Lily Came Home

Bonjour. I am Eva and you’re standing on the doorstep of Le Club de Jazz. And in reply to your rude and pertinent questioning, yes, that is the correct French. Francais, if you prefer. I know because I asked John Foreman (henceforth known simply as Foreman), and he knows these things. Because, clearly, he is French. Only French people have voices that sound like Kermit the Frog. Because Kermit the Frog is French too. Because he’s a frog. But he migrated to America when he got the gig on Sesame Street. Therefore, by logical deduction, our friend Foreman is definitely French. Well, actually, he’s also Jewish. That’s why he likes my jokes.

By the way, have you ever noticed how bad comedians tell bad jokes and then tell bad jokes about telling bad jokes? So now I’m wondering if that makes me a bad comedian, because I’m telling a bad joke about other bad comedians telling bad jokes and then telling bad joke jokes…

Well, since it’s pouring with rain tonight, maybe you should come inside. Let’s get this party started! But you know what’s gonna happen…

Sarah, the keeper of the Cloakroom, will be waiting in said Cloakroom for anyone who dares to venture in to hang up their sopping wet raincoat…wait a second…KRIS! NO STRIPPING! IF YOU FORGOT TO WEAR A RAINCOAT, THEN YOU DESERVE TO GET PNEUMONIA! YOU DON’T WANT TO UPSET RAYLIE’S SENSITIVE NERVES, NOW DO YOU? YOU DO? WELL, I DIDN’T WANT TO BRING THIS UP – BUT I THINK I SHOULD REMIND YOU ABOUT SARAH’S CHAINSAW THAT SHE STASHED IN LOCKER 324. AND LOCKER 324 IS NOT LOCKED! YOU DON’T WANT TO TEMPT THAT CHAINSAW OUT OF IT’S HIDING PLACE! ESPECIALLY IF YOU’RE NAKED! BECAUSE IT MIGHT CHOP OFF YOUR…

…leg!

And then Kris, wearing only his undies, will run screaming out into the main club with the chainsaw chasing him. (He can still run, because the chainsaw hasn’t yet taken a bite out of him.)

And then Raylie, who is practising an original R’n’B flavoured, country-crossover song called I’d Rather Eat Grass Than Ever Ever Ever Ever Ever Go Out With You Again with me and Trace and Rookie Jess, will faint from fright at the sight of the superman print on Kris’s undies.

Then Foreman will enter from the kitchen, where he was deliberating on the complete lack of kitchen staff. When he sees the chaos, he will put his hands on his head for Occupational Health and Safety Reasons…and then realise that he slipped some pethidine into The Hair’s glass of red cordial…so The Hair is safety sedated. Then Foreman will scream ‘Sacre bleu!’ and dial 911.

And then Foreman will remember that he is neither in America nor on American TV in Australia, but that he is in Australia. And so he will hang up, then pick up again and dial 000.

When the emergency services answers, a sultry female voice will say ‘Hello, The Cloakroom, Sarah speaking’.

Foreman will say, ‘But I called the ambulance!’

Then Sarah will say, ‘The ambulance is on lunch break. All calls have been diverted to the Cloakroom. And, by the way, have you seen my chainsaw?’

‘We need help! Raylie just fainted. If she dies, the band will NEVER be able to finish writing the flute solo in I’d Rather Eat Grass Than Ever Ever Ever Ever Ever Go Out With You Again!’

Two seconds later, Sarah and her hovercraft will emerge from the Cloakroom, bearing medical supplies. Unfortunately, by this time, The Hair will have emerged from its pethidine-induced stupor. It will leap off Foreman’s head, onto the bonnet of Sarah’s hovercraft and, with a cry of ‘Hiiiiiiii-ya!’, strike a karate pose. Sarah will shriek with fear (and Sarah isn’t one to shriek at the drop of a moustache). But Trace will save the day by clanging The Hair between her ride and crash cymbals.

