Today, my friend Kate and I spent quite a few hours at Dance Rites, a celebration of First Nations culture at the Sydney Opera House.
Though we didn’t stay around for tonight’s performances (we’re not as young as we used to be), we were there for the massive opening “contemporary corroboree” as Rhoda Roberts called it, and for the dance “competition” featuring lots of “grass roots” groups, mostly from the East Coast and from the Torres Strait. They performed in a range of traditional, as well as contemporary styles. It was an awesome insight into the many different cultures around the country.
URAB DancersDance Rites
As well as the dancers from Australia, there were also performances by other First Nations people from Canada, the United States and Aotearoa (New Zealand). The dancers from the US were especially warmly welcomed, with their fantastic outfits, energetic performances, and thumping musical beats.
For me, a great discovery came in the music of many of those performing from the Torres Strait, and North Queensland islands. “You love the drums, don’t you?”, Kate said to me, when I mentioned this to her. “Absolutely”, I told her. Great vocals, great drums. This is definitely going to be an area of musical exploration for me.
A particular call out from today was the MC who was informed, funny, and knew everyone in the audience it seemed!! We’ll be heading back tomorrow night (Sunday) for the finals, being held at the Sydney Opera House from 6.00pm. It’s highly recommended.
Post Script – Some Pics from Sunday
Maori Dance GroupFirst Nations dancers from North America
And here’s some animations, which hopefully show some of the movement of the activity.
While Sydney debates these new urinals, this is one I saw in Amsterdam a couple of years ago
The global economic crisis? Peace in the Middle East? Third world poverty? No, none of those: the big issue for discussion today in Sydney has been the decision by the City of Sydney Council to trial some “open-air urinals”.
“Oh my God, I’ve seen those”, I thought to myself when I saw the images online. “They’re just like the ones they have in Amsterdam”, I mentioned to some colleagues. When I first saw them a couple of years ago, I’ll admit I was slightly amused/bewildered by them. I couldn’t imagine using them myself simply because of the apparent “public” nature of them all. But then I thought about it for a while, and thought they’re actually less “public” than urinating up against someone’s fence, which I’ll admit I have done once or twice in my life, and which far too many people do in my neighbourhood. Groan. So if push came to shove, and they didn’t end up completely filthy and smelly, I’m sure I’d happily use them
A new higher-priced digital radio for the bedside table
On to more pleasant things. I was invited today to a “product launch” by a company called “Pure” which I’m pretty sure has the largest market share of “digital radios” in Australia.
The most interesting development announced today was their “shazam-like” application which allows you to identify tracks you hear on the radio, and tag them for purchase. They have also taken a “market position” which says DAB+ should also come with internet radio which I think makes sense. I have two digital radios, at home by the way, and regularly swap between DAB+ for local stations and internet radio for international. The sound quality of both is pretty good, and of course, there’s lots of choice. I liked their bedside lamp radio – very classy, a little Bose-like, though a bit out of my price range.
There was also a panel discussion with a couple of blokes from the company, along with a bloke from commercial radio who I chatted to, who seems very nice, as well as a bloke from one of the music publishing companies. Obviously the music publishing and recording industry has an interest in anything which allows for easier purchase of recorded music. Anyway, it was a nice way to spend a couple of hours talking with other people in the industry about something I feel quite strongly and passionately about.
The view from District Dining
And then tonight I caught up with a friend for dinner and drinks at District Dining. As with the last time I went there, the food, atmosphere and service were all very good.
Tonight we noticed about three quarters of those dining were female, and almost exclusively larger groups in their 20s, 30s. When we asked about this, they mentioned they’ve recently participated in one of those “coupon deals” – three courses and a bottle of wine for $69 or something like that – which had been very, very popular, and which helped explain why it had been so difficult to book.
My friend who I had dinner with has recently lost her mum, which is very sad because she was a lovely woman. I’m hoping dinner and drinks tonight went some way to giving my friend some comfort and maybe some relief and “time out” for what can never be an easy time in your life.
Having enjoyed a really fantastic meal the other week, I suggested a friend and I should catch up there for dinner. But when I tried to book last week for this Friday night, the only time available was 10.00pm. Seriously. Being a little too late, decided to turn up at 6.00pm and see if we could use our charm to find a seat on spec. We ended up with a seat near the door, which was absolutely fine as it allowed us to check out the incoming guests. We felt like bouncers! Our conclusion – lots of of twenty/thirty something couples. Once again, the food was excellent, though we were a little disappointed with one dish. It was the potato gratin dish. It was ok. We loved the pork. We loved the grains tabbouleh. We were treated to a complimentary desert. Once again, Nomad delivered.
