I think, at this point, we’re all a little fatigued by revolutions. Which is why we like Melbourne’s Ali Barter. Evolving the delicate, sincere singer-songwriter strain of folk that started somewhere around Joan Baez instead of turning it on its head. Evolving and bolstering the sound with modern production and varied instrumentation. After all, Janis Ian was never much for synthesisers. We asked Ali our customary questions ahead of her upcoming dates supporting Katy Steele across the country.
What is the best film with Diane Keaton in it? Something’s Gotta Give. I love watching old people make out. Especially Jack Nicholson. I’d go there.
James Brown, the Sex Pistols, Johnny Cash. For some science fictiony reason the discography of only one can survive.
Johnny Cash ALWAYS. Give me a guitar, a cigarette, and a runaway train any day.
Favourite artist; worst album. To make it difficult: the artist must have subsequently released a great album.
So, my favourite artist is Cat Power. My least loved album of hers is the latest, Sun (sorry Chan). But I trust that the next album will be amazing so… there.
Everybody has fantasy band names. What’s one of yours?
Ali Babaganoush.
Money is no object, neither is reality. What’s your ultimate fictional festival to play?
In a forest, at night. Salem, Massachusetts. Everyone is dressed like animals. Lineup is Fleetwood Mac, Father John Misty, Kate Bush, Black Sabbath. Dancing under the full moon. Jack Nicholson is waiting backstage for me in a leopard skin onesie.
Blur – ‘Parklife’
We could have gone for ‘Song 2’. Great, but kind of played out. In many ways the earlier ‘Parklife’ is what catalysed them. Good to remember when you’re seeing them play live in California.
They’re called sandshoes for a reason. Though it is a rare sandshoe indeed that can send you on a VIP trip to California’s largest music festival. Turn beach time into holiday time by submitting a photo to our competition page.
We have no idea how Tim Shiel managed to find the time to send us the tracks in this mix. Between the touring the world with Gotye and preparing upcoming releases. But we’re glad he did it. Yes we are. Perfect electronic imperfection and the digital made beautiful.
Feels like Andrew’s telling a story here. Summers past and future and all that. We like it so much we’re sending him to the US to attend California’s biggest music festival.
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Nobody’s grousing about ol’ Dino Jr having reformed. The music is still vital, J Mascis is still borderline mute and their videos are still tongue in cheek. Like their most recent, starring Henry Rollins and alt comedy heroes James Urbaniak and Maria Bamford. Want to do better than YouTube? You could see them live at California’s biggest music festival.
Tropfest is done for another year. A silver screen just as big yet somehow shorter dimmed ‘til this time next year. But we’ll always have Paris. And by Paris we mean these photos shot by Maclay Heroit of the Hard Workers Club. We’re sending Hard Workers out into the field all summer so follow us on Instagram (@volleyaustralia) to keep up with the best of summer.
Loiter out the front of an air-conditioned library. Soak in a quick blast of cool air as a nerd wearing a tweed jacket and glasses exits the building. Sure, you could go in and read. Sure, there are probably things you could learn. But there are also beaches, sun and friends. You’ll read Finnegans Wake in winter.
Buy a frozen flavoured drink. Propriety precludes us from mentioning the particular convenience store that vends the particular trademarked beverage we favour. Discard the concerns you have about looking like a child or the flood of sucrose polluting your liver. Once that cola-flavoured slurry hits your palate you will be reborn in the glow of a truly wise decision. Time will slow down around you and you will temporarily escape the oppressive swelter of an Australian summer. And you will have done so for the change in your pocket.
Go and catch a matinee. Sure, yes, we’ve advocated staying outside and enjoying what some call an inverse Richard III. Which is to say, the summer of our content. But, as Joni Mitchell taught us, you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone. Spend two hours in the darkness and hermetic cool of a cinema. Hollywood blockbuster, repertory art classic. Doesn’t matter. What does is how revivified you will feel plunged into the suddenly dissonant warmth of a hot day. It will no longer oppress you. You will be its master. Your only command? Pleasure me.
Use a web service to get a cheap room at a fancy hotel. It’s not only the air conditioner, the Egyptian cotton sheets and the thrill of drinking something out of a tiny bottle—like you’re a powerful giant paying way too much for a drink—but, crucially, you’ll also have access to a pool. Not the fetid, crowded ponds the public have access to. A luxurious one. One that you can use in the middle of the night. Use it to get up to all kinds of mischief we absolutely could not endorse in any way.
Street festivals are the summer experience defined and distilled. There’s none bigger (probably) or better (definitely) than the St Kilda festival. We’re sending Jade Cantwell of the Hard Workers Club to document its concluding day. Though she really should be called Jade Canphotographwell. Follow us on Instagram (@volleyaustralia) and watch, you guys.
Loiter out the front of an air-conditioned library. Soak in a quick blast of cool air as a nerd wearing a tweed jacket and glasses exits the building. Sure, you could go in and read. Sure, there are probably things you could learn. But there are also beaches, sun and friends. You’ll read Finnegans Wake in winter.
Buy a frozen flavoured drink. Propriety precludes us from mentioning the particular convenience store that vends the particular trademarked beverage we favour. Discard the concerns you have about looking like a child or the flood of sucrose polluting your liver. Once that cola-flavoured slurry hits your palate you will be reborn in the glow of a truly wise decision. Time will slow down around you and you will temporarily escape the oppressive swelter of an Australian summer. And you will have done so for the change in your pocket.
Go and catch a matinee. Sure, yes, we’ve advocated staying outside and enjoying what some call an inverse Richard III. Which is to say, the summer of our content. But, as Joni Mitchell taught us, you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone. Spend two hours in the darkness and hermetic cool of a cinema. Hollywood blockbuster, repertory art classic. Doesn’t matter. What does is how revivified you will feel plunged into the suddenly dissonant warmth of a hot day. It will no longer oppress you. You will be its master. Your only command? Pleasure me.
Use a web service to get a cheap room at a fancy hotel. It’s not only the air conditioner, the Egyptian cotton sheets and the thrill of drinking something out of a tiny bottle—like you’re a powerful giant paying way too much for a drink—but, crucially, you’ll also have access to a pool. Not the fetid, crowded ponds the public have access to. A luxurious one. One that you can use in the middle of the night. Use it to get up to all kinds of mischief we absolutely could not endorse in any way.
