Midnight Rambler

I recently paid a visit to two milk bars in Sydney’s Inner West: Olympia in Annandale and Rio in Summer Hill. Both are run by mysterious and very elderly gentlemen; both were popular in their heyday several decades ago; both are dilapidated museums that look like they were last touched 30 years ago.  I genuinely lived in a mild fear and awe of these places, looking from a safe distance lest I be sucked into their time machine and never return.

Perhaps more than most people, I love a good historic urban landmark: an object that we may take for granted that has remained constant while all around it has changed. The things these milk bars, and their owners, have seen!  These places, but especially the Olympia for some reason, have attracted a fair degree of online attention from other gawkers. Here are some links:

• An ABC radio documentary (!)
• A Yelp review
• A blog post with pictures
• A blog post with good prose and information
• A local newspaper article on the Rio
• A Sydney Morning Herald article on old milk bars in general

There are other blog posts too, and a couple of Facebook pages.

The visit to the Olympia cost me $2.90 and netted me a passable but small caramel milkshake and an enjoyable sit down to peruse the art deco floor and large number of seriously old advertising posters for chocolates and ice creams that don’t exist any more. He has many retail boxes to hold chocolate bars, every single one of them empty. It’s been recorded that he says there will be a delivery soon; if true, it confirms beyond doubt that this fascinating gentleman has passed into senility. Folklore surrounds him. It is open every friggin’ day from dawn to late at night, but you never see anyone inside. Apparently his brother’s dying wish was that he run this milk bar indefinitely. There’s the lightly signposted “Olympia Salon” upstairs where his wife used to cut hair. This milk bar once traded on the popularity of the cinema next door, but now it is a dilapidated building so out of touch with its surroundings that it invites incredulity.

The visit to the Rio cost me $3.50 and netted me an undrinkable banana milkshake. The owner was quite friendly and engaged in conversation, when he finally emerged, but either the milk or the flavouring was past its expiry date, and at least half of it went down the drain when I got home. This shop is quite small, and not as interesting as the Olympia; hence, I suppose, the lesser coverage. But it is equally out of touch with its surroundings. He has chosen soft drink bottles to adorn the useless shelves around the place, an incongruous attempt to keep up some sort of appearance. Summer Hill has changed immeasurably in the decades that this shop has stood, but it’s sad that the owner is no longer capable of fulfilling its function, thus making it more of a caricature than a bona fide living museum.

Ultimately there is a sadness surrounding these places. You could view them as good honest men completing their life’s work, but the unavoidable conclusion for me is that their devotion to their outdated businesses is either the cause or effect of their apparent senility. How can they not be lonely? How can the Olympia be “open” so many hours per week and serve so few people? It is not normal for a milk bar to serve milkshakes only. (I didn’t ask, but the mountains of empty chocolate boxes and legions of decorative soft drink bottles do not suggest the availability of anything else.) These men should be retired, in good company, living out their final days in style. What amounts to a fascinating view into the past for us outsiders is paid for by the poor mental state of the very private individuals who enable it.

Nonetheless, at least the Olympia is a functioning milk(shake) bar, and I will visit it now and then while it is still around, which surely won’t be long. It is nice to sit in the dark and look outside onto Parramatta Rd and think what that view would have been like 50 years ago. The owner keeps his insights to himself. He does not want to be interrogated. It is enough to pay one’s respects with one’s custom. But if one is thirsty, one is advised to purchase two milkshakes, not one.

