Vale Jay Bennett

I just heard about the overnight death of Jay Bennett, his management company have confirmed the death and advised that he passed away in his sleep.

Jay Bennetts life was more than just his time in Wilco, but its the Wilco time that introduced him to me.

My connection to the music of this ‘band’ is lyrical, it’s the music and it’s the kick-arse amazing shows I’ve seen over the years (though much fewer than I’d hope as it took along time to come here and they rarely come back). I know that Being There and Summerteeth were my turning points from yep I really like this band to wow this band is brilliant.

I spent a large part of last week listening to the new Wilco album and I’m not feeling much outside of the yep, I like this band. Theres no wow this band is brilliant here, same with Sky Blue Sky. The only time I got the wow this band is brilliant feeling on that one was listening to the guitar on Impossible Germany - yep Nels Cline is an amazing guitarist and the band work so well together live but its still not, well just not.

For me they peaked musically with YHF, I’m not overly in love with the easy listening direction of the last two albums, maybe I’m just not yet old enough to like easy listening yet? I don’t know, they seem to do it well though.

As I’m typing this, the radio I am streaming (PBS in Melbourne) is playing a live version of War on War – co-incidences are funny arent they.

I love Wilco, I have loved the music of Wilco for many years and can attribute the soundtrack that accompanied many important moments of life to date to the pen of Jeff Tweedy. Wilco is Jeff Tweedy, there would be no Wilco without Jeff Tweedy, its his band, his songs, his music, and though he has been a bit of a muddled up mess at times, and I’m sure no saint, its his music I keep on coming back too but he didnt do it alone.

A big part of the love for this music, I owe to the contributions of Jay Bennett, its sad that he left the band the way he did, its sad that he fell on hard times both financially and health wise and its sad that such a talented man is dead at 45.

Jay Bennett was ill and his last post on his myspace is heartbreaking in how sadly positive and up it is and how its now going to be the last post he will write. Makes me almost cry.

RIP Jay

My Year Without Sex

Another budget and another chance to be ignored, earning more than $40k, not having kids, nor a mortgage usually means that new budgets mean I dont get anything and I always have to pay more for something so I dont tend to take much notice of them.

So true to form on this one, I dont get anything as expected but I have to pay more for private health care, I think I'll actually loose my health fund rebate so it means I'll have to change it somehow, getting rid of it all together is probably a good idea as I only ever use it for dental and optical - it doesnt pay to be healthy ;-)

I really wouldnt fault much in what KRudd has done, except maybe the extension of the First Home Buyer Grant, I was hoping that would end 30 June and lower to mid price range units/houses may drop some of the over inflated pricing that this increased demand has created.

Maybe I'm naive, but how simple is it to not borrow more than you can pay back, at 5% and even at 15%. I've truly got no sympathy for the fools who are struggling now when the interest rates are so low - idiots.

Anyways, I went to the cinema last night, it was another freebie, this time by an Australian filmmaker Sarah Watt whose previous film - Look Both Ways - I rather enjoyed, so I didnt have high hopes for this one, but I still had hopes.

Unfortunately I cant say the same for the new one, My Year Without Sex. It was supposed to be a comedy...I think I chuckled once. The film was not well made, it seemed amateurish, the dialogue was lazy, the story was held together by screen shot headings thats went slowly through the months, it starts in August, once it reached October, I was using them to count down the months till when it was over. To put it simply, it was just plain boring, it was a terribly droll look at the year in the life of a married couple who go without sex whilst she recovers from an aneurism, ie orgasms may trigger another one you see - this was the premise. You dont end up getting to know anyone, you dont really get to understand anyone, there is no narration, no story - just a camera taking shots of small events in the lives of the family over the year.

The actors were ok - but lacking any real sort of story, ordinary dialogue and clumsy direction, they couldnt really do much.

It was a disappointment.

On my way home I picked up a Hot Basil & Tofu Stir Fry and ate it whilst watching Time Team - the one when they discovered the four temples - this was more interesting than the movie.

Listening: Camera Obscura - My Maudlin Career
Reading: A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

What you hear on the street.

I went to the cinema on Friday night, Paris 36, a pleasant enough film with a little darkness, a bit of Busby Berkley and a really sweet voice. I went for a bite and a little vino after with some of my film companions.

The conversations at tea were about the film and my trip and the future trips of some of the crowd. It was low-fi and pleasant and a nice night.

As I was ambling along home alone at the end, it was the conversations I was walking into that had me holding on.

I was crossing King St just past the station, waiting for the green man to come, when two young blokes, ordinary blokes in their early twenties. Nothing in their clothing that would make you notice them, ordinary builds, ordinary smells, ordinary sounds - though one was a little taller than the other. The conversation was a little animated, more from emphazing with passion, then beer lubrication which was a pleasant distraction and caught my attention.

As they past me, the smaller one was saying to the taller one, with a slightly regretful and whateverish tone, “… if I only knew she wanted me when she was here…..”

They were moving at pace so I couldn’t hear what he would of done, or if here meant she was travelling or just visiting, and though the sun had gone down, it was too light to give chase so I had to leave it.

The green man came so I trotted the roads. I rounded the corner and continued the journey home. About 300 metres on, a group of baby bogan scensters were approaching. There were four in the group, three boys and one bored and unattractive young girl. The boys were sweetly lubricated, yelling, laughing and bouncing off each other as sweetly lubricated 20 years olds have a way of doing at 10pm on a Friday night on their way out. The girl was loitering on the edges in a sullen way and I wondered if she was an old friend/sibling or housemate of one of the boys; she wasn’t a lover.

I moved to the edge happily to let this little mob past, as I was still grinning from the “..if I only knew…” conversation.

One of the louder baby bogan scensters stopped and earnestly said to his mates, in mock pissed seriousness, “..if Sally Cooper is there, you know I am going to have to leave straight away to take her home and fuck her hard….”

The other two grunted serious acknowledgments with “we understand” grins.

The girl continued to sulk.

I kept on walking, my face; you know at the end of The Omen, when Damien turns to the camera and gives this mean little glare straight down the barrel, he holds it for a bit, then his face muscles start to twitch slightly then slowly break into this beautiful big smile. That was my face.