Monday, September 26, 2011

I, Bunyip

I went to the most amazing childrens show this morning. I, Bunyip at Carraigeworks by Erth Visual and Physical Inc as part of the Sydney Childrens Festival. It was everything children''s theatre should be - stunning, educational, engaging and exciting, filled with life-like puppets showing magical creatures from the bush. I lost myself in these creatures and stories and had to hold myself back from being one of the kids and volunteering to meet Turong! These kids were jumping out of their seats to get closer to the stage and it was incredibly gorgeous to listen in on their conversations, see them shoosh each other and and repeat after the narrator as she taught them traditional language.
If I had a kid, it's the kind of theatre I'd want them to see. If I knew anyone with kids, I'd talk about I, Bunyip all the time and insist I chaperon them and their kid to this performance. Maybe I need to start hanging out at playgroups and make friends with some mums. On a less creepy note, I love it when theatre makes you feel magical. Cactus. x

Tuesday, June 14, 2011


Here's a little preview of a zine my sister and I are working on (and have been working on for what feels like forever!).

I'm sure it'll be worth the wait.


Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Turn me on

I. Can't. Wait.
Last time I saw The Grates, someone stopped me mid-dance move and asked me if I was a member of the liturgical dance group at school.
Yes I was. But I liked to think of it more as interpretive dance without the whole god-worship thing though.


Thursday, May 26, 2011

'Boom ba Boom Ba...'

Kimbra is a goddess.

Signed at 16 and hailing from New Zealand, the part soul/part pop/part cabaret singer now resides in Melbourne and you'd probably recognise her vocals featuring on Miami Horror’s hit ‘I look to you’.

When I saw her at the Oxford Art Factory recently, there was an audible grown when she mentioned her boyfriend which just further proves my theory: you can't watch Kimbra without falling in love. At the ‘Cameo Lover’ single launch, Kimbra took the stage in green-suede wedges and a tutu. Her voice shook the room and set my teeth on edge. She played tracks from her forthcoming album ‘Vows’ which promises to be a mash-up of pop, soul, big band and jazz. A highlight was her rendition of Nina Simone’s ‘Plain Gold Ring’ using voice loops, the songstress conveyed heartbreak beyond her twenty years.

She’s been promising Vows will be out by August – my fingers are so tightly crossed I can barely feel them.


Gosh I want, want, WANT these

So I'm ignoring the elephant in the room (that Cactus was supposedly a dead blog) and am moving right on to the important things: shoes, or clogs rather.

Aren't these divine? I've been contemplating some Funkis clogs all year now...and although the weather is far from perfect for clogs, something is telling me to reach into my wallet for that maxed out credit card and buy, buy, buy!

Does the phrase 'blogger turned designer' confuse anyone else?

Just saying'

Monday, December 6, 2010

Coulda Woulda Shoulda

Coulda: bought this damn fine cosi from the Finders Keepers on the weekend

Woulda: looked like a fabulous Siren by the poolside on my pacific island holiday and equally retro-chic at pyramid rock with all the hipsters

Shoulda: been more irresponsible with my cash


Monday, October 11, 2010

Short Notice

So have you been listening to triple j over the last few days? If you haven't here's the story up 'til now...

I was walking to work on Wednesday morning. It was a nice day: clear and crisp. I was having one of those 'isn't life great' moments. I was listening to triple j when Tom Tilley came on air and told Tom and Alex a predicament he was in: gig booked for Saturday night...but no one in his band could make it.

Alex piped up, keen to offer his keytar skills, Tom was then volunteered to play keys/synth. They recruited Lewi McKirdy from weekends for sticks and skins, and Damo from the web team on guitar. But no singer. What was the logical thing to do? Put a call out to triple j listeners.

'How funny would it be if I called?' I thought. But didn't and kept walking.

Some lamo guys who liked Pearl Jam phoned and threatened to make Tom Tilley like Pearl Jam (or else). And that's when the boys asked for a 'lady singer' to call up.

If that not a direct request, I don't know what it.
So I called and got through to their producer Ollie. I asked Ollie if the boys were joking. They weren't - he put me through. After screening me for availability and what music I was loving at the moment, I was in the band. Shit.

I waited for a set list that came through lunch time Thursday and freaked quietly when I realised what I'd volunteered myself to do: learn seven songs in two days. what was I thinking? The air wasn't so crisp anymore and my walk from the morning had worn off. Needless to say, I wasn't loving life as much as I had been the day before.

I rocked up to rehearsals, met the boys and got stuck into it. We weren't great. We weren't even good. And I think Alex Dyson secretly wanted to take lead vocals on Savage Garden's 'Break me Shake me'. They played us back on radio Friday morning. Jesus. We weren't just not good...we were terrible.

Friday came and I jigged work to get to know the Short Notice set list a little better...prac time rolled around and we made it through kind of okay-ish. I mean, we were better than Thursday but still sketchy as. The boys talked boy stuff after prac and as I sipped my beer I ran through horror stage scenes in my head. An old memory of playing the Bald Faced Stag hit me: curtains opening to reveal the two town drunks. That was my low point - surely tomorrow wouldn't be worse than that?

Saturday: one last run through. They boys had prepped and floralised their wardrobes. Bow-ties and upwards caps. They were ready for the gallery room in the Oxford Arts Factory. We sound checked half an hour before our starting time: the venue was empty. I ran away to Nevada, had some dirty cab wine and returned to a bustling room.

The keytair busted out the opening riff to Miami Horror's 'Sometimes' and it began. We raced through our songs, I made up jibberish lyrics and tried not to laugh through Sonia Dada. Fantabulous Brendan Macloud closed the night by hopping up and joining us, flamenco style, for Gaga's Telephone (which we royally f***d: hysteria) and then it was over. Just like that.

I'm still in a little bit of shock that we actually pulled off a half hour set ... that didn't suck that badly. Their producer said he hadn't expected it to be that good. A compliment really.

Thanks for coming those who did - was definitely one of the funnest times I've had of late.
For a more succinct tale of events check Tom and Alex's blog