The Australian Labor Party has disgraced itself since 2007 and it has two years until the next election to make up for it.  Kevin Rudd was very popular for a while but it waned because he administered a gutless and (behind the scenes) dysfunctional government.  He won a terrific victory after 11 years of Liberal rule and squandered it, achieving nothing of substance. His two achievements — apology to stolen generations and pumping the economy to stave off recession — were not challenging, and were respectively symbolic and managerial rather than substantial.  Overall, his time in office was the opposite of achievement.  Much as it may seem ill-judged in hindsight, the coup by Julia Gillard was the right thing to do.  Labor would have lost the 2010 election in a landslide were it not for this.  As it is, Gillard has struggled politically in the hung parliament, but in policy terms, she is achieving.  It is remarkable and it is the story that is not being told clearly, because the soap opera is more interesting. Her political struggles are many: lack of accepted legitimacy because of the way she came to power and Labor’s failure to win outright government in 2010; inexplicably wooden communication style (but immeasurably better than the cringe-inducing Rudd); and insufficient unity in her team.  Fortune has not favoured her: winning just a few more seats in 2010 would have given them greater legitimacy, and would have enabled Labor to drive out Rudd once and for all, largely solving the disunity problem. Unknowledgeable observers would consider Gillard’s problems of her own making, but that is only 10% true. It would take a hero(ine) to win a trick with the hand she has been dealt.

That’s the past; on to the present. Rudd resigned as foreign minister today and subtly campaigned for the leadership. A ballot is expected to be announced tomorrow and held Monday. Gillard supporters have been trashing Rudd’s reputation all week, but they’re only saying publicly what any interested newspaper-reader has known all along: control-freak Rudd ran a terrible government and they are not eager to see him returned as leader, no matter his apparent (and temporary) popularity with the public.

On Lateline tonight, there were interviews with veteran minister Craig Emerson (backing Gillard on the basis of superior leadership), much less experienced minister Doug Cameron (backing Rudd on the basis of his popularity), and former Queensland premier Peter Beattie (just wanting the mess over with so the Queensland state election can be undisturbed by all this).

The Australian Labor Party has disgraced itself since 2007 and it has two years until the next election to make up for it. That’s a long time away, but they’re looking at copping  a hiding. In terms of policy and administration between 2010 and now, they don’t deserve a hiding. If they can sort the leadership business out and somehow put Rudd in a straightjacket, they can continue to do their best to make a minority government work against the odds. If the nervous backbenchers vote Rudd in thinking he might save them their jobs, they will thoroughly deserve the hiding they will get come 2013. Labor’s only chance of winning the next election is by assuming they will lose it and dedicating themselves to restoring some semblance of respectability to their 2007-2013 legacy. Two consecutive years of competent, focused, scandal-free government will shift votes. Bringing back the lightweight Rudd to chase the votes wherever the wind blows them will achieve nothing.

Bring it on.

I found out today that Christopher Hitchens, erudite polemicist and poster-boy atheist (sadly, IMO; can’t we have intelligent religious debates without needing poster-boys?) has succumbed to his cancer, aged 62.

I’m not familiar with much of his writing, but I’ve saved some of it on Instapaper and will devour it soon.  But over on Slate I found the following great tribute from a commenter.

I’ve never met Hitchens, but as a theist, I mourn his loss. He was the loudest and most incisive of the atheists I’ve known. His writings, especially toward my religion, have helped confirm my faith and belief in ways that no number of ministers ever could, and my heart cries, “Who will pick up his pen?” for the world of deism needs people like Hitchens to shake off the complacency that comes with divine comfort.

Others have also pointed out this quality: writing that demands that you think instead of encouraging you to agree.

Well, five shaves in to my straight razor adventure, I buckled and purchased an absolute beauty.

Oh, hang on.  That’s just after Evan from Canada picked it up from an antique store. He used his talent and his time to restore (clean, polish, hone) the blade and completely replace the handle (the “scales”) — the original ones were cracked beyond repair (not shown in above photograph).

He created new scales from tulip wood, coated a dozen times in woodworking glue to make them completely waterproof.  Here it is now:

The make is Böker, the model King Cutter 5/8”.  The year?  Don’t know.  Böker is one of the three main manufacturers of Western-style straight razors in existence today (Dovo, Thiers-Issard and Böker: two Germans, one French).  I’ve seen positive comments about vintage King Cutter blades on forums.  They make them new, but the word is the old ones are better. Interestingly, The Superior Shave, an excellent online shop, doesn’t have any King Cutters.

