Sydney

What is the value of entertainment?
This week i had two conversations about the show, where audience members had really engaged with the underlying structures at play. My apologies but this blog will be even a little more self-serving than usual, as i want to quickly run through some of the things that they brought up - mainly because it makes me incredibly happy that people are able to see through some of the more sensationalist aspects of the performance, and observe that there are deeper ideas present. If any one would like to leave a comment about their own experience of Good Clean Fun I'd be ecstatic.

But don't worry, there will be shock, gore and adventure stories further down.

For me the purpose of entertainment, and as such the purpose which i see in this show, is a response that has been formed in reflection of what i have observed about mainstream society and the entertainment industry in general. I have worked now for a few years in circuses, theatres, sideshows, cinemas, on the street, in warehouses or tents or institutions, at festivals, cabarets and fringes. I have also been beaten by the cops at demonstrations, bullied by the criminal justice system, seen the circle of burning eyes at a rally of 1000's of Indian taxi drivers as they watched and took turns at addressing each other and the world, I have deliberately slowed (and been trodden on) by police horses while dressed as a zombie carrying a box of plague and building acrobatic structures before the horse lines, then cheered as people broke through a fence to occupy the coal train lines. I have heard speeches of passion, and speeches of cliche, and sat through hours of political meetings. I have seen some of the most beautiful, honest performances, and also some of the most misguided. In short, the melting points between public space and performance form a significant part of my dreams and desires.

On the other hand, commercial forms of entertainment can embody to me much of what is corrupt in our society. Situated before a passive audience, a show can just as easily reinforce dominant concepts of power and passivity in those who watch. So therefore the challenge and purpose of entertainment is to find ways of empowering the audience. If a theatre is like a closed circuit, then it also becomes a zone of experimentation, where controlled environments can produce surprising results. Good Clean Fun is intended to produce a number of these experiments, but it is a challenging process to monitor the results. Either that or they're not working.

One of the most crucial ideas that i see in the show is the lack of a passive space for the audience to occupy - we deliberately leave the space without seats, even if it means removing them like we have in our recent Sydney season. However on a certain type of night, people will without fail simply sit on the floor. This is probably related to the nature of our audience/community, who will happily sit where they please, but it also to me speaks of an expectation that entertainment is something that happens in front of you, for you, but not to you or by you. This is an expectation that we seek to change.

If an audience can engage in a performance, particularly a circus performance, with their body and their physical sense of  risk, aversion and pleasure, they are closer to the real world than in a show where they are seated, in the dark and able to remove themselves from an experience. And if in this first context you can create an experience which empowers the audience, allowing them to make choices, bond with each other, and become part of the performance, then you are creating a version of a power dynamic which is fundamentally different to the one that exists in external society. The idea is then that the audience are able to take this experience away with them, and hopefully hold onto it as an example of how the world could be.

The process of putting an ideas into a performance (or critically examining them) can often be confused with the set up of the theatrical experiment itself. As Wazzadeeno pointed out tonight, once you are in an environment/show/character, any material or lines or ideas neccessarily comes from within the boundaries of that experiement. It's easy to retrospectively feel as though you have written ideas into a show, when actually you have created those ideas through performing it.

One idea that i think we wrote into the show (but i'm not quite sure about), is the way that the individual segments of the show, deliberately don't relate to each other in any logical/narrative way. In my mind this is both convenient and a mocking gesture towards the nature of mainstream entertainment, which is consciously lacking a broader purpose. In this way Good Clean Fun reflects entertainment back on itself, presenting an absurdly hybrid mix of forms and styles that draw on cultural tropes like daytime television, obsession with celebrity, the surrealism of sideshow, the apathy of circus, and the invincibility of performers. Of course i may have just imagined all that.

In any case, i would love to hear people's reflections on this, whether they relate to the show or the ideas under discussion. However posts that reveal too much about the show may be politely refused - after all, we can't give away too many of our tricks...

...

To Sydney, and Good Clean Fun!

Good Clean Fun!

I have utterly fallen for this town. It's always nice to be somewhere new when there's a festival on, but I have to give massive respect and love to the people of the underground warehouse scene here, who have taken us into their homes, hearts, parties, and performances. Fuck yeah these people are Sweet! Shoutouts and thankyou's to everyone at the Hutch, the Barn, Dirty Shirlo's, the incredibly tolerant women of the Red Rattler, Tom from Deaf Hedge, and all the other new friends that we've made.

And fuck yeah the Dumpsters here are awesome!

Epic!

