Dear Yamaha,

Our band, the Dappled Cities, have long been fans of your motorbikes. I think you also made a bar fridge in 1996 in the shape of a guitar - we are also a fan of this type of product.

Recently we recorded our new record in San Francisco. It has a number of things in common with your products.

1) It is reliable.

2) Friends are jealous of it

3) When you think about it you’re a bit like “i like that” but you don’t think about it every second

4) If a dog ruined it, shit wouldn’t be too cray because there is more available

We did a few promotional shots while we were in the studio. As you can see, they say a number of things. I find the one’s of our drummer say “I play powerful but that doesn’t mean i need to play powerful every day”. I find his outstretched arms a powerful metaphor because he is saying “lightning enter me - make me drum like Lars from Metallica” - but he could also play for Sting. I respect that in a drummer. And let’s face it, if Mr Sting came knocking our drummer would probably drum for him rather than us. The pictures of our singer our pretty self explanatory. “I play guitar but I could also play piano”. I also find that they say “I like quality, but quality comes at a price I can’t afford - so i settle for the 12th best option”.

But give us a call. We can talk through some details.

Much love and peace.

Lenny Kravitz Alex Moore

The end of the year is a great time to remember the laughs you had over the year that has passed. Another year down, another year older, another year wiser and a whole lot of other words that combine together to pretend like you are cool with the fact that you are getting closer and closer to death. I am cool with that though. Death rocks. Like Short Stack.

Seems like a good time to reflect each Dappled contributor through song. So here it goes.

2010 – In song.

Alan Kumpulainen – “Paparazzi” by Lady Gaga

Allan has a lot of trouble with the press. He got his nickname “Pressboy” because of his Princess Diana-like effect on the media. They camp outside his house, follow him when he goes to the solarium, wait outside the “male only sauna”, chase him in his car and generally abuse him. It has been a hard year for him. Also, Alexander Skarsgaard is in the clip for this song and he’s a Scando like Allan.

Dave Rennick – “Long Distance Call” by Phoenix

Dave has French aspirations. “Long distance call” refers to calls he will make back home. Phoenix are French. Anyway, I whipped out his Cleo Bachelor of the Year bio in preparation for 2011 (his year).

Look out .

Tim Derricourt – “Surfin’ USA” by the Beach Boys

The Beach Boys are a great band. Tim is a great surfer. I have been waiting a long time to have a friend that is a surfer. I plan to spend a lot of summer down at the beach waiting for him to come in so I can wax his board. Then he can wax mine. Whenever I call him and he doesn’t pick up I imagine him cutting a tube or as he said yesterday “praying in a glass cathedral” or something. Tim has aspirations to surf professionally next year and we all fully support him in that. He has to do it in the US though because that’s what the song says.

Ned Cooke - “Piano Man” by Billy Joel as covered by Ween in Toronto in 2003.

I think we all know how Piano Man goes. “Sing as a song, you’re the piano man, sing us a song tonight”. This is a line that instantly reminds me of Ned because he is a man and he can play piano. Sure, everyone can tinker on the piano, but that hardly makes you a pianist. If you ride a bike, you’re not a motorcyclist, are you? Do you get my drift? However, 2010 was the year when Ned really ramped it up. Thus the song in its Ween format. Ween sing it as, “Sing us a song, you’re the piano man, put some coke on my dick tonight” and then there is a drum roll. Like a comedy drumroll. Ned Cooke. Quite a year. Not that he does that sort of thing.

Alex Moore – “Mr Brighteyes” by the Killers

Some people consider me the angry one of Dappled Cities. But they’re wrong. Behind those frowns and violent outbursts are high levels of love and forgiving. That’s why I am off to Korea to fix the differences between the North and the South. I am going to give the speech I gave at the Perry/Brand wedding. Tolerance, forgiving, cleavage and drugs. Some call me a hero. I just call myself a believer.

Troy Barrott (manager) – “Get up (I feel like being a sex machine) by James Brown

He woke me with this song on my birthday. Then he smiled at me strangely. He’s a wonderful man. And it was a wonderful morning.

Jorden Brebach (sound guy) – “Loveless” by My Bloody Valentine

Jorden really likes music from the 90s. I was trying to remember songs I like from the 90s and all I could think of was Pearl Jam and Fugazi. Then I remembered My Bloody Valentine. Then I cried.

On the eve of what be our last show of the Zounds era it seems like a good time to reflect on the Zounds era. It has been a wild ride and I thought it would be a good time to reflect.

