Australia & Boston - April 2009

In retrospect, the April that I have worn-out (or worn-in maybe) with State Radio, in Australia and Boston, has been a whirlwind go-round of little sleep, funny accents (both Australian and Bostonian), airports, and, most notably, mug-melting rock!

The trip to, and from, Australia is long. On our return trip, it took us (Chad, Chuck, Mad Dog, and Me) around 35 hours to travel from our last airport in Australia, to our last airport in the US.

However, the voyage (and the jet lag) was not in vain. State Radio was embraced with gusto, and received gladly and generously. From their epic outing at the enormous East Coast Blues & Roots Festival; to their sweaty, smelly shows in the clubs of Melbourne, Adelaide (home of Rupert “Damien” Murdoch), and Sydney; the boys were met with open arms, and open ears, every step of the way. The shows ranged from weighty, raucous affairs, to melodious, punky reggae parties.

The following was written aboard Qantas flight # Q101, early morning…

Rockodile Dundee

or

(A Romance In The Southern Hemisphere)

+Flying from Adelaide to Sydney (written in the clouds)

…“Delirious from jetlag, constant movement, and an overall lack of sound, sensible sleep; State Radio continues to conquer the land of wallabies, meat pies, and friendly airport staff.

At the time of this blog’s composition, two shows have been offered to the people of Australia; both shows have been triumphant.

The journey from the States was lengthy in space (around 10,500 miles from Boston to Melbourne), and time (it’s a 14 hour trip into the future). Our initial stop was Melbourne, which is in the state of Victoria (“The Festival State”).

And, on the night State Radio came to town, Melbournians filled the streets and piled into the venue for an evening of aural stimulation. (In the excitement of the affair, your author forgot to record the setlist.) However, the highlights of the night are someplace etched into the annals of East Brunswick rock history, permanently, I’m sure of it.

The evening’s treats included an unruly Barn Storming, which excited all of the carbon-based life forms in the room, causing uncontrolled gyration amongst the gathered masses (similar to an Elvis sighting probably). Arsenic and Clover was then distributed to the crowd via sonic disturbances in the medium of air particles at the speed of 1125 ft/s, inciting furious head bobbing and feet shuffling. And, finally, without warning, (and as all seemed in good health,) Mr.Larkin stopped by and punched each person in the ear hole, without an apology or regret.

As the night approached it’s conclusion, a caravan was poorly organized, and the streets of Melbourne were graced with the State Radio Train moving swiftly thru neon seas of concrete slabs. A short nap at the Medina South Yarra, provided not rapid eye movement, but enough quietude to prepare the troop for another airport, and yet another time zone.

Adelaide (home of Rupert “Dingo That Ate Your Baby” Murdoch) would prove to be an adventure of unparalleled significance in this heroic battle for the hearts and minds of the Australian people.

State Radio rolled into the venue, unloaded its gear, and then was told that this particular venue was the wrong one for them. This did not faze Captain “One Drop” Stokes (aka Jimmy Tha Greek),

with his trusty CPS (Chuck Positioning System) in the on-position,

leading the charge for the gig, as Chafe Dog admired the local flora and fauna along the way, musing on the disappearance of Yahoo Serious.

The night (once the correct venue was located on the ol' CPS) was a dedicated benefit for the Victorian bushfires and floods (the two of which did not cancel each other out, as you might think). This was a sold out room of smiling, smelling folks, in their socks, ready to hop.

Legend has it that the setlist went something like thisssssssss :

People To People
Right Me Up
Wicker Plane
Waitress
Mr. Larkin
Man In The Hall
Sudan
Camilo
CIA
Gunship Politico

Π
Now we’ve begun our initial descent…

The East Coast Blues & Roots Festival was electrifying. Throughout the weekend the headliners were Ben Harper, Michael Franti & Spearhead, and John Butler Trio. State Radio was invited by John Butler to join the festival, and this honor was upheld with the utmost rockingness. (This show would also turn out to be John Butler Trio’s last, in that configuration.) The atmosphere around all of the stages was thrilling, and very, very humid. The excitement during State Radio’s set was apparent in a massive crowd of thousands, swarming and bouncing to shirtless rock, as the jumbo video screens on each side of the stage beamed shirtless images of the shirtless band hard at shirtless work, halfway around the world from their home. *

Returning to the US left little time for rest. A few days after landing on US soil, and just enough time for bona fide jet lag to kick-in (time-travel is tough), a full-fledged State Radio Boston Weekend happened (and I mean happened). A Friday night show at Babson College opening for Dropkick Murphy’s bled into an early Saturday service project with City Year (great work everybody!), which oozed into a mid Saturday Newbury Comics In-Store Performance (complete with Star Wars toys on the sound desk), that rolled right up to, and inside of, a Saturday night show at the House of Green Monstahs.

The show by Fenway was extraordinary for many reasons. Our friends from Asheville, Toubab Krewe, graced us all with their company.

State Radio played an inspired Mansin, and had many guest artists throughout the evening. Patty (Mad Dog’s Mom’s Best Friend Who Comes To Occasional Shows And Brings Homemade Cookies) brought her famous homemade oatmeal-raisin-cranberry cookies (distributed to the hungry in the load-out rain). Also, there was a djembe in Sudan (always great)! And, of course, another classic Matt Wilhelm Introduction®

This April 2009, that I was fortunate enough to spend with our good friends in State Radio, will hang about my thought bubble for quite a while. And while y’all go on about your business, remember, “don’t worry about the world coming to an end today, it’s already tomorrow in Australia”.

*To be fair, Chuck was not shirtless.