I always knew I was born in the wrong decade. Technology, touch-screen phones, they don’t really get me going. Rock bands on the other hand… I have often dreamed of living in an age when one could go and see the likes of Jim Morrison or Robert Plant on stage, seducing the audience and taking them on a journey that breaks the moulds of reality. Whilst I missed this era, my experience of The Darkness brought me tantalisingly close to this rock god experience.

Now I’ll be honest, I am not a Darkness fan. Well, at least I wasn’t until a few nights ago. The show proved a group of guys on stage can still bang their heads, riff their guitars and let loose in the true spirit of ‘rocking out’. Justin’s interaction with the crowd broke the spectator mould to let every wide-eyed on-looker feel involved. There was an air of Freddy Mercury about him; the long moustache and sunken cheek bones, the eccentric tight body-suits. More than once I was reminded of the shot of all four queen members singing under spotlight in Bohemian Rhapsody.

The music that belted from tight one-piece outfits, spandex pants, boy-loves-girl lyrics and sweat soaked headbands could only be described as sex-rock. Bras followed the squeals up to the stage, perhaps explaining the proximity of the boys’ guitars to their crotches. No wonder they are able to play with such gusto, their instruments are simply an extension of their penises.

Whilst some may think of The Darkness as an almost tongue-in-cheek band, the actual music, lyrics, and performance of the group proved that not only are they talented musicians, but that being a successful group doesn’t mean leaving the fun behind. With hands in the air to nearly every song it was easy to see that the costumed audience was there in authentic support and that, despite a six year break, the glam-rock group are here to stay.

Opening Night (with DJ line-up) – May 4, 6pm till late

Don’t tell me you aren’t proud of Melbourne’s vibrant street art culture. Everyone in the city has their favourite hidden corners and laneways full of vibrant artwork. Hell, we kind of made a mag about it. A host of talented artists call Melbourne home and are striving to make ends meet through the pieces that emerge from their street art origins.

Vandal Spruce is a Fitzroy/Collingwood based artist that is determined to maintain a unique approach to the street art world. His artwork looks to elicit a response through being confrontational, utilising disturbing mashups of pornographic and skeletal images. Nothing like a larger than life, bright pink naked woman with a skull for a head to make you look up from your iPhone.

Vandal’s debut exhibition could not be held in a clinical gallery space, the artwork just isn’t cohesive with the blank white walls and stagnant atmosphere. No, Vandal needed a warehouse that could transform into the street scenes his art was always intended to adorn.

Vandal intends to showcase glass works, holographics, stencils, oilss and one monster of a live installation. The pieces will hang on cyclone fencing, lit with flames and accompanied by appropriately brutal music.

On opening night you can expect to see a host of underground DJs from the likes of PBS, Uncomfortable Beats, 50/50 and Heavy Innit! hitting the decks with some experimental beat, breaks and dubstep on opening night as Vandal himself, all suited up in the masks and tracksuits that many of his paste-ups stem from, literally erects a solid wall on which to work.

Anonymity is sure to be an exhibition with a difference, a revolutionary way to exhibit art that directly connects with the street art culture that Melbourne is so famous for. All works are for sale, so come along and take a little bit of Vandal home to Spruce up your bachelor pad with some authentic Melbourne street art.

Check out the Anonymity Facebook event here.

Browse through some of Vandal’s images on Facebook here.

Rue Bebelons is a quirky neighbourhood bar, slap bang in the middle of Melbourne’s CBD, and this year it becomes a quirky alternative venue for the Melbourne International Comedy Festival. Bebelons spins classic records whilst the guys behind the bar pump out sensual smelling espresso martinis. It seems to be a bit of secret among the locals, a classic hidden Melbourne drinking hole where everyone has a smile on their face. Bebelons is a classic venue that mixes the vibe of a bustling New York bar with the casual approach of a petite Italian café.

Cam Marshall, a father from Greensborough, kicked off the night in a real guy-next-door kind of way. While super genuine and honest, at times he seemed a little unprepared. Cam’s show is about family life, it touches on the topic of death, which Cam himself agrees isn’t always a funny subject. But he executes it wittily; his charismatic approach makes even the sour aspects of life hilarious.

Victoria Healy may well be the next Judith Lucy or Fiona O’Loughlin. She has that real honest and crude sense of humor. Victoria tells her story of how an innocent youngster dealt with the ever confusing social demands of being a ‘real’ woman. She touches on Shania Twain and Destiny’s Child in her act and her impersonation of Melanie B (scary spice) alone is worth taking all your girlfriends to go and see. Her performance is a little bit bogan (in a good way), very raw and god damn funny.