It all started at SXSW in March of 2009. I knew we were sitting on something special. We had been a band for about 3 years playing around Melbourne. We had done a few Australian tours but after we recorded our debut album (we did an EP in Sydney in 2007) I knew it was time for us to extend our grasp to overseas. So we did it. We signed a deal and we moved to London. It was really hard but also quite rewarding. After a little while in London our song was used in a movie. It turned out to be the boost that “sweet disposition” needed and before long the song was everywhere. And I mean, EVERYWHERE. On the radio, on the television, on ads and so on. It was a wonderful time, and  it was a devastating time. But that’s fame, as my friend Russell Brand would say when he is marrying a big breasted woman on a tiger reserve in India as his body gaurds bash paparazzi with complete and utter ignorance of the irony that it is these same people that perpetuate the idea of 21^st century celebrity fame and without them he would be a standard British comedian selling his VCRs out of the back of a Datsun behind some crappy community hall in Cornwall and she would still be struggling in the mud that bred her in some weird back water US cult (and no, there is no implication in there that she is a Golem – I was going for more of an Orc type vibe).

But seriously though, Zounds era for Dapple city was a really great time. We did our most successful tour, hung out in England and flew the flag for Sydney indie rock/pop. I think that if you play in a band for such a long time the sheer joy of playing live far outweighs the drugs, women, booze and money that we are all forced to swim in every day of our stressful, meaningless lives.

I have a few personal highlights I would like to share.

1)      Releasing Zounds. I thought Zounds was a really great record. I still think A Smile is our best record. But I think Zounds was top notch. My favourite songs are Stepshadows, Kid, Answer is Zero and Livin’ on a Prayer.

2)      Playing at the Metro. The Metro show for the Zounds tour was pretty much one of my life highlights. Dave’s pedals broke. But that is the Dappled way. A magical evening was had by all.

3)      Dubai. Dubai! Dubai, for me, is the personification of prostitution. It looks happy but deep down inside you know it’s just doing it for the money. But I still liked it.

4)      England. I really enjoyed London. It is a truly wonderful place. And I also love sharing bedrooms with my friends.

5)      Going to the ARIAs. I got sick (not in a good way).

But now we move on to the next chapter in Dappled history. News songs and new laughs.

We’re playing this Saturday so if you want to see 5 men cry (with happiness) and laugh (with fear) and sing (soprano) come down to the Metro.

It has been a strange and unpredictable few months for Dappled Cities. Aside from ripping it up at places like Sussex Inlet, Wollongong and Reading Festival, becoming friends with the John Steel Singers, selling our bodies at the docks, developing a taste for Moet champagne, taking loads of drugs while locked in cupboards, re-writing Tool’s Aenima as elevator music, inventing a new theory relating to quantum mechanics in zero gravity and fighting 8 ninjas all called “The Black Raven” we have been doing “some real good stuff”.

Ned has been following Powderfinger around the country and seeing every show of their final tour. This has been an extremely emotional time for him and his family. Ned has done everything to Powderfinger. He lost his virginity to “Treat me like a dog”, walked down the aisle to “On the day you come”, buried his favourite cockatiel that was mauled to death by a rabid Rottweiler to “My Happiness” while his first child was born to the angelic tones of “Passenger”. If you graphed the ebb and flow of that band it would exactly match the ups and downs of Ned’s life.

Allan is also catching every Powderfinger show as Ned’s official photographer. However, his camera broke during the first show (Ned has epileptic fits whenever he hears Bernard Fanning say “Brisbane”) so now all he does is carry the tissues and hold Eddy for the long, cold night after the show is over.

Tim has revived his love for amateur robotics. A little known fact is Tim’s desire to create a robot so advanced it can record a cd onto a tape. Once this happens he will be able to listen to his favourite record “The Best of Enya” in his car while he runs speed between Adelaide and Wagga.

Dave has begun to study the works of the 12^th century German poet Dietmar von Aist. He is trying to link the poetry of von Aist’s poem “Ez dunket mich wol tûsent jâr” to the lyrics of singer-songwriter Pete Murray. Specifically his song ‘So Beautiful”. I think we can all see the similarities when they are placed next to one another.

God my fingers burn,
Now when I think of touching your hair
You have changed so much that I don’t know,
If I can call you and tell you I care
And I would love to bring you down,
Plant your feet back on the ground

Throw my smoke down on the ground,
Turn my head and I heard the sound,
(That reminded me)
Of the days so young and sweet
Always so much fun to meet
(At least I thought so)

Now you think you’re so damn fine

You can rule the world no not mine,
I don’t think so.

God my fingers burn,

Now when I think of touching your hair
You have changed so much that I don’t know,
If I can call you and tell you I care.

