In Review: Wake In Fright

‘Take Janette for instance; now there’s a very interesting biological case. If she were a man, she’d be in jail for rape.’ - Doc Tydon, drunken resident of the ‘Yabba’.

Opening with a lingering 360 degree, panoramic shot featuring only two buildings and a railway track surrounded by a gluepot sun-drenched desert nothingness, Wake In Fright methodically tantalises us at the horror to come. Here we meet John Grant, a cultured school teacher sent from England to the remote outback community of Tiboonda, a satellite town of Bundanyabba - known to the locals as simply, the ‘Yabba’.

“Best place in Australia. Everybody likes the Yabba.” points out his cab driver as he enters Bundanyabba’s city limits. We’re entitled to agree with that notion at first when Grant enters a closed for the evening pub only to be shouted a metric tonne of beer from none other than the head of the Yabba’s police force, Jock Crawford (brilliantly portrayed by old-school aussie acting legend Chips Rafferty in his final screen role). Jock treats Grant to the Yabbas unique hospitality, and you’d be hard pressed not calling this the friendliest little place on earth. But the benign drinking habits and friendly larrikin behaviour entice you in, soon this behaviour gives way to something more sinister. Something seamier. Something vile and putrid. Grant soon realises that to much of a good thing can be a very bad thing. The town’s relentless friendliness only adds to the growing psychological horror.

Holy Fucking Shit: The Law Of Attraction Actually Works

By Sean Keenan

This is the dream article Ive always wanted to write. Its the culmination of self-belief, good will, growing up, acceptance and a love of life - it's the story of how I came to manifest a 7,000,000 dollar lottery win. All the shit Ive gone through in my life, the negativity, the boredom, the self-loathing, has all been wiped away because of strong willed belief system. Im here to tell you that this thing - the secret/the law of attraction, really works.

First off the repercussions of what this means: It means that there is something out there. Im an atheist and particularly scientifically minded human being, but now I know there is something else out there. Having this confirmed to me in the most amazing of circumstances gives me an overwhelming feeling of satisfaction, love and happiness. I no longer worry about the trivialities of life. One could almost see them as tests. I still cannot see the universes big picture, but I know deep within me that whatever 'this' is, it's something.

Ive always underrated myself, been a bit too humble and a bit too lazy, but at my heart Im a good person and I love life. It was late 2015 and after going through so much negativity I just yearned for something different. My emotions were affecting my quality of life. I'm 30 years old and know a trick or too about life, but putting these life lessons into effect, especially when you're pretty much a loner isn't the easiest of tasks.

But Im an intelligent mother fucker. I knew I wasn't living my life as I wanted it to be. I began wondering if I could change it. One of the crucial things I found was to watch out for lifes little signs. I soon began to understand what it would take to change things up. I needed to start cooking. I needed to start working out. I needed to get over a girl. I needed to turn my knowledge into wisdom. So I reached out for the ideals of the LOA. I wanted to keep living my life in a similar way, just without the burden of my awful job at Woolworths and without scraping by on my wages. I always wanted to write, but I could see it as an incredibly difficult market to crack and my personality is the type where I take my time doing everything. Im like the evolution of life. It takes millions, maybe billions of years to get to anything meaningful.

I decided I would focus on winning the lottery and where it could take me. It would be like living in life with the cheat mode on in a sense. I got giddy with excitement. My dream life would be as a multi-millionaire who travels the globe as a magpie social commentator. It became like a great escape for me. Working away at woolies, but secretly knowing I wasn't far from escaping this life. I grew up a lot suddenly. I worked out everyday, stopped caring about girls, cooked my own meals and began living my own life. Whilst not perfect, I got a lot of pleasure out of my outlook on life. I made new friends, began saving astutely and calmed my bloody temper down. I just began to go with the flow.

Then on that fateful night, I saw the Powerball jackpot at 7 million. Something came over me, something that said 'this is it Sean'. I didn't want to become to conscious about it, so I chose a quick pick and then got on with living my life. I kept dreaming of my future life. How good it would be, how happy I would feel and how grateful I would be for it. I almost forgot about checking the numbers because I got lost in where my life was at at that particular moment. I had begun work on writing a review on the movie 'Wake In Fright' and I was starting to look really good from all my swimming and weight lifting.

I woke up early on a Friday morning, totally expecting to go back to sleep for a few more hours. I got up to take a piss and went through my phone. I had an email. I tapped the mail icon and looked at my email - it was from Powerball. 'Congratulations! You've had a win on Powerball'. At first I assumed it would have been one of the lower divisions, so maybe a 14 dollar payout. The extreme adrenaline rush that pumped through my veins when I scrolled down and saw $7,000,000 written there is something that is hard to fully explain, but something Ill never forget. It was the moment in my life when everything bad fell away from the world and only peace, love and thankfulness remained. Suddenly I could live my life exactly how I wanted to. I just sat there looking at it for about 30 seconds before jumping around the house like a fucking lunatic. I had done it. I had successfully transformed my life. I was the master of my domain.

I quit my job on the spot. Its recommended that people who come into large sums of money don't do this, but in my case, I had manifested the money to get out of it. I had thought about what I was going to do long and hard and had mentally prepared myself for life after blue collar work. I would stay active. I had my inspiration in other areas. I remained in my little granny flat for several weeks before making my move.

I bought a 1.5 million dollar apartment down in Glenelg, Adelaide, much closer to my home town in Broken Hill and set off on a road trip south via Brisbane. It was the most amazing experience. With no worries in the world I relaxed into my journey and savoured this beautiful country we live in. I got to meet up with Zoe, my crush, in Brissy over the course of a elongated weekend and had one of the most amazing experiences of my life.  I fell completely in love with my existence.

Ive been living these past few months in my picturesque apartment. Writing keeps me busy when I feel like doing it. Its not a chore, its something I do when I feel inspired. And I have enough money to not worry about my articles going mainstream. I can write exactly what I want, controversy intact. I see the people I love regularly and I travel a lot. I also got my Mustang - something I always told myself I would own by the age of 30. I love being able to play a semi-god-like person by helping random people out. Life is amazing.

