OK, you’ve snorted some pure ooshta and jacked half a deck of primo vibrancy in some of Perth’s most secret small bars. You’ve eaten in tiny Tapas joints, so hole in the wall, that you’re not sure whether to insert your cock, or pick up your order of Pintxos a la San Sebastian. You may even have brawled with fellow beret wearers at Ellingtons Jazz Club, flatting fifths with one hand while administering ninja death chops with the other. Undoubtedly you will have then kicked on in the most irony soaked fashion to the Carlisle Swingers Club, (corkage $100, no outside whips) where you blag your way in even though you don’t have the compulsory woman to share around which is the usual entry fee. And despite being sated by a (literal) convoy of Lathlain housefraus, the watery absinthe they’ve had on tap has you wondering whether to murder the taxi driver (who disturbingly looks like an Egyptian Rob Broadfield) or tip in a ridiculously over the top fashion after the trip home. You choose the latter as he has not objected to driving you around the cobbled laneways of Nuevo East Perth yelling out “Cunt!” and howling like a wolf. For 40 minutes. Sound familiar? Yes, I know, all very same ole, same ole, ultra boring and sooooooooooo very Perth.
But what does the Perth hipster do for ooshta AFTER he gets back home to the Juliet balconeyed Highgate fuckpad? Of course he listens to old vinyl on a deliciously retro 80’s, or better still 70’s turntable. Some Frank S, a lot of Dean M, some Herb A, Johnny C and hideous 60’s compilations he wouldn’t dream of soiling his ipod with.
I managed to join that elite group when I got an old Onkyo for zero dollars from a Fremantle antique shop yesterday. (it seemed to not be working, but the belt had just slipped off.) It’s so outre, it doesn’t even have a cassette player! If you haven’t got into the old vinyl/turntable scene already, you may be too late, as both are skyrocketing in price. Yes, $5 for Cocktail International is a skyrocketing price.
“Herb Alpert looks like a Latin, but isn’t…” begin the liner notes. Which may explain his painfully pedestrian blowing of Hello Dolly. And a Cocktail International track may segue obscenely from Stranger in the Night to a few bars of Monday Monday before plunging insanely into The Sun aint Gonna Shine Anymore. But no matter, the sound is rich, fat, superb and the circle of vibrancy goes on… And the SF indicator? I’ve no idea. It flashes purple sometimes.