And the other (I’m not going to tell you which one is the Pete Murray one).

Ez dunket mich wol tûsent jâr
daz ich an liebes arme lac.
sunder âne mîne schulde
fremdet er mich mangen tac.
sît ich bluomen niht ensach
noch hôrte kleiner vogele sanc,
sît was mir mîn fröide kurz
und ouch der jâmer alzelanc.

And me, I have been doing the usual things. After Masterchef finished I thought it would be depressing to be doing Westfield cooking demonstrations and selling shitty ovens to North Shore house wives so I have taken a job doing cooking demonstrations in Woolworth stores around rural Western Australia and am now the face of a little known German toaster company called “Shitface”.

Life is sweet.

Dappled cities needs your help. We’ve all broken our hands and none of us can eat or go to the toilet. If you can spare a few hours this weekend, it would be greatly appreciated. Services required are:

1) food

2) cleaning

3) painting

4) henna application (face and body)

Also, please vote for our song so we get played heaps.

VOTE HERE!!!!!!!

You are some nice arse people.

Dappled decided to hit Europe. And we did.

Here’s a newspaper article from the Belgium times.

“Dappled cities is the art rock from Sydney, Brisbane. Much like other great Australian bands Crowded House and Russell Crowe, they are much popular. All members is famous. Singer Ned Cooke surfed professional in 1988 and finished 6th at least once. Bass player Dave Rennick is now full time member of north coast band Short Stack. Drummer Tim Derricourt did time (jail) for stealing half ton of weed from small boy named Todd. Percussionist Alex Moore likes all men. Singer/guitarist/drummer/percussionist Andy Kumpulainen got famous starring alongside Matt Dillon and Tom Cruise in the 1983 Coppolla directed film “the Outsiders”.

Guitars and bass is on most song. Often hard to hear lyrics through the crying”

One thing we really liked about London was how nice it is. The weather is lovely, the streets are clean, public bathroom facilities very hygienic, nice venues and great canal. One down side is how hard it is to find a sandwich. Just kidding, it’s way easy.

We played a lot of really great shows. A highlight? Maybe the Lexington. Who with? A fantastic Welsh band called Racehorses. Huh? Yep, just near our house in Islington. A picture of the house? Sure.

We also played a number of other great shows around town. White Heat at Madam Jojo’s, Hoxton Bar and Kitchen (yep, contained both), the Coronet and so on. All the shows were great. Except one. Just kidding. How can anything be bad when you’ve got sweet tattoos?

We also had a bit of free time to relax next to a canal with friends.

A special mention must go to one of the bands we played with who provided us with much material for the rest of our trip. Our poor friend basically had a breakdown on stage when his fuse blew. After accusing Ned of breaking his amp he went on a rampage that included 18 breakdowns, a few tears, a couple of shoulder barges from his bandmates towards us and a shout out during the set that stated “technical difficulties” were plaguing their set due to “someone” “breaking” their amp. Clearly trying to act like the Stone Roses as well as ripping off their music. Anyway, that guy got ribbed for 2 months. So we’re all going to hell.

But enough of that! What about the good times outside of London? The trips to fun places! Ireland! Brighton! Liverpool! Hong Kong!

Well, we went to Ireland. It was dangerously nice. Galway was a pretty, pretty little town. No wonder it’s called “The Jewel of the Green Ireland”. It’s not actually called that. But it should be. We rode bikes, picked flowers, saw a seal, played a show, got heaps famous, only heard the Temper Trap’s “Sweet Disposition” 18 times, ate some lamb, sat on the harbour and generally had a great time. Pictures surely are the best way to get the message across.

We also played in Dublin after too much scotch.

We then went to Brighton. What a blast! Home of Nick Cave! Home of a freaky fun park on the end of a pier! Home of our weird hotel full of middle aged men dressed as pirates who were drunk and angry!

Ned won me a massive dolphin on my birthday but that ended up in the crowd at a show and was ripped apart. I think that is a good thing. I don’t know. Do you want presents to be ripped apart? In fun? I guess so. I’m confused.

Next we travelled to a place called Liverpool. We think the Beatles might have come from here. We’re not sure. We saw Bluejuice play acoustic in the John Lennon suite in the Hard Day’s Night Hotel. It was cool. It involved a massive white grand piano. And before you ask, no, you weren’t allowed to put your drinks on it.

We played in a comedy venue. It was a joke. Like that one? Me too.
Photos! We also stopped at a castle and tried on some ye olde knight gear. In case you were wondering. And that yellow thing is a mix between a banana and a lamb. It’s called a Lambanana. Yep.