However there has also been some truly Doom moments, including Blue breaking her toe during a show, Simone fucking O'Brien smashing a cake into my face, then fondling it into my genitals and subsequently destroying the Red Rattler's carpet, Arm wrestling bogans at a filthy warehouse party (and winning!), Sydney Fringe not having set aside any lights for us to focus, running 45 minutes over time in our first show - all the way through the Bump In/Out for and the start of the next show, and of course training Blue to fill in for Cat Scobie (who is in Maitland looking after her mum) in just under three days.

This woman is amazing...

And we broke her :(

The show was reviewed by Guy Hobbs at Unfringed, the Sydney Fringe blog, here: http://unfringed.theaureview.com/2010/09/23/definitely-not-clean-but-still-fun/

He writes that "The beauty of Good Clean Fun is that it is a wildly punk variety show....Funny, irreverent and vaguely unhygienic",and several other excellent things - check it out!

And then there was the Boho Ball. Bloody hell, what an incredible crowd, night, cast and crew! See the photos for yourself on the Boho Ball facebook - props to Luke, Darius and Aiko. There's certainly plenty of Wazza's arse in there, and also this gem as he and I went to crowdsurf to the Baron's..

Hands Up!

They've also just released episode three of their ongoing series about the Ball, in which we introduce the Barons of Tang's dumpster cooking show.

So - an interesting week on many fronts. And tomorrow we head to Newcastle, where This Is Not Art are putting on a second birthday party for us on Thursday night - how nice of them ;)!

So i'm sure that we'll see many of you there, and those that we won't i hope to catch you either in melbourne or further down the road.

Thanks for listening,

Mad Love,

Mitch, Ruin, Pansy, Wazza, Svetlana, Maria, Bee, Amy, Blue, Little Miss Rampage and all the Caravan of Dooomers that live on inside each and every one of you... hehehe

Captain's Log, Phase Four! Boho Balls 1 and 2...

Thunderbolt rock - Horse thieves that eat the rich

Personnel - Ruin, Wazza, Scurve, we say farewell to Bee, and welcome on board Tour Buddy AMY!

Toto, we're not in Queensland any more...

We left Brisbane the day after our show, a little later than we had intended. Due to a double booking, we had three days to get from Brisbane to Bathurst, a 1,000+ km trip. We hit the road around 1.30pm, and it promptly started raining. This was an appropriate start to this leg of the trip, because as we dropped down across the queensland border and into northern New South Wales, my premature fantasy of the best summer ever starting this early in the year were quickly throttled by the grip of a cold windy hand. The second morning i started off in a vest and an open face helmet, but by the time we reached Armidale and Thunderbolt Rock, as you can see from the photo above, it had hit the "testicles disappearing into stomach" sort of wind chill that makes motorcycling necessarily a passion and not just hobby.

Thunderbolt Rock - a massive outcropping stone that now lies next to a tarmac highway, but once was the hiding spot for the early bushranger Thunderbolt himself, where he would lay in wait for the riches of the carriages and coaches passing through. He was known as a fine choice of horse flesh, and was said to always have the fastest horse in the district - to outrun the cops of course!

The bottom of the rock is covered in many layers of interesting graffiti dedicated to this outlaw, so we added a few notes of our own - EAT THE RICH!


Day three saw us still a looong way from Bathurst, so we had one of the earliest morning departures on the tour so far - 10.30! Holy hell! We tore along some mean backroads, and ended up in Bathurst by late afternoon, ready to join up with the Bohemian Masquerade Ball! This mini music festival is the brainchild of our good friend Si, and on their first national tour, he has lined up an impressive array of dates in heaps of cool small towns. They've also got a great media team on board, and you can check out updated webisode's each week, as well as incredible photos at - http://thebohoball.tumblr.com/

Bathurst itself was pretty ordinary - i'm not quite sure what i expected from a town that most people know as the home of car racing - particularly on a thursday night. I guess all i know of bathurst is that the Theatre/Media course at the Uni there has produced some really incredible people/performers including Blue Lucine (more on her later).

But we rocked it like the seasoned pro's we're slowly turning into - we gave them one hell of a show, thats for sure. Check out the rock n roll legs on svetlana here!

And Luke also took this great shot below, which perfectly summarizes what it's like trying to fit five people's worth of stuff into a small van and then stay inside it because it's freezing outside...

It's been really great to see all of our friends from Melbourne who are on the Boho tour, especially Blue, Si, Luke, and all the Barons. We even got to catch up with Kira Peru and the Bruise, who are amazing, and in fact are composed from some of the Caravan of Dooom's first band in our first ever show - the Tasty Brains! Gordie Malone, what a hottie!