To you the reader I want to part this advice to you. Negativity is exactly what it is. You'll get no where with it. You need to stop and think. Just be aware at all times where you are in the universe. Be thankful for everything. Be mature about things. Go with the flow and just be that person you want to be.

Life is what you, the observer, make of it.

Paul of the McDermott Variety

By Sean Keenan

The first time I remember seeing Paul McDermott was back in 1998 when he was hosting Good News Week as a slick, modern looking comedian who’s humour at the time did not fit in with my immature style. I was only 13 at the time and I wouldn’t think about him again until I was 19. That was the period when my mother developed an insatiable appetite for McDermotts tongue in check quips whilst hosting Strictly Dancing - a cornerstone, in my opinion, in the development of the dance craze which was soon to become ubiqutious across the television airwaves. You need only look at Dancing With The Stars’ first host, Daryl Summers, to get a jist on how difficult the role of host is. Whereas Summers approach to hosting was comparable to watching your father, no, your grandfather, cringeworthily jiving to the DWTS intro music (something he used to do on Hey Hey It’s Saturday - except the nineties were over) and having no sense of comic timing, McDermott was the indie man’s comedic heroine. Both aired at around the same time and in most quarters it seemed, critics agreed McDermott was the unsung hero.

Still, all this made little impression on me back in the heedy days of 2004. To me, Paul McDermott was now someone who my mother could like, which hurt his credibility with me. I thought of him as a well dressed, tongue-in-cheek, mum-loves-him kind of guy. I thought Shaun Micallef did it better personally. More surreal. More crazy. After that, I vaguely recall seeing him on a few ABC programs, and remember his good mate Mikey Robbins losing a metric tonne in weight. It wasn’t until 2013 that something began to change. A workmate of mine invited me over on a boring and lonely Saturday night to get pissed while watching a VHS converted to DVD concert of the Doug Anthony All Stars. Thankfully my friend didn’t take advantage of me (I feel thats what I implied there). I wasn’t overly impressed at his suggestion, but having heard of both McDermott and Tim Ferguson, I reluctantly agreed.

It’s one of those shell shock moments when someone who’s always been in the deep background of your abstract existence, suddenly enters centre stage and metamorphosis’s right before of your eyes. Firstly, Paul was young. Late 20’s young. You could clearly tell it was him too. The man I thought of as a dressed-like-James Bond-wannabe was sporting an awesome, half tattered, military style dress code not too dissimilar to an SS uniform - complete with a rats tail. Swearing like a trooper, Australian accent exaggerated and being very involved with humiliating the audience, all I could do was sit there gobsmacked. This was years before Little Britain Live’s lunatic antics with their audiences. DAAS were there first and were more manic then I could have possibly imagined. What a time 1989 must have been. Woman running around, breasts bearing, distasteful politically incorrect jokes, violence, and some crude beautifully harmonistic songs that would make your parents weep. This was indie youth culture at it’s best.

To cap it all off, after the concert concluded, my friend searched them on YouTube and the knock out punch was delivered. A richly layered acoustic version of Marvin Gaye’s ‘I Heard It Through The Grapevine’. An audience member appeared to have tear in her eye as they sang. All three members looking straight ahead, never flinching, still dressed in there irreverent costumes, Paul’s belt buckle reading ‘SEX’. Fucking magic. I later found out through watching their Big Gig DVD that this performance was the one and only serious songs they performed on the show and it came completely out of left field. Paul’s indie cred, depleted through my ignorance of watching Strictly Dancing, was restored.

DAAS - Heard It Through The Grapevine

When I become interested in someone, I research them in detail. Im a bit obsessive like that. McDermott usurped Shaun Micallef as my favourite Australian comedian. Now in his early 50’s, he seems to have mellowed. When I put that statement to my mother she said ‘Erm, somewhat. You can see he’s still a bit mad’. And I was to find out that madness while watching a YouTube clip of The Great Debate in 2013. Mad as a fucking hatter. It almost seemed like the host was wanting him to shut the hell up and get off the stage such was his lunacy. It made me smile. Maybe I’ll still have my insane verve when I’m that age.

The Great Debate - Paul McDermott

In time I learnt of Paul’s love of painting and his artworks. I thoroughly enjoyed watching his slightly more serious side in an episode of ‘Who Do You Think You Are’ on SBS one rainy night. Paul had relatives who were drinkers of the vicious sort? Yeah that figures. Bit like mine. Of course Paul McDermott was a radio announcer (albeit briefly) on Triple J. (My fantasy) Of course he directed a short surreal children’s movie (another dream of mine). Of course he’s done all that cool stuff.

Tim Ferguson, Paul McDermott & Richard Fidler

It just goes to show you that you can’t judge someone without getting to know them properly. I wish I had a chance to enjoy Paul on Good News Week when it was topical. I wish I could go back into the recent past and watch ‘The Sideshow’ on Saturday night instead of pissing my money up against a brick wall or in some shady characters crusty looking toilet bowl. Unfortunately I missed all of that. In late November however, an announcement on the DAAS Facebook page stated the recently reformed comedy trio would extend their tour to my city of residence, Townsville. I would finally get the chance to see my indie hero in his full madcap glory. What a buzz. Dreams do come true sometimes.

Thanks mate. You’ve changed my mind about comedy, art, literature, dress code and crucially, how I form an assessment of people in general as a whole.

The Truth Behind The Australian Flag

By Sean Keenan

Undoubtedly I'm becoming more left wing as I get older. I think it's a natural evolution for a deep thinker. At some point in the last few years I have hung my ego up on the hat rack and left my preconceived ideas at the doorstep. Time to put serious thought into some of the issues we have in our culture and one of the glaring examples I found early on is the issue with the Australian Flag.

Do you remember the first time you saw the English flag? The first time I clapped my peepers on it my first reaction is that they must have really liked our flag, because they've taken the corner of ours and based their entire flag on it.

