The writing was on the wall when Ian learnt classical clarinet at school and kept getting told off for playing the bass line of a Bach fugue in swing style. They said, “That’s not how it’s written”. He told them, “It sounds better that way.”
When he bought a beaten up old saxophone in a junk shop, his music teacher wouldn’t speak to him for a while, so he taught himself to play it, with the help of a tattered copy of the now-famous Tune-a-Day instruction book.
Growing up as a teenager in the 60s he managed his first band The Trojans in Birmingham, UK where he acquired his first acoustic and electric guitars. This time it was the late Bert Weedon’s Play in a Day book that helped, as it did for many other aspiring young guitar players in those days.
After selling his instruments so he could afford to eat while at University in Leeds, he set up one of the early mobile discos, entertaining at parties and small clubs, continuing in London in the early 70s and then Australia. He still has all the records.
While teaching English in an Adelaide high school, he inherited a piano and began to tinker around with it, teaching himself a few chords. He promised himself that one of these days, he’d work out what the black keys were for – and why there was one missing in each alternate group of three*.
There he became friends with the head of music – the late Bob Davies, former swing band leader – who recruited him into playing vibraphone (didn’t see that coming) and later doubling on sax in a teachers’ jazz band.
After a career change and a break from playing music, he was lured back into it when an eclectic “work band” formed within the Government’s Office of Science, Technology & Innovation. The drummer was Ivor Hay, former member of the legendary Australian punk band The Saints. On bass was the late James Tizard of the former Adelaide punk band The Spikes. The lead vocalist was Jeremy Phillips, currently entertaining folk in Reverend and Mrs Rowdy's honky tonk revival shows.
Inspired by the Australian touring rock show “Long Way to the Top”, Ian took up guitar again in 2004 (now where’s that old Bert Weedon book) and joined the Weekend Warriors Program in Round 3, playing in his first Warrior band Soul Riders.
For the next couple of years, he played in a regularly changing line-up with various other Warrior members. That line-up eventually became The Iron Chefs for a few shows before morphing into Wis’n Up in 2007. When Wis’n Up folded, some of its members formed a new band Johnny and the Walkers in which Ian played until mid 2013.
He gatecrashed a Wound Up rehearsal at the end of 2012 and much to his and everyone else’s surprise, has continued playing with them.
____________________________________________________
* Ian says he’s now worked out that the main function of the black keys is to stop the white keys rubbing together. They are the same as the white keys but play a bit louder and faster. They are supposed to be in groups of twos and threes. Keyboards with black keys that go 2, 3, 2, 3 are for right-handed players; those that go 3, 2, 3, 2 are for left-handers like himself.
Tuesday, April 25, 2017
Sunday, April 16, 2017
Star Child
My grandson and I are walking round the garden at dusk after his third birthday party, searching for lost toys with a torch.
Suddenly he says, "What's that little dot?"
"Which dot? Where?" I ask.
"That little shiny dot up there", he answers, pointing to the sky.
"That's a star," I tell him, "it's a long, long way away".
"I will have to go on my bike then," he says thoughtfully.
Suddenly he says, "What's that little dot?"
"Which dot? Where?" I ask.
"That little shiny dot up there", he answers, pointing to the sky.
"That's a star," I tell him, "it's a long, long way away".
"I will have to go on my bike then," he says thoughtfully.
Thursday, April 13, 2017
No more teacher...
This day, thirty years ago, was my last day as a teacher.
On the final day of Term 1, 1987, I walked out of my classroom for the last time after 17 years as a teacher and Head of English, Drama and Film Studies.
I’d had a ball and enjoyed just about every minute of my time at John Kelly Boys High School in London and Gilles Plains High, Salisbury High and Para Vista High in Adelaide, South Australia.
I worked alongside some extraordinarily dedicated and enthusiastic teachers and met some astonishingly talented young people. I think we did some good stuff together, and it was a privilege to share some of the subjects I love with hundreds of students. Several of them still keep in touch and now that we are all nearly grown up, I count them among my friends.
And I’d like to reassure Daniel Cullen that I wasn’t leaving because of him, even though he had convinced himself that I was. I had simply decided that I didn’t want to be a teacher any more, around the same time that an interesting opportunity had arisen.
Daniel, as the symbolic representative of all the students I’ve ever taught, wherever you are and whatever you are doing, I wish you all well and hope life has treated you kindly.
On the final day of Term 1, 1987, I walked out of my classroom for the last time after 17 years as a teacher and Head of English, Drama and Film Studies.
I’d had a ball and enjoyed just about every minute of my time at John Kelly Boys High School in London and Gilles Plains High, Salisbury High and Para Vista High in Adelaide, South Australia.
I worked alongside some extraordinarily dedicated and enthusiastic teachers and met some astonishingly talented young people. I think we did some good stuff together, and it was a privilege to share some of the subjects I love with hundreds of students. Several of them still keep in touch and now that we are all nearly grown up, I count them among my friends.
