Seth Frightening at ‘Happy’ with Ocelot, Mammal Airlines and Oligocene Drowning, Friday 16th July.

Sup. Here is a review I wrote for the VBC re-orientation showcase for Salient with Seth Frightening, Ocelot, Mammal Airlines and Oligocene Drowning at bar Happy on Friday the 16th of July. It'll be out in the next issue. Mmmmm.

P.S Seth Frigtheng's little brother's band Oligocene Drowning openened, he even looks like Sean!

The announcement that Seth Frightening would be opening for Jonsi Birgisson - of acclaimed Icelandic act Sigur Ros – on the Australian leg of his upcoming world tour came as a pleasant surprise to Wellingtonian’s who have grown fond of Sean ‘Seth Frightening’ Kelly’s melancholic brand of indie folk. So it was with much anticipation that a healthy cluster of warmly clad hipsters descended on bar Happy for a re-orientation VBC showcase – standing on chairs, even sitting on the bar - for a final intimate glimpse of the humble and uber-talented minstrel before he jets off to perform to larger, more intimidating audiences.

Moments into opener ‘Can We Eat It (Truth) So We Know What To Say (Visions)’ – also opener on his debut album The Prince and His Madness – Kelly’s eyes were closed, his face strained as if in a trance as his charming vocals filled the venue. Unafraid to explore the entire spectrum of his vocal range in what is becoming an increasingly diverse live set, Kelly startled viewers with explosive, Sung Tongs-esque shrieks that shatter his customary fragile wail. Any uneasiness created by Kelly’s stage demeanour however, was craftily undercut by his casual banter between songs, creating a bizarre on-stage juxtaposition of possessed rage and chilled out, near apathetic relaxation.

Accompanied by two backing guitarists rather than the usual one, Kelly’s emotionally charged lyrics took on a heavier, almost grungier feel (perhaps an influence of his recent ‘metal’ side project, Cancer). Not only was ‘Selfish’ played at a pace fiercer than ever before, but was also driven by layers of distorted sound giving the lyrics a darker, almost sinister resonance (Kelly’s repetition of “you know I’m underdone” lingering in my mind long after the show).

Yet it remains Kelly’s near angelic voice and his poignant, crestfallen lyrics that linger in your head long after listening that is winning over audiences and tour promoters alike. An entertaining and emotionally charged final performance then, Wellingtionian’s can only hope for more of the same upon his return.

Earlier in the evening acoustic two-piece ‘Oligocene Drowning’ – band of Kelly’s younger brother – charmed early attendees with their wide-eyed, fresh faced enthusiasm and homespun minimalist folk. Driven by a lively beat garage-punk three-piece ‘Mammal Airlines’ roused a merry cluster of groupies into a lively jig. The ever idiosyncratic Alex Wilson, performing under the pseudonym of ‘Ocelot’ entertained too, with distorted chanting and singing over trippy spaced-out, psychedelic beats.




Chur, Tim.

If you haven't already got them, get them.

The caliber and craftsmanship of Wellington based releases this year so far has been of a pleasingly high standard. It's refreshing to hear these releases, they're the product of serious, talented musicians who make the effort to play live regularly and who've taken the time to polish their work into these amazing little packages. Anyway, I've had them on high rotation since I got my hands on them, you should too. They need no flamboyant, Pitchfork-esque introduction. For the most part such discourse is trivial. If you haven't heard these EP's/albums yet, download them and your life will be enriched with premium local A Low Hum muscial goodness.


Glass Vaults is Richard Larsen and Rowan Pierce. Emerging out of nowhere and winning over the scene with their delicate and fully formed sound, this EP has taken everyone by surprise, a very pleasant surprise I might add. Get it. Now. There's no reason not to.






Download their self-titled EP here: http://glassvaults.bandcamp.com/album/glass-ep .