Then there is the history of the flag itself. Far from being steeped in a rich majestic tradition, it's origins are in fact dire at best. Its crucial to watch the link below to understand the point I am trying to make. Watch and then read on.

The History Of The Australian Flag

Did you know that until 1953 that the flag in the picture above was the most common incarnation of the Australian flag?

Recognise this flag? No, you don't. It's one of a number of similar versions of Canada's flag pre-1965.   The resemblance to our own flag is disconcerting; In fact, our flag is visually very similar to a variety of other countries out there. After 1965, Canada grew some balls, established their own identity and created their iconic maple leaf design.

Australia on the other hand have kept a very outdated, and in some ways, insulting flag. Its purely representative of the views and ideas held by the british more then a century ago. It bears no relation on who we are in the 21st century and insults Australia's previous main occupants who had been living here peacefully for at least 40,000 years. The sole thing going for it is that we all grew up with it, and so it feels homely. The deep rich blue and how it mixes with the white and red. It represents us. Who we are. To degrade it is considered sacrilege to many people. And that's a fair call - there is nothing wrong with defending the symbol of our great country - the problem as it is, lies in the flaw of its design.

So, a very left wing point of view. A point of view that, indeed, makes a very thoughtful point.

Tomorrow Never Knows 

Or: A long and boring song review I'm writing solely for my own amusement.

The Beatles. The most revolutionary and most popular band the world has ever known - yet how many songs does the common man aged thirty know of? As i was driving to get my Maccas meal on that fateful Monday night in late October, I heard for the first time a Beatles song on air. I turned the dial up in amazement. It was a humdinger of a song too, 1969's 'Come Together'. I admired John Lennon's bizarre lyrics and the rhythmic blues backing beat.

Now there was a cool band I thought.

If you know me - which you don't - you'll know I enjoy anything artistic which has a surreal edge or something artful that has deep engrained credibility. Something that ages well that can be admired from a certain perspective many years down the track. Modern pop music doesn't have any of that. Its  as unmemorable as the McDonalds meal that I had that night. The Beatles were the first at everything. They were both Rock and Avant Garde, popular yet abstract. They were a hybrid of all the fantastic elements future great bands would demonstrate in their wake.

This past year has been dominated by one Beatles song in particular. Tomorrow Never Knows. It is everything I love about the surreal summed up in less than three minutes. To fully appreciate the song, a particular leap of faith must be taken. Because a song this old, generations removed from it's original release in 1966, sounds nothing like todays music. Is it dated then? Fuck no. It still sounds as strange now as it did back then.

With tape loops, orchestral samples, altered vocals, indian tambouras, non-standard relentless drum patterns and seagull sounds, the song is as dense and layered as it is beautiful. It's not for no reason it's my most played song of 2015.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ag58k2elaYs

The clip above is the best music video I could find of the song.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6a3NcwfOBzQ

But it is this above video that Ill be using for all my music cues.

An in depth look at Tomorrow Never Knows

The 13th track on Revolver album 'Got To Get You Into My Life' draws to a close. It seems like a perfectly good way to close the album... that is until the George Harrisons droning Tamboura begins to swell and Ringo Stars crashing drums ignite a surreal trip into the ether. Just before John Lennon begins to sing, strange noises that resemble seagulls pierce the ears. 'Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream' Lennon begins, but as he reaches the second part of the verse, the 'it is not dying' part,  he is pushed aside by an incredible, haunting orchestral chord played in B flat major at 0:19. As he repeats himself, the first appearance of the bizarre tape loops occur, while the orchestral chord drops down an octave and leaves you feeling all warm and tingly until it rears it's head again at 0:34.

The philosophical lyrics continue: 'Lay down all thoughts, surrender to the void. It is shining, it is shining  -  Yet you may see the meaning of within. It is being, it is being.' Each verse delivered with a biting harmonistic orchestral chord. Then at 0:56 the song says a big fuck you to convention and throws all it's tape loops into one incredible montage of abstract beauty. Only the relentless drums and rhythm section give away clues that you're still listening to a structured song.

Then, as if beamed in from another dimension, enter Paul McCartney's backwards guitar solo at 1:08. Complemented by a rising orchestral note at 1:12 and 1:20 it appears and disappears as if its moving through all the higher dimensions before finishing on a satisfying finale note at 1:22.

Almost as if he's been quiet for too long, Lennon bursts back into song at 1:27 (with a weird beep intentionally put in at 1:28 to signify the halfway point of the song - reminiscent of the phone company or AM radio stations hourly time check) this time however, the orchestral chord that is suppose to start at 1:34 is absent. Oh no! They haven't decided to eliminate it for the songs second half have they? Fear not - at 1:50 this beautiful climbing harmony note creeps back into our conscious awareness before leaving you with goosebumps by the end of it's 7 second run.

The song begins to throw in everything, the seagull sounds return, the tape loops become ever more apparent and then the orchestral chord returns at full volume at 2:05 for the first time since before the backwards guitar solo.

'Or play the game existence to the end - of the beginning' sings Lennon on repeat as the song draws to a close. The trailing seconds of the track paint an image of the world winding down and pulling apart, as it were, by centrifugal force; or, if you will, like pinwheel slowing down sufficiently so that you can see beyond its blurred spinning image to the individual frames of which that image is made.

 As the smoke clears, a number of musical elements emerge that you'd never guess had been there all along; most notably, a furiously flailing tack piano. I wonder, though — were these newly emerging elements really there all along, or is it a matter of a deftly handled aural illusion? And, by the way — to the extent that the illusion works so well, you might say it doesn't really matter if the piano was really there all along or not!

