BEFORE PARTY

A high-frequency loop of exquisite anticipation as my mid-winter suspension of standard programming unfolds again, just as the beautiful wattle blooms.


Wednesday July the 17th ~

One Sydney gig only this week (and next) - at the late, lush and free Swingin' at the Speakeasy. Miss Pia doubles up on the decks and stage from 7 til 10PM, then I spin til around 3AM. Bunnies welcome.


Friday July the 19th ~

Fancy fish following others upstream for the sold out Splendour In The Grass this year will have multiple chances to catch beguiling brackets of audio in the open air at the Gold Bar.

Access is confined to VIPs with the right laminates and wristbands - but if you are lucky enough to have both a ticket and said accreditation you'll hear either myself of Goldfoot (stepping in for the internationally touring Mario Speedwagon for this year only) between every main (Amphitheatre) stage set. On this opening evening I have the night shift, from around sundown through til 2 in the morning.

Saturday July the 20th ~

Back in Sydney Jack Off will broadcast under the stewardship of Eddy Diamond between 3 and 5PM - and I'll call in live with a rambling report on the wildlife manifesting around me in Yelgun, amidst my day of sunlit interstitial sets at the Gold Bar.

Sunday July the 21st ~

Sunday evening at Splendour is beyond imagining. After another six hours playing pristine sounds around the fire in the Gold Bar from sunset on I've again got the sublime honour of presiding over the best afterparty at any festival the world over.

This takes place in the mythical Tackle Shack - a secret lakeside beyond-the-boundary venue that serves as the home to my fambly of cuzzins for the duration each year.

After our wanton and wonderful shack daddy Waylon P. Flawstain III concludes his third evening of dirty and depraved hits from the deep, dark past I'll step up (with the eventual and invaluable assistance of my Gold Bar co-pilot Goldfoot) to unleash the most boisterous bacchanalia you will ever witness.

Move mountains to be there. Only the strong make it. You will know.
My reward (beyond the indelible scenes one can only witness from behind those decks each year) will be spending Monday morning with the White Herons in sweet silence, beyond birdsong. The mist over the water, the now-golden dew. Amongst this pristine peace and solitude everything lifts and trembles - heralding spring, our chance to breathe anew.