
Monday, October 19, 2009
LANCELIN HELL CITY

The most isolated part of the most isolated city of the most isolated continent is suitably marginal in climate and culture - but for THE INSECTS THAT ARE NOT ALIENS SURFING CLUB, hoons and assorted escapees, it is sometimes home.
COCK JOCKS 4 2010

There comes a time, when we here a certain call...It starts as a dull murmur in the gusset, calling young men softly from about the age of 17. By the 20s a high pitched shriek is sent from the silky regional area. By 30 you can't resist. The cock jocks call now comes from the tough wearing nylon string thing, loud as yacht rock. A banshee-like song, Mermaids. White rabbits... Dane Peterson has succumb. It was only a matter of time. Who's next? God forbid - Parrish Watts? Surely too much to bare... - insectsurf
Friday, October 16, 2009
INSECTSURF IS DIGGIN' FROM THE GRAVES OF AUSTRIA - THE TRASH BONES

Viennas fuzziest garage ghouls from the other sidewalk -http://www.myspace.com/wildevelandthetrashbones
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
INSECTSURF GIG REVIEW - THE STEMS LAST HOMETOWN GIG @ MOJOS FREMANTLE
Surrounded by remnant bowl cuts and lees-than-original desert boots, some mods and a weird rock-a-billy searching for a home following the demise of the Aberdeen as a Sunday dance-off for weird rock-a-billys (the kind that wear blundstone boots and work in engineering firms); i finally confirmed the link between the edge suburbs as paving the way for our best garage bands (the Masters Apprentices from Elizabeth in Adelaide, the Easybeats from Villawood in Sydney) in the 60s as per present day. Dom Mariani, Velo Zupanovich, Roddy Radlj (fittingly Roddy Radar), crap - even Kent Turkich. 60s pop and psyche sensibilities were passed to these ethnic outposts like Paisley Shirts and Winkle Pickers from your cooler university brother. Just like the 60s. Stuff it. I reckon continuous with...An authentic link between the kind of suburban comtemplation and global perspective that grew the best bands in the 60s - Dom, Richard, Dave and Julian (the stems) are of that same genesis. Sitting on the pavement in front of a Deli eating Fruit Tingles as a kid in the 60s, 70s, or 80s gives rise to the same sugary rush and longing for more. More fuzz. More reverb. Its the blues baby and bound to voice the subjugated. The Stems gave a nod of the helmet to four decades of repeated urban longing; a gesture in favour of the otherside...the otherside...the other side. Dont slip on that banana peel
the insects that are not aliens surfing club
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