I have vague memories of seeing Spandau Ballet the first (and last) time they toured. They probably played the Sports and Entertainment Centre and I probably managed to get tickets by phoning BASS repeatedly, back in the days of rotary dial phones and no redial buttons. Tickets for touring bands in the ’80s were probably as expensive, relative to the cost of living, as they are now, but working the checkouts at K-Mart kept me comfortably in Dachet jeans, Jakpaks, sandblasted leather jackets, blue mascara and special edition coloured vinyl LPs and EPs. I also have vague memories of writing about it in the late-80s equivalent of a blog: my year 11 English writing journal.

Back in nineteen eighty-whatever, it did not occur to me that I would be going to any gigs in 2010, let alone seeing Spandau Ballet again. Those times that established bands toured, drawing loyal crowds of 40- and even 50-somethings, it seemed kind of sordid, sad. Surely old people knew their place? Surely there was an age at which dignity demanded handing over enjoyment of public entertainment to a younger generation?

With that in mind, it was probably just as well the Ballet waited 25 years before touring again. Had they toured in the late 90s, I might not have gone, or may have bought tickets in an exercise of heavy irony. After 25 years, though, I had a sense of fond nostalgia. It was with without embarrassment that I showed off my tickets to my workmates¹.

The actual gig was fine. Fun. Maturity may have taken some of the upper register from voices, and restricted abilities to dance and sing simultaneously, but it also gave a sense of … comfortableness. Contentment. A confidence that wasn’t based on knowing there’d be a queue of young girls lining up at the stage door and outside hotels², but based on knowing that there was an audience who had fond enough memories of the music and performances to go out on a school night and sing along (and laugh with, not at).

I just… don’t think I’d do it for Paul Young. Sorry, Paul.

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1. Well, almost without embarrassment. One colleague did smirk, but a younger workmate leaped to my defence. “I love ballet! I wouldn’t be embarrassed to go! I used to DO ballet when I was a kid!”. Oh dear.

2. Actually, there were probably some pre-menopausal women wanting to recapture something of their teens, which the repeated references to wives and children seemed designed to thwart.

• James Fucking Blunt
• Fucking Mumford and Fucking Sons
• John Fucking Butler
• John Fucking Mayer
• Cat Empire
• Jason Mraz
• Pete Murray
• Xavier Rudd
• anybody from any of those TV talent shows

Who have we missed?

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1. Say this in your hammiest Oirish accent. You won’t be able to stop!

Government

2009 proved that I still have some remnants of idealism that haven’t been lost in middle-aged cynicism, in that I was surprised to find myself disappointed by governments and their poll-driven pandering. Governments increasingly do what people want, rather than what’s necessary; follow rather than lead. Unfortunately what they are following is usually sentiment that’s been drummed up by PR manipulated mainstream media. 2010 promises more of the same. The first news story I read this year revealed the massive US aid package to Israel (with a substantial percentage earmarked for Israel to spend on US made military hardware) with additional funding to the Palestinian Authority to train security forces. Sounded a lot like profiting from continued instabiity to me.

Social Media

2009 was the end of Facebook for me. I quit it early in the year and found that my life was none the poorer for missing out on endless status updates of people I’d added only because it seemed churlish to keep them out. I managed to get through my year, despite not knowing which Brady Bunch character I was, which Thomas Pynchon novel I was, which Kanye remix I was, which Michael Bay special effect I was. If I’d ever had any regrets about not having a Facebook account, they disappeared over Christmas lunch, when my cousin’s teenage boy expressed shock that I wasn’t “on” Facebook: “Even Grandpa’s on it!”. Exactly.

On the other hand, Twitter came into its own. I’d joined up – in my real name – in 2008 but hadn’t really used it. In 2009 I set up my current Twitter account and started adding some of the “big names” (few of whom have survived into my 2010 list) and a couple of people whose blogs I’d been following. Where my Facebook circle was limited to people I knew, my Twitter circle had (until recently) no people I’d actually met. Our common interests (largely food, film and TV) kept the conversation going and, mostly, interesting.

Travel

We started the year off revisiting old haunts in Malaysia and tried something new in September with our first trip to China. I rely on having a trip to look forward to, but have realised that this approach is seriously flawed. Having already booked flights for our 2010/2011 holiday (South Africa via Hong Kong), I am now wishing away a year that has barely started.