Tomorrow Never Knows remains one of The Beatles greatest achievements - it's just such a shame their own success (and the fact it's half a century old) kept it from being a better known song.

at some point there comes a realisation. people will try tell you to give it more time and that 'you'll find someone', but when your 30th birthday approaches and your sitting at your computer, alone, staring at the screen, trying to think of what to do to make things happen, refreshing POF every few minutes - thats when you begin to comprehend the vast amount of time thats past and realise its not going to change. you know this because you've experienced this before, many, many times. that life has decended into something you no longer can defend. that these 11 years haven't been leading or building up to anything special and it will still be this way in 5 years time. in ten years time. then you realise its been going downhill like the music industry has for years. the 60's, 70's and 80's are never coming back. this is it now. you realise you're going to die anyway, that life is really just averageness with occasional bouts of brilliance which occur, so far and few between its not worth the struggle and thats its no huge deal or loss if you disappear. just a thought.

Welcome To Wherever You Are

By Sean Keenan

As a child I remember there being buildings under construction next to the Jubilee Oval not far from where I lived. My father explained to me that the occupants who lived there were themselves builders which left me flabbergasted. Logic in my child-mind went a little as follows: Builders can build, they don't have to pay for their work, ergo, they should have the fastest completed homes. (Ok so maybe I didn't think the word ergo back then)

After being pointed out that builders don't want to work 24/7 (plus a slew of other reasons such as enough time in a day, that they don't get paid to build their homes etc), I subconsciously began to seek out the truth throughout the rest of my life with a little help from deep thought and it's partner in crime, logic. But the world is incredibly complex. There are human emotions. Stubbornness, Idiocy. To seek deep rooted truth one is required to leave ones ego firmly at the door and embrace the looming storm. As a kid I realise now how much of a scientist I was. Thought experiments, numbers, the nature of people. I don't think I ever mastered the latter concept, but a lot of  thoughts I had then wound up being deep theological ideas on the internet I would later find out many years later. Thought experiments like when an unstoppable force hits an immovable object or the if-everyone-else-is-doing-it-why-do-I-have-to? (a personal favourite of mine) I realise where I come from now. I have been naive and stubborn for many years, trapped by my own emotions and thought patterns. To quote the X Files, the truth is out there. I feel this building awareness of my own existence that got lost in lifes bullshit and rules.

February 28 marked a turning point. Its almost like the 4th dimensional me reached out from his world and touched me with a form of knowledge awareness. I felt awkward that day. The excitement of the possibilities, the fear of the unknown. I took the leap of faith, landed in mud, slowly trudging my way towards the oasis. Im now better positioned now than I was on that final day of February. I had to go through the experience of it though, there is no other way. The qualia of the highs and melancholic lows. To be honest, this is a premature assessment, this is an ongoing story in it's early chapters - but in these embryonic stages I can see the structure taking form. If the last few months marked the drawing of blueprints, then the current climate is hinting at signs of a fetus.  The Galaxies are settling. Watch this space.

In my dream I'm back at my home in broken hill in the late afternoon waiting to get pissed at a party. I spy a lot of food under a Christmas tree and on the potatoes is pictures of things including my mum. ((The food is from her) on it also is a bit of Zoe's blog that says 'what's with this woman's hair'. I find it odd. I try take a video or a picture to show Zoe she was actually commenting on my mum, but it's starting to get dark. I begin to wake up as I put my cameras flash on.

I feel it's my brain trying to tell me something

Gorillaz: Plastic Beach Album Review. A Poorly written review from 2010

The first time I heard of the band Gorillaz I thought they were a 'new cool trendy' band that released typical modern crap music. This was back in the heady days of 2001 when their debut single 'Clint Eastwood' was rising the Australian charts and the concept of a cartoon band seemed like a gimmick. 4 years on and Gorillaz had redfined what was expected from a op group. Do we really want to see ugly or middle age musicians or do we want to see something visually exciting? Of course, beauty is in the eye of the beholder and whilst many might choose the former option, a few alternative types might like to see the latter option, even if it's just out of curiosity sake.

The architect behind Gorillaz is already rich and famous Damon Albarn of Blur fame. Of course, in America and indeed Australia Blur have made little head way into the respective markets (Song 2 aside) and so it's quite gratifying to see this musical genuis of modern times finally get the recognition he deserves worldwide.

Self titled debut album "Gorillaz" sold more than 7 million copies world wide and "Clint Eastwood" was described as 'unlike anything on the radio nowadays' and the follow up album "Demon Days" spawed huge radio hits 'Feel Good Inc" and 'Dare" as well as being hailed as one of the best albums of Albarns career - no mean feat when you consider his accolades. With 'Gorillaz' and 'Demon Days' Albarn had really made Gorillaz - and alternative music - a brand in itself, wrapped up in a visially exciting new format: an animated band. Indeed Gorillaz encapsulated an era of my life for 2005 and 2006, their music providing the background score to the goings on in my life. Listenning to the other tracks on Demon Days (the non released singles) just brings you right back to a bygone period.

So when Plastic Beach was released in 2010, there was great excitment - as well as great expectations, expectations which would unfortunatley hamper the album in the long run.

Obviously it's a lot more rewarding when an album seels a lot and all the radio singles a played on air frequently, but it's not the test of a great album; afterall, does anyone really ever hear any Radiohead songs on the radio?  Plastic Beach however hasn't had any, the reason is because listenning to the four singles from the album, none of them are exactly 'commercial'.

Lead single 'Stylo' is a classic example. Listen to the lead singles of Gorillaz and Demon Days and they have a bit of marketability to them. Stylo, however, does not. Upon first listenning it can only be described as 'boring as all shit' and 'why the fuck would they release this as the LEAD single'. As with all good worls of art, Stylo improves with each listenning. Eventually you can hear asll the little build ups and appreciate Bobby Womacks crashing chorus. Suddenly Stylo, despite being unlike anything you've really heard is really loved - but unfortunatley, commericial radio doesn't afford this kind of continuous play. After a week it was off the charts and the main weapon of Plastic Beach had been disarmed. Essentially the people who buy the album are the fans.

The album is for all intents and purposes a sequal to Demon Days. Whereas the first album relied on hip hop and acoustic moments, Demon Days and Plastic Beach are very synthesised albums, which is fine, but Plastic Beach, like any sequal, is not quite as good as the original. In fact, just at a time when we're crying out for more acoustic songs, Gorillaz deliver there most manufactured album yet.

