Synth Lines in Stutter Step

[L M Pistola]

OAF, the subterranean home of Sydney's scenester crowd also happens to be one of the most shrewd and current places in the city.

The place is real Black. The patrons are all in black, black in everything but skin- black hair, black jeans, black coat, black gloves. Stockings: black. Black frames on black framed eyes and red, red lips. When these kids wear black its not Goth, its New York Punk via Paris Chic tied with a synthline, powder white and LED.

The kids who aren't hooded black or 50s throwback are Old School Brooklyn and cartoon Colour. Back from the brink of Fluro, they are an explosion of Warholian kitsch, ironically cooler than you.

See, OAF occupies a world between the Gallery and the Street. Its not just the Gutter, its the Stormdrain decorated in the attendant style: exposed brick, concrete, steel and the Pop Muralism of Street Art.

Down in those pits of doe-eyed barely-legals you can flick V's for Peace and turn a dozen heads. You can jaunt shambling to a grubby beat, comforted by the fact that the velveteen soft-tail you lust for can't dance either.

Tonight, as we step into the blue lit stomach of the Main Bar on 08/08/08, a screaming synth cuts ears with a glassy pitch, wince inducing. The responsible fiend stands hooded upon the stage, his bird hands vampiric and strobing across the keys, pulsing out a drone. His counterpart, a salty looking dark horse pounds the kit, reciting her haunted moan-poems across a sea of delay. But we have come to see Pivot, a local trio of Electro/Sound artists who, to my ears, play another kind of Jazz.

As the waves of delay thrum to their ending, a substantial crowd gathers and, from my vantage point on the low balcony directly in front of stage, I have the perfect view.

Bodies squeeze past me in the blue darkness and I watch the room moving in anticipation as the curtains part and I lean over to a mate with a word of advice, "Keep an eye on this drummer man". And already he drums, smashing hats and riding jazz over the bells as the synth and guitar begin to sneak in with loops and layers.

It builds. And then it builds- bass synth lines below rhythmic tone patterns, guitar warping strummed and tweaked. It builds in chaos like a tuning electric orchestra until a slapped face of silence and everything- tweaks, lines and patterns fall onto the boom of the kick drum on One!

Two, Three, Four as the groove rolls through the bones and balls and bobbing heads of those of us who have a heartbeat while the cracking snare sends a ripple of reverb out into the future. We rock on the flat four for a scant bar or two before the groove trips and tricks out, synth lines in stutter step and free fall sonics spread sci-fi wings- Aphex to Vangelis with funk swings.

From stage right, behind a silver laptop, a sound desk and a set of keys the lynchpin, manipulator and central wizard of the group bobs like a pigeon, pecking at knobs and dials, triggering sequences that swallow us whole. On the left the Beat Throwback guitarist (etc) pulls notes, fretting from behind a sweaty tousled fringe while the drummer punctuates with bombast.

Amidst all this I am absorbing and moving and grinning and I am surrounded by French Cleopatra femme fatales, all just gone. We don't yet know what it is but its certain- something is happening.

Something is happening.

[wildmountainthyme]

LM, excellent description of the club, really captures the feel and the vibe from the crowd. sounds like it's going to be a good night?
dan

[L M Pistola]

Thanks WMT,
Yeah it was a good night.
I am writing a lot of random things lately, trying to concentrate on what I know.
I enjoy writing poetry but I just don't think I get it, and subsequently I don't really know how to write it.
Having said that I like trying to using poetic-type language as a sort of impressionistic approach to description- a word might not explicitly describe something but the sound or image it evokes gives you a sense of the subject of the description. I also tend towards a particular rhythm and pacing when I write- I think it picks up a frenetic energy which I like.
Anyway hopefully its a little more than a diary entry...
Thanks again

[wildmountainthyme]

LM
sounds like something of a mix of anthony burgess and jack kerouac, that's how this came over? i think it's funny when you write, because you are a writer it doesn't mean you can write anything? i don't think i could say that there are more than 2, 3 things that i've written and feel they're any good? so you're right to not write poetry, too many people try and do it all, man i don't even like writing, i'd rather be playing fitba! but sometimes there's some kind of madness in your head and it's got to be written down?
dan

[L M Pistola]

Burgess and Kerouac? Thanks- I was conscious of doing a Kerouac kind of thing but not Burgess. Funny though, I loved the writing style of Clockwork Orange. I found it extremely easy to read, which contrasts with what others have said about the book- translating the slang engaged my mind more than usual and gave things such a visceral quality. I much preferred the book to the film.

I've just started reading The Great Gatsby and I'm enjoying the conversational tone of F Scott Fitzgerald's writing in it and have been dipping into Hunter S Thompson and Albert Camus as well.

But yeah, I know exactly what you mean- sometimes you get into a mood where you just gotta get something down on paper. This was one of those occasions. Hopefully I'll have something new here soon...