2012 LaFemme Re-union Rehearsal

Disclaimer: I am a defiant, rabid LaFemme fan, wannabe band mole and this is biased (but honest)

I need to write about Thursday's rehearsal, and it is not often I am stuck for words, but I am. Now I do know not everything is about me, even though I manage to make it so, but it was an emotional experience. Not teary, fluffy emotions, but a reminder. A strong memory. I tried to conjure up the smell of cigarette smoke, sweat, Tabu perfume, sour beer and it was like coming home. I had butterflies, I was a tiny bit star struck, I felt like my eardrum ruptured, but I didn't care. I closed my eyes and it was like I only heard them play last week. I remembered giggling with the girls over which band member we liked, and how Caryn used to stand in front of the stage and shout, ‘play Brett’s song’ in her special drunk gravelly voice, as she sneered at any other female that tried to get into ground zero. And how we spent hours planning our outfits and working out how much we had to spend on Orlando’s Sparkling Star Wine.

There was a lot of secret, musician talk that I didn't understand, like the bridge, and the power chord, and then Brett challenging/questioning Chane if he really knew what a crescendo was, but the music was loud, hard and raw, just how it should be. Played by strong men that have survived living the sex, drugs and rock’n’roll lifestyle for decades, and have the inner and outer scars to prove it.

The banter between the guys was the sort that only best friends can get away with, even if you haven't seen each other for thirty years and I remarked that the room wasn't big enough for both Brett and Chane, and I am sure Pete and Graham secretly agreed with me.

After two orgasmic hours, I knew the rehearsal was over - even though one particular song hadn’t yet been played, (don’t want to spoil the set list surprise) when Pete grabbed his drumsticks and said ‘Fuck it, I have had enough’.

While the guys packed up, I sat with Pete, and I could see the pain he was experiencing, as he hasn’t played the drums for 28 years. His muscles were cramping and his limbs stiffening. I thanked him (and then the other guys) for putting the band back together for the coming Banana’s gig. I explained, as best I could, how much it meant to me. When LaFemme were at their peak, we were emerging adults and we planned our social life around them, it kept us connected. We felt young and powerful and it was my last happy period of freedom, before responsibility, before I got old and forgot who I was.

LaFemme Rehearsal Postscript

I didn’t get invited to the rehearsal because I am ‘special’ (in the American Pie sense), I kinda weazled my way in. 

I thought I was going to be in NZ the weekend of the Bananas’ gig, and I started fretting, so I messaged Chane (my inner teenager squeals at the fact I have his phone number) and begged/pleaded/grovelled to be allowed to sneak into rehearsal and I made some vague promise, I was never going to keep, about bringing pizza.

Chane suggested I do an interview and I thought ‘Yessss!’ and then had these rock and roll fantasies about being someone cool, like Maryanne Faithful, or Gerlinda Chane, but at the same time suffering from ‘I am not worthy' impostor syndrome.

                                                                 

Gerlinda Chane 1970s

The first time I saw Chane after 30ish years at a Sharpie re-union at Young and Jacksons in 2009, I snatched him away from Sam Biondo and said, ‘Chane come with me’, and dragged him over to where my friends Linda and Caryn were standing and bragged ‘Loooook, I’ve got Chane Chane and I am going to root him first’. The girls ignored me as best they could, and to shut me up Caz said ‘I didn’t like Chane, I loved Brett!’ Well fine by me. Later I staked my claim by dry humping his leg in front of Caryn and Linda.

                                     

        Caryn             Julie Mac                    Chane                        Linda

Sam Biondo and Chane Chane 2009

There are different kinds of fans, there are the ones like Peter Heywood, who can tell you every David Bowie statistic, then there are the ones like eminem’s murder/suicide ‘Stan’, and then, there are the ones like me, who no nothing else other than the fact that I lurve, lurve, lurve them, that I know nearly all the words to their songs and I don’t know why. I think it is some kind of punk psychosis, that hasn’t been medically diagnosed yet.

So all these years later, a dream has come true, and I am thinking to myself (smugly/gratefully) ‘I’m with the band’, as I stand out the front, watching Graham get his bass guitar out of the truck, (which I think is some sort of space shuttle class of bass, that I am too stupid to identify, but would make others in the know ooohh and ahhh) and Brett give ‘eye of the tiger’ warm up exercises to Pete, while rolling his eyes at CC, (as he calls him) for forgetting the code to the studio.

Chane returned to his inner city punk rock star pad (I had a guided tour earlier) for the code and I stayed behind, I didn’t mind, I got to be a wannabe for a bit longer.

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Early Punk in Melbourne

Academics are always trying to understand juvenile delinquents, gangs and rebellious teenagers. Their theories are dry and sometimes stereotypical. Once I asked an old friend 'why did we do it?' and she gave me the simple answer, (as if I was a complete idiot for asking) 'Because it was FUN!'

Society prefers conformists, and non-conformists, independent thinkers or people that don't suffer fools gladly are branded trouble makers, or as a "ne-er do well". (Which wikipedia tells me is a term is used to describe a person with perceived negative aspects)

Most Sharpies were in this miss-fit category and when punk rock music exploded in the 1970s, for some Sharpies, it was a natural progression to morph into punks. My theory is it was about the girls. If a young man wanted a rebellious girl then punk was an option

or if he wanted a dolly bird, he cut off his tails, grew his hair and started practicing his moves, ready to dance under the mirror ball. The photo below is a good example of the morph. Left to right Stef and Tony, Sharpies turned punk. Don in the middle, Sharpie spunk turned international man of mystery, and Brenda and Caz, Sharpie or punk, depending on the occasion.