Of course it's not all bad news, some of the songs on gere are excellent, but as a whole it's simular the Blur's 'The Great Escape" album. The Great Escape was in itself a slightly clever Britpop-gone-mad album that was pretty good. All the singles were good and successful, as was the material on the album... but up against a true classic in Oasis' "(What's the story)? Morning Glory" album, it left a bit to be desired.

As with the case with The Great Escape, so the same can be said about 'Plastic Beach'. It's decent without going past (or indeed meeting) expectations. Bsically it's a decent album without being classed as 'good'

6.5/10

Orchestral Intro: A weird starting point, whereas Demon Days started with the ominous and excellent (and a bit scary) 'Intro'. this is just a piece of crap music that would be skipped everytime. Completley pointless.

Welcome To The World Of The Plastic Beach 6/10.  Actually this song isn't as bad as it sounds the first time you heard it on Triple J radio. A few listenning the overwhelming synth (which kind of drowns out snoop dog) is kind of fun to listen to. Snoop Dogs rap is 'ok' but hardly expectional. It's an alright song I guess... but not really one that should get too much revisting.

White Flag 2/10  Good god, how does flutes and an odd drumbeat mix with rap? Doesn't gel at all despite the best effort from the rappers. Never gets played all the way through.

Rhinstone Eyes 7/10 The first good song on the album isn't quite a fully fleshed out single, and featured Albarn performing a borderline rap, but it does contain some of his best ever lyrics, and the musical chorus is catchy and pretty cool

Stylo 7/10  Once this song grows on you it becomes pretty attictive. Fun to sing along with Albarn and even more fun to yell at the top of your lungs when Bobby Womack burst into the chorus.

Superfast Jellyfish 7.5 Admittedly this piece of candy pop is very sugary, but contains the best chorus line on the album as well as the best rap. Only complaint is it should probably go on a bit longer and good have done with a few extra little bits of music.

Empire Ants 7/10 I have tyo give this a 7 because Albarn pines beautifully and it featires the only big 'come in' on the Album. Just when you think the songs completly slow, it just hits you hard.

Glitter Freeze 5.5/10  The closest the album gets to punk rock. It's average - bit repetitive.

Some Kind Of Nature 7/10  Not a bad little number with Lou Reed actually just talking his lines. Nice chorus line.

On Melancholy Hill 6.5/10  My best friend thinks this is the standout track from the album, but my mind hasnt changed since the first time I heard it. It's pretty sugary and the music is pretty safe and predicatable. A typically 'safe' choice as second single. Its decent.

Broken 8/10 The most haunting track on Plastic Beach demonstraites Albarns musical knowledge. Backed by a rap style beat, it's a must-listen

Sweepstakes 1/10 Easily the worst song on the album. No chorus, shithouse music, a pointless song.

Plastic Beach 8/10 Albarn having fun. My favoutite track. It's all bleeps and lovely singing, with a pretty interestingly played out chorus. Superb.

The rest of the songs are rated at a 4/10 and I couldn't be bothered reviwing them. The album should have ended with title track.

So while plastic beach is a decent album, it never reaches the heights or could define an era like Demon Days could. Indeed it's lack of mass commercial acceptance is indicative of the albums musical output. Basically, it's non essential, bar a few songs. Albarn would be rueing a missed oppurtunity to turn Gorillaz into the superstar band they should have been. As a result, Gorillaz is a good band rather than a great band.

The Last Temptation Of Sarah

That is an article I wrote for myself a few years ago. Im republishing it now at this particular moment in time to remind myself that I have had these feelings before and will go through them again. The important thing is that I have the ability to move on with my life. I realise I don't love Sarah anymore. We talk occasionally, but its the complete past to me now. Ive been in true love only twice - and it is this second one which is invading my dreams and I need to Im post this to help me get through the current environment that I find myself in.

And anyone who knows me, knows I have never had a relationship with a 'Sarah'. The name of the subject has been changed.

When it's over it's over right?

What is it about a human being that constantly wants to believe that there's still a chance? Perhaps it's because there is.... it's just people forget that 0.000001% is the equivilent of 'not happening at all'. It's the same chance that there's a miniscule possibility that the sun won't rise in the morning. It's completley clutching at straws.

During the final week of January when Sarah gave me an unexpected message, I re-discovered my hope again. In the weeks previous I had confirmed that we would never get back together again. I was ready and willing (a bit begrudgingly actually) to move on with my life. Imagine my supreme surprise when Sarah out of the blue was asking me how I was and seemed to show genuine interest.
This in itself is a bit misleading - talk about your fools paradise - Sarah was not showing anymore interest in me than someone being polite asking about how your day was. In effect, this was the brain amplifying things to grand proportions on very little evidence. However, for the time, it SEEMED real, and due to hope, seemed to be the answer I had been so desperatley wanting.
Sarah mentioned something about 'How would you like to be financially free' and didn't elaborate. Curiousity is in my blood, but with Sarah being so tight-lipped, so another cog in the chain continued. Now there was nothing else to do but agree to a meeting and see what this mysterious thing was. I ask will it be just us?  The reply is that female friend will be there too.
And so begins a fateful chain reaction to dissapointment. The 'unknown factor' drove me to believe it could be a cheque for a million dollars, or, more hopefully, a chance at a reunion. Immediatley you'd probably say to me I was just doing wishful thinking. But that of course is what makes us all human. It's just I set the hope bar too high.

I fell for Sarah in mid 2009. We had broken up earlier that year and were not dating at the time I fell in love, (note: this wasn't true love) but we were still having what is called a 'casual relationship'. The significance of this person grew and grew. A wonderful happy character that was both amusing and sexy. Probably most memorable was Sarah's ability to turn any boring old night into something atmospheric and memorable. Perhaps this article is written a little too scientifically to appreciate someone like Sarah. Suffice to say I love Sarah more than I love my life before - pre 2009. The hurt that I've felt since then has been a heavy burden that has often got me thinking of suicide. Not trying to be too morbid, just expressing a feeling for someone that I love with a passion and knowing I'll never be with them.