And I’d like to reassure Daniel Cullen that I wasn’t leaving because of him, even though he had convinced himself that I was. I had simply decided that I didn’t want to be a teacher any more, around the same time that an interesting opportunity had arisen.
Daniel, as the symbolic representative of all the students I’ve ever taught, wherever you are and whatever you are doing, I wish you all well and hope life has treated you kindly.
Saturday, April 01, 2017
Bouncer
“How would you like to earn a few quid for a couple of hours work?”
I’ve always liked those words. And having gone back to study after a year in the foundry they were especially welcome.
“Sure. What do I have to do?”
“One of my offsiders is sick. I need someone to help me with security at a dance tomorrow night.”
“You want me to be a bouncer?”
“Yeah. It’s just a dance. You’ll be fine.”
“OK, count me in.” Anything for a laugh, I thought.
“Great”, Terry said. “Oh, and wear a suit.”
Next evening I put on my one and only wedding, funeral and interview suit and turned up half an early for my instant training session on how to be a bouncer.
“Mick, this is Ian; Ian, Mick”, Terry said as he introduced me to the third member of the team. Mick had no neck and his shoulders brushed both sides of the door frame. He grunted and held out his hand. It was like grasping a log.
“Take off that tie and put this one on”, said Terry, handing me a slightly greasy, ready-made, clip-on bow tie.
“Why?” I asked.
“If someone grabs your neck-tie, you’re trapped. Or they could choke you with it. With the clip-on, all you have to do is pull back and it comes away in their hand.”
Had the temperature just dropped?
“Look, just watch me and Mick. Do what we do. Try to stop anything going off before it starts. Talk them down or laugh them out of it if you can. If you see me make a move towards someone, you come round behind the guy I’m talking to. I’ll do the same for Mick, Mick’ll do the same for you. He’s got your back, you’ve got mine, I’ve got Mick’s. OK? Then let’s get out there.”
“Oh, one more thing. Chew this.” Terry handed me a packet of gum.
“I don’t like gum.”
“Just chew it,” Terry said. “It stops your lip trembling when you’re scared and it keeps your tongue away from your teeth so that when someone hits you, you don’t bite off a piece of your tongue.”
Ever noticed that the crowd on a packed dance floor usually seems to rotate, very slowly, anti-clockwise? Terry, Mick and I took up well-spaced positions near the edges of the crowd, in a triangle formation covering the whole floor, moving slowly clockwise against the gradual rotation of the dance crowd. Each of us had a view of half the dance floor and the bouncer in front without turning our heads.
Thank goodness for the gum. I have never been as terrified in my life as I was in that first half hour.
Over the next three hours, the fear gradually settled into a sort of anxious wariness while the skin on my back prickled and crawled.
At six foot, I was taller than most of the teenagers in the hall. I was a couple of inches taller than both Terry and Mick. Both wore dinner jackets. Terry looked a lot like a young Sean Connery in the early James Bond Films. He’d laughed when he told me that he’d been mistaken for Connery a couple of times. “You’re not as tall as you look in the movies”, someone once said to him.
Terry was solid muscle. Mick could have got a job as a boulder. Between them, I looked like a greyhound between two mastiffs.
Terry looked relaxed and friendly. I saw him acknowledge some people and exchange cheerful words with others as he moved around the room. Twice I saw him move quickly towards someone and, as instructed, I moved just as quickly behind the guy he was talking to. I don’t know what I would have done if things had got ugly. I didn’t need to find out. Standing behind the punter I could see the look that Terry was giving him. It was not a friendly look. It was a look that said, ‘Go on Sunshine, give me an excuse to tear your limbs off.’
The guy backed off. Five seconds later the cheerful Terry was back, smiling and nodding at various folk.
The second time, just before we moved back to our stations, I noticed a black cylindrical object tucked into Terry’s waistband. It had a knob and wrist-strap - a cosh or maybe a truncheon?
“You didn’t tell me you were expecting trouble”, I said accusingly, nodding towards the handle. He pulled it out. It was a folding umbrella he’d picked up during the last circuit and he was going to drop it off in lost property when he went past.
It’s strange walking through a crowd as a bouncer. Tiny gaps between bodies widen as you approach and close behind you. I glided through them with the merest hint of a body turn. It was almost like dancing. After all, I was a dancer not a fighter. I wondered what the people would think if they knew that the skinny bouncer with the long hair had won a Twist competition on this very dance floor only a few years earlier.
Most people ignore you, easing out of your way as you pass by. Some eye you off warily, maybe weighing up their chances against you if they decide to have a go, but they avoid catching your eye. A few are obsequious and a bit fawning – members of a temporary fan club who want to make friends with the bouncer, buy you drink, have a chat, like sycophants round a school bully. It’s a bit creepy.