It is the debut release of Sean Kelly however - who goes by the pseudonym of Seth Frightening - which has been the standout release of 2010. The Prince And His Madness is the best New Zealand album to be released this year, and yes, this is taking into consideration So So Modern's Crude Futures, Grayson Gilmore's No Constellation, The Ruby Sun's Fight Softly and Connan Mockasin's Please Turn Me Into The Snat. The honest, unpretentious beauty of Seth's voice is amplified further by his melancholic, intimate and highly personal lyrics, which resonate over and over in your head long after listening. The vocal layering - which he now has managed to weave into his live set - amplifies the already potent levels of honest and raw emotion, especially on the stunning 'Even If I Die (Classical)'. It is only a matter of time before Seth is signed to Roger Sheperd's iconic and revitalised label Flying Nun. His raw talent certainly isn't going unnoticed either, later this year he will be supporting Jonsi (of Sigur Ros) in two shows in Australia, that fact alone, speaks for his itself.


Download The Prince And His Madness here (you'll have to pay a little for this one, easily the best ten dollars you'll sped this year): http://sethfrightening.bandcamp.com/album/the-prince-and-his-madness


Then there's this little treat from Basketball Nightmare (Auckland). Who incidentally, used to play synths for Seth in his previous band, Seth and Merle.




Listening to this sweet five track party-time EP is like eating a piece of fresh banana cake, with loads of chocolate icing, accompanied by a dollop of whipped cream and a cranking chocolate milkshake - all in the midst of a euphoric rave with all of your best friends of course.Ye.


Download it free here:

http://basketballnightmare.bandcamp.com/album/aethaer

Enjoy, good music is for sharing.

More goodness at http://www.sonorouscircle.com/.

Goodbye.

The worst toilet in Scotland (and by Scotland, I mean Thailand)

In the fourth chapter (The First Day of the Edinburgh Festival) of Irvine Welsh's 1993 novel Trainspotting Mark 'Rent Boy' Renton is forced to pay a visit to 'the worst toilet in Scotland'. It's a scene that was immortalised by Danny Boyle in his 1996 cinematic adaptation of the film. In a pleasantly surreal twist Ewen McGregor dives deep into the scummy abyss in an attempt to find his precious 'suppositories' which he has lost within.


As I lay on my knees, wrenching and gagging over the most filthy, festering and nauseating Thai night bus toilet I have ever seen - and I ever hope to see for that matter - I knew, to my horror, that I'd found the south-east Asian equivalent of Welsh's mythical lavatory. Everyone I've talked to has told me you can expect to get sick at least once if you're traveling in these realms and I've comfortably surpassed that milestone on my journey so far. The moral of the story? Don't eat suspicious looking 'soups' purchased from deep within Bangkok's hectic street markets. Earlier that day we'd flown out of suave Hanoi in north Vietnam down to Bangkok and from there caught a night bus to the south where we were to catch an ferry to the islands of Ko Samui, Ko Phangan and Ko Tao respectivly. We had a few hours to mill around in the capital so we headed into the markets for a bite of lunch. Oh Shesus. Bad call. My 'soup' had seven different types of 'meat'. There may have been pork and chicken involved but I swear that some of those gristly, heinous strips and balls that were floating surreptitiously in my bowl were from animals which I never EVER wanted to eat. Anyway, it all came up several hours later in my fated night bus toilet. Offensive much? For sure.

The thing about Thailand though, is that it owns. There's a reason why people talk about it more, visit it more and come back more than to Cambodia and Vietnam - or anywhere else in south-east Asia for that matter - it's cranking. Ye.


