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.

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!

Hello,

A good friend of mine, U2’s Bono, sat down with me under a bridge in downtown Austin. We were “roughing” it with four homeless people that only had eight teeth between them (and one of them had five). My other friend, Metallica’s Jason Newstead, was nice enough to transcribe the conversation. After a few “laughs” and the tree-planting ceremony we decided to begin.

U2’s Bono: Let’s get started.

Dappled’s Alex: What was your highlight, Bono?

U2’s Bono: How dare you. You convict idiot. Fuck off.

SXSW 2010 was a fantastical adventure. In musical terms, a mixture of James Brown’s “Too Funky”, Jane’s Addiction’s “Jane says”, Mastodon’s “Blood and Thunder”, Nine Inch Nail’s “The Perfect Drug”, King Missile’s “Detachable Penis”, Ween’s “Mutilated Lips”, Glasvegas’ “Geraldine”,  and Dappled cities, “Holy Chord”. Look at these happy faces.

This year I made a definitive effort to see some bands. And I saw some rippers. Dillinger Escape Plan, Muse (not really, I was in the line though), Nas and Damien Marley, Mariachi El Bronx, the Middle East, a guy with a drum, Washed out, Royal Bangs and Ned in the shower. I also saw some bands that made me realise why there was a spate of slashings of indie rock kids in New York a few years ago. Yea, hype bands suck. Except for Scissor Sisters. They rock.

We did some deals.

We did some serious walking.

And we went to a party in a gated community that had kittens.

But still found time to look like junkies.

Impressed the more important industry leaders.

Again, the junkie thing.

And, for some reason, Tim seems to have taken on a new job as a beer rep.

We also got the front cover for my new side project “so sad and sick because I am, shut up”. The album is going to be called “my mum washed my white shirt with a red one and now it’s pink so I am going to cut my finger off, shut up” and the cover will be this.

But, as with everything, it’s the quotes that last the ages. And here they are.

“I can tell you right now that you will never be cool, but you can definitely be successful”

“You just got to pull the skin back on that pickle”

“You take the key, i’ll just work it out”

“Fuck you, Bawbag”

Take that, Martin Luther King.

By the way, we actually did have fun.

Well, we just had our worst day ever.

1. There was an earthquake at 4am.

2. We had to get a plane at 8am. American domestic air carriers always forget to tell you to leave 2 HOURS to get through the process of ticketing, sercurity and walking to the terminal. That said, it was a freaking rush.

3. We’re tired.

4. We can’t find lunch and have to eat Macdonalds.

5. We end up in a bad part of Dallas when we put in the wrong address to the GPS.

6. Ned’s keyboard blows up.

7. When Ned’s keyboard blows up, it takes out the Boxer Rebellion’s English power converter.

8. Our show sucks.

Wow. Ripper.

I’m going to a write a blog from every place we go to. Not just because I have a loaded gun to my head and my family are being held in a crack den and being threatened with death, but because I want to.

We just had an unbelievably successful demo session. We recorded 11 songs and 9 of them are really top notch. We recorded here. It was a very live session where we just played the songs together and that was it.

And most of the time we looked like this!

Except for when we broke it to Ned that the Teletubbies weren’t real.

As you can see, he didn’t believe us.

Do you like  Elvis lamps?

Yea, me neither.

Apart from that, we did all the LA things.

We were involved in a 30 person bar brawl. Tim was waiting to ride a mechanical bull when the brawl came in through the entrance, picked up some more people and then left by another exit. In the heat of the moment Tim got splashed with water. He is still sporting that scar to this day.

We ate in and out burger. I only went for the cheeseburger this time (I usually get the double double animal style - which sounds sexy and great but is, in fact, the opposite). Good option.

I drank 5 types of spirits and got super sick. Don’t do it. Just don’t do it.

We made some awesome LA friends and had a great LA BBQ up in the LA hills. LA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We massacred our way through a show.

Ate too much Mexican.

Played way too much basketball.

We also had a car with back doors that open themselves. That was great for the day when I didn’t feel like opening my own door. I just pressed a button and then it opened. It was great.

And we played golf. Ned won. But he cheated….

Now we are going to Dallas. It’ll be a BLAST!

Hey world,

I want to be in the Hottest 100 this year. I am tired. I am old. I am sick. If you vote for us, you can have a bit of Dave’s kidney. It will be called Filthy Jack and live in an old Jameson bottle filled with green Listerine.

Does that sound good?

I thought so!!!

HOTTEST 100!!!!!!!!!!

YYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hello everyone.

We were awoken yesterday with the exciting news that we are nominated for an ARIA in the category of “Best Independent Release” for Zounds. We were in a gallery of nominees with Keith Urban. We even had champagne at 10.30am yesterday. It felt weird. But good. But then weird again.

It is a great honour for us to be nominated for this award. We have put a long time into this band and, as hard as it is to believe, we still do it now because we love it. Yesterday I was a little underwhelmed by the whole affair but today I am feeling overjoyed. Not only for myself, for Tim, for Dave, for Ned, for Allan, and for Hugh but for everyone that has put time into this band. If we win, i’ll say “fantastic” and mack with the rest of Dappled.

As a Sydney band, the current situation in this city is freaking the shit out of me. The closing of the Hopetoun is heralding a new age in this city. The SMH reported today that the Annandale is a similar situation. This makes me incredibly sad. And worried. Dappled starting playing in the city in 2003. Our first gig was at the Excelsior in Surry Hills. If I remember rightly, it wasn’t too bad. My boss from Turramurra Pizza Hut came. He said it was ok. Whenever we had a show we used to get so excited. Our first show at the Hopetoun was over 6 years ago now. But I still remember the buzz and the thrill of hitting the city and playing our first inner city venue.

How does this fit in?

We wouldn’t be playing today if we hadn’t played small venues for years. It gave us the ability to get our sound worked out and get the confidence we needed to move to the next stage. We wouldn’t be nominated for an ARIA, we wouldn’t have made Zounds, we wouldn’t have played overseas and we certainly wouldn’t have the drive to continue to make records. There is a definite path that bands need to follow. You start jamming, then you play gigs and, as you move along, you start playing bigger rooms. The thought of living in a city without the Hopetoun and the Annandale frightens me. The pressure is placed on other smaller venues (of which there are barely any) to allow all of the up and comers to play. In a city ruled by awful shiny “modern” pubs, how long will these venues be able to last? And then what are the options? To get 400 people into Oxford Arts or the Factory Theatre is impossible for a band that has been around for a year.

I also fear for the warehouse venues that are opening (the CAD Factory in Marrickville for example) that will, no doubt, be targeted by council, licensing police and the police in general as more people begin to attend due to a lack of pub venues in this city. I worry that the whole closure spiral would begin all over again and then what? Who knows?

I think Sydney has (and will have) a vast array of super incredible bands. It is so important that this scene is continued. I wish I knew how. But fuck I hope something is done soon….

Sydney. I love you. But you’re bringing me down.