I found out later that Terry had dropped a word here and a hint there and a rumour had got round that I was black-belt karate expert who had just got back from studying in Japan. Back then karate was still a mysterious, little-known area so maybe it was just plausible enough. Luckily, no one decided to put it to the test.
The one time I moved towards potential trouble and faced off with the offender, Mick appeared behind him as if by magic, moving surprisingly nimbly for a big man. He did more than appear; he loomed menacingly – end of problem.
The dance ended with no major dramas. When the punters had gone and the band was packing up, the three of us took off our ties, loosened our top shirt buttons and collapsed into chairs in the manager’s office. The manager handed Terry a grubby envelope. Terry slid out some creased notes and passed them to Mick and me.
As I slipped mine into my pocket he said, “Thanks, Ian. You did all right tonight.”
“Thanks, Terry. It was an interesting experience.”
“Ken will be back on deck next week. But I’ll give you a call if ever I need an extra body sometime. See you around.”
The following Friday, Ken was stabbed as he crossed the car park after the dance.
I’ve always liked those words. And having gone back to study after a year in the foundry they were especially welcome.
“Sure. What do I have to do?”
“One of my offsiders is sick. I need someone to help me with security at a dance tomorrow night.”
“You want me to be a bouncer?”
“Yeah. It’s just a dance. You’ll be fine.”
“OK, count me in.” Anything for a laugh, I thought.
“Great”, Terry said. “Oh, and wear a suit.”
Next evening I put on my one and only wedding, funeral and interview suit and turned up half an early for my instant training session on how to be a bouncer.
“Mick, this is Ian; Ian, Mick”, Terry said as he introduced me to the third member of the team. Mick had no neck and his shoulders brushed both sides of the door frame. He grunted and held out his hand. It was like grasping a log.
“Take off that tie and put this one on”, said Terry, handing me a slightly greasy, ready-made, clip-on bow tie.
“Why?” I asked.
“If someone grabs your neck-tie, you’re trapped. Or they could choke you with it. With the clip-on, all you have to do is pull back and it comes away in their hand.”
Had the temperature just dropped?
“Look, just watch me and Mick. Do what we do. Try to stop anything going off before it starts. Talk them down or laugh them out of it if you can. If you see me make a move towards someone, you come round behind the guy I’m talking to. I’ll do the same for Mick, Mick’ll do the same for you. He’s got your back, you’ve got mine, I’ve got Mick’s. OK? Then let’s get out there.”
“Oh, one more thing. Chew this.” Terry handed me a packet of gum.
“I don’t like gum.”
“Just chew it,” Terry said. “It stops your lip trembling when you’re scared and it keeps your tongue away from your teeth so that when someone hits you, you don’t bite off a piece of your tongue.”
Ever noticed that the crowd on a packed dance floor usually seems to rotate, very slowly, anti-clockwise? Terry, Mick and I took up well-spaced positions near the edges of the crowd, in a triangle formation covering the whole floor, moving slowly clockwise against the gradual rotation of the dance crowd. Each of us had a view of half the dance floor and the bouncer in front without turning our heads.
Thank goodness for the gum. I have never been as terrified in my life as I was in that first half hour.
Over the next three hours, the fear gradually settled into a sort of anxious wariness while the skin on my back prickled and crawled.
At six foot, I was taller than most of the teenagers in the hall. I was a couple of inches taller than both Terry and Mick. Both wore dinner jackets. Terry looked a lot like a young Sean Connery in the early James Bond Films. He’d laughed when he told me that he’d been mistaken for Connery a couple of times. “You’re not as tall as you look in the movies”, someone once said to him.
Terry was solid muscle. Mick could have got a job as a boulder. Between them, I looked like a greyhound between two mastiffs.
Terry looked relaxed and friendly. I saw him acknowledge some people and exchange cheerful words with others as he moved around the room. Twice I saw him move quickly towards someone and, as instructed, I moved just as quickly behind the guy he was talking to. I don’t know what I would have done if things had got ugly. I didn’t need to find out. Standing behind the punter I could see the look that Terry was giving him. It was not a friendly look. It was a look that said, ‘Go on Sunshine, give me an excuse to tear your limbs off.’
The guy backed off. Five seconds later the cheerful Terry was back, smiling and nodding at various folk.
The second time, just before we moved back to our stations, I noticed a black cylindrical object tucked into Terry’s waistband. It had a knob and wrist-strap - a cosh or maybe a truncheon?
“You didn’t tell me you were expecting trouble”, I said accusingly, nodding towards the handle. He pulled it out. It was a folding umbrella he’d picked up during the last circuit and he was going to drop it off in lost property when he went past.
