Five Weeks in Australia

2010-10-26T19:02:00.000-07:00

Hello! katydavidsonandfriends.com is the only site I currently update. Please visit frequently for all your Katy Davidson needs/desires. Thanks!

2006-12-12T14:01:00.000-08:00

Me? What am I doing?

1) Falling deeply in love with Dr. Tobias Fünke.
2) Drinking beer at The Pike in Long Beach (what's up to my new skater friend Dustin!!).
3) Ending this blog.

I'll leave you with this:

This is Nat making a call from a payphone in the Outback.

Now...get off the internet!!

2006-11-30T20:41:00.000-08:00

HOW ARE YOU GOING, MATES?

I'm totally partying alone in Long Beach right now. Canned beer and ska. Frank's in class. I just made quesadillas with vegetables inside! I've been in the kitchen so much since I got back. I made pesto and guacamole and garlic quinoa and pesto/capsicum omelets and...and.... Got a burrito straight off the plane. The mornings here are jet laggy and psychedelic and the nights consist mostly of what I'm doing right now. I've written five songs since I've been back. The titles:
1) All the Little Things
2) We Curse Behind Metal Masks
3) I Saw a Whale
4) Collapse in Vision Caused Collision
5) I'm in Trouble
Awesome! Cannot wait to play these jams with Marianna. Marianna's deep in schoolwork right now. She's getting smarter and I'm, well...what am I doing? Canned beer and ska?

If you didn't notice, I got totally bored of updating this thingy my last couple weeks there. There was too much fun to be had to be wasting time on the internet. Did I tell you people that I broke my glasses? I woke up in Payne's Find, hundreds of kilometers from "nowhere" in Western Australia. I took a walk out into the red. Flies buzzed my face, the sun blazed. I found a dump of old glass bottles. I talked to myself. I walked back to my little room. I dropped my glasses. Crack. Broken in the same place I broke them in August. Broken forever! So I wore my prescription sunglasses all day all night for my last six days. Today, here in Long Beach, I drove to this weird place up on Atlantic Avenue and Carson and got myself an eye exam and bought CONTACTS. Haven't worn these things in eight years or something. Weird feeling. But it's awesome to see.

I know how rad I looked wearing sunglasses onstage during Ladyfest though. Admit how rad I looked.

My four days in Brisbane were wild. Partied with Erase Errata and Romy and Nadia and Nikola at Ric's on Thursday. Partied at Melodee's totally sick BGirl breakdancing jamm on Friday. After that, still on Friday, partied with Kristen and skateboarders Monica and Ester at Kristen's DJ night. Did a "boulder" and a "reverse boulder." Saturday, practiced with my one-day bandmates Adele and Jeremy, then played Marianna's music and Christine McVie and the Roches on Triple Zed radio with The Doog and Khaela. Played that night at the Troubadour, then partied with Khaela and Dominique and Kristen and the skateboarders a Fetish Ball we stumbled across. Wild. Still have bruises from reckless dancing. Sunday I played at the Powerhouse with Susie and some of the Golden Circles and danced with little kids. Later the skateboarders and I took the CityCat boat all the way to the end and then pulled into the Powerhouse again in time to see Kiosk and Partyline play. Then I went home. I did not go to Ric's. Instead I called Frank and got scared of an unearthly cockroach and packed.

See? You kind of had to be there.

My last show in Melbourne was killer. Gus and Kellie and Isobel from Architecture were my band. Isobel did psychedelic trips on the recorder (tripped out with a delay petal) during "The Call." Kellie slayed on the bass and Gus shredded on the drums. Mia and Kristy and friends held a photo shoot for me. Kristy made this totally beautiful jacket that I wore. Mia's such a pro photographer. Those ladies truly have it together. Coachella 2007, dudes. Cannot wait.

If I mentioned your name in the last two paragraphs, it means I deeply miss you.

Of course, not to forget HJ, Mournhorn, Dung, Lubree, and Spray. My truest mates. Miss you intensely. I will write soon.

Ok enough.

More later...if you're lucky!

2006-11-21T03:10:00.000-08:00

Woke up, took an early morning walk down Poison Gulch with Bree, saw three small kangaroos at short range.

In the Perth airport and freezing. Already checked my sweatshirt. Been in Australia long enough to want to call my sweatshirt a "jumper."

Already say "how are you going?" instead of "how's it going?"

Why did I check my jumper? Airports are freezing.