Anyway, I am absolutely delighted at this beautiful razor I picked up.  And Evan, the seller, is happy I picked it up, too.  He sold it, reluctantly, as part of a bunch of razors (straight and safety) to pay for some bills soon after the birth of his daughter.  He was pleased that I asked about its history and how he went about restoring it; he’s pleased his handiwork is going to a good home, where it will be appreciated.  I hope to do a restoration job like this one day.

It shipped today.  Probably about ten days until I have it.  No more purchases for a while, but then I’ll get some Norton 4000/8000 waterstones and either a Belgian coticule or a Japanese natural stone and get into some honing.

The adventure of straight razor shaving has been a roller-coaster ride.  Starting off well, I increased in confidence too quickly and inflicted a 1cm cut and notable razor burn on the third go.  At this stage I was shaving my whole face with the thing without having done a first pass with a safety razor.  So I gave my face a rest from it for about four days, but ironically I got the world’s worst ever razor burn with a DE razor the next day.  The skin was raw from the previous day and the soap I used obviously didn’t agree with me.  I rashed up, applied antiseptic cream and didn’t touch a razor of any kind for three days.  Then I finally took the advice to beginners I’d read: only shave one part of your face with the straight razor to begin with.  Build that muscle memory and isolate any problems, then add another part to the routine.  Good advice!  So the last two shaves I’ve done only the right cheek, then both cheeks, with the straight razor.  Those are the easy parts.  I’ll stick with that the rest of this week and add something else (chin? neck?) this weekend.

It’s great fun, and I’m keeping a journal at Badger & Blade, learning from other journals and getting advice and encouragement.  Isn’t the Internet wonderful?

On Wednesday a straight razor (aka cut-throat) arrived from Larry at WhippedDog.com. It’s a restored flea-market special, or so I presume, restored and honed into great shape, sold with all that’s needed (two strops and a balsa strop) for a measly $60. What a great way to give it a try.  If (bullshit… when!) I decide I like it, I expect to pay $250 for a razor, maybe $50 for a strop, and then in a year’s time perhaps $200 for a set of hones.

Anyway, here it is. In this photo it has vaseline on it to preserve the blade in transit. The blade has cosmetic flaws that are of no concern.

For its maiden voyage today, I was carrying two days’ growth, which is too much for a straight razor beginner: without the skill and confidence to move it quickly, it will get bogged down. Following some advice I read, I performed a single WTG pass with my Mühle R41. Then I lathered up again and held the straight razor with a little trepidation, but figured seven months of DE shaving had taught me enough about angle and pressure not to be scared of this thing.

I proceeded to shave nearly all of my face with the thing, omitting only the bottom of the neck. Despite having already shaved WTG, I could clearly hear it removing more whiskers. It’s an awkward action at first — arms everywhere, stretching the skin, hard to see the mirror so you rotate your head — and I took my time, finding a suitable grip and blade angle for different areas. In fact, I took so much time that the remaining lather kind of dried up so I had to rinse and start again.

But apart from the novelty of it, and it being a skill that clearly rewards experience, I felt confident. It’s easier to control the pressure compared to DE/SE shaving because you’re manipulating the blade directly instead of via a handle. While not claiming a perfect outcome, I ended with a closer shave than I started, and even got creative under my nose where it’s harder to reach with the bulky DE razor. And despite one small misstep where I gently poked my neck, there was not a drop of blood to be seen, and no irritation.

I look forward to the next shave with it, but that probably won’t be until next weekend. It takes too long at the moment for a weekday morning, but who knows; I may just get up earlier.  I’ll still precede it with a single WTG DE pass, but I’ll use a less aggressive razor next time so there’s more hair left for the straight.

Next challenge: stropping. As it was a shave-ready blade, I didn’t need to strop it first. But now I do. The two identical leather strops that came with it are cheap and cheerful. Two? Well, the theory is that you’re bound to damage one through inexperience, so then you move on to the other. Anyway, I need to find somewhere to do it.