Neil Sinclair is engaging, endearing, honest and an extremely likeable English man. In his show, Neil gives first-hand accounts of the London riots, with a hilarious personal spin. There are also moments of comedic song, accompanied by splendid little tunes played on his ukulele. He aims to please the audience and engages everyone; he almost has that ‘young schoolboy itching to please’ quality about him. A definite thumbs up.

Grab a ticket to catch these comics in their solo shows as part of the MICF…

Cam Marshall | April 10 – 21

Victoria Healy | March 30 – April 22

Neil Sinclair | March 29 – April 21

Yeah, I know, Falls was a billion year ago. But that doesn’t mean you can’t check out our gallery, okay? Props to Olivia Blackburn for the rad pics….

So, Meredith, how does it feel to be 21?  Did you have a good time? Oh…you don’t remember much? I didn’t think so…you were pretty messy. Let me fill you in.

You were up early (really early) on Friday. You said it was worth it to get a great campsite, but in the end you were pretty spoilt for choice. Would it be the brand new Tom Mankey’s – with its awesome stage views – or the ever dependable, yet potentially mud soaked bush camp?

But who cares where you decided to leave your bags, the action was going on at your, ah what do you like to call it? Oh yes, the  ‘Supernatural Amphitheatre’. Supernatural is perhaps a bit rich Meredith, there was nothing paranormal going on just yet – although some mysterious vanishing acts were performed on the contents of my wallet. 7 dollars for a slice of pizza?

King Gizzard and The Lizard Wizard rocked up first, crashing through the door and greeting you with a loud ‘Cheers!’.  Everyone was pleased you invited Kurt Vile along, ‘Jesus Fever’ gave us all a good dance. Someone told me he gave up his job as a forklift driver to play music. That’s pretty cool, Meredith. I’ll tell you what else is cool, those hippies having a piñata party in the bush camp. Do you remember that?

I know you love your costumes, but this year you went all out. Pope Benedict? SCUBA gear? Sumo Wrestler? Hell, I even saw you in an adult diaper at one point. Where the hell did you find that?

You did a little flirting on the first evening. Explosions in the Sky told us that they had ‘heard good things’ about you. That’s pretty flattering Meredith. They kept to themselves after that…didn’t say a word actually. But you had a gift for them, a golden sunset. I think the two of you were meant to be.  Oh, and did you see Ladyhawk? She might be a bit tacky sometimes, but she sure turned some heads when she passed by.

Even though you stayed up late, getting filthy with Harmonic 313, you were up early to greet Oscar + Martin – those strange kids that you can’t quite pin down. Are they cool because they are weird? Or weird because they are cool? Who knows.

Man, did you see Mudhoney covering, ‘Fix Me’ by Black Flag with Keith Morris on vocals?! Surely you couldn’t have been behind that little surprise.

Of course, being your 21st, Saturday night had plenty of time for some of the oldies to get up and say some words. Icehouse prompted a few respectful yawns, but Cut/Copy’s youthful exuberance got everyone up and about. You gave us a quick shower to cool off before Grinderman, which was lucky, because Nick Cave seemed to want to be close enough to smell you – getting right up in your grill and yelling ‘give me all your money’. After a set full of gleeful, crowd-grasping insanity, he gave you the shock of your life by saying ‘that’s it’ for Grinderman. Please say it ain’t so Meredith?

The morning after was a little awkward. No one wanted to admit to dancing to Big Freedia, in fact I heard a lot of people wanted to punch him. Luckily, Eagle and the Worm shook off the hangover and got everyone grooving again.

As usual, you had one final gift for us, although this year ‘the gift’ was a little different. Your new friend Dennis Cometti certainly made us laugh, and yet again all those wangs flapping about in the wind made us cry.

Well that’s about it, I think everyone would agree that you were in pretty good form. They say 21^sts are all about coming of age, and Meredith, you have aged oh so well.

All images courtesy Chip Mooney

Walter and wife, Dorota, have established a rather niche cooking school across the road from what is undoubtedly the gastronomic temple of Melbourne cuisine, the Prahran market. I recently joined a group of avid foodies for four hour snapshot of what Walter does. I’ll be honest – I was a bit hesitant at first as I’ve always ended up going along to cooking classes where they teach you how to make a lasagne or other mundane Wednesday night home meals. That preconception was whipped from my mind as we walked into the enormous kitchen/classroom. A fully kitted out homage to everything that is great about preparing food; Le Creuset as far as the eye could see, pimped out Kitchenaids, copper pots, Electrolux induction and gas cook tops, oversized canisters of ingredients. I didn’t want to leave.

