Sunday, June 6, 2010

‘The Isolated Desert Cult’

Some of the Great American Archetypes I have experienced have been missed out, they will be included at a later date, ignoring chronology. Some highlights have included ‘The Waffle Machine’, ‘Californian Oranges on Californian Grass’ and ‘The Diner’. For now, please enjoy the latest instalment

‘The Isolated Desert Cult’

We are driving through Colorado, the Canyon Lands, in the midst of about the sixth hour of our fourteen hour second day of a three day drive from Salt Lake City to Austin, Texas.
Last night’s journey commenced as soon as we finished the Sat Lake show and took six hours. We arrived in Cortez at 4.30 am.
All that driving, nightime, sleeping sure made for a wild surprise this morning, when I opened the motel door onto the beige dusty flatness of the desert. Funny little sandstone houses and sleepy Mexicans and brain twisting gonzo isolation.
Each time we pass a quaint outcrop of caravan(s), flung into the desert like a handful of peanut shells, Sav exclaims, “cult”. Just as he says “train” when one of those great mechanised serpents wind along in the distance. The emptiness makes it impossible not to notice these otherwise insignificant blemishes.
I can imagine those who live out here, in those little caravans, must be truly insane. If not they will be soon. Looking out into vast beige nothingness all day would clear the mind completely. Way beyond serenity into vacuity. Any stimulus, visual, sonic, even imaginary – especially imaginary – would take on huge cosmic significance.
Go crazy, see cloud, think alien – cult. That’s all it takes in this blank canvas for the tortured mind, imagination. And maybe a dumber, more subservient neighbour. If you have enough dumb neighbours then you have a religion. Hell, we just came from Salt Lake City, which would still be a shack in the desert with Joseph Smith worshipping his thoughts and waging spiritual war on whatever shadow he sees the Devil in that day.

You know what, that sounds so damn easy, maybe I will start a cult! This van, after all, is a microcosm of the world, and the back seat is sort of a microcosm of the U.S. It’s bigger and more populated with dumb crazy outcasts than the rest of the van. We have been sent to the extremities, have we no, because of our differences?
Look at Dom up there, king of the castle in his own seat. Do you think Kevin has to deal with another man’s ass in his face when he tries to sleep?
The back indeed! You, know, I’m starting to wonder if this really is the back of the van. I mean, sure it looks like we’re moving forward, but has anyone actually SEEN it moving? The windows are tinted, after all, you cant see inside… maybe…

(scene missing)

I found it! Proof, once and for all!
When I was digging around under the chair I found a manual for the van, all bound in gold. When I read from he manual it expounded all the inner working of the van. From the plasma screens creating the false sense of forward momentum to the REAL drivers behind us in the ‘boot’. Well, I tell you brothers, the time for this wrongful discrimination of back seaters is over! Soon will come a time when the seats will be reversed, the windows cleared, and us – Me, Sav and Jay – will drive this Holiest of Vans and look out upon the glorious road of truth and clarity, and together we will steer the van back onto the chosen path, the righteous path of which the Holy Manual spake!
“Wow! Well, where do we go? What does the Holy Manual say? Let us read it!”
“Oh, no, sorry Brothers, only I may read the Holy Manual, as it was I who was chosen to convey its sacred gospel unto you…

(Looks into notebook)

“Aha! Here it is! The place to which we will drive is…Portland, Oregon! Here we will eat from Czech takeaway carts and buy unreleased Nazz b-sides and green corduroy trousers and have joints brought to us by one of our many elegant bohemian concubines!”
“Concubines? Wait…”
“Oh, no, wives, it actually says wives”
“Well that’s okay then!”
“Yes! Huzzah! Huzzah for the promised land!”
“So brothers, will you join me?”
“We will! We will!” They cried. But then Jay leant forward with a most severe expression, and said under his breath, “but what of the others? Those of the noise cancelling headphones and soft cheese up front?”
“Ah yes…there is only one thing for them...”

The End

Nb. The rest of the touring company were not killed by Nick, Jay and Sav, who are actually fine with sitting in the back. This is a story blown far out of proportion by boredom…and Sav also has noise cancelling headphones.

- Paisley Adams

After Santa Cruz we drove to the Sasquatch festival in Washington state, at 'The Gorge', driving past some stunning scenery on the way. The boys played a great set and then we hung about at the top of the hill looking down onto the main stage, watched the sun go down, and MGMT play an incredible show.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Santa Cruz

After the cabin experience we drove on into Santa Cruz where the streets are clean and the cigarettes hard to find..
The boys sound checked while Andrew rode his new skateboard around the Civic Auditorium where they were to play in an hour or so.. Helios Creed made a slightly wonky appearance in the Tame dressing room out of the blue, and we were off before getting to watch MGMT's set due to an early rise and long drive ahead the next day to Washington state for the lads to play the Sasquatch festival as a late addition to the line up..

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

'The Cabin' 29.05.10

After San Luis Obispo, we drove a day to Santa Cruz stopping at 'the cabin' for the lads to play a few songs in a forest for some friendly fellow's web t.v episodes. We drank beer, ate crackers with dip and lounged in the sun for a few hours. A successful day!