All up, this was a fun exercise, definitely to be continued. There’s a long way to mastery, and I hope to reach it.

And I hope to end up with a Thiers-Issard beauty like this:

For a while I’ve needed new business shirts and new jeans.  Both have two-dimensional sizing (collar and sleeve; waist and length) which means the pain experienced in trying on and buying regular clothes is squared when shopping for these garments.  Years of trial and error have led me to believe that my shirt size is 46cm collar and 94cm sleeve.  An hour of digging through the stock at David Jones and turning up not a lot led me running into the arms of Google, where a random forum post somewhere pointed me in the direction of

• http://www.ctshirts.co.uk/
• http://www.savilerowco.com/
• http://www.tmlewin.com.au/

Four shirts later, I am a happy customer of the first link above.  The right size, whatever style I choose, nice material, non-iron, stiff collars (with inserts), all for about £110 shipped.  My only gripe is they don’t have a pocket, which is probably some option I overlooked while ordering.  I’ll be ordering four more soon.

So what about jeans?  Well, conventional wisdom is that they vary a fair bit so it really is best to try them on before buying.  Stuff that, I figured.  At the prices available online, if they don’t fit perfectly, they can just be a reserve pair to wear while the regular ones are being washed.  So today, my pair of dark blue straight-cut Levi’s 505s arrived at work, shipped for about $70 from www.americanjeans.com.  That shop offers a very large range of Levi’s, but only a few sizes in a bunch of other brands.  I just tried them on and found the waist a little bit too large.  Guess these are the reserve pair, which is fine as I’m not mad about the colour anyway!

It’s funny…my favourite work pants are a 100cm waist and these jeans are 40” (which is 101.6cm).  I guess the greater mass of the jeans makes any excess waist measurement more noticeable.  I should have looked at the jeans that are being replaced, which fit perfectly with a 97cm waist.  Oh well, for the price I really do not care.  They arrived in 7-8 calendar days too, so it’s not even inconvenient.  I’m going to take my chance on another pair in the week and a half before I go overseas.

So there you go.  It took me a while, but I’m not going back to bricks and mortar shopping for certain types of clothing any time soon.

I went to four days of Bluesfest over Easter this year and had a great time. I stayed in a cabin in Ballina 30 minutes drive away while my sister camped it up onsite.  We saw many acts together and many separately. Here’s a roundup of most of the artists I saw, roughly in order.

FRIDAY

Took it a bit too easy that morning, recovering from the long drive the day before, and missed two artists I was very keen to see: Eric Bibb and C.W. Stoneking. Luckily I caught them in the “Rhythms Tent”, whence ABC radio (East Coast FM, a roots music channel) was broadcasting.

Xavier Rudd Very cool down-to-earth music. Laid-back and passionate performance.

Eric Bibb; C.W. Stoneking; others I took it a bit too easy on Friday morning, recovering from the previous day’s long drive, and arrived at the festival too late to see Eric Bibb and C.W. Stoneking, two artists I was very keen to see. After Xavier Rudd, finding the sheer size of the festival somewhat overwhelming, I took refuge in the Rhythms (a roots music magazine) Tent, whence East Coast FM, an ABC roots music channel, was broadcasting. A revolving door of artists appeared for a few tunes and an interview. The venue was very small and I eventually snagged a seat and settled in. And I got to see these two wonderful artists I’d missed, albeit all too briefly. Eric Bibb is an authentic black US acoustic blues and roots musician, very pleasant to listen to; C.W. Stoneking is a very original Australian homage to prewar American music, reminiscent of some of Tom Waits’s junkyard styles. He plays a resonator guitar, sings in a very affected southern American drawl, and is accompanied by nothing but a small brass section: tuba, trombone, trumpet.