We've been up to A LOT since I last posted. Too much to chronicle in a logical order, so the narrative of this post will be non-linear, sporadic if you will. Right now we're on Ko Tao, the smallest, most isolated and easily the most charming of the three islands in south eastern Thailand, we've been to all three. Ko Samui, filled with Ibiza-esque night clubs and McDonalds attracts, for the most part, an older more heinous slash seedy demographic. The kids that are there have got it wrong, so wrong. Ko Phanang on the other hand, is famous for one thing and one thing only, Full Moon Parties. 20,000 people packed onto Had Rin beach for an ecstasy fuelled, fire breathing dance fest (oh yeah, the beach is plastered with chunder the next day too). Aptly summarised by a wise and well traveled friend of mine as "Courtney Place after the sevens on a beach". Ko Tao on the other hand, is a relatively well hidden gem. World renowned for it's bounteous coral reefs, it attracts divers, snorkelers, rock climbers, cliff jumpers and happy little clusters of on-to-it hippies who are seeking to escape the worn and battered paths of the other two islands. There's plenty of space to string up a hammock, chill on the beach or just sit around and chat to groups of young, like minded slicks. This was sunset tonight, a couple of hours ago: Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm ye. You can - and we have been - eating dinner on these supple little beach seats. On our second night here we all sat back and stared at the stars. As Nick Drake's Pink Moon wafted out over the beach I knew I'd reached some kind of bliss. Ko Tao is TINY (roughly covering the land from Mt Vic to Kelburn) yet it's still so isolated. The sun sets on the horizon too, unlike setting over 'the hill' in Wellington. A spot of late afternoon romance on the beach for my trusty companions.I took this photo of my companions having a mid-afternoon dip from what has become our regular restaurant. The green and red curries are supremely tasty, pretty cranking chicken and tofu burgers too. Chur.The night life here is sweet too. Not overly rampant or raucous, but still happening. Our trusty trifector was briefly expanded into a small fellowship when we met up with some buddies from Wellington - Claire, Esther, Hattie and Kim - whose travels through these realms coincided with ours. We had THE most cranking pool party on the evening of Claire's 21st. I don't have any photos, we never seem to have of the MOST cranking times. There was a pool (with lots of inflatables), a bar and a DJ. Need I say more? It was only us in the pool early on but after a few buckets, a few triple person piggy backs and several proud renditions of Happy Birthday the pool started going off. Then a fat pissed ugly Brit spewed in the pool. Nice one bro. Wait to wreck our supreme cranking party times. After ten minutes we all jumped back and raged it. lol. There were two little pre-teen European kids getting among the nastiness too. 'Novelty buzz' indeed.


Every night the locals whip out their fire dancing skills. I must confess, they're quite skilled. Buzzy too. These kids just bust it out night after night. Sweet job. Weaving some kind of 21st century mystical Thai-sorcery every night on the beach every night and getting paid for it. Well supple. Potentially the most supple. Very buzzy indeed. Ahhhhhhhhhh. What?Theses slick should totally move to Wellington and bust out their skills on the waterfront or alongside the sweet live jazz outside Good Luck on the weekends. Defs got into taking pictures of these guys. This guy had a funny slash slightly disturbing look of titillation on his face as he swirled the flames around his head, almost as if he was seducing himself.
Ok, I'm over 'night mode' on my camera now. Promise. Sue.

Whilst luxuriating by the beach front sipping Banana shakes and indulging in hour long back slash feet slash full body massages is all well and good, me and Ants decided it would be sweet to run to one of the highest 'peaks' of Ko Tao. I'd been up before, it was quite the episode. On our second night on the island I woke up hungover and, for some unknown reason, racked with guilt. Without thinking at ALL I put on my shorts and shoes and sprinted out the door, suddenly inspired to scale Ko Tao. Two hours later I regretted this decision. Immensely. The hill is steep, viciously steep. It was midday so the sun was at it's zenith and pumping 30 degrees onto my t-shirtless back. I didn't even have any water with me. 'twas a bad buzz. I was feeling ridiculously dehydrated and ready to faint, it's happened to me before, I randomly fainted in the Veeb studio a year ago. A swell German motor-biker spotted my forlorn (or perhaps slightly deranged) expression and gave me his bottle of water. Savior. the view from the top was spectacular. Hmmmmm it might have been a good call to bring my camera.

The next day me and Ants decided to head up, prepared this time. We had ample water and sunscreen. Ants was sporting his Beatles t-shirt and me a somewhat slick psychedelic sarong which I'd converted into a scarf. Well prepared indeed, just in case we ran into any stray indies along the isolated mountain road.