After we sat down around the enormous kitchen bench/table set for dinner it was clear this was no ordinary cooking class. Walter explained his heritage, the amazing restaurants he has worked and his recent appreciation of organic produce. Our first, I would call amuse bouche tied into Walters philosophy of understanding produce and using it appropriately. We were served tomatoes in a number of configurations, simply to illustrate that each part of the fruit delivers a different textural and flavour component (it also helped they were the best quality organic tomatoes and tasted amazing).

This idea flowed through to the appetiser which was the same dish served with Sydney Rock Oysters and then Tasmanian Oysters; garnished with diced cucumber, beetroot jelly and a seafood velouté with a nice hit of fresh horseradish. The subtle differences between the two oysters were intriguing and were matched well with Piper NV Brut.

We went on to enjoy three more courses carefully matched with a range of Shawdowfax wines each more perfect than the last, whilst still learning about how to best use ingredients (even in a home kitchen).

Trupp Cooking School has been open since August and offers a range of classes, with many including a visit to the Prahran market to learn how to pick great produce. This session ran for about four hours and with prices starting at $129 and a huge range of courses available, it’s a great way to spend an evening, enjoying amazing food and learning the tricks of the trade. My tip, this beats an awkward first date at a very good restaurant.

The Menu

Entrée
Amuse Bouche
Textures and flavours of Tomato

Apetiser
Sydney Rock/Tasmanian Oysters w/ diced Cucumber, Beetroot Jelly, Horseradish velouté

Entrée
Salmon Ballotine with Cauliflower, endive salad with blanched school prawns and spelt.

Main
Roasted Beef Fillet w/ a herb crust, sautéed vegetables, pomme fondant, vegetables stuff with crushed peas.

Dessert
Goat milk/yoghurt vanilla panna cotta with seasonal fruits, saffron syrup, saffron jelly and wildflowers.

For more information, head to the Trupp Cooking School website.

Laneway food writer, Charlie Cunningham, is a social media and digital marketing whiz by day and blogger, booze aficionado and Modern Warfare 3 expert by night. Catch him via Twitter, Facebook or his food blog, Lusciousness.

Only in its second year, this year’s lineup is loaded with gigs, events, seminars, workshops and films, so trying to whittle down the 170+ acts to a Top 5 was pretty damn hard…so I took the easy way out and opted for the best-looking-slash-performers-I-like-and-I-don’t-care-if-you-don’t-like-them approach.

Here we go…

KUBIK Melbourne
DJ Krush, Cut Copy DJs, Midnight Juggernauts, Lewie Day, World’s End Press, Gaslamp Killer, Alexkid…anything at Kubik, really…

Have you seen this thing? Constructed by some clever design people in Berlin, the travelling open-air pop-up venue is made from industrial water tanks which light up in sync with the performance. Video mapping and sound design complete this truly immersive musical experience, a visual and aural (and delightful) feast for the senses.

Details and tickets via Kubik and peep the vid below to get a glimpse of Kubik in action.

kubik hamburg 2009 from Balestra Berlin on Vimeo.

Live Music Safari
Joelistics, Spiral Stairs & Wally De Backer, Puta Madre Brothers

So the purpose of MMW’s Live Music Safari is thus: a huge spread of free gigs, DJs and seminars will be splayed across Melbourne for one day only and your mission is to traverse the city and get to as many of these gigs as possible. Kick off at 1000£ Bend for an up-close-and-personal conversation with Spiral Stairs and Wally De Backer and make your way to venues like Revolt in Kensington, Roxanne Parlour, Cherry Bar and The Toff in the CBD and the Town Hall Hotel in North Melbourne until the wee hours of the morning. Put your running shoes (or rocket boots) on!

Giant Theremin – Move’n’Mash-up
Dexter

Oh, this reminds me of that time when I saw Dexter on the 109 tram. In real life, he is every bit as freakin’ cool as you would expect him to be. Dexter will be hosting a workshop for sampling and sound design enthusiasts. Warning: there will also be some hip-hop dancing, krumping and breaking involved so make sure you bring your sickest moves with you, yeah?

Face The Music

This two-day workshop focuses on every single behind-the-scenes facet of the music industry including recording, production management, PR, festivals, touring and record deals and is a must for both bands and anyone wanting to break into the industry. Some of the most influential local and international figures will be holding seminars and workshops and sharing their experiences with the audience with one of the highlights being a keynote speech by Brent Grulke of SXSW.