The Hair will shake his fist and softly murmur, ‘I will conduct my vengeance as a handsomer Dantes than Jim Caviezel ever was’, and then fall limply to the floor. Then Sarah will rush over to the unconscious Raylie and administer the necessary medicines, like smelling salts, etc. (Sarah is a young woman of many talents.) When Raylie finally wakes up, she will immediately utter the unmemorable words, ‘Can I please have some red cordial?’

And then Rookie Jess will help Raylie to her feet, and the band will finish writing the flute solo for I’d Rather Eat Grass Than Ever…ah, you know what it’s called.

And the moral of this story is that semi-nude singers should never take on chainsaws whilst wear superman print undies, especially if the ambulance dudes are on lunch break, unless there is a hyperactive drummer with nimble fingers around to save the day.

And that maybe, just maybe, if Australian television truly was Australian television, the general Australian public might actually know their own emergency number.

This is the genre non-restricted tale of one man’s hair and its virtual jazz club.

Yes, Le Club de Jazz belongs to The Hair.

And The Hair is possessed.

Be prepared for anything.

If it is possible to prepare for anything…

Visit Le Club de Jazz now!

[WARNING: visitors may inadvertently discover that the actual virtual Le Club is just significantly slightly more sedate than they had expected it to be…]

These are the club rules:

These club rules were set down by unfortunately departed life-member Lily. Other departed life-members are Ella and Ruby. If at any time these departed members should see fit to return, they will be welcomed with generous servings of ice cream cake, jelly, and red cordial.

The active life-members of Le Club are Trace, Sarah, Raylie, Eva and, of course, John. The newest initiates (Rookies) are Jess and Kris.

A Little History:

The Unsuspecting Players in this Tale are:

The Even Less Suspecting Cameo Players are:

Andrew G – wearer of tiger suits and the greatest procrastinator of them all

G’s Hair – The Hair’s deadliest rival

Callea – the only man who controls his own hair

Jimmy – zoner, but he’s not on drugs…we think…

John Mayer – husband of Eva

Micheal Buble – husband of Jess

The Only Players Brave Enough to be Special Guests are:

To be advised. We are presently in negotiations with Jamie Cullum and Kermit the Frog.

So now you know the lay of the virtual space, come inside, keep an eye on your wallet, and put a pint of red cordial on Lily’s tab. If you’ll just wait a minute…just one more minute…I swear, only one more…and we’ll get the music started.

Welcome to Le Club!

I don’t know how or why this topic popped into my mind. But it did. And so I spent a good hour or so imagining what type of candy certain singers would eat and why. Here we go:

Kelly Clarkson: Starburst – unexpected tangy explosions.

Micheal Bublé: Lindt seashells – it doesn’t get smoother than this.

Norah Jones: Caramel Dove – subtle and delicate, with a gooey-sweet centre.

Richard Marx: Crunch – perfect combination of smooth chocolate and crunchy biscuit.

Delta Goodrem: Jelly beans – instant sugar high.

Hilary Duff: Bubblegum – will pop if stretched too far.

Missy Higgins: After-Dinner Mint – a fresh taste after too much steak and potatoes.

Jamie Cullum: M&Ms – bite-sized bursts of energy that don’t melt when the heat is on.

John Mayer: Snickers bar – smooth on the outside, but a nutty mess inside.

Norah Jones.

Two little words. Nouns if you want to get technical. When you read these two arbitrary nouns, what other nouns, adjectives, verbs, adverbs, conjunctions or even suffixes come to mind? Here’s mine:

Nouns – piano. (Okay, that’s an obvious one. How about ‘music’ then? What? Still too obvious?)

Adjectives – classy, soulful.

Verbs – croon, sway, savour.

Conjunctions – because, then.

Suffixes – tion. (well, you say it as ‘shone’.)

Did you enjoy that psychological association exercise? Please post your answers now for assessment.

And on with the story.

I’m sure you already know this bit: In 2002, Norah Jones took over the world with her soulful, sultry, soft pop-disguised-as-jazz.

