Days passed and, if I had a heart of any kind, I might have worried that I’d offended the poor man, but I just kind of forgot about him. ‘What makes you think I’d be in any way interested in you?’ was pretty much the substance of my reply. But when I said I was going to write some pieces for Around The Sound again up popped an email from the man himself wondering if I’d be interested. I’m going to go out on a limb now - because it’s where I like to spend most of my time, hanging on for dear life, swaying violently in a gale of approbation - to say that complete unknown New Zealand musician, now based in Perth via Sydney, Damien Binder, also is one of those. If we were French, we might say, je ne sais quoi. Don’t get me wrong, it’s usually exceedingly good, but it’s made so much better by the makers’ charisma. Internationally, Paul McCartney also is one of those few artists who can engage, enthral, their audience just by turning up. Locally, Abbe May is in the same category. Score one for the journalist, but it still left the result at a dismal 5-1. I almost backpedalled but I though, no, fuck it, you’re wrong and I told him all the reasons why. He only had to walk on stage, hadn’t even played a single note, and I instantly got it. My friends and I had rushed to the front, them eagerly, me reluctantly, to get a better view. Sometime during that decade, at a Big Day Out, I saw Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. Of course, by then I was already late to the party, but I would listen to the CDs they loaned me and I just couldn’t hear his magnificence. Will he make the big time? YES/ NO/ WTF KNOWS.īack in the 90s I had people constantly telling me how great Nick Cave is.Don’t ever tell him he writes pop songs.
Loves wine, has no idea what pot smells like.
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