Can't take the bogan out of the girl (Or: I'm going nowhere and it's in a hurry)
For the Office of Confirming the Australian-ness, Questionnaire department:
Q. Where is the most likely place to find the best collection of music known to humanity?
a/ The Official AFL Club Anthem Album featuring hits including ALL the club theme songs PLUS Up There Cazaly AND One Day in September
b/ Polyester Records - at those inflated prices, they obviously think so!
c/Andy's iRiver
d/ A pub jukebox
A. Actually, you'd be pretty close with all of those. Second is obviously c/ - go see him be humourous, people! But actually, the biggest and the best collection - EVER - is the MIGHTY PUB JUKEBOX. Nowhere else can you find Run DMC back to back with Donna Summer. (Actually, you can: on Dancefloor Filler Vol 2, 3 CDs for $19.25 at your JB Hi-Fi now! But I digress.)
I used to work at a country pub, and it had a jukebox. My fondness for that jukebox is probably coloured by the fact that all the barflies knew my favourite song, and that Sweet Child O' Mine was belting out of that baby EVERY SECOND SONG. I was in heaven. Or would have been, if the New Zealand-ish meatworkers who also frequented the pub weren't ensuring that every other song was Slice of Heaven. But oh well, in between that tribute to dogs and farms, I got to bask in the thought of eyes of the bluest skies.. as if they thought of rain. Ahhh.
Of course, that was all five years ago, and nowdays the only time people play me Sweet Child is when they call me, and the sweet sweet strains of my Gunners ringtone fill the air. Evidently, I am much more cosmopolitan now. I like the inner north and the Lucksmiths, for the sake of Axl!
And yet, even in bohemian East Brunswick, there is cause for the ever-so-occassional bogan-fest. Like when Carus played at the East Brunswick.
The surfy-hippie-sandgroper plays what sounds like Bob Marley meets the Waifs, and it is awesome. Thanks to TripleJ and the festival circuit, Carus can pull a full house on a Tuesday night, and those cute-headed stoner boys and girls will be swaying and skanking and holding up lighters like there's no tomorrow.
Okay, not so bogan you say. But the inner bogan fires were kindled in the encore, when CARUS PLAYED KHE SAHN.
Now, I wasn't brought up a bogan. My parents never tied an Australian flag around my shoulders and took me on day-trips to Cronulla. And I remember vividly, aged about 12, being told by a mate he was going to the Cold Chisel concert. I said I didn't know who they were. He said Khe Sahn. I said, "Oh year, that song about the last train out of Sydney". He didn't know whether to be amused or outraged, so I think he settled on both.
But obviously, I'm moved on. Probably somewhere in that pup-juke-box era, I worked out most of the rest of the words, and how to mumble along with the ones I didn't know. Ahh, NOW I know why Khe Sahn gets compared to the Australian anthem..
Carus introduced the song with a half-apology - "I know this song gets a bad wrap". But he's always wanted to play it, and there were plenty of people who wanted to scream along. And really, I think it's a good thing. Sure, none of the bogans who belt it out in pubs can relate to what it's about. Probably half of them don't even know. But it did mean a lot to a lot of Australians once. And as anthems go.. well, it's better than Chris Franklin's Bloke travesty.
HAPPY ROCKTOBER, PEOPLE!
Q. Where is the most likely place to find the best collection of music known to humanity?
a/ The Official AFL Club Anthem Album featuring hits including ALL the club theme songs PLUS Up There Cazaly AND One Day in September
b/ Polyester Records - at those inflated prices, they obviously think so!
c/Andy's iRiver
d/ A pub jukebox
A. Actually, you'd be pretty close with all of those. Second is obviously c/ - go see him be humourous, people! But actually, the biggest and the best collection - EVER - is the MIGHTY PUB JUKEBOX. Nowhere else can you find Run DMC back to back with Donna Summer. (Actually, you can: on Dancefloor Filler Vol 2, 3 CDs for $19.25 at your JB Hi-Fi now! But I digress.)
I used to work at a country pub, and it had a jukebox. My fondness for that jukebox is probably coloured by the fact that all the barflies knew my favourite song, and that Sweet Child O' Mine was belting out of that baby EVERY SECOND SONG. I was in heaven. Or would have been, if the New Zealand-ish meatworkers who also frequented the pub weren't ensuring that every other song was Slice of Heaven. But oh well, in between that tribute to dogs and farms, I got to bask in the thought of eyes of the bluest skies.. as if they thought of rain. Ahhh.
Of course, that was all five years ago, and nowdays the only time people play me Sweet Child is when they call me, and the sweet sweet strains of my Gunners ringtone fill the air. Evidently, I am much more cosmopolitan now. I like the inner north and the Lucksmiths, for the sake of Axl!
And yet, even in bohemian East Brunswick, there is cause for the ever-so-occassional bogan-fest. Like when Carus played at the East Brunswick.
The surfy-hippie-sandgroper plays what sounds like Bob Marley meets the Waifs, and it is awesome. Thanks to TripleJ and the festival circuit, Carus can pull a full house on a Tuesday night, and those cute-headed stoner boys and girls will be swaying and skanking and holding up lighters like there's no tomorrow.
Okay, not so bogan you say. But the inner bogan fires were kindled in the encore, when CARUS PLAYED KHE SAHN.
Now, I wasn't brought up a bogan. My parents never tied an Australian flag around my shoulders and took me on day-trips to Cronulla. And I remember vividly, aged about 12, being told by a mate he was going to the Cold Chisel concert. I said I didn't know who they were. He said Khe Sahn. I said, "Oh year, that song about the last train out of Sydney". He didn't know whether to be amused or outraged, so I think he settled on both.
But obviously, I'm moved on. Probably somewhere in that pup-juke-box era, I worked out most of the rest of the words, and how to mumble along with the ones I didn't know. Ahh, NOW I know why Khe Sahn gets compared to the Australian anthem..
Carus introduced the song with a half-apology - "I know this song gets a bad wrap". But he's always wanted to play it, and there were plenty of people who wanted to scream along. And really, I think it's a good thing. Sure, none of the bogans who belt it out in pubs can relate to what it's about. Probably half of them don't even know. But it did mean a lot to a lot of Australians once. And as anthems go.. well, it's better than Chris Franklin's Bloke travesty.
HAPPY ROCKTOBER, PEOPLE!
posted by Mare at 11:25 AM
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