After a few hours we we're getting ridiculously hot and our dialog wandered down fresh avenues. To my bewilderment Ants developed a sudden, intense and passionate relationship with Fiordland. "Imagine drinking from the purest ice-cold spring in Fiordland", "Imagine standing in Fiorland and feeling the supple beads of cool rain pulsate off your body", "When we get back I'm going to order a Banana shake and the beads of Banana infused with the ice are go going to be more divine than the coolest stream in Fiordland" etc etc etc. We found this banana tree. It doesn't have anything to do with Foiordland, but still, it was chur. They LOOKED looked banana' s but tasted like heinous floury pygmy root sticks.
When we reached the top our delirious forest wanderings came to fruition.

"What would I want. Sky?"

When we got back we had the most divine Mozzarella and Pesto sandwiches They cost NZ $2. Chur.

Ko Tao is most certainly my pick of ALL the places we've journeyed to up to this point. Ko Phanang and Ko Samui are all rage rage... not really what we were looking for. There were some sweet hammock chill times listening to Dylan, Boards and Sigur Ros on Ko Phanang though. I had two nights sleeping on the beach there which was sublime. The stars (accompanied by some Wilco) would sooth me to sleep at night and the first thing I'd see in the morning was the sunrise over the ocean. All quite spiritual I must confess.

I met a particularly buzzy Italian man of about 30 on Phanang too. He was sitting out the front of his bungalo listening to some music with a beer and other such paraphernalia. He was all on his lonesome and looking supremely approachable for a spontaneous conversation. His grin was wide, well wide. Which was slightly unnerving as all he was doing was staring at a medium sized tree. He could hardly speak a word of English, but he seemed to have his nouns down, which he craftily utilized with perhaps his favorite English word, "good". I chilled out in a hammock near the front of his bungalo and our conversation went something like this: "Thailand... Good. Beach... Good. Italy... Good. New Zealand... Good. Coffee...Good. Beef... Good... Chilli sauce... Good. Lady Gaga... Good. Music.. Good." There was copious amounts of laughter wafting through the air too, he was a ridiculously funny guy. We were hardly communicating anything logical but oh shesus we were laughing hard. The climax of his theatrics was when he stood up on his mini-balcony and started to imitate soaping his body in a dancing motion whilst staring DIRECTLY at me, retaining his manic laugh as he went. I couldn't stop laughing. A small dog began licking some chili sauce off my foot that I'd spilt in the midst of my laughter. I became thoroughly confused. After much deliberation and several minutes of deep, calming breathing I was able to deduce that he was referring to Thai new year. Apparently there is a three day period where everyone on the street gives everyone else showers for free with buckets of soapy water and sponges (only in the north apparently) . Three days of festive street showering. You can't go anywhere without getting a shower from a random on the street. Sweet! My newly found Italian friend certainly explained it to me with much enthusiasm, apparently he just roamed the streets for three days in nothing but his togs. Getting clean ow.

What my Italian friend did manage to communicate to me clearly however, was that he was having a dam sweet time. We met a Danish guy in Hanoi (drinking 'bier hoi'. The cheepest beer in the world, literally. NZ 50c for a glass) who ended EVERY sentence with "and it was so nice". He was on the same buzz. It's a buzz that we're most certainly riding.

Talk you soon.

- Timoth Jamuel Parin

Vietnam

Sup. Much has cranked since we travelled south-east down the Mekong river out of Cambodia and into southern Vietnam. Everyday is loaded with seemingly endless buzzyness, so much so that it's difficult to keep track. Vietnam - more so than Cambodia or Thailand, the latter especially, filled with Western advertising hoardings and exploitative taxi driver and store owners ready to milk you dry of your reasources - exists in its own private universe. Communist flags and massive paintings and billboards of the oh so sly Ho Chi Minh (1890-1969 as my t-shirt tells me. He's pretty much their Lennon) fly at every street corner and the civillian population has a limited (at best) knowledge of English. The locals are still uber-friendly and pretty much in love with us though. The callaber of fellow travellers too, for the most part, seems to increase the further away we get from Thailand. Ah. Premium ice-creams for one dollar too. mmmm. ye.

