This week, Swedish TV SVT, has announced the hosts for next year’s Eurovision Song Contest as Måns Zelmerlöw and Petra Mede. I’m really excited about this, as I like them both very much. But as much as I love Eurovision, I’m more of a fan of Melodifestivalen, the Swedish finals leading up to Eurovision. Eurovision is fun, but Melodifestivalen has passion. While the UK looks at Eurovision as a bit of a joke, the Swedes take Melodifestivalen very seriously.
But one of the things which has kinda annoyed me in recent years has been the tendancy for Swedes to sing in English. Yes, I know Swedish is not exactly the universal language of pop. But when ABBA, for example, won Eurovision in 1974, they sang in Swedish at Melodifestivalen, and then in English at Eurovision. I think this is a cool model. As much as a universal language interests me, I’d like to think people could speak their own languages too.
Also increasingly, I’ve noticed over the last few years an awful lot of Swedish pop singers have only been singing in English. But in the last year I’ve noticed a few Swedish singers have discovered their “Swedish Pride”. Interestingly, some of the most obvious ones have been the children of immigrants. I wonder if this is a response/reaction to the rise of the anti-immigration party, Sweden Democrats, or am I reading too much into it? Here’s a few examples:
Also lately, I’ve seen some great pop clips with some really strong imagery from Stockholm. Here’s a few examples:
I actually recognised someone from the last clip. Small world.
Today, I had the opportunity to share my experiences over the past year on 774 ABC Radio Melbourne (and Regional Victoria) with Kirsten Diprose. We discussed the evolution of prosthetic technology as part of a broader, hour-long conversation that also featured other guests. You can listen to the full broadcast [here].
Here’s a transcript from the program which has been “tidied up” for spelling, brevity, clarity etc using Google Gemini (AI), and I haven’t really checked it, so there may be some errors.
Kirsten: On the ABC Listen app, your smart speaker and on AM radio. This is the Conversation Hour on ABC Radio Melbourne and Victoria. Let’s bring James O’Brien into the conversation. Peter Hawkins is still with us. But James, you’re actually from the ABC yourself, your radio planning manager based in Sydney. Welcome to the program.
James: Thank you.
Kirsten: Now, I suppose your story and experience is quite different from Peter because you’re, I suppose, someone who has recently only needed a prosthetic.
James: That’s right. Like Peter, I’m 58 years of age, but I’ve only had a prosthetic limb now on my right leg, the lower right leg for about 12 months. I was travelling overseas with some friends. I got a cut foot on a beach somewhere, came back. It all went terribly wrong. Some diabetes contributed to it as well. And I woke up out of a coma with part of my leg removed.
Kirsten: You’ve just skipped over that like, you know, it was going down to the shops and buying some milk.
James: Look, honestly, my niece was with me when I came out of the coma and she said, look, Jim, I’ve got something to tell you. It’s really upsetting, blah, blah, blah. And I was just pleased to be alive, to be honest. And early in the piece, I received a phone call from an organisation called Limbs for Life, which is actually based in Melbourne, which is a peer support organisation of people who are also amputees or using prosthetics. And look, that phone call from a guy called Clay made a huge difference to my attitude. He had a very similar circumstance to mine. And apparently, it is pretty common for lots of blokes of a certain age not to look after their health and to find themselves in this sort of position. So having that sort of peer support very early in the piece just made me feel good about it all.
Kirsten: That’s fantastic to hear that there’s such a proactive group that so obviously the hospital must connect you with Limbs for Life.