Ponyfish Island Presents Aesthetics of Sound

Over the course of Melbourne Music Week, bars, cafes, galleries and retails stores around the city will interpret Aesthetics of Sound by way of live music, installations, exhibitions or product offers unique to their venue. Ponyfish Island will host a series of live music gigs by artists including Isaac De Geer, Hiatus Kaiyote and Yeo.

For all the details including dates, venue info and ticket prices, hit up the Melbourne Music Week website

Joelistics image: All Aussie Hip Hop

Gaslamp Killer image: I Heart Comix

When a couple of Scottish pastoralists chose Werribee Park as the site for their glorious Italiante mansion, you have to wonder whether they could have ever imagined that, well over a century later, it would become a backdrop for a Canadian electronica band with the not-so-subtle title of Holy Fuck.

This premise of ‘unfamiliar location = unfamiliar festival’ seems to be the overriding ethos of Harvest, the trendy new kid on the already crowded summer festival block. Described by event organisers as a ‘civilised gathering’, Harvest’s obvious appeal is as a kind of hipster haven, an escape from the pre-teen parade that is Big Day Out and the bogan beat-down of Soundwave. With an IBPSQM (ironic beards per square meter) rating that was simply off the charts, and plenty of 90s nostalgia in the air –Harvest set its sights on the diverse, yet difficult to please crowd of culture vultures and fashionable flaneurs.

Despite the crotch sniffing canines at the gate, the lavish gardens of Werribee Park made for a shady, comfortable and altogether enjoyable setting in which to take in the range of avante guard and alternative entertainment on offer. Although frequent glimpses of bare-arsed patrons relieving themselves in dense shrubbery belied the ‘civilised gathering’ tagline, Harvest managed to achieve its goal of providing an atmospheric environment, that often felt more like a picnic in the park than a typical music festival.

Ignoring the warm Spring weather, Hamilton Leithauser of The Walkmen sweated through his bands energetic set wearing a suit jacket. Elsewhere, TV on the Radio proved to be one of the festival’s more popular acts, drawing an enthusiastic crowd to their late afternoon timeslot. Indie rock staples Bright Eyes started well, but suffered from the inevitable rush to the amenities that tends to occur before the headline acts begin. One festival-goer remarked that most of ‘the gathering’ tended to occur around the food and drink coupon tents, with many of the lines eclipsing the crowd numbers at some of the smaller stages. To say Harvest was under-catered would be a severe understatement – the kegs were dry before the sun was down and the wafts of fried food from the Brazilian BBQ stand were quickly replaced by the scent of manure from the surrounding paddocks.

While Harvest will probably cop its fair whack from bloggers and forum-goers about these issues, the reality is that it did nothing to detract from the quality of some of the headline acts. The wonderfully understated Mogwai unleashed a tsunami of noise that was only broken by guitarist Stuart Braithwaite stopping to thank the ‘wild animals’ at nearby Werribee Zoo. Over on the main stage, The National’s moody anti-theatre gave way to Portishead, whose return after a 13 year absence had the crowd hanging on every one of Beth Gibbon’s soulful words. With the Werribee Mansion now lit up behind the band’s spartan visuals, the stage was well and truly set for a balanced setlist that would satisfy die-hards and newcomers alike. Moving from the peculiar psychedelica of Sour Times to the electo-assualt of Machine Gun (complete with apocalyptic visuals that featured Tony Abbot shooting lasers from his eyes), the band’s no fuss stage presence allowed Gibbon’s delicate (and often complicated) melodies to soar. Then, just as the final, breathless, verse of Roads moved many to tears, The Flaming Lips appeared from a giant vagina.

Yes, a giant technicolor vagina. Playing just over five songs, and firing enough confetti into the air sink an aircraft carrier, The Lips again showed why they are festival pros. Despite a less than spirited crowd (the mood was not helped by frequent transport announcements during the set), the nonsensical She Don’t Use Jelly and The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song brought plenty of smiles – as did the party atmosphere on stage – which was filled with colorful dancers that had been hand picked from the crowd. The spirited set concluded with the anthemic Do you Realize?, which prompted a mass exodus from the Windmill paddock. After the bottleneck to end all bottlenecks at the tiny exit – the ‘stationary, unmoving line’ motif returned again in the carpark. But where many festivals would spiral out of control at this point, Harvest seemed to remain…well…civilised, a festival that, despite its problems, offered something pretty unique.