I don’t recall the very first dance party I attended, but it would have been in the early 90s. I do, however, clearly remember my first Mardi Gras in 1989—enjoying the festivities with friends from Bourke and Sydney.
At the time, whether I was living in Renmark or Wagga Wagga, I made the trek to Sydney specifically for those parties. Without sounding too nostalgic (or “boomerish”—and for the record, I’m not a Boomer!), they truly were memorable occasions. I can still vividly recall the music, the incredible art direction, and the sense of inclusive, mixed crowds. It’s hard to believe those memories are now 30 or 35 years old.
Some of those moments came rushing back tonight at a preview launch for a new documentary titled House of Love, which a friend of mine is producing. The film dives into the late 80s and early 90s—the era of the RAT parties and the massive events that turned Australia into a global leader in dance culture. Back then, we were at the forefront of innovation, with people travelling from the UK, Europe, and America just to experience the Australian scene.
We saw a “sizzle reel” of the project, and it was wonderful to see familiar faces and incredible archival footage from that era. There were some fantastic anecdotes shared, particularly about Grace Jones. Her appearances at those Sydney parties were career-defining moments—even if she often jokes that she can’t remember a thing about them!
The production has recorded a wealth of material and is now seeking funding to bring the full story to life. If you’d like to support the film or know someone who might, here are the details on how to get involved.
You know how most men can grow a beard? Well, maybe not a complete bushranger-style beard, but at least something which “completes” their face?
Well, I’m not one of them.
After five days in Lismore, and six days of not shaving the most I can conjur up is what would be for most people a “three day growth”.
I could never participate in Movember. This is a six day growth.
The decision not to shave wasn’t a conscious one. I got on my plane with just hand luggage, and thus without razors. And while I intended to buy some in Lismore I never quite got around to it. Thus, I never shaved.
In some ways I guess it was also symbolic of the “holiday mode” I’ve been in over the last few days. Not shaving, and wearing nothing but shorts and thongs was, I guess, a quasi-rebellion against my regular day to day life.
For my last day in Lismore we even managed to get some decent rain.
Not “proper rain” which I always associate with floods, but decent rainfall which is generally heavier than we get in Sydney.
For a while Pat and I stood out on the verandah this morning just enjoying the experience.
There’s nothing quite like the sound of rain falling heavily on a tin roof, especially first thing in the morning.
But here I am back in Sydney, unshaven, and thinking of work tomorrow.
Somehow this year’s Christmas Holiday seems a little “underdone”.
Still, a month off in March, and a trip to Sweden in early Spring is probably still going to feel like Christmas.
As I watched “The Booksellers” (the first movie I’ve seen in several months at a cinema, due to COVID-19), I thought about some of the most memorable experiences of my life spent in bookstores.
As a teenager, I remember visiting the Angus & Robertson store at the Lismore Shopping Square. In particular, I remember purchasing a copy of the Edmund White book, “A Boy’s Own Story”. As a fifteen year old (or thereabouts) in the early 80s, it was a “brave thing” to purchase a “gay book”. But I vividly remember one of the shop assistants (a few years older than me, and at another high school) affirming my purchase (“It’s a really good book”, he assured me with a smile). Many years later I met Edmund White and told him about the significance of his book and that purchase.
To my surprise and delight, a colleague organised for Edmund White to sign a more recent book.
Ten years later, and living in Sydney, I remember visiting the Ariel bookstore in Paddington and purchasing Timothy Conigrave’s, “Holding The Man”. Once again, for the story it told, it was a life-changing purchase. However, one of the things I remember most was that I bought it about ten o’clock at night (or thereabouts) which was a mind-blowing experience for this boy from the country to be able to go into a bookshop, make a late-night-purchase, and then read it until almost dawn.
There have been many other wonderful experiences along the way in bookstores, including visiting the somewhat shambolic “Goulds” in Newtown for the first time; and attending a recording of “The Moth” at “The Housing Works Bookstore”. Though I mostly make electronic book purchases these days, I still love bookstores, and visit them regularly, mostly for “discovery”.
The Moth story-telling night at The Housing Works Bookstore in New York.
But when your mind wanders during a movie, that’s not a good sign. As much as I love bookstores, I found it difficult to engage with “The Booksellers”. The movie focuses on a dozen or more people in New York who buy and sell rare books. Some of them do it as part of a passion for books; others do it for more financial reasons.
Although each story was quite interesting on its own, I think it would have been a stronger film if they had reduced the number of stories explored, and had explored them in a greater depth. As a result, I thought the 80 minute film was probably 30 minutes too long.