On the way home we stopped by Hong Kong. What a crazy, cool city. We started our day with a swim in the pool on the 29th floor of our hotel in the Western District. We went up the world’s longest esculator. Someone told me you can have 2 beers before you reach the top. That is a lie. The venues were interesting. I hope that in house guys in Australia start getting pissed at 3pm soon. It sure is great when you are trying to set up at 11pm on a stage smaller than a bee’s arsehole and the guy helping you is treading on all your stuff and swearing and says “so i hear you got some samples or some shit” before forgetting to plug them in and basically disappearing.

We also ate some food. Dumplings anyone? Yum!

And here’s us looking cool. Hong Kong style.

I love cities that kick arse to wander round in. New York, London, Sydney, Hong Kong, Wagga Wagga. My top 5.

We had a great trip.

And we still like each other.

Tim took the photos. I supervised.

London is a wonderful city. Full of fantastic museums, Italians, pubs, clubs, Spaniards, parks, old buildings, a palace, old women who hit your foot with a stick to make you get out of the way even though they have a bit 9 foot of space and you are standing next to a doorway (literally) take up 1 foot of that 9 foot, French people, off licences, our street (the unofficial Islington police thoroughfare – 4am is always busy, and heaps fun) and art galleries.

And it is this last one (Art Galleries) that have been spending most of my time in recently. I arise around 9am, perform “the yoga” and run 22 to 23kms. Then, after my strict breakfast of raw egg white, sugar and boot polish, I travel to galleries to view their art. I like London gallery crowds because they are mostly screaming children. Many of them don’t speak English, so you just pretend that you are in an art studio from 16th century and there are a whole bunch of birds singing through an open window. By the way, that idea has a patent on it. You will be able to buy it soon. From a store. A funky store. Wagamama, maybe. But still, I’ll take screaming kids over the wankers that attend the MOMA free night any day. Here you go.

“Valerie. Valerie. VALERIE, COME OVER HERE. Yes dear, just step in front of everyone trying to see the art and listen to me ramble on about crap that is a) incorrect, b) useless and c) makes me look like the dickhead I am. VALERIE. VALERIE. Do you want me to break that 80 year old’s nose? Ok, you can do it. VALERIE. Call over our 15 annoying brat children so I can tell you all in a really loud voice about this Renoir even though I have never read anything about him and only regurgitate information from my crappy group of egotistical, family wealthy asshole friends”. I also like it when these people touch the artworks. Yep. Feels like 450 year old paint, doesn’t it?

Now, even though I will now look like a dickhead for listing a bunch of galleries, I have been to the National Portrait Gallery, Saatchi Gallery, Tate Modern, Tate Britain and the bedroom I share with Dave. Here’s a poem I have been working on. It is a sad tale of a boy who lost his dog. Not really. It’s just some limericks I have been working on (for 7 weeks).

National Portrait Gallery.

The National Portrait Gallery is great,
Except when forced through at a great rate,
A kid to the right,
A dad in a fight,
I wouldn’t consider Jesus a mate.

Saatchi Gallery.

I travelled to the Saatchi on the number 19 bus,
A kindly commuter, I made no fuss,
Some Indian art I saw,
Some bilton I did gnaw,
That shark is surrounded by puss.

Tate Modern.

Its hall is open and big,
Like the time I worked on a rig,
The ocean was blue,
I got the flu,
Dig.

Tate Britain.

A man with a beard building the new yard,
His acceptable clothes ratio down by a thard,
I quite like that Danby,
It makes me not randy,
Shakespeare was really a bard.

Mine and Dave’s bedroom.

A whiteboard all lovely and white,
Soiled by Ned and giving us a fright,
A man like a pretzel,
A hand on a pencil,
It’s clearly not right.

Well, it deteriorated. But that’s the price of genius I guess.

Yep. That’s us. Pro-fess-ion-al. The day had everything. Kids laughing at us. Men falling by the wayside. Goals. Celebrations. A geranium we nicknamed “The Pope”. A new group of kids arriving and then laughing at us. A woman laughing at us. But most importantly, a shitload of fun….

Practice went pretty damn well. As these pictures clearly highlight.

Here’s the match synopsis.

After much messing about, we came down to the final part of the match .

A quick through pass got Dave away on the wing.

Who then kicked it high to Ned, who was all alone somewhere on the pitch.

A suprise pass put me in space.

My insane skill tricked goalkeeper Kumpy who was left out of his area.

But we missed. And it was late.

So we went home.

Hi everyone

This is just a quick blog with a  list of our upcoming London shows. Come one come all. We are going to make a packet of it and hopefully by the time we leave London at the end of May we will be firmly planted in everyone’s hearts, making it hard for everyone to breathe and eventually suffocating the flow of blood to the vital organs. Your last words will be “achgh kreik!”