All images courtesy Jo Stewart

Yep, I’m aware Falls Festival happens over New Year’s Eve. And yes, I also know it’s only October. I do realise the tickets for the Lorne Falls have sold out HOWEVER, as we’re sooooo excited about the lineup, we thought we’d try and convince you to buy a ticket to Falls in Marion Bay. So for those of you playing at home, here are the Top 5 Reasons Why You Must Go To Falls…

#5: It's an overseas trip

Tassie is over the Tasman Sea, is it not? One of my gal pals missed out on Lorne tickets last year and took off to Marion Bay instead AND LOVED IT. Yes, folks, Tasmanians cop a lot of shit for being…Tasmanian…but let’s throw them some props for a change. Also, did I mention Lorne has sold out? So if you wanna go to Falls, you don’t really have any choice BUT to go to Tassie.

#4: Falls Fiesta

It’s a legit excuse for you to wear WHATEVER YOU WANT INCLUDING YOUR BIRTHDAY SUIT*. Is there a better way to bring in the New Year than a spectacular fancy-dress fiesta? I think not. AND there will probably be conga lines. A lot of them. Did I just hear you say “Hellz YEAH!”?

#3: Falls Films

Exclusive to Marion Bay is the Madman equivalent of Movie Night. And because it’s Madman, it will probably involve anime, samurai, zombie ninjas, robot pirates, Robot Chickens, Happy Tree Friends…you get the drift. So bring your deckchair and your esky and settle in for what’s sure to be less awkward than a couple on their first date at Moonlight Cinema.

#2: The Lineup

I’m not really sure what to say here, other than: Aloe Blacc, Kimbra, Alpine, Crystal Castles, The Jezabels, The Kooks, The Naked & Famous…I can’t go on, I think I’m having a minor heart attack from the excitement of even mentioning these names.

#1: Because this dude is playing….

I mean really, REALLY…do I NEED to say anymore?

If the above five reasons don’t cut it, there are plenty more on the website. Or you can just sit at home or whatever.

Buy Marion Bay tickets here.

*I’m just kidding, don’t wear your birthday suit…that’s just gross.

Sure, contemporary dance has the potential to work with popular music and tough politics.  But in Political Mother, it doesn’t.  It fails – big time.

The piece opens with a lone figure on the stage: a soldier, judging by his costume.  The theatre is filled with smoke, the air is silent and expectant.  The soldier draws his sword, and stabs it through his gut.  Pared back, graphic and direct, it should be a pretty affecting moment, right?  But it isn’t.  The dancer’s jerking motions as he pretends to writhe in agony are awkward, almost comic.  And then the crashingly loud score begins mid-crescendo, destroying any subtlety the moment might have had.  A disappointing opening from a company turbo-hyped as the next big thing in contemporary dance.

From here, things kind of get worse.  Other soldiers turn up wearing armour that looks a bit like that plastic chocolate you can get in two dollar shops.  A hard rock band – complete with raspy-voiced grindcore vocalist with big hair and cocked hips – makes regular appearances that make you almost wonder whether this is in fact some kind of a Spinal Tap sequel.  Oddly, a gorilla mask turns up a couple of times, prompting audible giggles from the mid-sized audience.  The score continues to alternate between oh-so-eerie windswept silence to oh-so-edgy full-throttle cock rock.

It’s not as if the show didn’t have promise.  Touted as a rage-fuelled treatise on the dangers of mass ideology, Political Mother could have raised some of the important issues of the day that too many contemporary performances shy away from.  The trouble is, it’s too vague – its anger, while palpable, is too unfocused and hysterical to have any meaningful impact.  Scenes of some kind of military or political leader addressing an imaginary crowd are farcically didactic – they might be intended to ‘make you think’ but in fact they make you cringe…and maybe even bristle at the implication that you aren’t capable of a more nuanced critique.

Similarly, the idea of marrying the bombast of a rock show with the elegance of dance has wonderful potential to invigorate both formats.  Sadly though, Shechter is too enamoured of the thrill of alternating from silent to deafening to find any subtle middle-ground.  The head-banging performance, which might be quite fun at the Arthouse, feels laughably affected at the Arts Centre.

There are moments of beautiful choreography that interweave folkdance with military punishment, as gleeful circle-form whirling dervishes become glum work gangs sapped of life.  Repeated wildly erratic jerky motions play well against ordered formations among the eleven performers, offering a lovely tension between regimented order and desperate resistance.

But these moments of lyrical dance repeatedly degenerate into generalisations and histrionics.  Political Mother, hotly anticipated after a successful world tour, disappoints relentlessly.