James: Yeah, the hospital that I was in connected me with Limbs for Life and they’re a national organisation. They’re all over the countryside, actually based in Melbourne, set up, I think, by a woman called Melissa Noonan initially. And, you know, it’s there’s a Facebook group and we share stories and anecdotes and there’s really nothing quite like to actually talk to someone else in a very similar position. There’s a woman I work with here at the ABC, Liz Wright. Liz is a Paralympic swimmer. And when I was in hospital, she reached out to me, medal-winning, I should emphasise too. She reached out to me, said, Hi, James, you know, I work at the ABC, blah, blah, blah. I’ve seen what you’ve gone through. And she was actually born with different length limbs, but she still wears prosthetics. And again, just having that sort of peer support or someone you could, you know, you could have these very short conversations and know exactly what’s going through. So, for example, I still get a bit tired and I said, I get tired. She goes, yeah, I get tired too. And it’s because we’re doing a lot more exercise and there’s more strain and those sort of things. And I’m not sure, Peter, if it’s still fatigue is an issue for you still after even though it’s almost 60 years for you.
Peter: Not really. But then I don’t remember what it was like before. So I’ve got very little to compare it to. But not really. I think it’s just, you know, just wait another 50 years and you’ll be fine.
Kirsten: So, James, what sort of prosthetic do you have?
James: Well, actually, I’ve still got my interim. It’s called the interim leg and the federal government funds each of the states to provide an interim leg. So in Victoria, the program is called the Victorian, the Victorian Artificial Limb Program. And basically, they receive some money from the federal government is administered through the hospitals. And what they do is they give you an initial one to start out with because your leg will shrink over the next couple of years. And like Peter mentioned, a plaster of Paris, you know, I was I had the fitting in the hospital where they, you know, got out the plaster and wrapped a creoe paper around it and all those sorts of things. So I’ve still got the initial interim leg. Last Wednesday, I had a fitting for my NDIS funded limb and it was a bit painful in the first couple of days, didn’t quite fit. So I went back to the company who looked after me and on Wednesday and they shaved a few things off it and made it fit better. And so what will happen now is we’ll see how it goes for a couple more weeks and then they’ll probably do the final fabrication of my new limb. And I’m also hopefully getting a wet leg as well, also funded by the NDIS. So I can go to the beach.
Kirsten: What does that mean? Does that mean like a swimming leg?
James: Not so much a swimming leg, but something I can wear in the shower or something I can go to the beach at and not worry about it rusting, basically.
Kirsten: What’s the NDIS one that you’re getting fitted with? What’s it made out of?
James: Look, I don’t really know, actually. I’m not really I’m listening to Peter talking all about the technology and I don’t really know.I think it’s carbon fibre, I think. And I think the wet leg has got some titanium there, which is rust resistant. Look, I’m not really great on the technology. All I know is it’s has made a huge difference to my life because, you know, for the first few months of last year after this happened, I was still getting around in a wheelchair and hopping around. And that was really hard and really tiring. So when I actually got the limb to wear, it made a huge difference. I still had to wear, like I said, go with the wheelchair for a while and crutches for a while. But now I can pretty much walk around without any additional support aside from the limb. The only thing I had to keep an eye out for is people kind of don’t notice it. And sometimes, you know, I’ve had people sort of push me out of the way. I did actually fall over once. There was a young person who sort of didn’t see that, you know, I still had some mobility issues and actually pushed me over accidentally and then felt mortified. And then also things like getting on trams. Some people just don’t even see it. So there’ll be people sitting in the disability seats. And I have to ask, you know, can you get up, please? Because I need to sit down.
Peter: And you’re right about the people being mortified. I went to something on the weekend and a young lady didn’t notice and accidentally shoved me from behind. And I stumbled. And then she realised and she felt awful. And you think, oh, but that’s not your fault.
James: No, absolutely. And you just want to make somebody realise, well, look, you were just unfortunate. You happened to pick the wrong person. You know, don’t feel so bad about it. We’re OK. So I do get cross with people who sit there looking at their mobile phones for the entire trip in the disability seats. And I think, just look up and see if someone else needs a seat more than you.
Kirsten: Yes, that is annoying. And I mean, it’s not just disabled people, those seats are reserved for, it’s people that, you know, eight months pregnant and that sort of thing. And it’s really selfish. It’s interesting, isn’t it? I mean, James, as someone who has only recently acquired a disability, have you changed the way that you see the world or are you more cognisant of things like this?
