The art of
I'd written the following about Friday night:
We turned up at the Corner Hotel in time for the first act, "Friendly Injun", but decided not to stay. Instead, we took the train into Flinders Street Station to find some coffee nearby.
There are not many cafes up this end of Swanston Street, and there is a new Starbucks place near the town hall, so we ended up there. "Succumbing to capitalism," I said.
But the cafe was quite nice - they had sofas and chairs in mahogany and pine. I liked how they decorated one wall, just squarish splashes of colour, with the occasional bit of writing. I had left my camera behind and regretted it.
Sitting across from me was a couple: she was pretty and Japanese with an expensive looking PDA (or could it have been a dictionary?) in front of her, and a tiny mobile phone with a funny, furry keychain hanging off the antenna, he had glasses and curly brown hair and I could scent an affinity with computers. He was leaning forward eagerly the entire time.
The last time I had Starbucks coffee was in Montreal, at Chapters. Admittedly, it was good coffee.
Not too far from us were two girls in their late teens or early twenties, who were later joined by another friend. They were apparently going to the "Midnight Oil" gig, which we would have gone to if "Art of Fighting" were not playing tonight. It would be "Midnight Oil" for us tomorrow night, and that is really going to rock.
By the time we downed our mugs, it was time to head back down to the Corner.
We arrived in time for me to buy a band t-shirt (an XS t-shirt! At last! One that fits me!), then to drop that and my coat off at the car, and to find Cos before "Songs: Ohia" - Jason was actually beginning earlier than the appointed time, quite surprisingly.
As it usually happens, the majority of the crowd was not here to see the support acts, so most people paid little attention. It was almost surreal, having Jason's beautiful voice and soulful guitar ringing across the amps, just over the clinking of beer bottles and plastic glasses and the low murmur of trivial conversation.
I wished I was more familiar with his music, but it was obvious that the gaggle of girls near me weren't. They wore similar-coloured jeans above their fashionable summer thongs, had near identical handbags, and they all spoke with girly inflections.
The place was slowly filling up with people who were here to witness "Art of Fighting". Later on, I would miss Jason for an autograph three times as he walked just behind and in front of me, but that happened quite some time afterwards.
I have already heard "Art of Fighting" play once when they supported "Augie March". It's quite a bit different when they are the main act - for one thing, the crowd anticipates and appreciates the music more. They played songs off "Wires" and a couple of new ones. Strangely, no one else around me seemed to know the words but almost everyone was entranced.
A guy with a very dark complexion and a thick American accent was saying to a friend that it would be perfect to have someone you love in your arms, so that you can sway gently together to the music flowing out from the stage.
Yes, it's the kind of music that takes out the emptiness from within you and gives it definition by words and sounds intensely soft and sensitively sweet. People held each other if they had someone to hold. Those who didn't wished that they did.
They finished up by 1 o'clock. Melbourne gigs always seem to, Cos said. This time was no exception.
24 February 2002, Sunday, 10:27 PM
Alter ego of dandruff
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