Eric Bibb has been to many bluesfests so I’ll be sure to catch him in a Sydney sideshow next year. C.W. Stoneking is unfortunately moving to the UK as his most fertile ground is Europe.

BB King A highly anticipated but thoroughly disappointing performance. I don’t have a history of listening to BB King, but respect his legacy, and a fairly recent bit of live footage I saw on TV was excellent. He’s pushing 85, though, and seriously needs to retire.

SATURDAY

Trombone Shorty & Orleans Avenue He was mentioned in the Rhythms Tent on Friday as being “the Jimi Hendrix of the trombone”, which he certainly was. In many ways he reminded me of Miles Davis as well. His trombone playing was unbelievable and very exciting. His music, however, was generally bland, residing in a genre I can only imagine is called jazz-metal, infused with try-hard rock-me-baby lyrics. He finished with a James Brown cover which was fantastic. His special guest contributions to other shows that I happened to see were excellent as well. It shows he has the musical ability; he just needs to get the music right.

Tim Robbins & The Rogues Gallery Band Yes, Tim “Shawshank Redemption” Robbins, who has no pretense to a gifted singing voice, but has plenty of — at times, too much — earnestness. I enjoyed the music quite a lot; one of those nice surprises you get at a festival like this. My sister wasn’t so impressed, though. Very good musicianship by the large band.

Mavis Staples & Her Band Friggin wow!  This old lady (she doesn’t look it) really rocks!  I’d never heard of her, but the Staples family has apparently been at the pinnacle of gospel music for fifty years. This was a high-energy, fearless preach-it-sister event. Achieving awesome bluesy energy with minimal backing — guitar, bass, drums and a few family members on backing vocals — this stern but loving black auntie, wide as she is tall, seriously delivered the goods with the most impressive lungs I’ve ever encountered. The minimal backing was great because it enabled the group to play it tight when required, loose when required, and to work around Mavis’s singing without having to fit in ritzy horns and keyboards, like you might expect with such an act. Bravo.

Jeff Lang This guy has got to be one of Australia’s greatest musicians ever. A prodigious guitarist and excellent songsmith, I saw him at Bluesfest circa 2000 and wasn’t going to miss this chance to see him again. With nought but bass and drums to anchor him, he plays inspired, incredible but never flashy guitar: amplified acoustic, lap steel and, if memory serves, Dobro. More power to his slide.

SUNDAY

Ash Grunwald I know Ash from JJJ as a former host of the weekly blues/roots program, rather than as a musician. He was very fun with his electric guitar, backed only by a drummer, emitting upbeat blues riffs. It seemed like it should have been on later in the day. I’ll look out for him around Sydney.

Bobby Alu Very laid-back reggae/islander music, and very enjoyable. I don’t know his back story, but Mr Alu was clearly chuffed to be playing at the festival, telling us it was only his fifth (or something) gig. A large band with a percussive emphasis. I’d see them again in a heartbeat.

Blind Boys of Alabama feat. Aaron Neville I saw them based on their reputation, but didn’t like it all that much (I’ll take my gospel music raw rather than cooked) and went of to see…

Captain Matchbox Whoopee Band Heaps of fun! This antique Australian vaudeville act laid on the humor, magic tricks, classy music and delightfully unclassy music. I think this show was more or less a one-off reunion, but hopefully I’m wrong. They did original music and some very obscure covers (Fats Domino, anyone?)

Gurrumul A rolled-gold festival highlight — it was always going to be — this blind Aboriginal singer/guitarist performed his beautiful, soulful, and thoroughly original, songs with wonderfully sensitive accompaniment: piano, upright bass, soft electric guitar, etc. The massive crowd lapped every minute of it up. Don’t let anything get in your way of seeing this dude if he’s in your area.

MONDAY

Hussy Hicks Caught these ladies from a distance while waiting for, and imbibing, my noontime coffee. Not bad at all, but don’t really remember any details; sorry.