Traveling to Melbourne overnight. Left the crew today. Felt raw and emotional, got on the train, put on my iPod and shed a few tears to Townes Van Zandt. Last night under the stars, eight deep in the hot tub, we pounded Becks and sang like Scott Weiland. Late this morning, karaoke. Took the train to Perth, called Frank from a greenhouse-like phonebooth.

Three days in the outback. Two adult emu sightings. Just hugging the side of the road as we slowly passed. The van came without seatbelts. I drove and hit a crow head on.

I know I haven't been writing much, but I haven't really wanted to. I'm gearing up for a full report soon. Be patient!

2006-11-13T18:09:00.001-08:00

FAST TIMES IN TASMANIA

Hello, World.

Back in Melbourne after two and a half days in Tassie (Tasmania, for you Americans). Hobart is a friggin' beautiful city, rainy-then-sunny-then-rainy-again, built on a hill, on a harbor, etc etc. The people there are totally bananas. We wi-fried our brains in the band room of the Republic Hotel, catching up with lovers and friends. An art opening was happening in the other room. We ate salmon. Thanks for donating your lives, dudes.

Pretty much lost my voice for that show, oh well. But Darren's set rocked. Started a mosh pit during "Squash"!!! That may be the closest to Antarctica I'll ever mosh.

Someone stole one of my Dear Nora tshirts right off the wall.

I got revenge the next night by announcing my allegiance to Launceston over Hobart (age old rivals!!). Launceston rocks deeply hard. Peace to the people of Launceston. Tom, my babyfaced 22-yo boyfriend for the night: MUCH LOVE! Remember going deep on that curried egg sandwich at BP at 2 a.m.? And my less-than-encouraging, expletive-filled stint as a drunken jogging coach??

Cool.

We're back in Melbourne and we have two well-deserved days off. Can't wait to plow some Japanese food.

PHOTO FREAKOUT...
Darren's band on ABC radio in Melbourne (Bree not shown):

This is how Bree plays the drumbeat on "The Call":

Kellie, Marky and Connell Parsely on Kellie's porch in Melbourne:

Drove around Melbourne in Connell Parsley's studly bronze steed:

Kellie's mind is blown as the door of perception is thrust ajar:

Post-sushi jamming on the floor of the Melbourne airport:

More soon on the Southern Hemisphere Vibe Sisters.

2006-11-10T16:27:00.000-08:00

Morning Comes And The Foldout Couch is a Sling

I am the broken arm of the Home.

No, I am mended! I feel like I've just been released from prison! Sickness has been cast away and I am bird, a big bird, ready to PARTY.

Last night we rocked the crap out of Mornington Peninsula. Drummer Bree and Bassist Marky joined me, as did Holly Throsby again and Kellie Sutherland on smooth vox. Such an informal vibe. The place was called the Peninsula Lounge, so everything during the night was like this: "Let's give a warm, informal, Peninsula Lounge 'hello' to the band." Everything was "Peninsula Lounge."

I heard the peninsula was beautiful and I didn't see much beyond the parking lot of the club. Such is tour though, breezing through amazing places, moving from van to venue to van to venue. For the most part though, we've seen and done some amazing stuff. Out of the van, out of the venue. The other day The Melbourne Cup was on TV and the entire nation stopped what it was doing and went to the pub. We were driving though a very remote region (which to me looked very much like California's central valley), and we stopped at the only pub out there. The whole scene was very Mad Max. Lots of huge guys with ripped shirts and tough expressions. The seven people in the place embraced us though: Darren found out that four of them shared his last name. "I found my tribe!" he exclaimed.

Rothko paid a visit to Ballarat. Check out this piece, right next to Blockbuster Video:

After the Ballarat show, Mia and Kristy took us deep into the Australian bush, to a solar powered accomodation in the middle of a sculpture park. On the drive there, Darren slowed the van to a stop and said, "Americans! Look! Roos!!" We saw them blue in the moonlight, hopping into the dark. We stayed up until four in the morning listening to John Lee Hooker and playing "Splash'ums and Crawl'ums." Please remind me to teach you how to play this.

Now, right now, I'm in Melbourne. Everyone's asleep. Marky and I are staying with Kellie. Wi-fi before noon on the foldout couch. Life gets even wilder after tonight's show in Melbourne. Tomorrow we fly to Tasmania for two days. Then we fly to Perth for a few days. Then I leave the tour and fly to Melbourne for a few days. Then I fly to Brisbane for four days. Then I fly to Sydney, then I fly to LA.

INTENSE.

