To any of those who followed the first half of my (tentatively described) bender, I didn’t arrive home until 6pm the following day, on a Friday. That night I was to be covering my friend Jonny’s show at The Governor Hindmarsh. I lay down to bed to shut my eyes for all of three seconds, and opened my eyes in dismay to realise I had slept an hour or more into the shows duration!
I leaped from bed in a manic state, wolfed down a coffee and left the house to catch the tram across town to the venue. As I waited for that tram to come, one at which usually presents it self in little time, I quickly grew impatient, and decided to single handedly – or should I say double footedly; sprint across town to the venue, stopping only to give my poor carcinogen-wrecked lungs a break from the sudden change in energy.
As my lengthy strides powered me across the city streets I tucked through little side alleys, to explore new streets in the city I had not seen before. In doing so I turned right down one such street, and see two vans that had quite recently pulled in front of the hotel that resided there.
I asked one man who was unloading some gear, he was a member of Savage, having just arrived at the hotel from shredding Laneway festival; very much intrigued, I meander, still exhumed from all the sprinting, to the second van, and am greeted by (possibly) a roadie with some mad dreadlocks. I requested to be informed of the situation, and he told me candidly that Earl Sweatshirt was inside the van.
I peer inside, and though his back was faced in my direction, it was clear from his figure and styyyyyyyyyle that Mr. Dreadlock-Man was most definitely speaking the truth:
Earl hopped, quite literally, out of the van and headed towards his hotel and I said – “Excuse me Earl, did you have a minute? I’d like to say hello!”
Quite clearly, he was busy, back still turned; he offered his fist for me to bump it, which I so gratuitously did. What a stroke of luck!
As reality sent back from a moment of higher consciousness and energy I realized that I too was not only busy, but in quite a hurry, so I shifted back into warp drive, and finally made it to the Gov; covered in sweat and with fifteen minutes of the show to spare.
Dirt Playground – the show’s headliner, were towards the tail end of their set, and I was blessed to catch their last three songs. The band plays extremely eclectic, extremely ethnically influenced psychedelic prog rock. Without a doubt one of the most actualized bands of the genre that I have seen play in Adelaide, and for a local show at the Govenor Hindmarsh, a show which they would have had to promote on their own, there were heaps of people who had come out.
With a bitchin’ multimedia display, percussion laden drums, dynamic virtuosities in vocal range, and atmospheric musician-ship upon the guitar and bass I was extremely impressed!
I absolutely cannot wait to see their full live show, and to review their CD, which is sitting in my room back in Adelaide. (Oh yeah I ran away to Melbourne, and it’s my 17th Birthday on the day of writing this!)
On Saturday morning I woke up face down on a (fake – vegans pipe down!) polar bear throw rug. I had gone to Sugar after the show at the Gov on a tip of from Mr. Dreadlock Man that Earl Sweatshirt would be spending some time there. I was pursuing equally the fun of the party, so much as the chance of conversing with Earl properly.
Sadly I didn’t see him there, though I enjoyed the music and atmosphere, seeing as I had never stepped foot inside Sugar previously, and stayed at the Laneway after party far beyond the punters being removed form the club, until Sugar itself closed for the night, and the partygoers spilled out onto the street, wherein I witnessed a drunkard get dropped in one hit by a security guard, and had jettisoned away in a taxi with two new friends as Police and Ambulance vehicles arrived.
Fast forward past one bottle of Jack Daniels and a bottle of Kahlua and there I am on said polar bear throw rug, the rest of the story is one you can only hear from me personally. I’ve decided not to write about Saturday night, as it was far too long ago now.
The bottom line is that Dirt Playground are more like a pristine Disneyland; and you should go to their shows, buy their CD’s, and swoon over their good looks~!