Food

Both overseas trips were dominated by food.  That was a motivating factor for going back to Malaysia, however the variety and quality of the food in China was a revelation.  Locally, Cutler and Co made a big splash when it opened and I’m glad that 2010 is starting with another visit.  Libertine continued to be the best local restaurant a person could possibly want, Hutong’s XLB are getting better the more distant the memory of Shanghai’s dumplings get, and my obsession with Gingerboy’s son-in-law eggs is nearly out of control.

On the home front, Fuschia Dunlop’s books dominated domestic output in 2009 and I don’t really see that changing in 2010.  The most frequently cooked recipe, though, goes to Frank Camorra’s simple but delicious Wet Rice with Chicken from the Mo Vida cookbook.

As for reading about food, newspapers have given way to blogs.  Blogs helped us plot our way around KL and Penang, gave us tips for China and keep us inspired to try new things at home.  On the other hand, The Age’s once dispensible Epicure section became even more pointless with the recent departure of Matt Preston.  His column kept me reading this year despite the weekly torture of Larissa Dubecki’s reviews, although she provided me with a fair bit of ranting material for this blog, so perhaps I should be grateful.

Work

For the past three of four years, I’ve felt as though I was starting anew with each new year. That gets tiring. 2009 was the first year that I didn’t have to build from scratch, which was not only refreshing but allowed me to explore some more interesting new approaches. 2010 should – hopefully – be more of the same, which is to say same, same, but different.

Television

2009 was the year of Foxtel. While we were in Malaysia, we had access to cable television and this made us feel as though our lives would be incomplete were we to miss the finale of the Iditarod: Toughest Race on Earth or the episode of Time Warp where a bullet was shot into a banana. As it happened, we didn’t watch any more of the sled dog race when we got home and the novelty of things in super slow motion wore off quickly – there’s no cutting to the chase when slowing things down is the raison d’être of the show. We did, however, become seduced by Andrew Zimmern as he travelled around the world eating Bizarre Foods and developed something of a dependency on a weekly dose of Anthony Bourdain. Plus there was the real Masterchef in various iterations (an amazing Professional version, and a Celeb version that left the Australian one in the shade), Top Models from a number of countries and wannabe designers of clothes and interiors. On slow days, Yes Minister and even The Goodies kept the tele on.

The really big events of the year, though, were the finale of Battlestar Galactica, the penultimate season of Lost and the debut of Masterchef Australia. With BSG over, 2010 sees the debut of the related series Caprica, which could either be a triumph or a let-down. Lost starts in late January in the States and Channel Seven is advertising it already, although the ads give no hint as to whether it will be “fast tracked”. The second season of MCA is being filmed now – will it be as successful as the first?

Reading

I started the year really well, reading a number of books in a relatively short time during our Malaysia holiday.  This just proved that the adage “start as you intend to continue” doesn’t mean that momentum will carry you through, as my reading fell off sharply once holidays were over (quite possibly because of the above).  As the backlog of unopened New Yorkers piled up, I considered cancelling my subscription and admitting that I was no longer a reader.  The Infinite Summer reading challenge got me back to print, and then the 100 must reads inspired me to “read a list”.  That is, until I got halfway through Lord of the Flies and stopped.  This year I intend to read more.  At least one book a month.  That should be achievable, unless I decide to pick up Gravity’s Rainbow again.

Movies

For the second year in a row we missed the Melbourne International Film Festival and we didn’t find much that gave us the energy to get to the cinema during the year. In addition, our last easy-walking-distance local video shop closed, so if we missed something at the cinema, it was gone (unless we could think of another way of seeing it… hmmm). Amongst the enjoyable were District 9, Inglorious Basterds (50% really good, 50% mediocre), Star Trek, Avatar, Coraline, Julie and Julia (possibly only because Meryl Streep was so amazing), In the Loop and Up. We have just signed up at the nearest video rental place, so will hopefully catch up on some of what we’ve missed.

Music

First, the good stuff from 2009. Neko Case’s Middle Cyclone is lovely and my first gig for 2010 will be seeing her at the Hifi. Animal Collective’s Merriweather Post Pavillion gets a lot of iPod time, as does Grizzly Bear’s Veckatimest. Thanks to iTunes making it easy to download songs, I have spruced up my workout playlist a bit (Daft Punk has exactly the right BPM for cardio, but gets a bit tired after years of repetition), but they are songs I dread coming up when the iPod is shuffling away on the dock during a dinner party.

The bad stuff is largely a result of having Foxtel. It’s easy to put the TV onto Max, V, Vh1 or V Hits and that often forms the soundtrack for the weekend (during the week, the Food channel tends to be the background noise). This means that I hear more “new” music than I am used to being exposed to, but it also means that I suffer through a lot of crap. Approximately 90% of the music videos also bring me pain, for a couple of reasons.