It’s strange walking through a crowd as a bouncer. Tiny gaps between bodies widen as you approach and close behind you. I glided through them with the merest hint of a body turn. It was almost like dancing. After all, I was a dancer not a fighter. I wondered what the people would think if they knew that the skinny bouncer with the long hair had won a Twist competition on this very dance floor only a few years earlier.
Most people ignore you, easing out of your way as you pass by. Some eye you off warily, maybe weighing up their chances against you if they decide to have a go, but they avoid catching your eye. A few are obsequious and a bit fawning – members of a temporary fan club who want to make friends with the bouncer, buy you drink, have a chat, like sycophants round a school bully. It’s a bit creepy.
I found out later that Terry had dropped a word here and a hint there and a rumour had got round that I was black-belt karate expert who had just got back from studying in Japan. Back then karate was still a mysterious, little-known area so maybe it was just plausible enough. Luckily, no one decided to put it to the test.
The one time I moved towards potential trouble and faced off with the offender, Mick appeared behind him as if by magic, moving surprisingly nimbly for a big man. He did more than appear; he loomed menacingly – end of problem.
The dance ended with no major dramas. When the punters had gone and the band was packing up, the three of us took off our ties, loosened our top shirt buttons and collapsed into chairs in the manager’s office. The manager handed Terry a grubby envelope. Terry slid out some creased notes and passed them to Mick and me.
As I slipped mine into my pocket he said, “Thanks, Ian. You did all right tonight.”
“Thanks, Terry. It was an interesting experience.”
“Ken will be back on deck next week. But I’ll give you a call if ever I need an extra body sometime. See you around.”
The following Friday, Ken was stabbed as he crossed the car park after the dance.
Monday, February 27, 2017
Happy 20th Birthday, South Australia Central
Groundbreaking in its day, SA Central (Mark 1) was a pre-Google directory and catalog of every South Australian website and all online information about SA from government, business and community sources.
One of the very first government portals to provide a single point of entry to government information and services, it used library-standard cataloguing to ensure that people could easily find the information they needed. That led to the subsequent development of website metadata to accurately describe websites and their contents.
In parallel, our e-Business team also began to work with government agencies to help them develop and transition their services to online delivery mode, so that SA Central could become a one-stop shop for government information and transactions, evolving over time into today's online government presence and services.
Launched at the former Ngapartji Cooperative Multi Media Centre in Rundle Street, it helped position South Australia in the global ICT scene.
Thursday, January 19, 2017
Facebook Scam - Second "Friend" Requests
Have you received a Facebook Friend request from someone who is already a Friend?
Or maybe some of your existing FB Friends have told you that they have received a second Friend request that you know nothing about.
Has your Facebook page been hacked? Probably not.
It happened to my friend - let's call her Helen. I received a second Facebook Friend request that looked like it came from her.
It's fake; it was part of a Facebook scam called “profile cloning”.
It means that someone set up a fake page using Helen’s name and copied some basic information from her real page into the fake page. No one hacked or gained access to her real page.
The owner of the fake page then sent Friend requests to Helen’s real friends in order to “harvest” friends for the fake Helen's page.
At the simplest level, the scammers are trying to collect email addresses or contact details that they can sell to spammers or use themselves to send spam. In this scenario, the next thing that happens is that those of us who innocently accepted the fake requests and thus became friends of the fake Helen start receiving Facebook messages or pop-up adverts with dodgy links promoting dodgy websites or dubious services, or we are bombarded with spam emails.
At a more sinister level, the scammers are trying to collect any scraps of confidential information about real people that they might be able to use to access their target's other accounts or to steal their identity.
More likely they are setting up a "con" where we start getting worrying messages from the fake Helen a few weeks down the track. "Helen" is begging for help to rescue her from a desperate situation. Her urgent plea for help might say something like she is sick in hospital overseas. An elaborate one might say she is on holiday in somewhere like Thailand or Russia where her bag has been stolen containing all her money, credit cards and tickets; she can't pay her bill at the hotel where the manager is threatening to call the police and he won’t return her passport until she pays up and she is stranded with no one to help. It often sounds fairly plausible, especially if the real Helen is a frequent traveller. The message then asks if you can help her to get out of the mess and get back home by sending some money which she promises to pay back as soon as she returns. It gives details of "her" bank account where to send or deposit the money. Needless to say, anyone sending money will never see it again.
First check whether any FB Friend appears twice in your own Friends list. If so, look at both profiles. The fake page is usually easy to spot. Often it has very little content; there is little more than the person's name and profile picture on it. (Remember though that some people might have two separate Facebook pages for perfectly good reasons, e.g. one personal and one for business.)
If you find you are a friend of a fake page, then “unfriend” the fake person. (In your own Friends list there is a button labelled “Friends” next to each profile picture. On the fake friend's profile, point to that "Friends" button with your cursor and a drop-down menu appears – the last item is “Unfriend”.)