There were two/three types of punks in Melbourne -

1. The arty and upper middle class kids/weekend punks
2. The 'Dogs in Space' type punks
3. The cigarette butt flicking, vomit while you pogo, crush kill destroy punk, usually ex sharpies.

Steve and RedRat full time punks living the reality

One of Melbourne's first punks was Eric. Eric was like Evil Knieval, a true thrill seeker. He became a legend in Sharpie history after being hit by a train and loosing his legs at the age of 13. He made the most of this situation by freaking out the unsuspecting, doing things like letting his mates throw darts into his legs on peak hour trains, throwing a leg at people, sitting in a chair on top of a bonfire of furniture a group of them bought in a share house, they burnt it so they didn't have to divide it up between them when they got evicted and one of the funniest, at a party a friend came screaming into the room with a meat cleaver and axed it into Eric's leg, slashing his jeans. A few of the young punk chicks nearly fainted with fright.

Sharpie Eric - Twinkly blue eyes, blue bird earring and sharpie star on the lobe

Eric the punk lead singer

Unsuspecting girls, just before the meat cleaver attack

Later I will post about our favorite Punk venue, The Crystal Ballroom and LaFemme our favorite punk band.

Bowen Street Complaint/Eviction notice

Bowen Street was our party house during Melbourne's punk era. The boys only had it for three months, but it seemed like an eternity.

A relaxing Saturday afternoon at Bowen Street

Re: Bowen Street Oakleigh

Although you cannot be entirely unaware of the unfortunate circumstances associated with the above property, which comes under your management, I feel as a property owner, that you should know more about the present dreadful conditions.

Accustomed to property with carefully vetted tenants in the outer suburbs, I am absolutely appalled at the state of affairs due to the present tenants.

Investigations before letting the property would have told you that these people are associated with a football team and others who have previously been guilty of noisy behaviour bringing in the police. This has been repeated in Bowen Street.

From various resources, I gather that some of the incredible things which have arisen include:

- Mobs of forty or so persons have shouted and screamed at all hours, with loutish acts and obscene language from both teenage youths and girls. Resulting from rowdy parties, the front fence of the property has been damaged and needs repair.

- An overloud hi-fi has been playing continuously for days on end disturbing neighbours. Police have been called at the house on several occasions to stop this, but it recurs.

- Urinating in the front garden and nature strips and on people’s cars has been a common sight. Vomiting over neighbour’s fences has occurred during heavy drinking sessions.

- Football is played not only in the street and on nature strips, the ball hitting cars and fences, but also within the house, judging by the loud bangs and shouting that ensue.

- At times, groups screaming like madmen have chased around through the house and over the roof. Aerosol cans have been ignited in the garden.

- The whole front and back areas are a disgrace, with uncut grass and a clutter of drink cans and rubbish. The front door’s letterbox is painted with an expression containing a four-letter word.

- A pet Alsatian puppy was recently badly injured by one of the cars being driven at speed through the gate and is in a sorry condition. This merits the attention of the RSPCA.

- Judging by the incessant hammering that goes on inside the house, some kind of work is going on, or flooring is being repaired and doors re-hung.


Unless something is done about evicting this mob shortly, various authorities will be notified by neighbours: the sanitary inspector, the fire authority because of the overgrown garden, and the noise abatement people. This must reflect on your reputation.

Further, as members of the RESI, presumably your standing would be affected adversely by the matters mentioned above.

I obtained your address from a neighbour, who prefers to see the house wrecked and rebuilt by some respectable, law-abiding people who take a pride in their possessions. To avoid the risk of damage to my own property, I am not supplying my name, but let me assure you that the facts are only too true.

Wishing you all the wisdom in 1980 which you should have exercised a long time ago.

Yours truly,
A VERY CONCERNED LANDLORD

Suburban Sharp CD Review

I just realised I hadn't posted this - it is from 18th November 2010 - it is sort of an intro for the next two posts coming.

www.skinsnsharps.com
Since the skinsnsharps exhibition, I have been busy spreading Sharpie love at Melbourne’s Federation Square book market. I meet interesting people and get to talk about Sharpies, treads, connies, Rose Tattoo and La Femme ALL day!

A fellow bookstall holder was reporter for JUKE music magazine in the 70s and he didn’t look impressed when I told him I didn’t buy or read JUKE, it was too intellectual and didn’t have glossy posters. We got talking about The Models and James Freud and I said I wasn’t a fan – La Femme, with Chane Chane was the only Melbourne punk band for me. He questioned me on what it was I liked about La Femme and I gave him an in-depth answer ‘I dunno, I just loved them’.

La Femme was ‘our’ band and the remnants of the 70s Sharpies would meet up at gigs around Melbourne where we drank, danced and rumbled through our last years of teenage freedom.

Early this year Sam played a demo cd for me of Chane Chane singing with their band City Sharps. The punk beat played with vintage instruments got me in and when I heard Chane’s voice, using my teenage Phd in music, I said to Sam in awe ‘He’s still got it’.

At the moment the City Sharps CD is on continuous play in ‘Barney’, my XF station wagon. I am learning all the words, so I can sing loudly and badly at the gigs, where I shut my eyes and pretend to be seventeen again, and no one can hear me over the beat.