What exactly is or was “my day”? The late 1990s? Pre-Internet days? Uni days? The 1980s?

Apart from using such a passé line, my tolerance levels for fads and resurrected trends has wained so much since my late 20s.

I see girls wearing what looks like nothing more than a long tshirt over leggings and think to myself “Darling, where are your pants?” I see guys wearing skinny jeans with a huge bubble where their bottom is supposed to be. My instant reaction is “Did you borrow your sister’s jeans? Let your nuts breathe, brother.”

2009 feels like 1989 complete with frosted lipstick, huge leather belts worn around tops and guys with mullet hairdos.

I have friends who were born between 1986 and 1989. I just can’t relate. I remember all your funky awesome trends the first time around. We didn’t have Supre, Cotton On, Politix, Facebook or Twitter back then. The only “Internet” we had were BBSes but even those were far and few. If you owned a Intel 286 PC back then or even an Amiga, you were the coolest geek around. We used to write letters back then too.

We’ve become a society that sucks hard on the teat of social media. I’m asked a common question by new acquaintences these days. “Do you have Facebook?”. I’ve started to answer no and tell them that I’m on Twitter, email or just direct them to this site.

Life was so much easier before social media. Less heartaches, misunderstandings, mistrust and confusion.

The world is a smaller place and it creeps me out.

FSOM – Pleasure

The Shaker – Strong To Survive

House Pimps – Zulu Nation

]]> http://www.melbournegirl.net/2009/05/30/bttos-back-to-the-old-school-4-glam-it-up-saturday/feed/ 0 http://www.melbournegirl.net/2009/05/29/bttos-back-to-the-old-school-3-muzztech-fridays/ http://www.melbournegirl.net/2009/05/29/bttos-back-to-the-old-school-3-muzztech-fridays/#comments Fri, 29 May 2009 00:55:38 +0000 melbournegirl http://www.melbournegirl.net/?p=284 Taking it back to the days when places such as Inflation Nightclub, Chevron and the Mansion absolutely hammered this stuff out on a Friday night. It’s a shame that Melbourne DJs don’t drop these sort of sounds anymore.

Punchinella – Santrancisco

]]> http://www.melbournegirl.net/2009/05/29/bttos-back-to-the-old-school-3-muzztech-fridays/feed/ 0 http://www.melbournegirl.net/2009/05/28/bttos-back-to-the-old-school-2-birthday-special/ http://www.melbournegirl.net/2009/05/28/bttos-back-to-the-old-school-2-birthday-special/#comments Thu, 28 May 2009 00:32:03 +0000 melbournegirl http://www.melbournegirl.net/?p=279 Travelling back to 2005 with this tune. Serbia’s tech DJ genius, Marko Nastic has been one of my deck spinning heroes since the old days when I was playing this sort of sound.

“Shut Up and Dance” is one of my all time favourites and this tune is dedicated to a friend of mine who is celebrating his birthday today. Srecan Rodjendan, gryphn_!!

Aphrohead – In Dark We Live (Dave Clarke mix)

This is Felix Da Housecat in deep dark dirty tech mode.

[Bush Records - 1993]

It was a rainy night and all I wanted to do was hide under the covers and dream about life as it was before.

When I wearily told my soup scented friend that I wasn’t in the mood to accompany him on a drive, he grabbed me by my right hand and the next thing I knew, my petite limp body was sitting in his car travelling down the Hume Highway to nowhere in particular.

A mix of Morrissey, Interpol and Tool tunes blasted out the car’s sound system. I closed my eyes and immersed myself in the music while my soup scented friend drove his little heart out.

I had no idea where we were going. This both excited and frightened me. We pulled over at a service station and stocked up on energy drinks, crisps, cigars and Chupa Chups.

“Hey, Sass. Where are we going?”, I asked.
“I don’t know. I’m gonna keep driving until you say stop.” my soup scented friend replied.
“Oh, umm, ok. Let’s go another few K and then pull over.” I nervously requested.

I was in the middle of nowhere, at a service station with my bestie and all I wanted to do was go home.

We ended up in Seymour of all places and spent the night smoking cigars, guzzling can after can of V and pigging out on chicken crisps.

He smelt so strongly of soup. Everytime we kissed, it was as if I was swimming in a warm bowl of chicken noodle soup. I felt so safe with every kiss, cuddle and touch.

For that night, I briefly forgot how shit my life was.

The drive back to Melbourne was filled with random stopoffs to kiss and cuddle.

It was one of the most magical nights I had experienced in years. I miss my soup scented friend so much. So so much.

You don’t know me. Or perhaps you do. You’ve probably at one stage in your commuting life avoided sitting next to me on the train or made a funny face when trying to make eye contact with me because I have a lazy eye. I know you all too well. I see you everyday of my life.

I’m a laidback person. I drown out the cacophony of a society that travels on rails with my shiny white mass produced sweatshop headphones. I could travel all day with a lovingly handpicked soundtrack of sounds that would either make you cringe or feel like running far far away back to the land of commercial radio. You fear people like me because I can listen to the first fifty seconds of some random dance or techno tune and rattle off the record label, samples used in the track and any remixes that were subsequently produced. It’s a tragic habit. I’m a samplewhore. I’d love to find a bloke who I could babble to about music without having to dumb myself down and use the words “Spicegirls”, “Within Temptation” or “Andrew WK” in front of.

I don’t have many hobbies anymore. I gave most of them away when I commenced working as a phonedrone. It’s taken a good three and a half years for the creative side of my brain to automagically rewire itself. Inspiration is an amazing thing. You can’t buy this from some bloke called Sasja who lives on the other side of town and has a godawful habit of ringing you up at 3 in the morning, just so you can reassure him that ASIO isn’t going to burst through his folks’ bedroom window and kidnap his mum.

I find my inspiration through connection and communication. That and the odd tipple of rakija. The cobwebs in this old cavernous cranium of mine are slowly being blown away. It’s as if someone’s busted out some of that delicious sci-fi kung fu and strapped me into a time machine, set the year to 1998 and et voila, I’m back to being a long haired shy and demure Media Studies student who spent her lunchtimes listening to homemade nu-jazz and prog metal compilations that she put together on her piss poor excuse for a tape recorder.

I used to wish that I could invent a device that could capture the sound of synapses and neurons firing about in one’s brain. Then I discovered Autechre, Matmos and Audion. Problem solved, invention already created by someone else.

If one solitary post rakija fuelled dream can cause such a shift in behaviour, perhaps there is some sort of hope for the rest of my year.

I just wonder if you can fall in lust with certain frequencies, certain little basslines, certain breaks in a tune that make you want to lose yourself.

This inner suburban particle shifting princess needs something…..

….more cowbell, more of a connection and as to what else, I might reveal a little something about that if you’re nice enough to ask

I have to get drunk drunk drunk to catch that buzz buzz buzz and heaven knows I’ve literally trip trip tripped over my shoelaces and words when I’ve tried to talk to your best friend.

He probably thinks I’m fat and awkward. One heck of a badly drawn cartoon character on a crumpled up piece of paper.

Today I’m all confused. Antsy. Not making any sense whatsoever. Distracted. In knots. Lacking substance.

Watching the clock. One hour to go. Freedom imminent and you and your best friend would probably be wondering what drugs I’m on.