So we decide on a Sunday evening pick up. I cancel all my arrangments. I even cut short a chance meeting with a possible love interest to see Sarah this night. I shower and try to look my best. Sarah definatley still finds me attractive.  Ten minutes late picking me up, but what do I care? I gleefully get in the car with a massive smile on my face - the friend is not present. Sarah blonde hair and kind nature overwhelm me. I'm just so happy to be sitting there. I really do feel so in love. At once it seems my life is significant again. Like it was in the glory days. Alas, all too breif my friends. This car ride is the only magical thing about my story. It is the ending of a once great era.
Sarah has to stop at the Lakes McDonalds, so it's a bit odd the drive goes to the Willows McDonalds. Mishap in words obviously. Presumably, hungry and wants to have a chat and talk. Really this is the last time my mind is in 50/50. It is still looking good for being just a getting back together thing. It's still possible that it could turn out to be nothing, but since the car ride spoke nothing of this 'thing' we were doing tonight, it's presumed by me that it'll work in my favour. Well you already know what happens next.
Sarah doesn't walk towards to counter, instead walks towards the back. I remember my guts turning. There sitting at the back was the female friend - like Sarah had said all along - and she's sitting there in a business-like suit looking prepared for some sort of lecture on how to make money. Indeed, my intuition had told me this would happen. Hope. Fucken hope. What a crock of shit it is ay?

I sit down trying not to think of this dissapointment that is slowly but surely taking over me. It starts off well because I act all professional, but soon, very soon, my face can no longer look up at the lady or Sarah. And then it hits... and she even mentions that it looks a bit like this too.

A pyrimid scheme

Instantly I know there was nothing more in Sarah's intentions and the rest of what happened with the lady at McDonalds is irrelevent. She leaves and Sarah asks if I'm ok. I am very VERY much not ok. Im ok in that I am healthy, but my mind is sick. It is very ill. I want to cry. I ask if we should have something to eat. For some reason I feel optimistic that there might be more to this now that she is gone.
So we order, and again I feel a bit comfortable if wary. We get our food and I started looking for somewhere to sit.

'Do you mind if we eat this in the car?' And with those words, Sarah concluded the night as far as I am concerned.

The drive home was painful and I no longer attempted conversation. There is no doubt Sarah had good intentions with that night. It's all my fault that I assumed that awe would happen. I am to blame.
As I departed the car I saw Sarah checking the phone. )-: On the background was a sweet picture of Sarah and the boyfriend.

There is no doubt I will see Sarah and have a chat again. We'll definatley catch up and it will always be a pleasure seeing this one of a kind person. Nowadays though I'm heading boldly if a little unwillingly into a new era. Unfortunatley there is no 'great' love in sight. Without this, happiness will be alluded for a least a while.
There has been significant mourning in the days since the breakdown of the Sean/Sarah relationship, and no doubt this will continue in some form for the rest of my life. I'll always be fond of our magical, atmospheric, beautiful time we shared together. I'll always love Sarah.

My life is just that little bit poorer for Sarah not being in it.

What A Fool Believes

It was Ty Davis and me versus the world in Year 8. The long-term friendship of Jarvis Semmens had broken down after many years and there was revolution in the air. The beautiful sensation of masturbation had just been discovered and the real Sean Keenan was burgeoning from the ashes of early puberty. It didn't matter one iota that Davis was as intellectual as an episode of Mrs Browns Boys. He was in the right place at the right time and he embodied the summer of 98, which lead to the greatest year of all, 1999.

Come 2001 and it was the old Milne-meister who replaced a slew of generally mediocre friends. Davis was on the wane and I was entering into adulthood. From Davis to Milne, it was now us two against the world. As long as I had that someone, I was fine.
Fast forward 14 years and the rut I found myself in 2009 has elongated itself, through different versions of itself into todays uncertain climate. The shit that was heaped on me then never really dissipated despite several breakthrough moments. In 2011 I settled into middle age seemingly and this grew into nightmare proportions that bit me on the arse several distinct times since then.

Every now and again theres a snap that harkens back to 2008 or even 2005 and I remember the confident eccentric individual who was so bright eyed about the future and didn't care for the shit associated with life. I know more now but it hasn't helped my happiness much. I wouldn't turn back the clock however. Its perhaps time to stop overthinking, get back to basics and just be me.
Me. I remember that person. Sometimes I capture a glimpse of him when I look at old pictures or read my old writings. Im used to this bored, on-edge guy who is always lost within the pantheon that is his mind. Its no longer me and someone against the world. Its just me.

For someone who bases his own self in deep thought it might be a bit ironic that my saving grace might be my ability to stop thinking. I once said not giving a shit is the most powerful state in the world because no one can hurt you if you don't care about a situation. Life has, regardless of what I think or do, continued on its merry way. You either accept it or you don't. And if you don't you'll be swimming against the tide - for no reward.

There comes a time when one must truly look in at themselves, accept the problems and deal with them - and always, ALWAYS be conscious that they're there. Loosen up. You're still you Sean. No one can take that away. Few people may care much for my plight, but then, they're not the person living inside my head. I have to deal with this guy 24/7.

There'll probably never be another 2003 again. Nor will there be that awesome excited new feeling at a new era dawning, Im too much of a veteran for that. But I might be surprised at what IS actually out there...if I allow myself to stop fucking caring. To just do. Its time to stop the delusion and accept this shit for what it is. Its not half bad. You wouldn't love life so much if it weren't already pretty good.

You need to stop narrating your life and start living it in the first person again.

Let it go, Sean. Let it go.