James: Absolutely. I mean, one of the interesting things is early in the piece, too, some friends didn’t know how to cope because there was quite a significant chance I might have had brain damage. And I did find that they were speaking to me a little more slowly. And I’ve even had colleagues at work speak to me in a much slower manner. And I go, it’s actually, it’s not my brain, it’s the leg. So that’s one of the things I’ve noticed. I’m much more aware of being on public transport in particular and the needs of other people. That has made a huge difference to me. And it was so interesting at the Disability Expo a couple of months ago and I volunteered at that sort of meeting and greeting people. And I am just so, I mean, I was always pretty aware of some of the issues of people with disability. But let me tell you, I’m much more aware of them now.
Kirsten : James O’Brien, thank you so much for joining us. I understand that you are blogging now about your experience. Yeah. Where can people find your blog? I
James : Just search for James O’Brien Amputee will probably find it. It’s a WordPress blog and I’ve been writing about my experiences all the way through. And I’ve tried to be as honest as possible.
As soon as I saw his name in the program, I headed straight for Pride Park. I’m talking about Carl Magnus Palm, the author of six books about ABBA, including “Bright Lights Dark Shadows”, the definitive ABBA biography to date. Oddly enough, the book has never been released in Sweden due to a range of contractual matters.
ABBA Biographer, Carl Magnus Palm discusses his new Swedish language biography at Europride, Stockholm
“Oh my god, what are you doing here”, he said to me, recognising me from about seven years ago when he visited Australia. I was genuinely surprised he remember me, though someone may have tipped him off. Anyway, after his initial surprise at seeing someone from Australia in the audience, he told me it’s a book that contains a lot more information, but also a lot less than “Bright Lights”. There’s less about Bjorn and Benny’s solo careers prior to ABBA, and more about what’s happened since the release of the “Bright Lights”. It’s so up to date, it will contain information about the premiere in Stockholm recently of “Mamma Mia”, where all four members of the group were united briefly.
In the brief interview, he did on the “Author’s Stage” at Pride Park, he was reasonably candid. He was asked why ABBA had a gay following and hypothesised on why. He also said there were a number of rumours that Frida was a lesbian. “There are people who will swear it’s true, though I don’t believe it”, he said. He estimated about 75% of the “hardcore male fans” (as he described them) are gay.
In writing six books about ABBA, he was asked if he was a hardcore fan. He replied he wasn’t, “Well not in the sense that I live my life around the people and want to be near them”. In fact, he said that when he was growing up, he didn’t think it was cool to like ABBA, and only really developed an interest in the group after they broke up.
He also spoke candidly about his experience last year at meeting Agnetha. “She’d only ever replied to my interview questions in writing”, explaining why he hadn’t met her until then. “It was at the release of a book about Metronome Studio”, he recalled, saying he was quite shocked to see her for the first time in the flesh.
So from there, I wandered down to the main stage to watch some of the musical acts. The day’s first highlight was seeing English singer, Nicki French. I remember about a dozen years ago when she performed “Total Eclipse Of The Heart” in Sydney. The song was only about six months old at the time, and her performance was with me for days. I just couldn’t get the song out of my head.
Today, I was in the second row as she sang the song with as much if not more enthusiasm than she did a dozen years ago. “I love Stockholm. Thank you so much for supporting me”, she said on a number of occasions, remembering her performance ten years ago when Sweden hosted Eurovision.
“And I love the fact you speak English”, she laughed. At that point, she invited a couple of Swedish drag queens she’d met earlier onto the stage.
Another highlight, from the Swedish drag queens, was a piss-take about Eurovision. In a decidedly un-PC moment, two drag queens wearing full-length berkas came out, backed by Middle Eastern music, and were declared this year’s Eurovision winners. You could almost hear everyone in the audience under their breath say “I know I shouldn’t laugh, but that’s incredibly funny”. Without any European baggage of my own to contend with, I laughed out loud, as they made fun of the changing nature of the Eurovision Song Contest, because of the changing nature of Europe.