To make it harder for such scammers to do the same to you, first go through your own list of friends and unfriend anyone that you don’t actually know or recognise. Then go through your Facebook privacy settings and make the different types of information about yourself visible only to yourself, or to friends only, or to friends of friends as appropriate to your level of comfort. If you set your own friends list to be visible to "only me", it will prevent a profile cloner from seeing that list and sending fake friend requests to your real friends. If you set your friends list to be visible to "only friends", it will have a similar effect, unless you have already inadvertantly accepted a fake friend request - then the scammer can see your list and send them messages.
Don't accept a friend request from someone you don't know. When you receive a friend request from someone you recognise, check to see if that person is already on your Friends list. If they aren't, check the person’s profile to make sure it looks genuine before you accept the request. However, please note that some genuine profiles, depending on the owner’s privacy settings, are largely hidden from public view and visible only to people who are already friends.
And if you ever receive an out-of-character message, a plea for help or a request for money from a “friend”, contact the real person by some other means such as telephone or SMS to see if the message is genuine or not. Do not hit “Reply” to such a message and don’t click any links in it.
If you are the victim of a cloned profile, you might not be able to see the fake page yourself because cunning cloners sometimes block the real person from the fake page to delay their finding out about it.
If it happens to you (e.g. your friends tell you they have received second friend requests from you) tell Facebook that someone has cloned your profile and ask Facebook to remove the fake page.
This is a link to the Facebook help page that explains how to report various Facebook misdemeanours: https://www.facebook.com/help/181495968648557/. On that page, the item you need is the first one, "Profiles". In essence, it tells you to go to the fake page and click on the "three dots" button next to the "Message" button in the bottom right of the header image - this reveals a drop-down menu with an option "Report". However, if the creator of the fake profile has blocked you, you might want to ask two or three trusted friends to report it.
Or maybe some of your existing FB Friends have told you that they have received a second Friend request that you know nothing about.
Has your Facebook page been hacked? Probably not.
It happened to my friend - let's call her Helen. I received a second Facebook Friend request that looked like it came from her.
It's fake; it was part of a Facebook scam called “profile cloning”.
It means that someone set up a fake page using Helen’s name and copied some basic information from her real page into the fake page. No one hacked or gained access to her real page.
The owner of the fake page then sent Friend requests to Helen’s real friends in order to “harvest” friends for the fake Helen's page.
Why do they do it?
At the simplest level, the scammers are trying to collect email addresses or contact details that they can sell to spammers or use themselves to send spam. In this scenario, the next thing that happens is that those of us who innocently accepted the fake requests and thus became friends of the fake Helen start receiving Facebook messages or pop-up adverts with dodgy links promoting dodgy websites or dubious services, or we are bombarded with spam emails.
At a more sinister level, the scammers are trying to collect any scraps of confidential information about real people that they might be able to use to access their target's other accounts or to steal their identity.
More likely they are setting up a "con" where we start getting worrying messages from the fake Helen a few weeks down the track. "Helen" is begging for help to rescue her from a desperate situation. Her urgent plea for help might say something like she is sick in hospital overseas. An elaborate one might say she is on holiday in somewhere like Thailand or Russia where her bag has been stolen containing all her money, credit cards and tickets; she can't pay her bill at the hotel where the manager is threatening to call the police and he won’t return her passport until she pays up and she is stranded with no one to help. It often sounds fairly plausible, especially if the real Helen is a frequent traveller. The message then asks if you can help her to get out of the mess and get back home by sending some money which she promises to pay back as soon as she returns. It gives details of "her" bank account where to send or deposit the money. Needless to say, anyone sending money will never see it again.
What to do about it?
First check whether any FB Friend appears twice in your own Friends list. If so, look at both profiles. The fake page is usually easy to spot. Often it has very little content; there is little more than the person's name and profile picture on it. (Remember though that some people might have two separate Facebook pages for perfectly good reasons, e.g. one personal and one for business.)
If you find you are a friend of a fake page, then “unfriend” the fake person. (In your own Friends list there is a button labelled “Friends” next to each profile picture. On the fake friend's profile, point to that "Friends" button with your cursor and a drop-down menu appears – the last item is “Unfriend”.)
To make it harder for such scammers to do the same to you, first go through your own list of friends and unfriend anyone that you don’t actually know or recognise. Then go through your Facebook privacy settings and make the different types of information about yourself visible only to yourself, or to friends only, or to friends of friends as appropriate to your level of comfort. If you set your own friends list to be visible to "only me", it will prevent a profile cloner from seeing that list and sending fake friend requests to your real friends. If you set your friends list to be visible to "only friends", it will have a similar effect, unless you have already inadvertantly accepted a fake friend request - then the scammer can see your list and send them messages.