After Bathurst it was on to Katoomba, city of the stars... well not really. Freaking cold. But beautiful architecture and art deco design everywhere, and awesome coffee which was cool. The Hotel Gearin played host to the Hotel Gearin for a packed out Friday night of dancing, singing and... mousetraps on penises?

Ever since i started doing the mousetrap on the tongue stunt, i've always wondered whether it could be stepped up a notch - or rather down, to waist level! I've often joked about it, but tonight in katoomba, Svetlana caught me out - as i mockingly put it down to my crotch then drew it away, Svetlana rode the gasp from the audience into a full blown cricket chant - DOOOOO IIIIIIT! Well i couldn't back down from that. So as far as i know the first mousetrap on penis on stage in katoomba was performed by Caravan of Dooom. And fuck me did it hurt! I was almost out of action, but fortunately Doctor Footlights was on hand to pick me back up again for one of the most cranking shows i think that we've ever pulled off. Shame about the moment when Svetlana seriously alienated the sound dudes and the singer from the Baron;s of Tang by shoving the microphone into her bottom and telling jokes. Mind you, i thought performance art was all about arseholes on microphones?!

Before the Mousetrap...

So - onwards and upwards - our season at Sydney Fringe opens tomorrow night at the Red Rattler, and hopefully it's going to go off like a wednesday night thats been left over from last week! We're hoping to pull a decent crowd to our opening night, and then the weekend should take care of itself. Tell your friends! Anyway, more on Sydney in the next post.

Mad Love from the Future!

RUIN

Brisbane Wrap Up!

Wow, what a crazy week and a half it's been. We kicked off the tour good and proper with some snappy shows in Lismore and Byron Bay. Our good friend Rohan caught some amazing footage of the show in Lismore, which you can see uploaded on our Dooom Vision channel here - www.youtube.com/user/DooomVision

A pretty incredible angle.
And in Byron Bay, they gave us all hotel rooms above the Great Northern where we performed. We proceeded to get mangled (well i did), trash the hotel room and give Wazza a seriously bodgy tattoo of a cactus in the process, hehehe.

mmm, sterility. I also got a fresh tatt - this time from a stranger that i met in the pub in Lismore - Tricky! Who turned out to be an excellent inker. Photos later.

We also gave an interview for a cool online tv channel - vive cool city. I hadn't heard of them before, but their channel is pretty cool - check it out here http://www.vivecoolcity.com/ Not sure when our episode will go up, but it should be good.

Then of course we headed for Brisbane to start our first season of Good Clean Fun at Metro Arts!


We started with a bang, thats for sure - first night SOLD OUT! Each show was special in it's own way, and it got tighter and tighter as we went on - can't wait to slam it again in Sydney and then Melbourne! Thanks to everyone that came to see us, danced wildly with us in West End afterwards, and of course thanks to George and Jenny for having us in their beautiful house, thanks to Julz for being an awesome mate, and thanks to Steve, Sophie, bee and Amy for being wonderful show crew.


You can read two reviews of the show here http://criticalmassblog.net/?p=609 - "It isn’t every day you get to see a performance  where the star is a penis. " hahaha
and the other review - http://criticalmassblog.net/?p=644 , well i think from her tone, that while she may have been confused and confronted, the main thing was that she was just a little, dare i say, jealous? Hahahah!


Meanwhile, we continued filming everything and everyone for our upcoming documentary, tentatively titled "The Last Circus Ever...". What do you reckon? And possibly the best moment of the entire tour so far, was when we BROKE INTO MUTHERFUCKING DREAMWORLD!

now that was a fun day - we had a whole plan worked out - i looked it up on the satellite feature of google maps, found the backstage gate, and worked out a whole story about running late for a gig.
However, on our way round the back, we found an open gate and simply walked in! YES!

All of the sweet waterslides, rollercoasters, giant drop and the claw later, we headed home in the remains of the sunshine for another night of weird fucked up circus. West End rules by the way - i danced my arse off to some weird hybrid dub music until 5 in the morning (the mushies helped i think), then hung out with the super babe Callum from Mutiny - the best aussie band ever.

And now, as we pack up and say farewell to Brisbane we look to the future - this week we join the Boho Ball in Bathurst, Kathoomba and Sydney - chck out their first webisode at their website!

Much love to you all,
hopefully see you somewhere along the road
Capt RUIN

Captain's Log - Phase Two

I had a David Lynch moment last night on the freeway, which made me realise that I’m spending a lot of time inside my helmet, and that I haven’t written in a while. The days are becoming blurs, while the minutes on a motorcycle last for hours, leaning forwards with head down over the tank and watching the white lines zip past like counters for some transient clock. Blip Blip Blip Blip.