But of course, the day’s entertainment highlight was seeing the ABBA cover band, Arrival perform as the evening’s major act. “I can’t see the end of the crowd”, Frida declared at one point, genuinely surprised at the large number of people attending.
Arrival play at Europride, StockholmOriginal ABBA musician, Finn Sjoberg joins Arrival on stage as they play at Europride, Stockholm
I agree with everyone else who has told me when it comes to ABBA tribute bands, they’re about as good as it gets. They take the music seriously. In fact, they were joined on stage by Finn Sjoberg who played many years ago with ABBA. And they don’t do those stupid accents, and the crowd loved them for it. They particularly played to the hometown audience with their Swedish language version of “Ring Ring”.
Arrival play at Europride, Stockholm
I was lucky enough to be joined in the second row by two fellow members of ABBAMAIL, Tony and Stephen (who made it, despite problems with his plane bookings). We danced and sang and had the time of our lives. We even chatted to a few locals who were also big ABBA fans.
You can do that because in some ways, Stockholm Pride is a bit daggy and a bit “hometown”. There’s a fair bit of “community theatre” (which is dodgy at the best of times), the drag acts fail to live up to the standard of some of the worst gay bars I’ve been to, and there’s endless talk. Talk, talk, talk. I don’t know why, but a common characteristic of every musical act I’ve seen on this trip has been overly-lengthy spoken introductions for each song.
But these elements are also what gives Stockholm Pride the charm and honesty that Sydney’s Mardi Gras lacks. Unfortunately, Sydney’s event, these days, is all about a generic international gay culture, defined by a particular type of male body, a type of sexual sleaziness, a particular style of music, and a huge drug culture.
In contrast, I don’t think I saw any evidence of a drug culture today. There was no evidence of people shagging mindlessly in the bushes. And there weren’t even too many people who were pissed. Mind you, it’s only day one and things could change. I’ll keep you posted, and happily admit if I’m wrong.
It’s been an unexpectedly busy, but lovely weekend. As of Friday night, I had no plans for the weekend at all. But all of a sudden, a series of “spontaneous invitations” came through for lunch and dinner yesterday, and to catch up with my friend Kate, today.
We haven’t seen each other in real life for almost a year. The last time was at the opening of the Biennale of Sydney in March last year. At the time, Kate joked, “this might be the last gathering we go to for a while” and indeed she was right. She’s been coming to Sydney regularly to take care of her 93 year old mother, but trying to limit her interactions to protect her own health, and that of Joan. We’ve Skyped and spoken on the phone many times, but realised today, last March was the last time had seen each other in real life. So for most of the day, we masked up.
Kate at Market City, HaymarketYear of the Ox at World Square, SydneyWe had lunch today at a restaurant in Chinatown, and this happened. I’ve already shared this on social media, and friends keep saying they can’t stop watching this. They really didn’t think it through, did they? When we told the head waiter, he said, “I told them not to put it there!”
We also visited the exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art, featuring the works of Lindy Lee, called “Moon In A Dew Drop”. There’s a few works which did absolutely nothing for me (a range of very “dark” works), but there’s also lots of works like the two below which I really, really loved. I really love the way her works “play” with light and dark, and shade and colour. Definitely worth a look.
Birth and Death by Lindy Lee at MCAMoonlight Deities by Lindy Lee at MCA
“What happened on the twenty-eighth of February was not a flood. I’ve lived through over 40 years of floods, all of us have in Lismore and the Northern Rivers. This was like an inland tsunami. It was utter devastation, and it was a humanitarian disaster. And that’s why I want to make sure that we’re not forgotten.”, Janelle Saffin, the NSW Member for Lismore, told me as I interviewed her about the exhibition “Through the heart… a flood of fears and tears”, currently on display at the NSW Parliament.
In the weeks and months after the floods in February/March, “retired” Lismore photographer, Jacklyn Wagner knocked on the doors of people in parts of town where there were “signs of life”. These were the houses where people, despite the devastation, people had chosen to return “home”.