As of now we're in Hue, the old imperial capital in central Vietnam. This area was the most brutalised by American bombs in the war (something like three bombs for every square metre of land were dropped here), yet it remains the most beautiful area we've travelled to slash through. We'd planned to head to Hanoi last night but Ants had a motorbike collission late in the day. We'd been crusing around rural Hue and headed back into the city to get amoungst the raucous traffic for some "intense driving" when we managed to find ourselves on the wrong side of a one way bridge. Bad buzz. Somehow I managed to slick it back onto the right side of the road, as I exhaled with relief I heard a massive CRACK behind me. I swivelled my head to see Ants, on the ground surrounded by hoards of Vietnamese. They were stroking him, rubbing him, mauling him (one man even began fondling his face and hair) and I managed to get him inside away from the aroused locals. He's fine now though, no broken bones, only some scratches and grazes and a truly savage bruse on the inside of his thigh. Little Ants. Andrew crused back to the hotel to sort out the repairs on the bike (garry) while I stayed with Ants and fed him chocolate bars and panadol. Anyway, time for the picture buzz I've got plenty.

Our trip down the Mekong to Vietnam was generally serene.

Cranking the Mekong river scene.

Our boat was SO narrow. If you so much as got out of your seat and moved to the other side its precarious balance was upset to a worrying degree.

These sweet Danish chicks taughts us how to play 'Yahtzee' though, so 'twas all goods. We got off our boat in a little river town called Chow Dok and jumped on a 'bus' to Saigon. Easily the worst bus ride of my life. We were packed into this little mimi-van, all twenty of us (there were about fifteen seats) and proceeded across the bumpiest, semi-paved 'road' to Vietnam's largest city. The driver kept stopping to pick up people along the way to score himself a fw extra dollars. When we finally arrived at around one in the morning we jumped on the back of three motorbikes to take us to our guesthouse. My driver was a sack however and quickly lost Ants and Andrew on the hectic streats (Saigon's streets are bustling with roughly four million motorbikes). He could only speak a few words of English and was blessed with even less initiative - and seemed to have absolutely no idea where we were going - so instead of finding my trusty companions he just crused the streets of Saigon whilst I clung helplessly to his undernourished and slighly sweaty torso. I took a picture of this buzzy hobo man making a fire on the side of the street though so no worries. Then I began to get frustrated and bored and started taking pictures of my lost self. We fortuitously stumbled across one of his 'buddies' who took us to the guest house. I got to assess the night life from a position of relative comfort, so thinking about it now it was kind of sweet. Addidas. Hmmm, I took copious amonts of photos trying to capture the chaos - and believe me, it's chaos on a grand scale - of the streets. Motorbikes are slicking it around everywhere. The interesections are a trip.

We spent two days there, but like Bangkok, it's hectic, loud, filthy and scummy. City folk just aren't very friendly. In Ants' words "Saigon was kind of shit". We headed out to the Cu Chi region to check out the elaborate tunnel system that the Viet Kong used during the war which was pretty sweet. The American's couldn't 'eradicate' the Viet Kong by fighting them on the ground, so they tried to bomb them out of existance, so they built tunnels, lots of tunnels. What was immediately striking about the tunnels was how small they were.

This is a typical entrance. Tiny huh? The tunnels we saw had been 'widened'. I could barely get down this one. Inside it's ridiculously stuffy and claustrophobic, crawling space only. Freakin. These tunnels streched all across the Cu Chi region to Saigon river. The Viet Kong and their posse would crawl from up to five kilometers at a time to evade American's, ambush American's, hide near American camps and listen to their music and genererally snoop around. Ridiculous. They were fighting for their homeland though, fair enough. They made some pretty mean traps for the American's too, all concealed slyly under foliage. Bad buzz if you got caught in this one. It'd probably take about a day to bleed to death after being empaled by these crude spikes. Chur.
We decided to take Lonely Planet's advice and "get out of the congested urban areas and explore the rural areas to discover Vietnam's natural beauty". Instead of heading to Nha Trang, the most obvious coastal destination twelve hours out of Saigon, we took a bus to beautiful Mui Ne, a relatively isolated fishing village seven hours south of Nha Trang. A slick Danish guy called August (he was pretty much the Scandenavian version of swiss Sam in terms of his demeanor, mannerisms and appearance) who I met in Cambodia couldn't say enough about it. I can see why. After over a week of hectic travelling and 6am starts we needed some of this.
Me and Ants headed out for a run accompanied by a serene sunset along the beach front. It was all very merry untill we got chased by this spastic mongrel sea dog, freaky as. I was sketching so bad when it was chasing us that I fell into a little river. But we evaded that mongrel and manged to get back for some more hard earned chilling.After a few days of chilliaxing it was time to get out to Mui Ne's famous sand dunes, we jumped on some motorbikes (they cost around $8 to rent for a day, you don't need s liscence or anything, we didn't even know how to drive them, it's pretty simple).

