Thursday, June 19, 2014

it's strange how things can effect me, take for example lloyd cole whom i really liked when he was a rattlesnake, i liked his literary references and saw them play heaps of times in london, berlin and various other cities. however when i came to australia it was a long time between gigs and i grew bored with most of his output as a solo musician. but then one day i saw he was playing the basement so i bought a ticket.
now in my early days in sydney i was a regular at the basement, love the venue yet this night when i drive from avalon to the city and parked and queued up for lloyd, the people at the door refused to let me in. they gave no reason just said they wanted the clientele to be of quality and i was not suited.
'but i have a ticket.'
'well if you read the small print it says we can refuse entry.'
'who the fuck reads small print when they buy a ticket.'
'if you don't leave we will call the police.'
'i want a refund.'
needless to say i demanded a refund and eventually they gave me one.
i never returned to the basement and never will. i never played a fucking lloyd cole cd ever again, and can't stand him when he dissed the church apparently. so there you go, my loyalty has a boundary.
later i discovered the basement had been taken over by new management, they seemed to want an aryan clientele or some uber cool type of zombie which is ironic seeing as it's a jazz club and jazz kinda has black roots. 
you know what was amazing about this, i was in a huge crowd of trendy inner city fuckwits who never even bothered to defend or protest at the management at my treatment, whereas i make a point of intervention when it comes to this sort of injustice.
anyway, the basement can go fuck itself, and so can lloyd cole.

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