• Pants or, more precisely, a lack thereof.  Beyonce, Rihanna and Lady Gaga, I’m looking at you.  Actually, I’m looking at more of you than I particularly care to, video after video.  Put on some pants, or look into frocks.  Thanks.
• I’d also like to see the death of relentlessly porny clips.  I’m well aware of the fact that I can – and do – turn off the TV, but that’s beside the point.  As is Shakira in a flesh coloured body suit performing stripper moves in a cage.  Or Britney hanging off a bar in a skimpy white leotard humping a crew of dancers.  Just stop.
• David Guetta. He crops up in collaboration with a number of singers and he could well be responsible for writing the songs, producing them, orchestrating them… whatever. I don’t care enough even to google him. The reasons I wish he’d disappear is because the music is boring and his contribution to the videos is to stand in the background looking like a Scandinavian serial killer. Creepy.

Oh, thought I’d finished ranting about music related things, but… auto-tune.  I hate it.  If a singer needs a producer to get them on key, they’re not a singer.  If it were a case of nudging the occasional bum note, or if it were being used as a deliberate effect, I might feel differently.  As it is, it’s being deployed so aggressively that a lot of new music sounds soul-less and robotic.

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Have I made any resolutions?  No, that would be setting myself up for failure!  Along with reading more frequently, I plan to

• get back on the bike in an attempt to regain some semblance of fitness
• establish a more interesting week-day cooking repertoire
• attend at least ten MIFF sessions
• open the New Yorker as soon as it arrives, and abandon the idea that I have to read every article before moving onto the next issue

And, inspired by Daniel, I’m instituting mono-tasking January.  One thing at a time!

The PPCA has shown that it has its finger on the pulse of contemporary culture with its bid to increase music licensing fees for restaurants, cafes, bars, pubs, shops, hairdressers and gyms. One of the proposed fee increases is a dizzying 4729 percent.

This grab for cash seems to be predicated on the belief that having artists’ music played in public places is a privilege for the business playing it, rather than for the artist. It seems to overlook the fact that having new music played in cafes, shops etc can lead to people who were otherwise only going to buy a coffee to head off to buy some new music. It also seems to assume that music is, in itself, a drawcard to businesses rather than – at best – mere background noise or – at worst – a complete turn-off.

So, what impact could this have? If business can’t, or won’t, pay the licence fees they can opt to play music that’s out of copyright. Wouldn’t that be a tragedy! Some decent jazz, classical, mid-20th century… I think I could easily live with that.

If Fitness First is being honest and not predatory, gym fees would rise by five bucks a month. This is ludicrous – I never visit the gym without my iPod, and most other people working out are similarly equipped with their own personal soundtracks. I also rarely attend classes, which would be what would attract the fee. When I do I’ve been known to go home and buy a track I’ve heard to add to my cardio playlist. A person can’t workout to Daft Punk forever, after all.

I doubt that this is going to be the day the music died – but I am hoping that American Pie is still under copyright, because… regular playing of that song would completely suck.

¹ I wonder how many technological advances there’ll be before the Phonographic Performance Company of Australia considers a name change?

Eskimo Joe’s “Foreign Land”:

Every time I hear “Foreign Land”, which is far more often than I would like to (around no times being the optimum number of times), I think of Richie Benaud.

I miss Richie Benaud.

I did download the software, though, mostly to reassure myself that it was an elaborate hoax.  It wasn’t.  I now have 300+MB sitting on my hard drive, and I’m keeping it there just in case I can ever use it for a prank…

I can’t stop listening to it.

That is all.

On Friday night I watched This is Spinal Tap for the first time in ages.  (OK, for the first time in months.)  The good news was that I no longer had the McCain song in my head.  The bad news – I was stuck with Sex Farm.  Thanks, Tap.

Am I still at risk of blurting out “Getting out my pitch fork/Poking your hay” whilst in the queue at IGA?  No, thanks to the electronics department at Myer and a shopper wanting the iPod speakers demonstrated.  At first, I was thrilled to hear The Stranglers’ song Golden Brown in such an unlikely setting.  As I walked away, I found myself humming it.  On the tram, I was tapping out the strange rhythm.  It stuck in my head and just won’t be shifted.  Am I happy?  Sort of.  Unfortunately, I can’t help mis-hearing the lyrics in my head.  My internal soundtrack is, disconcertingly, “Gordon Brown texture like sun…”.  Creepy.