Let’s go!
All through the 90s I wrote and sometimes edited about music and arts. And when I wasn’t doing that, I worked at record labels, doing god knows what. $45 articles and my name was on the door at every show I wanted to go to. Gazillions of free CDs are behind me as I type.
Then the internet came along.
In publishing of words, pictures and sounds online, I became a hapless trailblazer. For the late 90s I wrote columns in street press and told people on the radio what was going on online. Then, in 2001, I was one of the first people in Australia to do a blog. Did that for many years, and earned $103 in google advertising. Other people made careers, I kept being politely ignored.
Did podcasts with my dear friend, Josh Kinal, first he and his team’s wonderful Boxcutters podcast, and then we went it alone with Devils Avocado. Years of that, and the moment we stop, people all over the world start becoming podcast millionaires. Though I did get a nice bag from one of our sponsors once.
Then there’s Twitter, instagram and all the others that came and went in those years. I was in all of them. Other than LinkedIn, where I’ve got most of my writing work over the years, I got barely anything out of any of them.
Twitter pretty much died this week, so I thought I’d move my publishing stupidity here on Substack. This time, other people have done the trailblazing. It’s my turn to… um… succeed.
What are you going to get here?
My very first post on my Nightwatchman blog in 2001 told its readers that I would talk about “The typical. No surprises here. Move on.”
Bugger that.
I’m not writing you a newsletter.
I’m putting on a show.
Each week, I’ll send out an email or two filled with stuff you won’t read anywhere else. The world exists outside our screens. You will not get memes but you will get laughs.
Inspired by Myf and Zan’s perfect Bang On podcast, it’ll be about music, life and stuff… and the footy, sports, community, the work I do and the friends I love.
I’ll break stories too. I have a cracker for the next week or so.
It’s all free. Forever.
Many write these newsletters in a hope to make money. Some do them to write what they want so they can show off to get more day gigs. That’ll be me. If this goes off, I’ll put an option to pay for a subscription to get zilch for your money like Ian Dunt does, but for now, I expect there will be just 27 of you… tops, and I’m fine with that.
Anyway, let’s do this.
Story one. Hand jobs are hard.
A workplace war story for my friends who’ve come here through LinkedIn. A few years ago, I’m working at a renowned design agency on an account where its brand look and feel centres on a cartoon-like illustration of a person.
An idea pops up. How about we get the cartoony person to hold a bunch of things you can buy from the brand? Not get it to hold the stuff, get it to use the stuff in different print ads. Great. Sorted.
I look over to the head of art. His own beautiful, craftsperson’s hands holding his distressed head.
Me: Man, what’s up?
Him: Hands. Nobody can draw hands.
Me: Oh, yeah, I know this one. I read about it a little while ago.
CD: What are youse on about?
Him: All through history, artists have struggled with hands. It’s so bad, the old masters would often charge more for hands. It’s why kings in paintings have their hands stuffed into their jackets. It’s also why AI can’t get close. There’s too much going on.
Agency Founder: So you’re telling me that I have 24 designers working for me and not one of them can draw fucking hands?
So, over the next fortnight, each of the agency’s poor bastards tried and failed. It was frightening to watch these talented young designers absolutely botch it time and time again. Thousands of dollars of hours wasted.
The head of art, now a renowned artist, himself, is too much of a lovely fellow to have said, “I told you hand jobs are hard.”
“This is a song about coming home in Christmas to the southern hemisphere in Australia, and like suddenly you’ve got a couple of empty fucking pages in your phonebook because everyone just died. This is a song called Some Summers They Drop Like Flies.” – Warren Ellis at last Friday night’s Dirty Three show.
How good is footy? (part one in a series of too many)
My footy weekend was mostly glorious. Saturday morning, Fred got his second Schnitz voucher in a row at Auskick for patiently taking grab after grab in the half backline in their weekly game of 7 year old chaos ball, Martha ruled like a 87 rated midfielder in FIFA 98 at soccer, and my baby pies came back from 54 points behind at the Docklands. I’m proud of each of my 47 footy children.
“Peter Daicos may have been the Macedonian Marvel but his son, Nick is the Macedonian Marsupial cos he’s the most protected species in the AFL.” - SEN talkback, Monday morning.
What to watch.
Vernon Subutex on SBS on demand. It’s a French show about a charming bloke who ran a record shop in the 90s. He revisits his past friends and crazy stuff happens. Pretty much our (hello, old 90s friends), pasts played by beautiful French people. The soundtrack is perfect - Sonic Youth, Spacemen 3, Jonathan Richman, Mink Deville, Kim Wilde, Suicide and the mandatory song in all the cool shows, Teenage Kicks by the Undertones.
What to listen to.
Fire Draw Near is a monthly podcast by Lankum’s Ian Lynch. He’ll play gazillions of versions of one Irish folk song over many years and you’ll come out of it as if it was all a dream.
What to read.
The Derailing of Douglas Jones the second novel written by my dear friend, Matt Strempel. Matt is the polymath’s polymath. He not only writes the book, he’s a brilliant designer, runs a great design agency, designed and typeset the book, made the book’s sizzle reel…everything.
It just arrived on my doorstep yesterday, so instead of starting to read it, I did something stupid.
What not to eat (#GPsBullshitCollabs).
This “collab” is on drugs. Not bad drugs. Not fun drugs. Just drugs with side effects that far outweigh the benefits. Life drains like drowsiness, loss of appetite, loss of dignity, loss of friends, loss of wallet, and the loss of will to live. I didn’t try them because, even though I still think ‘penis butter and vaginamite’ is quite funny, I’m a fully functioning adult. More #GPsbullshitcollabs to come. Two stars, David.
That’ll do for now.
Subscribe if you like it or send it to people you like. As Richard Osman and Marina Hyde say each week on their wonderful The Rest Is Entertainment podcast… see you next Tuesday.
My 10 year old self had a good ol chortle at Penis Butter and Vaginamite 😂