On the other hand, some days have been like a tour to the heart of this country and it’s young culture, taking me far off from the main drag and down further into what makes me so happy about being on the road. Twisty one lane roads, leading through tropical rainforests and mountain ranges so steep that the early railway lines built to cross them make squirming spirals of insect-like fear at tackling anything so majestic head on. Then down into long sun-drenched paddocks with shaggy haired cattle making the road their home, only kept in by sporadic cattle grates across the tarmac. I had fun here – causing stampedes with my revving engine, and laughing mightily beneath my starry bandanna. Stopped outside a Palm tree petrol station called Liberty for lunch and wondered how long this happiness could ever last for. I think that transient beings have to be satisfied with transient happiness maybe, because the road always leads you to another destination, or at least for now…

“I—i—i-I, I feel most at home, when I’m on the road, when I’m on my own” Transient Being by Mojo Juju.

But! You didn’t expect a road surveyors account of the tour did you?! No, you want to hear adventure stories, tales of disaster and love fought for against the forces of law! Read on my friends!

Captain’s Log; Phase Two

Personnel:

Captain; RUIN, Skipper Rooney WAZZA, First Mate BEE and brand new, All Star CINDY FLOSS!

Day Three – Five

We hit Sydney like a whirlwind of obnoxious, screeching out our own names as we drive through these well dressed streets. Haven’t these bastards heard of the grid? Everything is wonky here. Very disorientating after days of camping and bushfires. I catch Wazza attempting to set alight a sofa, but explain that these are civilized people and that this will not be tolerated. We bed down in the Hutch, a big messy artist warehouse, staffed by radiant creatures who take us into their home. We scramble about in their kitchen cooking up several batches of super sticky Dooom patented wheat paste, Stick factor: real estate agent nightmare, and hit the evening streets of Newtown and Glebe. Our enthusiasm later causes us problems as I field several calls from the Sydney Fringe, who are dealing with complaints from unsuspecting targets of our poster rampage, including a funeral home, a private resident, and a Holy Sheet! Home wares outlet who had their mascot’s face covered with a poster. Honestly. You’d think these people would have better taste! However, the only other posters we see are Anarchist posters targeting the gentrification of Newtown/Redfern/Marrickville, so perhaps that explains the boring response to a bit of DIY advertising.

Not much else exciting happens, except that we have a car accident, take too many drugs and then crash hard lost in the streets of Darlinghurst carrying 4 phone books each, and get covered in wheat paste.

We do a snappy gig the next night at the Hutch for their fundraiser and leave them eyes boggling with our taste of what’s to come. Although in retrospect we spent more time doing our hair than rehearsing, it went rather well I thought.

Day Six and Seven and Eight and Nine

We ride out of Sydney early and head for Maitland to collect one Cat Scobie from her parents abode. Then we continue heading north. Going through Bulahdelah for supplies, one local expresses his amazement at our appearances in a timely fashion, as he catches sight of Wazzadeeno’s new reverse mullet style bright pink bob and splutters out “What the fuuuuuck?!”

We camp by the incredibly beautiful freshwater Myall Lake. It’s so clear that you can see the stars reflected in it. Well worth the 15 kms of dirt road to get there. In the morning we’re awoken first by Dez the local indigenous ranger, who is very friendly and asks us to ensure that the fire is out when we leave. Sorry Dez, your ticket box is broken, but we wanted to pay! Then, more absurdly, we’re next awoken by a horde (8? 10? They move so fast) of screaming children and their patriarch, a kindly grandfather with a Scottish lilt to his accent who enquires whether we are on YuuuTuuube and says that he’ll look us up. Things take a turn for the weird when the horde’s mother begins photographing the kids standing next to our camp. We indulge them in a few tricks, as Wazza slides a spoon up his nose and I juggle beer bottles. She promises to send me the photos, but to no avail.

It's 1969 baby, yeah!

We continue heading north, stopping in Forster to get kicked out of the same dumpster three times by a worried security guard, and bureaucratically abused by the petrol station attendant, who insists that “it’s the law”. I know it’s the law to get off your motorcycle while filling up with petrol, and it doesn’t make sense you snivelling little corporate toady – it’s not to “keep me safe”, it’s to make sure I don’t run off without paying. I realise that we are heading into Abbot Country – white settlers gathered on deforested land in suburbs built around shopping malls and tourist traps. I feel better when I note that the local National Party member’s name is Joanna GASH. Hehehehe.

