[Crazy Is.]
Everything this person has written for TUNETHEPROLETARIAT
Our new world guidelines
(not rules!)
LI-ON GREVIER – When All Hope Has Wanned
Hey guys and girls,
Guess what? This is our post-apocalypse! The Mayan calendar really did end! Forget the world as you know it. It’s over. This is our time now. I know it’s confusing: there were no raging hails of brimstone and no wingless angels falling slumped to the earth and no swarms of locusts or African killer-bees pockmarking our pristine, L’Oreal‘d skin. However, don’t be fooled. It is happening. We are soaked in the gasoline now. We are waiting for a struck match to be held to our cuffs, our arms ablaze. Fiery collared shirts windmilling in the streets. Together we are Patient Zero. Sitting, each of us, on Ground Zero. One collective digit. So to this, I propose a few New World guidelines (not rules — I’m not the ruler, I mean, unless you guys wanna vote me in as the ruler and, if so, well, okay, I guess, but don’t feel any pressure or anything):
- Let’s adopt a universal language. Just so you could, like, call Somalia or something and be all, “Yo! Somalia! What is up?” and there wouldn’t any confusion or whatever. Maybe call it Humanglish or Peoplese or something.
- I propose we strike the term ‘celebrity’ from our New World lexicon. It’s a cruel word. The beginnings of social divide. It does us no good and in the long run will get really silly. We’ve seen this. Also, it is really hard to become a celebrity without resorting to nefarious means or plastic surgery or a sex tape.
- I’m unsure about this one, but we should probably be naked most of the time. Less shame. More titties. That might just be me, though.
- Everybody should watch The Shawshank Redemption when they’re cognitively aware. It’ll help with our ideas of friendship, justice, injustice, the importance of hope, and why Morgan Freeman should be the voice inside your head narrating your thoughts.
- We’ll have schools, right? I know people don’t necessarily like school but it’s important and, well, alright, if we have schools let’s stick to the important lessons: How To Play An Instrument, How To Deal With A Broken Heart Without Using That Instrument To Soundtrack Really Shitty Poetry, and How To Not Let That Adolescent Heart-Breaking Haunt You In Adulthood And Adversely Affect Every Mature Relationship You’ll Ever Attempt. Also: How To Make Scones (I still don’t know!)
- We shouldn’t bring our smartphones along when we hang out at parties. If your friend is texting you all night, well, they should have come to the party. It would have been fun! More importantly, it is too easy to ignore people looking to have a conversation when you have a Black Hole of Disinterest waiting to be pulled out of your pocket. Sometimes people are boring, I know, but maybe ask questions until there’s something there to talk about.
- This is more of a request: can we stop with ‘reality’ TV? Reality is everywhere. It feels weird putting it in a box. Go outside. Or stay indoors and talk to your sister or your partner (who is probably on his or her smartphone anyway) or play with your dog or something. Buddy is lonely.
- No rulers! My feigned disinterest earlier was a ruse! A clever ruse designed to trick you into thinking “Hey, maybe this guy should be the ruler! He seems to have some good ideas and a way with words and he is also very handsome!” I know, I know — it is hard to ignore. Alas, we must stay strong! We no longer need hierarchy. We will simply pin ideas to a message board (possibly the Great Wall of China, since I’ve always heard it can be seen from space and that could come in handy down the line) and when those ideas have run their course or are no longer socially relevant, we will simply unpin them! Easy! As our sensitivities change, so will our ideas! As long as they are for the betterment of our collective beauty and intelligence, we can not err!
- Above all: we oughta just be kind to one another.
If we follow these guidelines, our New World should be just dandy.
Jolene, don’t leave me now
We don’t need drums. We don’t need guitars, or even bass. We don’t even need to hear the faintest words. We crave atmosphere. However that atmosphere comes around, be it calloused fingers plucking strings or measured, timed punches to a mechanism, we’ll welcome it. We’ll welcome the soundtracks to our finite, untallied days. We’ll welcome the vibrating hallway echoes in our ear canals. The background noise will wash away. No engines, gears or rattling exhaust pipes backfiring. No screaming from under the rip tides. We’ll perch on the mountainsides of our lower-level streets peering curiously at the grey landscapes as we breathe in the clouds. Toxic vapours fusing with the newfound fire in our lungs, exploding inside of us.