The other film I went to see this week was called “Bellbird”. For anyone of a certain age in Australia, of course there was the iconic ABC-TV soap opera of the 1960s / 1970s set in a small country community. Watching “Bellbird” was a nightly (and then later weekly) ritual in our house.
In common, the New Zealand film, “Bellbird” is also set in a small country community. The plot deals with family and community relations following the death of a lynch-pin member of the family. “She did the talking for both of us”, the son reflects on his relationship with his father, after the death of his mother. It was a lovely film, and I’d highly recommend it.
I’m off to the movies for the third time this week. On Sunday, a friend and I are seeing the Icelandic film, “A White, White Day”. From the trailer, it looks terrific.After months of closure due to COVID-189, cinemas in Sydney are beginning to re-open, albeit with restrictions in place. On Sunday, there were only three of us watching, “The Booksellers”; while on Wednesday I was the only one watching, “Bellbird”.
Stockholm - the town hall is located in the centre of this photograph.
Sweden was, once again, the recurrent theme in my life today.
The day started off simply enough with breakfast at the nearby “Book Cafe”. I’ve been there before on several occasions, but it’s normally quite busy, because the food is very good. Today, we were lucky enough to score an outside table where we watched the passing parade of Surry Hills on a Saturday.
Across the road, the crowds continued to line up at the Bourke Street Bakery, which I’ve previously described as the only place outside of the former Soviet Union where people line up to purchase bread.
Back at the “Book Cafe”, we sat around for an hour or so enjoying the coffee, the juice, and their tasty breakfasts. Patrick and I both had the poached eggs, fetta, and avocado on sourdough toast which had a delightfully salty taste to it, thanks to a little added sea-salt. Excellent. Sam had an omlette.
After a late breakfast, we wandered around Surry Hills for a while, before preparing for a mid-afternoon viewing of Melodifestivalen, the Swedish heats leading up to Eurovision.
“It’s better than Eurovision”, a few of us agreed as we watched the first and second heats.
There’s a fair bit of musical variety in the heats, and yet somehow the Swedes manage to choose a similar song every year. Apparently, they’re a bit worried about their lack of success in recent years, and so have introduced an International Judging Panel which seeks to have a little broader input into the selection proces.
This year we had a new host who was like a combination of Gretel Killeen and Julia Zamira in presentation style.
We had a great afternoon. Graeme and Grant came along. And later we were joined by “Facebook Friend”, Louisa who I’ve made contact with through a common love of Eurovision and Melodifestivalen.
And if three four hours of Swedish pop music wasn’t enough, we then headed off to the Academy Twin for a screening of the Swedish movie, “Patrik 1.5”, as part of Mardi Gras Film Festival.
It’s such a beautiful movie, all four of us found ourselves a little bit teary. The film beautifully combines some very funny moments with that raw, often melancholic sensitivity you often find in Swedish films.
The plot concerns a 40-something gay couple living in a small community – “it’s like Edward Scissor-hands”, Graeme commented – who decide to adopt a child.
But although the Swedish laws allowed adoptions by gay couples, there just weren’t enough Swedish children available, and no other country was willing to allow an inter-country adoption by a gay couple. “We’ll have a Swedish child or a Danish child then. Well, not a Danish one…”, one of the guys joked.
Anyway, it’s finally announced they have a child in the form of Patrick who is aged 1.5, though of course, it turns out he’s really actually 1.5, he’s actually 15, and from a quite troubled past.
Beyond that, I won’t give away too much of the plot-line.
As I mentioned, we all really loved the film. In some ways, it’s heart-warming in the similar kind of way of as “Sa som i himmeln” (As It Is In Heaven”, in that it combines happiness and sadness. The characters are all totally believeable, and you could imagine yourself either being them, or at least knowing them.
From there, we headed out for a bite to eat, and then a spot of dancing.
I knew the DJ was known to playing the occasional Swedish pop track, and tonight we weren’t disappointed. In the midst of the more obvious Swedish references, such as “September” (“Cry For You”) and the song by “Pink” (“Sober”) (the video for which prominently features the Stockholm town hall, located in the centre of the above photograph), he’s also been known to play the occasional more obscure Swedish number, I told Patrick.
With not too much encouragement, he wandered up with a hand-written note, requesting a bit of BWO (“Bodies Without Organs”).
The night thus ended on the dance floor with the strains of “you can dance all night with the bourgeoise, yeah yeah, lay your love on me”. last year’s entry by BWO at Melodifestivalen ringing out.
There was a lovely amount of symmetry in the day, don’t you think?
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Pretty impressive that performers come from North America to participate. Nice photos.
Pretty impressive that performers come from North America to participate. Nice photos.
Thanks. Had a funny moment where someone sitting behind me commented on the second pic.