Looking through CDs, live music, books, theatre and all kinds of things that fit in your mouth. Injecting the mindstream via the tearduct with reviews that connect you to the experience, whatever the form.
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As with a lot of people, reading a book sogged in wet takes a toll on the whole. Way too friendly with each other, the fibres of the pages cling strong. Drip, let it dry and all is good again. And that's the feeling of reading Our Movie Year.
Entirety of American Splendor: Our Movie Year by Harvey Pekar
Spluttering up a mean dose of determination, the lungs give out as the back of the throat cakes over with a dusty and dry void. And the asthma strikes again. And there, in the wilds of Bolivia, Ernesto "Che" Guevara hacks up the resolve, fortitude and the sheer essence of convictions to lead himself down the path of a sequel that proves that there are few exceptions to the rule. The Bolivian uprising, not so wheezy hot.
Entirety of Che: Part Two: Guerrilla
Che: Part One is sandwiched between Ernesto “Che” Guevara’s first meeting with Fidel Castro in Mexico, in which Guevara joins the 26th of July Movement that eventually overthrows Batista’s government, and Guevara extracting a promise that he would be allowed to export the revolution to the rest of Latin America. This not only sets up the second part of this four-hour tour-de-force, it also gives an insight into the sort of person that Guevara was. After all, the notion of exporting a revolution to an entire continent, before having actually successfully achieved one of any kind is audacious to say the least.
Entirety of Che, Part One: The Argentine
When M. Gira toured through Australia earlier this year on the All Tomorrow’s Parties bill he played a few sideshows, including one at The Basement that I was fortunate enough to catch. At that show, Gira played some songs from We are Him. What was notable about the performance – aside from Gira’s booming vocals – was the simplicity of the arrangements. “Promise of Water,” for example, on the night, consisted solely of a shuffling guitar part and judiciously stamped feet.
Entirety of Angels of Light - We are Him
With the authorities steady ready with their glocks, out drops a magazine bearing two people shooting multi-coloured guns off into the left distance. PISTOL blares large and loud for the eyeballs to line a sight in quick fashion. "Do you like guns?" they ask. "No. It's found reading material. Nothing more."
Entirety of Australian Pistol Shooters' Bulletin
Only the most blinkered of idiots can pretend that the events of the last few weeks weren’t damaging for Malcolm Turnbull.
Entirety of Annabel Crabb - Stop at Nothing: the Life and Adventures of Malcolm Turnbull
To be honest, I only purchased Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle because I wanted to test Robert Forster’s thesis in his excellent “In Search of a Songwriter” essay/review for The Monthly. Briefly, his search for a songwriter is a search for a new genre, and one in which nature ceases to be the dominant muse.
Entirety of Bill Callahan - Sometimes I Wish We Were an Eagle
Of all the fake elements that make up this record – the Joseph Lieberman endorsement, the back catalogue, etc – there’s one aspect that rings true: that the bulk of the album, ten out of the eleven songs, were recorded between 3:00 and 3:35 pm.
Entirety of Condo Fucks - Fuckbook
Wake up in a mop sweat in bed at number 4 Susannah Place and, if you're lucky (time travel wise), you're in the early rat-infested era of Sydney (there are no time travel insurance policies). Take an afternoon stroll through the hospital where the nurses are all Catkind, and you're in the indeterminate future far from here. Voices, smells, location and decay. All signs pointing to where you are in time and conflict. Mix them all up and something just feels rather anachronistic about it all.
Entirety of Sita Sings the Blues
Chewing through another candle, the teeth plead, "No more!" as the coating waxes the enamel without song or fanfare. The stomach ponders the meaning of strife as the delivery makes its journey out the other end. What comes back splashing isn't quite the sparkles and well wishes of the icing days before. Birthdays, eat them up while the mind is playful enough to know it's not all downhill every day.
Entirety of Happy Birthday, Anyway - Matt Huynh
Making off with half a chocolate bar, wherein the other half turns out to be no picnic at all, the path across busy roads lead the walk to a lost huddle and hassle of a cleaner in the lobby of the State Theatre's adjunct. Wrong way, down and around a retro spin. Take an out and head down underground below the city streets. And here is the tale writ in film of Samson and Delilah directed by Warwick Thornton.
Eight hours with nothing to do at Los Angeles International Airport. No bomb threat theatre to watch. No art displays to mosey through. Nothing more than waiting in transit. Heat brings it on with humidity close to mop. Walking up and down the terminals lasts a half hour before the bus ride takes over. Eleven minutes away, the lug of sign-free roads and ambiguous traffic lights makes way to a bus rank. Mill about with pantsless individuals looking for a trip downtown.
Entirety of LA Victoria prepaid calling card
Hardly any spots for parking. And with good reason as the tale will show. Movie Rider keeps a tidy and unclean premise. No customers to speak of with only the lost trying to find their way out from the cold of the mountains. Small arcade of machines and the depravity of waking up for another day thick in the linoleum. Mixing both disbelief and cunning, the operators of the snake oil whiplash operation find it hard to keep to themselves their disdain with life, the "theatre" and dealing with people in general.
Entirety of Movie Rider - 3370 Parkway Pigeon Forge, Tennessee
And here we have the score of reviews in the grouping of categories.
Finagle with our bagel and keep a fresh and up-to-date eyeball on our latest reviews, articles and filthy somesuch. Mmm doughy.
Undone, unbound, the sounds aground, life's taking the train with a soundtrack of harmonic dissonance, of inner turmoils and evolutionary spotchecking.
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