As usual, Australians took a few months more than the rest of the world population to feel the effects. But they did eventually. As usual, I took a few months more than the Australians.

My mother dearest borrowed Come Away With Me from the library, specifically for me to listen to. I’m unsure if she’d actually heard the music, or just Norah’s reputation. Either way, I gave it a listen. At the time, I was sixteen and all music was Savage Garden. So after hearing Norah’s efforts, I nodded and said, ‘It’s nice’. I did like it, but I didn’t give it a second thought.

A few months later, The Calling wakened me with a bang from my Savage Garden slumber. The moment of Wherever You Will Go opened my mind to music other than Australian electro-pop. By this time, I’m sure Norah had conquered America at least.

Fast forward to Christmas. Norah was in my stoking. As a much wiser seventeen-year-old, I embraced her dulcet tones whole-heartedly. I most definitely had an affair with the song Shoot The Moon (seriously, it was love at second…hearing…), and spent countless hours mulling over the writing credits, trying to pick out the similarities in all the songs written by a single composer. Over the ensuing year, Turn Me On proved to be a very popular song in the media (most notably, performed by Australian Idol darling Lauren.)

Now please press ‘stop’ and fast-fast forward to 2005 and the release of Feels Like Home. Again, my mother dearest borrowed it from the library. This time around, I’d already heard Sunrise. I didn’t really think it was as good as Don’t Know Why. I suppose it’s a common thing to compare the corresponding singles of any artist. But this judgement was basically a snap decision; I’d only heard the song once, and then in passing on advertisments. So this time I was even stupider; I didn’t even listen to the album! I’d got it into my pig-head that Feels Like Home couldn’t possibly be as good as Come Away With Me. Plus I couldn’t be bothered with the effort and concentration it takes to properly listen to and absorb an album. (Now this is the incriminating bit…but don’t worry, I redeem myself later!) So I just ripped it onto my computer, thinking ‘I’ll listen to it later’.

Turns out ‘later’ was about ten months down the track.

I’d been quite aware of the album just waiting there on the computer for me to listen to it, but I kept putting it off. I began to feel a bit guilty. But not guilty enough to override the laziness. Finally, one day I thought, ‘I’ll just listen to one song’. I clicked on Humble Me. It was quite nice. A few days later, I listened to Creepin In and was pleasantly surprised to find a guest vocal by Dolly Parton. About a month after that, I bit the bullet and listened to the whole album.

And I fell in love with it.

I could not believe how pig-headed I’d been to assume that the second album wouldn’t be as good as the first. I was incredibly, ironically angry at myself. Yet I was intensely caught up in the beauty of Norah’s music.

Now, after a few months of absorption and thought, I venture to say that Feels Like Home is actually slightly better than Come Away With Me. The tracks that have emerged as my favourites are Those Sweet Words, The Prettiest Thing and Toes. But Toes is clearly the stand-out. It isn’t far short of pure musical and lyrical genius.

I’ve slowly grown into all the songs. Even Sunrise, which I readily admit that I sorely misjudged. On this album, Norah displays a strength that was absent on her first album. Tracks like What Am I To You?, In The Morning, Be Here To Love Me and Long Way Home show us the spirited, cheeky side of Norah that we hadn’t really seen before. And yet there are still moments of intense vulnerability, such as Humble Me and Don’t Miss You At All.

Norah’s piano-stylings have an innate coolness. She just knows how to play jazz. When she takes on a Wurlitzer during In The Morning, she comes out on top to create a fantastic moment of soul. There are also several amazing lyrical moments that will have you delightedly raising your eyebrows too high. The moments that immediately come to mind are…hmm, no I won’t tell you. I’ll let you discover it for yourself. That’s part of the joy. So enjoy.

Oh yes, now for my redemption. Once I fell in love with it, I trundled off to JB and bought the album.

You’ve been reading Girl Meets Music. I’m out.

Eva.