Half an hour out of Mui Ne near the dunes the roads were pretty isolated. The dunes were pretty sweet too. Ahhhhhhh it was SO hot on the sand. Supple viewa.

Getting spiritual. We paid some local kids a few dollars and they hooked us up with a piece of plastic to slick it down the dunes, as well as taking us to the premium spots. It takes about eight seconds to get down.

And several greuling minutes to get back up.

We headed back to our guest house to jump on a sleeper bus for the 15 hour ride to Hoi An. Mui Ne's fishing boat posse was out in full force. Supple.

The sleeper bus turned out to be quite sweet. Leaving Mui Ne was a bad buzz, it was easily the most beautiful spot we'd been to at that point. Little did we know that Hoi An was going to be just as amazing. We jumped in the back and owned, schoolboy styles. We were all well tired.

Half way through some 45 + Vietnamese guys jumped in the back with us and went to sleep immediately. It was all good for Andrew and Ants as they were not in contact with them in any way. I however, was right up against these chums, they fell asleep, their arms began to drape over mine, they fondled my feet in their sleep, my feet were dangling over the end of the tiny bed and we still had 10 hours to go, 'twas a bad buzz. They jumped off ther bus at some point when I was half alseep and left me three beds to luxuriate on while my trusty companions battled on . Karma.

Hoi An is such a charmer. Despite it's tiny population, It's the culinary and fashion capital of Vietnam. It's little lanes are to narrow for cars, so the atmosphere in the streets - filled with cyclists - is friendly and pleasant.

The town is littered with French colonial builldings, giving it a rustic charm. We popped into a tailor (every second store seems to be one) and got measured up for our suits. Ye. The next day we picked them up. Mmmmmmm, can't wait to whip them out at 21sts, cocktail parties and other various civilised occassions back home. No pictures of the yet, you'll have to wait to ee the in the flesh. Fiends!

The night life in Hoi An is pretty raging too. This slick moto-driver slash party guru called Moon (by 1am I was hugging him on the dance floor) started the party up at his bar by buying FIFTEEN free buckets of spirits. His bar - I can't even remeber its name - ws going off, filled predominantly with Aussies, Brits, French and a smattering of other European slicks we had a cranking night out while our suits were made for us. I'm not quite sure what this is a photo of, but it's quite buzzy. I think it was a boat floating up the river that rus through town.

Hoi An's rustic charm, it's food, it's suits and it's night life was all oh so amazing, but not te highlight. Both afternoons we headed out to the outskirsts of town where we stumbled on a group of young kids playing beach football. We jumped in with them, made two teams and played untill the sun went down. We only wipped out the camera as an afterthought, we were all consumed by the good times, at least these give you a general idea.See that little guy in goal, he was the an. He made countless saves, and he must ony be five or six (most of the kids were eleven or twelve). Ahhhh sweet suppleneess. They got uber-excited on the second night when we came back to play again, there was even a little crowd of locals watching, probably just to check out the white boy novelty factor.

We played untill the sun went down, then got a team photo. Chur. Oh man, look how sweaty we are! Playing beach football with these kids was the high point of the entire trip for me personally.

That about raps things up for now. We're heading on a SEVENTEEN hour bus ride to Hanoi in an hour, then a two day boat ride through Ha Long bay, one of the seven (or eight?) wondors of the natural world.

Talk to you soon

- Tim othy James Parker.