Each morning it’s a battle against the clock to overcome the collective inertia of 4 people, and on Day Seven disaster strikes! We don’t quite make it far enough before darkness falls, and we can’t get to our next chosen national park, forcing us to hunt through Coffs Harbour for a sneaky camping spot. We find nothing, and to make matters worse Cat (not displaying her L-plates, and has been drinking) get’s pulled over by the Police for making an illegal right hand turn. They pursue her down a 40km street going at least 80km, to give her a ticket and let her off with a warning. Phew. We stay in the nearest campground.

I awake the next morning to the very strange sight of fat children mysteriously floating up and down in the air. Upon further inspection, I see that this campground has what they call an “inflatable pillow” – like a jumping castle with rounded edges – a fat fluoro coloured slug for the entertainment of the idle white creatures currently camped on it’s edges. Though, it’s actually pretty fun. We clear the kids off and shoot a good 20 minutes of footage for our upcoming documentary. Then, again, we head north. This time I take the open face helmet for a spin and leave my jacket in the car – it’s ridiculously warm, which makes me so happy. At least 25 degrees I’d say. The wind stings my eyes as we fly through the country roads to Grafton to visit Cat’s cousin, and I’m again truly happy.

In Grafton we meet Cat’s cousin and her boyfriend – a member of the local bikie gang who refers to the trouble caused by the “Natives” in the area without even a hint of humour.  Although we haven’t stayed anywhere very long yet, it is becoming more apparent that out here the racial divides are defined in a more absolute way that I have experienced in Melbourne.

(which yes is still racist – read Battle’s new post on Gooey on the Inside for more on this, or Pandie’s excellent post about racism and appropriation on Axximilation.
GOOEY ON THE INSIDE: to all whites.... by battle
http://axximilation.blogspot.com/2010/01/everyone-should-read-this-re.html)

To begin with, although it may seem like a trite observation, people of Aboriginal or Torres Strait heritage are much more visible in towns like Grafton. This serves to correspondingly make their inequality far more pronounced, while the white residents saunter past in their Utes and Thongs, shopping and sipping coffee from Bamboo walled cafes. Also even as I fall further in love with the roads leading through this land, it serves to make me feel more alienated from this place which does not belong to me. Especially when tropical rainforest gives way to vast paddocks and cattle, where once there would have been native bush and fauna. My people don’t belong here, and we never will until there is a treaty and a real reconciliation.

Aside from this racist aside, they’re both good company. We laugh and tell rude ridiculous stories, and have a delicious lunch at the pub with a sneaky schooner. How fucking good are schooners?! Catch up Victoria – we’re missing out. They’re just the right size you see – a pot is obviously too small, and a Pint is just too large for the last bit to be cold. Overthrow the drinking measurement system! Rise Up with your glasses!

We head onto Lismore, except this time I drive the van, and leave Wazza with my bike. I’m sure it will be fine. Hell, he’s gonna be finer than I am – 15 minutes onto the freeway and I almost plow head on into an approaching Ute, after losing concentration and looking away. I spend the rest of the time to Lismore refusing to look at Bee in the passenger seat and with both hands firmly gripping the wheel.

Lismore, like Grafton is tropical and amazing. Built in “the wok” – the nickname of the locals for the mountain ranges which surrounds the low lying township. Apparently it floods once every 3-5 years, and the people row about on boats. It must have incredible soil though, because there seems to be things growing everywhere, or at least in the house that we are staying in. Rohan is an old friend of Cat’s from S11 days. When I speak to him on the phone, I insist that he will be tall, and I am proven correct. Apparently there is some seriously raw footage of him being dragged along by his dreadlocks by the Pigs at S11. Must find this and include it in documentary. He has generously agreed to donate us his shed, a long carpeted weatherboard building with a loft which we can turn into a bedroom/clubhouse. 

We give ourselves the next day off in Lismore. I do some sewing in the sun drinking cider and listening to Frank Zappa thinking about Dad dancing strangely to “Baby Snakes” when I was a kid, and then go downtown for a Thai massage. After a week of sitting in the wind on my 250, my back and neck are aching. She starts slowly, smoothing down the muscles, but then by the end she has my hands behind my head and her knees in my back, pulling me over which produces a loud “crack” and a massive groan to escape from my lips. Damn that feels good!

The next day it’s off to Brisbane to meet the Festival, and inspect the venue, but this is a long enough post already, so I’ll leave that for next time. Remember – if you have friends in Lismore or Byron Bay, tell them that we’re performing there this weekend. Check out the itinerary in the menu of old posts for more information.

Mad love from a much warmer future!

Captain RUIN