Author: Davey Dreamnation (page 133 of 240)

Davey Dreamnation (1972–?) is an Australalian musician, vocalist, pirate and record-label owner who now lives 'in the third person'.

View his full biography.

alicia sometimes: BULK ACE!

alicia sometimes is bulk aceJust in case anyone was suffering under the impression that I’m something of a man’s man, here’s a little image I look at every time I visit the wonderful Page 4 website of Australasia’s most popular, talented and BULK ACE poet, alicia ‘sassy pants’ sometimes!

Seeing her in action on the wheels of steel last Wednesday as an accoutrement to the talents of the Bedroom Philosopher, one was struck by sassy’s eclectic musical tastes ranging from Rolf Harris (his incendiary track ‘Sunrise’ providing an eerie beginning to the night) to a German version of ‘Ring of Fire’ that was actually about 4000 cars or bars or something.

I often think of asking alicia what sustains her, but so far have not got up the courage to do so. I suspect if anything sustains her at all, it’s a small nip of Bailey’s and some kind of tart.

A supremely dangerous poet, alicia co-hosts Triple R’s Aural Text show every Wednesday at 12 noon. I heartily recommend listening to it over the internet. She has apparently performed at over 3000 spoken word gigs and has the fliers to prove it.

And speaking of fliers, check out this little doozy, a promo poster for next month’s Babble on Wednesday May 3, featuring alicia and her sassy band, Luster. The open mike section will be a surf theme, so bring yer crystal cylinders. I’ve dusted off the Ciaks— what’s your excuse?

Justin Heazlewood at Babble!

justin heazlewoodAfter the non-appearance of rumoured Irish headline act Neil, Babble punters could be forgiven for suspecting that uber-host Sean M. Whelan’s response might be to rope in some amateur or half-baked talent to act as the feature performer at last night’s event.

Those of little faith might consider working on that aspect of their personality however as no less a performer than Justin Heazlewood aka The Bedroom Philosopher aka one half of devastating duo The Renegades of Folk provided more than half a dozen answers to the question: what on earth goes through the mind of a twenty-something performer aka poet aka comedian aka spokesperson for his/her generation?

Because the fact is that if anyone speaks for signature drawstring jarmies, toast, songs about mum and postmodernism, then Justin Heazlewood’s the man. He could just as easily be the woman, as evidenced by his appearance on stage to the accompaniment of DJ Sassy Pants’ strident and eclectic selection, Donovan’s ‘Hurdy Gurdy Man’.

He’s funny, witty and he can play a guitar. I personally haven’t laughed so much in a while. I even forked out $20 for a copy of his debut album In Bed With My Doona, and can I just say that the price tag is worth it for the sensational Aussie folk-hop pastiche that is ‘Folkstar’, one of the best songs I’ve heard in ages.

Read an interview with Justin Heazlewood in Cordite. Better still, get on to the official Bedroom Philosopher website.

Tang!

Icebergs

Icebergs calve, plop and bomb.
Great sheets of arctic pain—
metaphors, forever lost. The
polar bears just stand there,
in mid-air, then drop. White
water dreams after Greenland,
or was that Hell. Whatever.
It’s a bit of a stretch but if
they can tow one to Belfast
then why not here? For some
reason, Hitler comes to mind.
I’m no longer involved. Ha!
Sitting here, my new wife and
I, on the icebreaker’s deck.
There’s a novel in my drink,
an icy cliffhanger. Whatever.
Rubbing my cheeks with whale
fat. Where the hell did that
come from? Nick Cave’s in my
cabin, with the fever. Here
come the northern lights, a
stadium in miniature bathed
in signal flares. My wife’s
a rose and I’m malt whisky.
Arranging deckchairs, etc.

Sool ahn gaesuh

like a murder-suicide yesterday’s tiffs
became today’s shower of glacial regret
hit on the head you're sool ahn gaesuh

left winded bruised & read-dead on our
set-list stories of lost orders events
tragedies that come in threes like the

drinks the straws (deadly for dolphins
the lipstick trace a circular argument
nobody heard a thing (or suspected yet

there it is: an empty office & a drill
draw your conclusions or bite your lip
sure of what you’re about to say (next

thing you know there’s a glass in your
hand & tears beside the water fountain

prod/cut

well in our short life
we get into fistfights
on message boards

dust off the pistols
why is everyone else
so down on i today

i being the sons of
some moderate guff
from my laboratory

don't patronise kids
mean baby jack since
pilot land strikes!

reach a consensus as
anyone could come up
with the same rote i

wanna cry onto radio
bust loose & turn up
the musical screws

know us by the trail
of well maybe i don't
really wanna know okay?