San Luis Obispo - 28.05.10


“thanks we’re tame impala it’s been great to play in perth again bye! uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuggghhhhh uuuuuuuuuggghhhhh uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuggghhhhhhh uuuughhhh uuuughhhh uuughhh uuuughhhh ugh uugh

ugh zzzz UUUGGGHHHH UUGHHHHHHHH uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuggggggghhhhhhhhhhh uuuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh uuuuuuuuuuuuuughhhh uuuuuuuuuuuuuuggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh uuuuuuuughh uuuuugh uugh ugh

ugh zzzzzzzzzz UUUUUUGHHHHHHH uuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhh uuuuuuuuggghhhh uuuuuuuuuuggghhh
uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhhhhh……, business……………………um, rock’n’roll?...............thanks bye uuuuuuuuugggghhhhhhhhhhhh uuuuuuuuuuugh
uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh uuuuuughhhhhhhhhhzzzzzzzzzz uuuuuuuuuuuugggghhhhhhhhhhhh uuuuuuughhhhhhhh uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh
uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugggggggggggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhello we’re tame impala from Australia! one two three four.......”

- Kifin Parker

Sunday, May 30, 2010

James and the Giant Coffee

This is the first instalment of my Great American Archetypes, where i, James, get a Giant Coffee. Enjoy.

Soon after departing LAX, and allowing a generous few hours for our zonked, window staring wonderment to pass, our merry band of fiends wipe the pharmaceutical plane-aid drool residue from our sleepless chins and finally enter the exciting world of the American gas station!
If the roads are the arteries of the U.S. then i suppose these stations are its fetid burst capillaries, speckling every inch of its vast and decadently prosperous body.
I enter to get myself a sup of this, the blood of the States, and am confronted by a galaxy of bars, burgers, drinks, dogs, ice-creams and every manner of heart-buggering, vein-bursting delicacy i never dared imagine. The sanctity of culinary law is long forgotten in this, the land of the free, where the sweet and the savoury, salty, sugary, sour and deep fried are joined in godless matrimony to spawn their ghastly progeny into the mouths of the American people.
I b-line to the ranks of black carafes to confront the first of my dreams, the Giant Coffee. The choice is wondrous - decaf, vanilla, hazelnut, one playfully labelled 'DANGEROUS, not for wimps' with a crude depiction of a red faced man with steam shooting from his ears. I opt for 'coffee' flavour.
The next challenge is to select a size. There are three cups ranging from utterly gargantuan to some level of enormity floating far beyond the scope of any earthly vocabulary. I opt for a modest 'Gargantuan', fill it to 3/4 and sit outside on a fence to savour my beverage. With a titanic effort i raise the cup with both hands and lean over to take a sip. I feel a sense of vertigo peering over the edge. The heat and the aroma are intoxicating and i swoon, nauseous and faint, teetering on the edge of the Giant Coffee. I spit a desperate vomit then go black, tumbling down, down down into the lukewarm filth.

When i came to i was in a strange world where the steam formed terrible, ghostly hallucinations. They wafted and taunted, sniggering at the strange antipodian pygmy who just dropped from the sky.
Across the misty brown lake i could see a figure drifting my way, dispersing the phantasms with the bow of a small row boat.
"Help!" I cried, "please help, i fell in here and can't get out!"
A low chuckle emanated from the boat, as the steam parted and a stout figure in a lumber jacket rowed towards me, floundering pathetically in the coffee.
"Hell, calm down, boy", said the warm, gruff voice, "you'll drown yourself with all that carryin' on. You've just found yourself in your first American Coffee!"
The boat sidled up to me, and the man bent down and reached out his hand. He had a thick brown beard and a wooly cap covering his ears.
"Who are you?"
"Me? I'm just a guide, youngun, and i must say, you sure look like you could use my help". With a splash he hoisted me up into the boat, where i lay gasping, soaked to the bone.
"So if you're a guide," i asked, "then you live here?" I tried not to look to revolted by the gritty brown turdwater around us. The man chuckled as he rowed, his great shoulders shaking beneath his jacket,"kinda, although this isn't the type of place i'd usually come. I'm the Spirit of American Coffee! The real deal, and i just came here to let you know that this isn't the beginning and end of my domain. It would be an awful shame if you got scared off now and never got to see the heart of it. Hot and strong in the cold mornin', a big stack of pancakes served by a beaming, rosy cheeked waitress..." he looked wistfully into the distance, and his eyes told me that this wasn't the end of my coffee experience.
"That sure sounds nice"
"Just you wait! Thats why i'm gonna get you outta here"
"But how?" i said, looking up the sheer white styrofoam cliffs.
"Well, i'll show you, bud" he said, and the boat softly bumped into the wall. I turned around as he raised his oar and hacked into the foam, while the coffee gushed out into the carpark.
"You get back to you friends now, son. Hope to see you again in a bit better circumstances."

So i stepped out, slinked back into the van where the indefatigable Jokie Regan presented me with a delicious Sierra Nevada Pale Ale and we started back onto the highway with the foul taste of roadside percolated coffee lingering in my mouth.
- Paisley Adams

Perth to L.A

From Metropolis Fremantle Thursday 27th of May 2010 Tame Impala's final album launch show, with the Perth friend family, to Jodie Regan's Fremantle home, to dancing in the kitchen with green and tea, to the airport at 3.30 am, to Sydney, to L. A to San Luis Obispo, California.
28th of May 2010, less than 24hrs after the Metropolis Fremantle, the boys played their first show in the United States of America in support of MGMT for the start of the Congratulations tour...
This is the start of a month with 8 sweaty men and 1 saucy lade in a van, driving 6000 miles and going to 21 shows around the U.S.