2011 has been relatively kind to me so far; beautiful summer weather, a myriad of touring muscians and 21st birthday parties galore. For once I have nothing to complain about, I’m turning over a new leaf and can give you my word that this blog will be nothing but positive and buoyant. I suggest you take advantage of it however, before the bipolar cynic inevitably returns to advocate doom and gloom.
On the very same night that Fedeli and I returned from our 10 hour journey home from Byron Bay, we were back in the metropolitan scene dining and drinking at Thainesia with some friends before heading to Oxford Art Factory for the highly anticipated Born Ruffians gig.
We’ve been obsessed with this Canadian trio (particularly the ever so handsome lead singet) since we first laid eyes on them at a gig in East London. As expected, they did not disappoint in the slightest and had us stumbling out on the street feeling weak at the knees with adoration. Check out my Music Feeds review here!
I was desperately seeking some lonesome down time on Tuesday night but another gig was calling – this time it was New York based melancholy weavers Interpol. How could I say no to them? And I’m glad Kelly and I didn’t say no because they put on a fantastic performance. I brought my photographic kit and kaboodle along and briefly stepped into the pit to get these shots:
The string of consecutively fantastic shows plateaud there when I went to catch the Cold War Kids at the Enmore Theatre. They were quite uninspiring. My new gig buddy and fellow Lost addict Patrick accompanied me and after enduring an hour or so of intense heat, we saught shelter and water at the local bar and exchanged CWK criticisms.
I attended the Enmore for the 3rd time that week on Friday night and regretfully so after being utterly disappointed by the totally overrated American quintet That National. I promised you that this blog post would be negativity free so if you want to read my condescending rant about The National’s gig click here.
After the show, my fellow music enthusiast Daniel and I had a refreshing cocktail at The Green Room before calling it a night.
On Saturday evening Carrina, Sophie and I went to the Ashfeld Hotel for Steve’s 21st. My inevitable downward spiral into inebriation began the minute we discovered there was a bartab and began consuming alcohol at an unimaginable rate. Thankfully I managed to conceal and behave myself however can’t remember much from the evening apart from the highly amusing speeches and nostalgic slideshow.
Rarely does my whole family unite for an evening out together completely out of the blue, but when we do it’s always an absolute laugh. On Monday evening we rounded up the Fedeli clan and went to one of our fave Chinese restaurants in the city. As usual, my family was on time and the first to arrive at Golden Century but the rest of the gang soon arrived after us. Before I knew it there were dumplings, crunchy crab legs, chilli squids and duck rolls flying to and around our table. We had to con Karina into thinking the duck dishes were chicken because she refused to consume anything with a beak, webbed feet an efficient swimming abilities.
I promise the mood was much more buoyant and lively than these pictures depict!
We stared around us and quickly noticed we were the only Italians, and for that matter the only non-asians, in the entire restaurant. My mum was trying to impose her theory upon us that the reason the Golden Century is open way past 1am is because it’s the local mafia hangout. Meanwhile, Auntie Gabby was trying to teach us kids and the whole family for that matter a lesson by pointing out one of the tables who were paying such attention and respect to the eldest family member as he softly spoke. They listened and obeyed him like he was above God. I suppose Gabby, being the eldest member of our family was hoping she’d garner that kind of honour and reverence from us too. Dreaming!
You ugly mother fuckers taste so damn good when deceased and fried..!
After a delicious, perhaps overindulgent dinner, we all stumbled out feeling heavily pregnant and decided to walk it off on our way to Kelly’s pad for some wine tasting courtesy of their wine bar Fico. When we arrived to Fedeli’s lair there were bottles upon bottles of wine of all different shades and textures. Shit was getting serious. Kelly decided to whip out the Wii for us kids, but it wasn’t long before the adults took over the console and tried to relive their youth. It was like unleashing a child in a candy store for the first time; they were absolutely amazed by this innovative piece of technology, especially my dad whom we couldn’t tear away from the Wii board for hours!! He had us all in stitches as he cursed the screen in Italian. Now he’s convinced he needs a Wii in his life to feel complete.
Meanwhile my mum almost broke her pelvis doing the hoola hoop exercise and Fabiola proved that her pilates classes were indeed paying off with her flexibility. The rest of us shook our heads and erupted in laughter at the pure sight of these geriatrics. Bless ‘em!
On Wednesday I interviewed international house DJ Anna Lunoe for Lip Magazine. Check out the interview piece here!
On Wednesday night it was time to catch up with the Jbirds who had rejoined us in Sydney after our Byron Bay getaway. Sophie, Tenaya, Kelly and I went over to Shady Pines to meet them and indulge in delectable apple vodkas. Damn they are good!
Once we’d overloaded on apple vodka goodness and fell it was time to retreat we made our French exit and excitedly ran home for we knew what awaited us; the original Super Mario Bros game for Nintendo Wii! Yes folks we were reliving our childhood; the one where we stayed up all night at our nonnas house glued to the TV and remotes trying to beat the almighty Bowser! We were surprisingly flying through all the lands, playing better whilst drunk as skunks as opposed to earlier that afternoon when we were totally sober.
On Thursday night Kelly, Juanita, Jeremy and I had dinner at The Winery. Just a tip for future patrons it’s called The Winery for a reason; yes, it’s well equipped with a beautiful selection of wine and provides a succulent, dim-lit and romantic atmosphere catered for wine afficionados – but they cannot cook for shit! Alright fuck it, I’m breaking my promise and putting a negative dent into this post. Do not, I repeat do not waste your money on the overpriced, tasteless and excessively complicated dishes on their menue! I feel slightly nauseous just thinking about my duck ravioli blended with the incongruent ingredients of turnips, crispy potato chips and dog urine.
Who is considered an idol, a lifesaver or an inspiration? And who on the other hand is inherently evil, malicious and utterly despised? These were the questions I was asking myself in the lead up to Dom’s “Heroes & Villains” 21st Birthday party. All my idols and inspirations are male musicians and I didn’t really feel like growing a beard or a penis for the night so due to my incredible laziness, increativity and general hate for themes I decided not to really participate at all. Actually no, that’s a lie, at the very last inute I whacked on a floppy black hat, Lennon-inspired glasses and branded myself with the words “War Is Over” across my chest to emulate Yoko Ono. She is a hero; not only for her comitmemnt to peace and protest but in her marital commitment to the ingenious John Lennon! Now that I think about it though, I actually looked more like Stevie Nicks – or atleast the bartender seemed to think so!
For the sake of keeping my dignity and relatively spotless reputation I’m going to tell you the extremely censored verson of the nights events. We drank sensibly, reveled in everyone’s exciting costumes, had a little dance, went to our own beds very early and woke up feeling absolutely splendid. Okay okay okay… so there MAY have been a hotel afterparty, jumping on a bed whilst cranking Nirvana and The Doors with vodka in hand and an incident involving the bathroom sink. But it’s deep in the past and erased from my immediate memory.
Oh and one last name and shame that I promised Kurt to round off the blog; here’s Mr Muller sporting my “Yokohamma” glasses (Think he meant Yoko Ono – but whether that’s his inevitable ignorance or mere drunkness I do not know?) and attempting to relive his fairytale youth in a semi-naked Peter Pan ensemble that looks more like a homosexual Adam & Eve costume than a character from Neverland. What a douche bag, right? Over and out!!!!!! x x
Four Weeks with the Queen. 