Late Night Logic For The Over Thinking Mind

Life is not easy for the over-thinker. He sits in his high chair with his inflated ego slowly convincing himself away that his ideas and concepts are correct. He is the master of his craft. The concept is simple enough, just let the thoughts flow and then weigh up the probabilities. $1.75 on yes and $2.35 on no. Bizarre concepts are moulded into a believable possible outcome by going through the ideas meticulously. The fatal flaw of this train of thought is that the underdog sometimes wins and then theres the realisation that life itself is inherently unpredictable.

There is also the problem that the over-thinker is a realist in the truest sense. He is usually relatively intelligent and understands that he has to test his theory and have evidence on which to base his assumptions. This requires additional thinking.

Peace. Hush. Chill. You do not have all the answers over-thinker. In this lifetime you never will. Stop worrying. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. (Be sure to wear sunscreen!)

Stop thinking over-thinker. Just 'do'.

Just 'do'.

It may be time I grew up and faced reality.

There are so many beautiful woman around. Slowly Im becoming numb to it. In late 2004 I went on a bit of a splurge asking some girls if they wanted to hang out with me and was rejected on all counts. Here I sit over a decade later and although there have been many people come and go in that time, I remain as inactive relationship-wise as ever. Is it really that much to ask that I don't want to be single all my life? That I want to settle down and live the dream of love and happiness? To have someone support me and I support them?
The only person Ive loved in that decade lives in Brisbane. I go through bouts of strong optimism and then to realism. This is one of those journeys that has hope but is constantly at the odds. Im doing more now than I have in months, but this feeling of loneliness never ceases. All I yearn for is that company. To be romantic. To be playful. To be crazy. I value myself but no one is watching. No one is there to share it with. Brodie helps, but its not enough. He leaves and Im feeling better but its still the same scenario. Im not like Yoko Ono - I am not the type who can be sexless and just get by with friends. Im only 29 and want to experience love. It has been 2 years since Ive last been intimate with anyone. I understand my frustrations now.
What are my options? Suck it up. No other choice available. I want the next person I have sex with to be her. I will make our time together magical - but Im doubting Ill get the opportunity. I don't feel Im appreciated enough. Ive come to realise Im not that special. This isn't a bad realisation. On the contrary, it keeps me striving to improve and gives me some confidence with a 'stuff it' attitude to be who I want to be and do what I want. But at the end of the day, as I sit here, what does it all mean? I feel I'd almost rather conform and have some friends than face this reality.

Things are going good. Im back into exercising and Tae Kwon Do. Im a better worker at Woolies and I love planning what to write next and choose how to spend my days. The one glaring omission to this is that feeling of love. Unfortunately it rears its ugly head at times when Im too weak to combat it. Like now. So Im writing about it.

I have to accept that if this is it then that is ok. The world is simply stunning. I like to get stoned and lay on my driveway looking up at the stars thinking about what wonders this place we call earth has. Im such a tiny speck in the grand scheme of things that it really doesn't matter one way or the other if my wants don't come to fruition. No, what is important is that I lead the most fulfilling life that I can. To do the best I can while I can. Appreciate the unknown, the mysterious. I love life so much and I'm a hedonist at heart. That is why my heart feels so heavy that I have no one to share it with. That magical feeling you get when you meet just the right person (which happens so incredibly rarely) and the memories it creates.

As I get older Im becoming more realistic about things but also becoming more daring. I just have to hang in there. Do everything to stay sane. Hope. Hope away. Hope that this will take me on a beautiful journey. I can feel Im close. Theres so much doubt though. I have such a sad past. Ignoring it is difficult, especially on nights I feel like this. But tomorrow is a new day. And I will keep persisting until I am dead. Because Im Sean Fucking Keenan.

Trust in life a little bit. Believe in the story.

I love you

To Broken Hill, Thanks For Everything, Love Sean

Dear Broken Hill

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about you a lot lately. We haven't seen one another in six years and my feelings for you have been overwhelming at times. The first time I wanted to be with you again was a year after we separated. I remember I was playing 'electric feel' in my living room and thinking of our magical last months together in 2008. Since then I've had a few low points where I've wanted to get back together, most recently in February.

I'm writing this to you because I have have a confession to make.

You shaped me. I didn't appreciate who you were until I was about 17 or 18, but from then until we parted ways I want you to know that I loved you. You became a part of me. I was able to catch some of Outback ER on the ABC recently. Man, it's good to see you're doing well and looking after yourself. I'm glad you haven't changed, you're beautiful just the way you are.

I had a dream last night where I was working back at NES Complete Home. Usually dreams where I am back with you are happy, but this one had a melancholy feel to it. The town I'm seeing now, Townsville, has taken a lot of effort to make the relationship work. 2009 was my worst ever year and every year since, 2013 aside, hasn't been overly memorable. My subconscious has had a lot of trouble letting you go. I miss wearing jackets in the winter time, I miss Shane Nankivell, I miss your eccentricities, I miss the atmosphere you create - I miss my parents.

I was young when we split up and it's taken me a long time to grow comfortable with who I am. At times I've been paralysed with fear about my future and the type of person I've become. I became very depressed this year and Mum called me up suggesting, maybe I should come home. I rejected the idea outright - I'm with Townsville now - but it did make me think about things. I never knew why I rejected the idea outright until last night.

I love Townsville and I love my life. Im growing into exactly the person I want to be. The journey has been rough emotionally, but isn't that how life is? Brodie and I have this self depreciating humour that I admire but I didn't realise how much I put myself down until recently. I'm incredibly harsh on myself. This past week has been one of the most profound of my life. I am in love with someone who I cannot be with so my brain has gone into activation mode. I changed my life this week. I discovered the love within. I love me. I love who I am. I love my stupid little ways. The way I awkwardly try to impress people. The way rebel against the norm. The way I do things unconventionally. My stupid sense of humour. My pretentiously big words I write for someone who claims to be unpretentious. I've realised I don't need anyone except myself. Ive been told that before, I only truly understood that statement in the past week.

