chant “PUT ANOTHER DIME IN THE JUKEBOX, BABY!”

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Vids featuring an enormous sense of disembodiment-ness

At the moment, I’m feeling an enormous sense of disembodiment-ness. I just feel the need to share. After all, sharing is caring, and caring is akin to loving, and loving soon turns to smothering… and… if you really want space right now, don’t read on.

Granted, this ‘disembodiment-ness’ I speak of in such appalling grammar may have something to do with having half my belongings on a ship slinging down the Singapore Straits bound for Oztralia. Half my belongings in a storage crate in the suburbs. And half my belongings stored in the ceiling. Of the house. Of the parents. Of my other half.

And, somehow, I get the feeling I’ve touched on far too many halves… but I did always dig improper fractions.

So, until I pull myself together (HOOHOOHoohooHAAAA!) and ease up on the nervous laughter, here follows some vids featuring an enormous sense of disembodiment-ness.

Beats therapy, anyhoo.

(Purposefully, I have not included that song about the detachable penis, lest I be humming the bastard for weeks, and, really, I’d much rather not.)

Shady Lane – Pavement

Banquet – Bloc Party

Don’t know about you, but this reminds me of the big-handed Brother Lee Love character on the Kenny Everett Video Show. Or perhaps I’m the only person in the world who remembers that.

Planet – Sugarcubes

Here comes your man – Pixies

Where is my mind? – Pixies

Screw it, I’ve got two Pixies songs cos I’m totally allowed. Where is my mind, where is my motherfucking straightening iron, indeed. (Or at least that’s what I bellowed for the whole apartment block this morning.) And, who else reckons that Eddie Norton will make the most incredible Incredible Hulk EVERRRRR?! Gets my green thumbs-up.

Burning up – Madonna

Burning down the house – Talking Heads

Being followed – Rocket Science

What’s my scene? – Hoodoo Gurus

Doll parts – Hole

Back soon. And a little more ‘together’.

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