Don't accept a friend request from someone you don't know. When you receive a friend request from someone you recognise, check to see if that person is already on your Friends list. If they aren't, check the person’s profile to make sure it looks genuine before you accept the request. However, please note that some genuine profiles, depending on the owner’s privacy settings, are largely hidden from public view and visible only to people who are already friends.
And if you ever receive an out-of-character message, a plea for help or a request for money from a “friend”, contact the real person by some other means such as telephone or SMS to see if the message is genuine or not. Do not hit “Reply” to such a message and don’t click any links in it.
What to do if your page/profile has been cloned
If you are the victim of a cloned profile, you might not be able to see the fake page yourself because cunning cloners sometimes block the real person from the fake page to delay their finding out about it.
If it happens to you (e.g. your friends tell you they have received second friend requests from you) tell Facebook that someone has cloned your profile and ask Facebook to remove the fake page.
This is a link to the Facebook help page that explains how to report various Facebook misdemeanours: https://www.facebook.com/help/181495968648557/. On that page, the item you need is the first one, "Profiles". In essence, it tells you to go to the fake page and click on the "three dots" button next to the "Message" button in the bottom right of the header image - this reveals a drop-down menu with an option "Report". However, if the creator of the fake profile has blocked you, you might want to ask two or three trusted friends to report it.
Sunday, November 20, 2016
Fauré's Requiem
Enjoyed an astonishing afternoon with the Adelaide Chamber Singers and Melbourne's Polyphonic Voices performing Faure's Requiem in St Peter's Cathedral, Adelaide, building a cathedral of sound inside the cathedral of stone.
Adelaide Chamber Singers is one of Australia’s leading chamber choirs and South Australia’s only fully professional choral ensemble. It is internationally renowned for its presentation of choral chamber music in all its variety, from ancient and contemporary, sacred and secular choral music to the highest international standards while making it accessible to today’s audiences, performing Messiah in both orchestral and chamber configurations, to being the choir of choice to back the Rolling Stones and other popular artists such as the Hilltop Hoods.
It was my privilege recently to assist this supremely talented group with writing and editing for its successful application for grant funding from ArtsSA for next year’s subscription series of concerts.
Adelaide Chamber Singers is one of Australia’s leading chamber choirs and South Australia’s only fully professional choral ensemble. It is internationally renowned for its presentation of choral chamber music in all its variety, from ancient and contemporary, sacred and secular choral music to the highest international standards while making it accessible to today’s audiences, performing Messiah in both orchestral and chamber configurations, to being the choir of choice to back the Rolling Stones and other popular artists such as the Hilltop Hoods.
It was my privilege recently to assist this supremely talented group with writing and editing for its successful application for grant funding from ArtsSA for next year’s subscription series of concerts.
Thursday, September 29, 2016
Hockey Masters' Gig
The Panorama Room at the Convention Centre is a great venue where our band Wound Up entertained the pre-dinner crowd at the Hockey Masters Annual Dinner this evening.
Martin, our sax player, is also a Hockey Master and wowed his sporting teammates with his prowess in the musical arena.
Thanks to Nenad who filled in admirably on bass with minimum rehearsal, and to sound engineer Rocky on the desk for a great mix. The professionalism of the Centre staff was outstanding and helped us give our best.
Martin, our sax player, is also a Hockey Master and wowed his sporting teammates with his prowess in the musical arena.
Thanks to Nenad who filled in admirably on bass with minimum rehearsal, and to sound engineer Rocky on the desk for a great mix. The professionalism of the Centre staff was outstanding and helped us give our best.
Sunday, June 26, 2016
I'd get the moon for you if I could.
It was one of those days where the moon is bright in the late afternoon sky.
I say to my two-year old grandson, "Look, there is the moon, up there in the sky."
He looks, then says to me, "Get it, Arrow."
I reach up as high as I can, making stretchy noises and grasping motions, then I say, "I'm sorry, I can't get the moon for you; it's too high, too far away".
A few minutes later we are playing an interesting game of putting shiny black stones one-by-one onto a table and taking them off again, then putting the most important ones into a flowerpot.
Suddenly he wanders off and I next see him standing in the middle of the garden, like some ancient druid worshipper, face upturned and both arms reaching towards the silver disk, calling out, "Come down, moon!"
I say to my two-year old grandson, "Look, there is the moon, up there in the sky."
He looks, then says to me, "Get it, Arrow."
I reach up as high as I can, making stretchy noises and grasping motions, then I say, "I'm sorry, I can't get the moon for you; it's too high, too far away".
A few minutes later we are playing an interesting game of putting shiny black stones one-by-one onto a table and taking them off again, then putting the most important ones into a flowerpot.
Suddenly he wanders off and I next see him standing in the middle of the garden, like some ancient druid worshipper, face upturned and both arms reaching towards the silver disk, calling out, "Come down, moon!"
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
Crossing the Road
It's been an interesting journey.
Monday, May 02, 2016
The Show Must Go On.
