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Live reviews with Lyndon Blue
Fabulous Diamonds are forever
FABULOUS DIAMONDS @ 208, FRIDAY JAN 29
On an unlikely street corner was an unlikely house. Sat soberly behind slouching pickets, its façade appeared inauspicious – but it was, after all, only a façade. The domicile was a diamond in the rough, a gem more precious than its exterior disclosed; and perched before it in dwindling daylight this balmy Summer evening was an unlikely abundance of gentlefolk, glowing with muted anticipation – waiting for ignition.
The house, a musical manor, sucked us in like slippery strings of spaghetti. Within we were chewed up, mashed into the redolence of a hundred sweaty moonbeams… there, in front of the fireplace, the enigmatic Pex (Predrag Delibasich) stood brandishing his 335. As per his recent custom, the solo Pex performance was a trundling jukebox of lean, loop-based instrumental pop, punk and folk, twangled melodies surfing over rhythmic chugs and stabs. What is perhaps most enthralling about a Pex set is its mystery; without lyrical or visual clues to provide a conceptual compass, one can only guess as to the music’s conveyance; whether it is simply aesthetic, or if its unique style and dynamic carries a theoretical agenda. Pex gives nothing away, and finally dissolves the set into a tremendous pot of thick, custardesque noise and glaring feedback.
After Pex’s climatic fuzzsplosion I needed to chill out somewhat, and in my repose gladly toked on the swirling peace-pipe that was Wigwam. Local drone-king Craig McElhinney and reverb-demon Dave Egan (Carbuncle, Triangles) formed this eerie duo, who rode in on a lonely pulsating wash, eagle wings in desert night-chill air. After some time lounging on the plateau, however, I suddenly noticed a green light overhead and was sucked up like sago in a bubble-tea straw by its mighty traction beam. Commander Egan’s voice had warped to an otherwordly, ring-modulated warble, the deranged croak of a crazed robofrog as it primed me for a probing. Craigos McMartian leered over the control panel mashing buttons and extracting ferocious whumps, whirrs and booms. In the middle of the darkened warp-chamber there sat a glowing earth-globe, an omen of the pair’s fiendish plans. I
can’t lie, I was pant-pooingly petrified by the sounds of Wigwam. In a very good way.
Jettisoned from the mothership I stumbled across the plains for days on end until encountering an unlikely jungle gym climbing into a febrile sky. Ascending its steely tangle, I chanced upon the members of Mental Powers swinging hither and thither, clanging out marble-rattle percussion grooves, blaringly erotic saxophone solos, treacle-organ jets and bowel-bothering basslines. Their paradoxically taught-yet-loose jams ground to a rather somber midpoint; and beguiling though this was, it was a rejuvenating shift to the last couple of tunes, bolting party numbers with infectious and persistent beats. Providing the musical highlight of the evening, Mental Powers’ puzzling brilliance shows no sign of waning; their forthcoming LP, then, should be a tasty little treasure indeed.
Fresh from the embrace of a subterranean African chasm (or indeed, a plane), Fabulous Diamonds were in town to support those other merchants of keys-drenched gloom, The Horrors. Perhaps it was post-travel fatigue, perhaps the diminished size of the crowd, perhaps the intimate rather than ethereal setting, but the Diamonds were simply nowhere as Fabulous as the last time they graced our coast to deliver a stellar set at the North Perth Chapel space. The ingredients were the same – thick, delayed keys, crisp, angular drum motifs, repetition and monotone vocal chants, but the resulting pie seemed half-cooked, more tedious than hypnotic. The last track, at least, hinted at sublime repetitive immersion, with an intricate, relentless drum line and catchy but incessant Schulzesque synth loop for over ten minutes. The Fab D’s didn’t sow any seeds of doubt as to their general
excellence – they seemed merely to be having a dullish night.
The unlikely gentlefolk drained out of the house of unlikely tones, trickling down the suburban arteries and into the dark. No passer by would have guessed, as the door swung shut and the lights were extinguished, of the whirlwind of sonic kickassery that had just stormed through this unlikely little gem of a place.
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Steady Eye with Tahlia Palmer
A can of worms
Monogamy is the foundation for society as we know it today. Father, mother and their babies all live together in a house until the babies are ready to start families of their own. This is the most efficient way to organise groups of humans, and is encouraged by most governments and religions as the ideal standard of living.
But why is it the ideal? Given the high rate of divorce and adultery etc, it would seem that it is not particularly suited to our nature. After hundreds of years of organised religion dictating our moral code, we’ve come to romanticise the idea of a “soul mate”. It has also left a lingering feeling that pure enjoyment of sex is dirty. It’s not dirty, it’s amazing. And if souls are indeed real, I highly doubt that they are programmed to find their other half. It doesn’t make any sense to me.
There are three types of monogamy, practised by various species of animals. One, social monogamy: two persons/creatures that live together, have sex with each other, and cooperate in acquiring basic resources such as food, shelter, and other resources. Two, sexual monogamy: where two persons/creatures remain sexually exclusive with each other but that’s it and three, genetic monogamy: which refers to two partners that have offspring with each other only.
Our bodies are big gooey machines that keep our brain alive. Face it. Our brain’s sole purpose is to reproduce and carry on the species, same as every other animal. We exist so that we can keep on existing. The only reason that family structures exist is so that vulnerable young are raised in a safe environment, and if the animals have larger brains, they are taught essential social skills during this period.
It is extremely rare that animals of any species mate with only one partner for their whole lives. Males instinctually feel the need to sow their seed as much as possible, while women are constantly on the search for the best sperm to fertilise their eggs. Attraction to another person/creature is based on chemical reactions, with a complex reward response, which is not dissimilar to the rush we feel when, say, snorting a line of cocaine. And over time our brains come to associate certain behaviours and attitudes with the reward of sex, hence a human being’s preferred “type”. I can see that in myself. Being attracted to musicians and artists as much as I am is a kind of biological assurance that my babies won’t be douche bags. (Questionable, haha, Ed)
Research has proven that the majority of animals previously thought to mate for life actually have more than one sexual partner. For example, prairie dogs seem to mate for life. Once hitting sexual maturity, they shack up with the first member of the opposite sex they meet. They mate for 24 hours, become completely addicted to each other’s chemical makeup (in humans, this is called “love”), then make a nest and have their babies. BUT. Upon further inspection, it turns out that these perfect couples are actually sleeping around with other prairie dogs. Dipping their toes into the gene pool a little more, while they stay socially monogamous with their first partner, giving a stable, safe environment for their younglings of different paternal lineage, and everything is fine. Sounds pretty good. I suppose prairie dogs don’t have complex enough brains to feel
jealousy.
That said, some people appear able to give themselves wholly to another person. But most people can’t. Not being able to be with only one person is not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, it would appear it’s entirely natural. This moral code, the idea of marriage and exclusive lifelong partners, hasn’t always worked properly - for a long time! The mob of people from families broken due to failed aspirations of monogamous behaviour would stand a decent chance in a tug of war match with that section of the population who have no elicit nature to hide. Some of us may as well cut the crap, and stop striving for something that is against our own nature. Those birds that do actually exclusively mate with one other bird their whole lives are either very lucky or totally boring. Jury’s out.
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