She knocked on the door of a number of my own family members and took their photographs.
Jack Bobbin, featured in the flood survivors exhibition at the NSW Parliament
Of the roughly 100 people she spoke to and photographed, only two said no. “And it wasn’t was never aggressively”, Jacklyn told me. “One person said I want to but I just can’t at the moment. I just don’t feel right. And the other one eventually got back to me., and they’re part of they’re part of it”.
Along with local politicians, Ben Franklin (National Party) and Janelle Saffin (Labor), some of the people from Lismore featured in the exhibition.
I first became aware of Jacklyn’s photography work in the exhibition “Southies”, a wonderful black and white photographic collection of the community, where I grew up, and where most of my family still lives, South Lismore. https://thelimbshift.com/2019/12/art-in-lismore/
The photographer, Jacklyn Wagner with myself, and Sydney Morning Herald journalists, Heath Gilmore and Catherine Naylor. Heath grew up in Lismore, and Catherine worked for a while at Lismore’s “Northern Star” newspaper. Their reporting on the flood and the aftermath has been with great local insight, and concern for the community.
At the launch and dinner afterwards, I chatted (sometimes quite emotionally) with a number of people from South Lismore. It didn’t take long to find the connectors. You just had to know a more specific address, a cross street. There were “only one or two degrees of separation, not six when it comes to people in Lismore”, a few of us joked.
“It was beautiful”, Katie said, adding “It was not what I was expecting to see. When you look at the photos… everybody looks so lost.”.
“I think everybody wants a little bit more clarity. I think they want a little bit more security. Because would you seem to be going round and round in circles, and no one’s giving us proper feedback. And you still today when it rains? We panic. And no person should live like that.”
The current exhibition of 25 photographs is at the NSW Parliament until November 24, and the complete exhibition of 100 photographs opens in May 2023.
Launch of Lismore flood exhibition at the NSW Parliament
When will it go on display in Lismore?
“We don’t have a gallery at the moment. I’ve thought about it quite a bit. I don’t know whether it’s actually the right time. It may not be for a couple of years. And it’s probably something I would actually consult with all those people who are in my project as to how they feel about that. I’m sure in time it will be but that’s the way I would approach it. I would want it to be somewhere beautiful for them in Lismore, too”, Jacklyn said.
You know how you have some weekends where you just literally sit on the couch watching “The Simpsons” for endless hours? Or how you get caught in one of those Foxtel marathons where you promise yourself you’ll only watch one more episode and then suddenly it’s Sunday night?
Well maybe you don’t, but it’s something I do from time to time, but this weekend WASN’T one of those weekends. In fact quite the opposite.
Despite a very early start at work on Friday, I still had a fairly lengthy day. Nonetheless, I made myself come home earlyish (4pm) for a brief lie down, ahead of catching up with Graeme for an after-works drink on Friday. We scouted around a few Surry Hills bars before settling on The Evening Star, which we’ve decided is “The New Taxi Club”, because it attracts such a broad range of people on a Friday night. Short people, tall people, straights, gays, trannies, people in wheel chairs, backpackers, Pacific Islands, etc. It makes such a welcome change from a lot of bars on a Friday night where everyone looks the same. “This is where that bloke shot that bloke?”, I said to Graeme. Without needing to ask for further clarification, he knew instantly what I was talking about, which is a sign of good friendship.
Waking up reasonably early on Saturday morning, I headed off for a day that involved some family history research at the State Library and a bit of shopping in the city. I picked up a new shirt and a fabulously and dramatically discounted 5-disc Barbra Streisand DVD of her early television specials. I’ve worn the shirt once, but have yet to watch the DVD. I’m quite looking forward to seeing the shows, though when I mentioned it to my friend Colin this afternoon, suggesting he might like to borrow it some time, he looked at me with “pure torture” on his face.