The night before our biggest gig of the year, I got a nasty, deep cut on the tip of my left index finger – the one that 14 hours later I was due to bang on a keyboard about a thousand times and then push and slide on a thin, taut guitar string, playing in the first band at the Rock and Roll Rendezvous. And you can’t play guitar or keyboard wearing a band-aid!
Panic, then a rush visit to the late-night chemist.
Next morning, the “spray-on” bandage lasted less than four bars into the sound check. That’s when I started spraying blood all over the fretboard and keys. Thank goodness I was wearing a bright red vest.
Superglue to the rescue - the guitar player’s saviour! A couple of coats of superglue over the finger tip and we were away.
Ah, show business…
Monday, February 01, 2016
Corpse Flower
At the Bicentennial Conservatory, seeing the Giant Lily, Titan Arum, the "Corpse Flower" for its rare one day in every ten years blooming. The Conservatory is open 'til midnight so as many people as possible can get to see this unusual event.
Great relaxed atmosphere among the friendly crowd, in spite of, or maybe because of the flower's smell of rotting meat.
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
Oz Day 2016
Celebrated Australia Day early by playing with acoustic group Unwound
when they opened the show at Adelaide's Coast FM 88.7 Australia Day
Family Picnic in the Park at the Glandore Community Centre.We performed a selection of Australian-themed songs leading into the City of Marion's Citizenship ceremony.
Welcome to our new citizens and thanks to the Weekend Warriors Music Club and Coast FM for the opportunity to perform and for their support and to Stephen Rees Photography for the photos of the gig.
Wednesday, January 06, 2016
Arrow and Jedda
His other Grandad Karel (Karl) is Czech. The Czech word for Grandad is Děda, which to an English-speaker sounds like Jedda.
So our grandson calls his two grandfathers Arrow and Jedda, which makes us sound like a couple of retired superheroes.
I quite like it
Saturday, August 29, 2015
Double Header
Had a great afternoon playing in both Wound Up and Unwound Acoustic at The Gov.
Unwound kicked off the afternoon at 1.30 pm with an acoustic set, followed by Wound Up at around 2.20 pm with our mix of Rock 'n' Roll and 50s & 60s favourites.
The afternoon wrapped up with two of our Warrior friends' bands, Matuezi and Moss.
Unwound kicked off the afternoon at 1.30 pm with an acoustic set, followed by Wound Up at around 2.20 pm with our mix of Rock 'n' Roll and 50s & 60s favourites.
The afternoon wrapped up with two of our Warrior friends' bands, Matuezi and Moss.
Saturday, March 28, 2015
Three Gig Month
Loading up the car for another gig. But this one is different. I've been invited to play with acoustic ensemble Unwound at Bunnings Family Fun Day in the car park of their store in Woodville. We're on at 11.15 am. My first ever public acoustic show! Guitar: check. Set list: check. Excited: check. Nervous: check. OK, I'm ready.
15 March Club Cool
Loading up the car for the another gig this week. Today we are playing Club Cool in The Venue at The Governor Hindmarsh, Port Road. Our friends in rockabilly band Mystery Train kick the show off at 12.15pm, then Wound Up comes on at 1.30 for an hour of your favourite Rock 'n' Roll oldies and 50s and 60s hits.
8 March at Port Dock
Looking forward to playing some rock 'n' roll with Wound Up at the Port Dock Brewery Hotel on Sunday afternoon. We're on around 4.20, finishing off another great afternoon of music from Warrior bands in the Port.
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
Phil Eastick
It’s five years since Phil left us and twenty years since I first met him.
I like to remember that we first met because of music.
I was working in ArtsSA and Phil came in to do a consultancy on venues for live music performances. His new office was just across the corridor from mine and the first thing he did was set up his mini hi-fi system.
Our first contact was through the music drifting from his office. It was my kind of music, something from the UK 60s wonder years, and I was drawn in. We introduced ourselves and I commented on the music. I’d seen the band back in the day. Phil was interested that I was interested in it. We were still talking about stuff an hour later.
Our careers overlapped and criss-crossed for the next 15 years, starting in the arts area and moving through Ngapartji and then the Government’s IT and online services, where Phil’s vision was powerful and inspiring.
My word, Phil, they are still talking about doing some of things you envisaged way back then.
In parallel to our journey of exploration into using the online world to improve people’s lives, we were also on a quest to find the perfect coffee and the best cheeseburger in town.
We came darn close to the perfect coffee on many occasions. But we nailed the cheeseburger! It was in a very ordinary looking, old-fashioned café, long since gone, in the Renaissance Arcade where the Asian Food Court is now.
Our conversations, over coffee or cheeseburgers, usually followed the same pattern. After we’d dealt with the work issue of the day, the conversation would come round to music and musicians past and present, and the latest interesting and sometimes bewildering events in local and national politics.