Copied and pasted from our myspace cause I’m laxy. Lazy.

More gigs to follow so stay online and follow us while you check on the progress of that Hey Dad themed mug and spoon set you finally realised it was time to put on Ebay.

Alex will fill you in on the details of our first couple of weeks. To part with here is a picture of us arriving in London.  We chose the option of camply appearing out of a phone booth rather than arriving in the usual “drunk and smelling on an Atlantic flight” option

And it’s been off from there, as you can imagine!

Peace out

p.s. did you know Deep Sea Arcade were once going to be called Plankton, which is kind of like Krill … then they could have come to London and been the London Krill. Or not.

x

Patch Adams.

Well, New York has really turned on the fine weather for us. A beautiful run of 8 degree days culminating in a balmy 10 degree day today. Sure, it’s pissing down rain, but that 2 degrees of extra temperature is all that matters. At the end of the day, at least it’s not snowing. Or I lost my leg trying to wakeboard in muddy creek in central Australia and hit a log and crashed into tree on the bank and there was no mobile reception so by the time a medical professional arrived my mangled leg was unable to be saved. I would get a free ride in a helicopter though. So that’s cool.

You know what I love? Stand up comedy. It is so funny! So so so so funny! Except there are a few simple rules that, after a trip to a free comedy night, I have learnt.

1) Talking about masterbating when you are a 140kg woman is not funny.

2) Talking about hiding money in you bra for Taco Bell when you are a 140kg woman is not funny.

3) Abusing the audience (well, all 7 of them) for not laughing when you are a 140kg woman is not funny.

4) The idea of a “numb clit” is not funny. And it doesn’t get any funnier if you repeat it 8 times. Especially when you are a 140kg woman.

5) A simple observation is not funny. A simple observation done in an African accent is also not funny.

6) Watching a man who is 8 months into hormone pills before a sex change operation in April isn’t overly amusing.

7) Suicide is almost impossible to make funny. Especially when you are talking about your own.

8 ) Like point 7, babies wanting to die is also pretty hard to make funny.

9) Having anal sex with your father is not funny. Ever.

10) Talking about your interests when you are a shit comedian is not funny. I don’t want to hear about dicks, smoking weed, masterbating, internet porn or eating pizza ever again.

Scarring evening, that one. Funny in retrospect. But at the time, not so funny.

Now, when most people go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, or the Met as the locals call it, they are fascinated by the selection of art. Your Monet, your Pollock, you Hirst, your Van Eyck, your 12th century battle armour, your Warhol, your Lichtenstein, your 9th century battle armour, your Miro. Not us. We love furniture. Here is our favourites.

And here’s me next to that Archibald Prize entry of myself that didn’t win.

We were also lucky enough to see the sculpture they fixed last year. Basically, the Met was embarrassed by the flat arse the sculpture first received back in the 1400’s so (once again) they called in Tim and used his bum to get the sculpture up to standard. They used him bum as a model by the way, not his face. That photo below is a little misleading.

It was then off to the mountains to hang with our favourite animals. Mine was a bear.

Tim’s was the bison.

And Allan’s was the deer.

In other terrifying news, my favourite noodle place has been shut by the NY Health Department. Now, i’ll be the first to admit that their bathroom was straight off the set of Slumdog Millionaire, but hey, the food was good. It was really good. And the guy from that shit film about wine (the other actor was the guy from Ned and Stacey) loved it! His picture was on the door.

We had the deadset pleasure of playing with the Grates on Saturday night. It was great! It was an amazing venue called the Brooklyn Bowl. It had a bowling alley in it. We bowled. And I had free salmon. Life was pretty sweet that night. I love the Grates because they have been around since we were way younger than we are now and they still play and still LOVE playing. Not only that, people here really like them! And not in the way that the UK “likes” Gabriella Cilmi. Real people like them. Not just gross 45 year old men. But the Grates remind me of the old days. It seems that as every year passes we lose another band from when we were young bumming around Sydney. Back when the Hopetoun was still open and Surry Hills was still a great place to hang out in. Fuck, even that sweet chicken shop that used to be on Crown Street down near Cleveland Street has shut!

Well, i’m off to eat some Vietnamese food. I found a place on the internet. Looks great. Except some dickhead has given it 0 stars with the comment, “I have been to Thailand and Vietnam, and I can promise you that this food is not authentic”. Of course it’s not authentic, you’re in America, you wanker. I bet you that guy loves Myspace.

One more gig then we’re going to England! Hooray!