I didn’t have time to come home and watch the DVD instantly, since I needed to be at the Verona by about 3.15 to meet up with Damo, since we had planned to see “The Simpsons Movie”. It wasn’t a packed cinema (far from it), so it was possible to identify who was enjoying the movie and why. The parents in front of us seemed to really enjoy it, though their kids got bored. The older woman behind us also seemed to really enjoy it, especially the political jokes. It was a really enjoyable movie which I won’t spoil in any way shape or form, except to say stay for the end, as the jokes continue well into the credits.
With two hours to kill before dinner, we headed off for a cocktail at The Bentley Bar (mine was water melon based) and for a scout of the menu and a promise that we WOULD go there for dinner one night.
In hindsight, maybe we should have just stayed there for dinner, as we were a little disappointed with Foveaux Restaurant & Bar. It wasn’t so much the venue or the atmosphere or the food or the wine, it was probably a combination of all those things. Although we’re both happy to pay a lot of money for good food, we thought it was overpriced. At the price we paid you can get much better food, including at places like Becasse, Guillame, Moncur etc. Actually, I suspect they see Becasse as a bit of a role model, with their smart informality, degustation menus and hidden Surry Hills location in anticipation of “getting a hat” sometime soon. It was fine, don’t get me wrong, but it could have been better.
Today has also been a whirlwind of experience, starting off with a meeting of the art group I’m involved in, a repeat performance of “Company” and then the gay bloggers meeting at The Tilbury Hotel.
As I had been to see Company on the infamous and controversial night of the “two dropped numbers”, we had been compensated with tickets to see it again. As it turned out, the two dropped numbers were very important to the play as a whole, and succeeded in giving it new layers of meaning. New layers I hadn’t seen last time, revealing just how incredibly sad the show can also be. And throughout the show, “one couldn’t help but reflect on one’s own life”
Company
And from there it was off to the bloggers meeting where I met and talked with a couple of people with blogs I read regularly, including the very lovely Monty and the very spunky Gus. The Other Andrew who is far more social than I, also initiated conversations with the very cute Single Guy and some other people whose blognames I don’t recall and pointed out Aussielicios whose blog is definitely not work safe.
And from there it was home just in time to see Zach become one of two final housemates on Big Brother. Ain’t life grand?
“So what’s it called, ‘Soulless’?”, I asked (and joked) as we headed towards the bar. “No it’s Solas”, he told me.
Damo and I were crossing the street headed in the direction of one of those new “Sydney-style Melbourne-style bars”, as I like to call them, we have in Surry Hills. This one has opened up on Crown Street, between the new tapas bar (formerly “Paua”) and the classic Surry Hills pizza restaurant, “Wood & Stone”.
For me, the space still reminded me a little of the once-named (and much visiited) “Camperdown Cellars”, which has since moved down the road to become “Surry Hills Fine Wines”. Sitting in the front-window, as we did for a while, I couldn’t help but be reminded of its former retail incarnation.
Inside, the crowd was predominantly aged in their late 20s, with a “dressed-in-black with scarves” Melbourne/indie vibe about them. The bar staff were really, really good. They were friendly, smiley, and knew their stuff. We had a glass of white and some small tapas dishes, including some very yummy pork belly which was good. The perfect entree.
We were on our way to the once visited, Xage, which continues to feature a review of mine on their website, about which I’m very happy.
The place continues to have a good vibe, and we got in with only a slight delay. Tonight’s meal was pretty good – the rolls were an excellent entree – though the chicken curry we shared as a main was, perhaps, a little disappointing. The texture suggested the chicken was maybe a little over-cooked. But even so, it’s still a fantastic place to eat.
To our left there was a group of people celebrating a birthday party. A table of 8. Six women. Two men. “That’s just wrong”, Damien commented, noting that amongst the eight they were sharing one bottle of Rose. To our right was a middle aged couple, their daughter and her friend. Much of the conversation revolved around how to eat at restaurants around the idea of balancing meat and vegetable etc.
After dinner we returned to Solas for a final drink of the night, concluding it was a good bar, worth revisiting. As we noted, as we walked around Surry Hills, the area continues to change from when Damien used to live here. A whole different vibe, and by no means, soulless.