Politics, music, coffee and cheeseburgers. It doesn’t get much better than that.
When I quit working for the government in 2004 and started playing in a rock and roll band, it was a great compliment that you came to see my very first gig at Fowlers Live. Later, when the band had evolved and got a bit better, it was an honour that you and the wise and wonderful Robin came to see us at the Blumberg Hotel in Birdwood. Both of you were so generous with your time and knowledge.
Now, when my band gets up to perform on the big stage at the Gov, where the celebration of Phil’s life was held, when I go into any of the many coffee shops around Adelaide where we used to meet up, when I wear something red, and when I see a cheeseburger, I remember Phil.
And I still laugh when I remember (and occasionally use) one his famous lines that he would sometimes say at the start of meetings, seminars and the like, when the facilitator goes round the table getting participants to introduce themselves and explain their role: “My name is Phil, and I drink coffee for the Government."
I like to remember that we first met because of music.
I was working in ArtsSA and Phil came in to do a consultancy on venues for live music performances. His new office was just across the corridor from mine and the first thing he did was set up his mini hi-fi system.
Our first contact was through the music drifting from his office. It was my kind of music, something from the UK 60s wonder years, and I was drawn in. We introduced ourselves and I commented on the music. I’d seen the band back in the day. Phil was interested that I was interested in it. We were still talking about stuff an hour later.
Our careers overlapped and criss-crossed for the next 15 years, starting in the arts area and moving through Ngapartji and then the Government’s IT and online services, where Phil’s vision was powerful and inspiring.
My word, Phil, they are still talking about doing some of things you envisaged way back then.
In parallel to our journey of exploration into using the online world to improve people’s lives, we were also on a quest to find the perfect coffee and the best cheeseburger in town.
We came darn close to the perfect coffee on many occasions. But we nailed the cheeseburger! It was in a very ordinary looking, old-fashioned café, long since gone, in the Renaissance Arcade where the Asian Food Court is now.
Our conversations, over coffee or cheeseburgers, usually followed the same pattern. After we’d dealt with the work issue of the day, the conversation would come round to music and musicians past and present, and the latest interesting and sometimes bewildering events in local and national politics.
Politics, music, coffee and cheeseburgers. It doesn’t get much better than that.
When I quit working for the government in 2004 and started playing in a rock and roll band, it was a great compliment that you came to see my very first gig at Fowlers Live. Later, when the band had evolved and got a bit better, it was an honour that you and the wise and wonderful Robin came to see us at the Blumberg Hotel in Birdwood. Both of you were so generous with your time and knowledge.
Now, when my band gets up to perform on the big stage at the Gov, where the celebration of Phil’s life was held, when I go into any of the many coffee shops around Adelaide where we used to meet up, when I wear something red, and when I see a cheeseburger, I remember Phil.
And I still laugh when I remember (and occasionally use) one his famous lines that he would sometimes say at the start of meetings, seminars and the like, when the facilitator goes round the table getting participants to introduce themselves and explain their role: “My name is Phil, and I drink coffee for the Government."
Sunday, October 26, 2014
Rolling Stones
Astonishing show by the Rolling Stones at the Adelaide Oval.
I last heard them live in March 1971, standing outside the Roundhouse in Chalk Farm, London, near the flat of my then girlfriend. It was the Stones' absolutely, definitely, final, last ever, farewell concert.
Tonight, 43 years later, the two of us were finally able to be inside the stadium and see them in the flesh at last.
I last heard them live in March 1971, standing outside the Roundhouse in Chalk Farm, London, near the flat of my then girlfriend. It was the Stones' absolutely, definitely, final, last ever, farewell concert.
Tonight, 43 years later, the two of us were finally able to be inside the stadium and see them in the flesh at last.
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Kentucky Fried Possum.
Thanks to Michael Delahaye, author and journalist, for this story and photo. Michael says,"There was an almighty explosion with blinding light around 01.30 this morning in Kingswood, Adelaide.
The little critter had climbed the Stobie pole opposite our house and bridged the live wires.
The transformer at the top of the utility pole was blown apart, sending bits of red hot shrapnel across the street - which set fire to a neighbour's fence and resulted in the appearance of not one, but two fire engines. And a dozen neighbours in fashionable night-time attire…
Requiescat in Possum?"
Friday, June 13, 2014
Long Way Round
There is a fountain in the corner of the square at the heart of ancient Amalfi. Backpackers and budget-conscious travellers sit on its steps, filling their water bottles from the drinking spout and eating the bread and cheese they have bought nearby. Ann and I are sitting 10 metres away at a table on the terrace of a nearby restaurant, sipping white wine while waiting for our lunch to be served.
I nod towards the people sitting round the fountain and say, “That was us once. It’s taken us 45 years to travel the 10 metres from there to here.”
We went the long way round.
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