Michelle Shocked She was a prominent name in music media when I was “of age”. I didn’t pay any attention back then, and hadn’t heard of her since then, but the gig sounded interesting so off I went. Thankfully, she explained her story for the uninitiated: as a young traveller, she sang some songs around a campfire that someone recorded without her knowledge and sold to a record label, or something. Anyway, her songs were enjoyable, and particularly her approach: in-the-moment, mixing music with storytelling; it was a shared experience with her audience rather than a performance. I’m glad I went.

Saltwater Band This is an Aboriginal band featuring (in a small way) the talents of the aforementioned Gurrumul. It was enjoyable but, with the passage of time, not particularly memorable.

Tony Joe White I saw him on a whim at Bluesfest circa 2000 and was hooked. Baritone “swamp blues”, accompanied by simple but effective guitar (himself) and sometimes drums, it caused me to go and buy some of his CDs and wonder at the overproduced crap pouring from the speakers. The 80s have a lot to answer for. Anyhoo, I saw him again for more of the same and enjoyed it thoroughly. He has some great songs, and responded positively to an audience request — a thoroughly awesome Willie and Laura May Jones — “That was fun. I haven’t played that for quite a while. Thank you sir.” Incredibly, for someone you’ve never heard of, he probably influenced my basic guitar style as much as anyone else. Long may he roll.

Secret Sisters I really enjoyed this cotton-pickin’ county music duo: two sisters in their Sunday best, all “please” and “thank you”. Made me wonder what they’re like backstage, but their sweet country patter and suite of Hank Williams and Hank Williams-esque songs was just the tonic I needed at this late point in the festival: a chance to sit down, chill out and not take it too seriously.

Collard Greens & Gravy I prioritised this Melbourne blues trio with the awesome name, not having heard their music but liking the cut of their reported jib. I was disappointed, though, and didn’t stay all that long. Vocals, two guitars, harmonica, drums: so much potential, but undermined by a hollowness to the sound (get a bass, boys), a somewhat flat vocal delivery and a deficit of excitement in the music. I choose to believe they’re awesome and just had a flat gig.

Warren Haynes & His All Star Band I didn’t enjoy this but was only there to grab a good spot for the act that followed…

Bob Dylan Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about. I was intending to go to Bluesfest anyway, but the surprise announcement of Bob Dylan turned intention into eventual action. It’s the fourth time I’ve seen him, and by far the best. It’s easy to list faults in his performance: broken voice, poor phrasing (he tends to rush phrases and let the music catch up), lack of engagement with the audience, and he was never a good guitarist on stage. The three previous times I saw him I was too far from the stage; a festival is the perfect opportunity to correct this, and I did. Bob Dylan has written more A+ songs than a casual observer could imagine, and it was fantastic to be close enough to feel I was in the presence of greatness. He is committed to his performances — there’s no other reason for him to average 100 shows a year — but you need to be close enough to the stage to see it and feel it. He’s no nostalgia act, either, which leaves many in the audience scratching their heads: what the hell is he singing? He has never in his entire career played to the expectations of his audience, and he keeps it fresh by never repeating a set-list and frequently changing the arrangements of songs.  Some highlights were Trying to get to heaven, Tangled up in blue (very new arrangement), Simple twist of fate, High Water and Ballad of a thin man. I feel privileged to have been there. I wish he’d phrase his words better and unleash his great band a bit more, but he’s a crack under 70 and doing things the way he damn well wants. It’s exciting.

Elvis Costello The act after Bob Dylan, and my last one before getting a good night’s sleep and driving home. I had been looking forward to it, but was exhausted after four days on the trot and the hours waiting for and seeing Bob Dylan in the pressure section of the crowd. So I had to get out and take in Elvis Costello rather more passively. And I was underwhelmed. Elvis Costello is a massively talented songwriter, arranger and (perhaps) musician, but his voice is not his greatest asset. I left early in a vain attempt to beat the crowds and get an early night’s sleep. Another time, another place, I’m sure I could enjoy an Elvis Costello performance.

So…

What did you do at Easter?