[White Blush.]
Wolves creepin’
Wickerbird is music heard from the other room. Your ears press against the cold wall. You strain to hear, to understand, to love. The words are echoed and muddled. Your nails scratch against the cement.
You imagine people huddled, fingers dirty, harmonising. The alders breathing, keeping, weeping as they twist and writhe against the walls, catkins slumping on the floor they fall to from high above the melodies. The leaves swirl around the dirty hair, the cracked lips singing. You can see their faces.
The leaves stop mid-air, you can see it. They are motionless. The music stops. You can’t hear it. The leaves fall, loftily. They fall around nothing. No dirty hair and fingers, no cracked lips, nobody. You’re still in the other room. There is nothing to press your ears to.
All we ever wanted, needed.
It’s New Year’s Day. It’s 30°C and clear, sunny. Fuck off, I’m going to the beach. Here’s to two-oh-thirteen being fun, maybe a little exciting. Don’t kill your vibes. Do all the nice shit people ask of you, and ask of people some good shit. Drink less, but only between the hours of 9:00-11:00am. Then you should drink as much as you want. Smoke less, but only when you know you don’t really feel like smoking, you’re just doing it out of habit. Wait. I’m not doing this. Fuck off, I’m going to the beach. [Listen to some more Alekesam. Go on.]
interviewtheproletariat
Cub Scouts
A few tidbits from Tim Nelson of Cub Scouts:
On forming Cub Scouts…
TN: I had been writing and recording songs solo for a little bit, then I wanted to do some full band stuff. I contacted people that I knew could play instruments to see if they would be keen to play with me – and they were! We played as ‘Tim Nelson’ for a while but we wanted it to be a band, not a solo artist with a backing band. We had a little shuffle in band members and started ‘Cub Scouts’ in October 2011 and it was good.
On the band’s presence in social media, how interactive they are, and whether it’s strange keeping track of all these outlets…
TN: Yeah I look after our Facebook, Tumblr, Instagram, Twitter, Soundcloud, Youtube, Bandcamp and Triple j Unearthed accounts.
Our social media sites are very interactive, I try to reply to everybody that writes to us.
It is kind of weird that people that like our music know so much about us as people, but I think it helps build a connection with our listeners and probably shows them where we’re coming from with what we do. I think that’s a good thing!
On touring anecdotes…
TN: I had conjunctivitis for a lot of the Loon Lake tour. It was very mild, and it wasn’t itchy so I didn’t realise that that’s what it was until Andy got it and I figured that maybe it was my fault. That was pretty eye-opening.
On which musician he would open for if they had the chance…
BEYONCÉ.
On his favorite words…
Hello, cool, gr8 [sic], m8 [sic].
On his favorite cuss words?
The really full-on ones.
On winning two gongs at the Queensland Music Awards…
Yeah that was great. I did not expect that at all. When we won the Pop Song award I kind of had a speech sort of prepared in my head, but when we won the Song Of The Year award I really had nothing to say, it was kind of awkward but really good.
On which song he would gush about if he were writing for tunetheproletariat…
I would write about Phebe Starr’s “Alone With You”. I would talk about how perfect it is. I literally can’t remember the last day I didn’t listen to it.
O rose of May! Or December.
atOlla feat. Matilda (Lourdes) – Ophelia
We are capable of [tweeting] our own distress. Our garments are heavy with drink, pulled from our melodious slumber to a muddy — and unfashionable — death. Divided from ourselves and all judgment (thank you, block function). We will upload pictures. Flickr and Instagram pictures. Of beasts, brunches and bullshit. Our madness will be paid by the weight of our WD 2TB Portable HDDs. Maids to our own well-kept statuses, dear brothers and sisters. Will our morals be likened to the wizened contrariness of embittered assholes? [Bereft of]… thought and affliction, passion, unwise to hell itself. We are poseurs of favor and prettiness in their calm, electronic absence.
[Unearthed.]