I'm going on, and I'm prepared to go it alone. I completely cleaned my house yesterday. From top to bottom and threw out all the old junk that was irrelevant to my current life now. I found a lot of stuff from our days together. I threw most of it out but I kept the occasional memento, such is your meaning to me. I want you to know that I love you and I always will. You will always be part of my make up.

Take care,

Sean

PS: I'm coming back for a visit in July, hope we can hang out for karaoke at the 'cross'!

World Count: 848

Or: How I found my mojo while it was hitch-hiking on the side of a busy highway

As I sit on Debbie's back varandah sipping on my tea and indulging in some homemade pizza, my mind sends a shockwave right through my body. My eyes fixate from her mouth to her eyes as she shares with me her story about this lad she had met at the Woodford Folk festival the previous year. I had arrived at her house the day he'd moved out - a residence that had been his home for the previous month. And what a month it was. Sometimes there are these unique characters who wonder into our life at just the right time and just ooze a form of charisma and charm. They're not show ponies, rather, they're legitimately awesome people who are as kind and gentle as they are eccentric. It's as if their whole existence is this one big movie and they are the mesmerising star. This guy had spent a week straight playing music loud into the morning hours and there were bonfires to spare. He'd moved furniture, he'd star gazed and he brought a sense of wonder into her life - why couldn't I be as awesome as that? (hint: there's no reason why I cannot be)

And thats where it begins to get really interesting. Debbie shows me a white plastic board in which he drew a map of his homeward bound plight; A two and a half thousand kilometre adventure down to Melbourne where a family member resides. I look at the drawing in awe:

He actually took the time to just doodle that down, and now it remains as a parting gift. As a reminder. A form of tombstone for that amazing experience that was the past month. An analogy I like to use about my attitude to relationships is how I first began thinking about them. Admittedly I was only young at the time, but it does help me conceptualise the evolution of it. My attitude then was that if two people found each other 'good looking' then you can work around any personality issue. Paramount was their looks. From that undignified start I now have a diploma in how to handle my lifes relationships, not a degree mind you, but it's a start.

As Debbie talks the realisation hits me. I see how I have been going about this all the wrong way - and most importantly - how I have been going wrong. If you paid attention to detail in that picture you'll see that up the top he's written 'start a fresh at 30!!' and I tell Deb that although Im very scientifically minded, I can't ignore the growing sense that the nature of reality is a living breathing organism and that it's putting up signposts to guide our lives. Why do I say this? Friday night I was heading into Woolworths to get dinner when I noticed a striking face at the counter. Wow, isn't that Debbie from Facebook? We had never met in person but I had admired her bohemian lifestyle from a distance from her occasional Facebook posts. This is the type of person I'd like to have a conversation with I decide. I act on this instinct to contact her when I arrive back home. Whats the worse that can happen? Worst case scenario is she says nah and the best case scenario is you might have an awesome  experience. Then theres the fact that, like her friend, I turn thirty in July. Is this life telling me something? Here is the door and here is the key. The door may look enormous, but in the end it is opened by a tiny key.

I look inwards and see exactly where I am at in life. I see how I could be viewing all this in a completely different way. And when all the bullshit is cast aside, I see this beautiful person within. Holy shit, I thought you were dead mate. He is ill-nourished but still alive and still feels the craving of life. Those subliminal signs life gave me led me to these conclusions. Life brought me here to this.

Earlier in the day I had met up with an old friend and he gave me some potent advice too. It was an insightful day really. Where I go from here is my path and it will always have ups and downs. That's as certain as death and taxes.  But now I see it for what it is. Its a journey. I write this article to remind myself of those profound moments where you see the big picture and all of reality in its overwhelming beauty. I am packing my bags and leaving my monkey named miserable behind. He's a cheeky fellow, you know, follows you around, constantly at your heels. But I am stronger than him. And I have much more willpower. Life is only as good as the lens that you see it through... and I am in the process of cleaning.

Lay Down All Thoughts, Surrender To The Void

By Sean Keenan

I am slowly coming out of the worst nightmare Ive enjoyed in years. What wakes me up is the feeling of some ghostly figure laying down next to me in bed. Im gripped with fear. I start moaning a howl as the spit in my mouth begins to pour out my mouth and onto my pillow. Sleep paralysis prevents me from slinging my arm around to bash the precence which resides next to me. Eventually I'm in control of my body. The smell of saliva is rampant and I cannot get the vivid dream out of my head. It was an unexpected horror movie with the twist ending catching me off guard. How could the protagonist, a mixture between me experiencing it in the first and third person be so tricked? How the fuck could my mind conjour up something so horrific?

I can fathom a guess. I look around myself and my precarious situation - a situation of uncertainty and dread and I see where the nightmare was bred from. Although I don't treat my own brain with the respect it deserves, it neither cares nor sympathises with my idea of it. It produces - in realistic graphic horror - the true nature of what its capable of. Im merely the person residing inside of it. I am Sean's raging sense of disbelief. How did this happen? Again, I can fathom a guess. This is a wake up call. All the knowledge I have acquired is sitting there in a dormant room within the recesses of my mind. This raw emotion within is unleashed in the most graphic way possible.
I must accept - truly accept I have finite albeit important control over the events that occur next. I want to talk to her, tell her everything, tell her how heavy my heart is. Yet the same knowledge that lead me here - the little I actually do take notice of - holds me back. Tells me to chill. Tells me you'll just dig yourself in a bigger hole. I take this advice and live with it, sink or swim.

So what is there left to do? There is only one option and I keep fighting it. I fight it because I loathe anything, including the nature of reality, telling me what to do. Fuck you I say. Fuck you and you're annoying ideas. And yet there is nothing listening. Nothing getting offended by my remarks. Nothing getting offended by my anger. I want to cry. I look around at my filthy room and think, whatever this is, it isn't happiness. I struggle by myself. I dont value myself enough. What am I doing to myself?  There is only one option. I know what it is in my heart of hearts but its not as simple as just doing it - years of neglect are difficult to break. So here I sit, in purgatory. For now, it's about letting things sink in and realising that a revolt lingers in the near future.

The revolution will not be televised.