Let us go back in time. Here's our Lake Hume accom:

Here are the Lake Hume misfits:

Darren's band in Ballarat, with extra special guest (look closely):

Darren and Holly in Ballarat:

NURds at a gas station.................................

2006-11-07T19:46:00.000-08:00

Ok, To Come Clean...

I have been keeping a journal of this trip--in a very real, tangible notebook--but I'm finding the writing much too personal for public forum.

What I will say is that we're in a cabin near the bank of Lake Hume, which is shriveling and shrinking before our very eyes, exposing sand and tree trunks. Lake Hume is near Albury, the city we're entertaining tonight. We're playing at a place called the Three Legged Dog. When I was young, my family had a three legged dog named Mr. Fit. He had a good spirit, Mr. Fit. He liked to lie down in the cool dirt.

Anyway, we're near Albury. More than two weeks into tour. We marvel at how little we knew each other when we started. Now we're like a family, traveling in our a family van.

In Canberra, we played two nights at Tilley's, a wonderous venue. Tilley's operates with much dignity, respect and pride, and I'd venture to say I've never played a kinder place. On Night Two, I perfomed sitting crosslegged on a stool, very adult contemporary. Bree and Holly hammed it up with me on "Emily."

Darren's set is reliably impressive. And his band could not be cuter.

Here at Lake Hume, it looks like Sonoma County in the Caribbean.

This is MOUNTAIN ROCK:

More photos soon!

2006-11-05T20:26:00.000-08:00

HOTT PICS FROM THE ROAD

First pic is us at Big Jeff's house in the Brisbane suburbs!! BBQ! I had a horrible fever and cold sweats and I hadn't slept in 40 hours!

Next three pics are from the Sydney Metro show! Check out Dear Nora for the night: me, Marky, Lindy Morrison! We shredded!!

In Canberra, ACT, with 30 minutes of laptop time. Very hopped up on coffee!!!!!!! Played swank Tilley's last night, will play it again tonight. Killer ambience!!!

More hopefully soon!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2006-11-02T17:12:00.000-08:00

Two huge things I didn't think about before coming to Australia:

1) Blessed wi-fi is rare, so rare. Even here, back temporarily in Sydney, I'm plunking around on this dude Curtis' giant PC. The things we take for granted, People. Give thanks everyday for blessed wi-fi. It's been hard for me to reach you.

2) Why in the world would I want to waste my precious foreign moments stuck in front of a computer screen? Writing boring accounts for God Knows Who? Who are you anyway? Why am I writing to you??? I should be outside living, breathing, eating Vegemite and Tim Tams.

Just think about it for a while.

But, since I do have a rare moment (thanks to Curtis' PC), I would like to say a few words.

I saw a koala bear up in a gum tree in the wild. And a giant kangaroo, just having a lie down in the shade by the beach. And a blue tongue lizard, that looks like a huge snake with legs. And a kookaburra. And wild parrots.

I met the bassist from the Violent Femmes.

I permanently changed the title of "Caribou, Timberwolf" to "Kangaroo, Emu."

I blew mellow didg drones across the Tasman Sea.

I stood on the rocks at the far eastern point of Australia...again.

I got a fever of 103 and lost my voice...again. (Fine people of Brisbane, you may finally get to hear my real voice at the end of November when I return. IF YOU'RE LUCKY.)

Holly Throsby and Mark Mannone jammed hard on "Emily" with me in Bulli. Vocal harmonies and bass respectively.

I swam in the warm, warm waves in South West Rocks.

I've been eating Thai food.

Trying to stick with my yoga regimen.

Um, it's springtime and rainy and warm?

Check out this cast of characters:
Darren - small man with huge voice
Mark - groovy bassist with '70s hair
Cory - loves beer
Bree - rippin' drummer with unbelievable fashion
Nat - tour manager, Virgo
Kathryn - the one complaining in the back

Very much rambling now. Pictures hopefully tomorrow. Sort of promise. Newcastle tonight. Huge Sydney show tomorrow. Got to try to get Lindy to play! Keep forgetting to write to her! Do it now!

2006-10-28T18:55:00.000-07:00

NO BLOGGING IN RURAL AUSTRALIA

But for the moment I'm in Brisbane, in a cafe blessed with holy wi-fi. Deeper descriptions and stories soon to come. Played four very successful shows so far. One week down!

BBQ in Darren's blissful Sydney backyard! Very good vibrations!

Sunset over Uralla. Find it on a map.

2006-10-22T20:50:00.000-07:00

Facts

Did you know that the baggage handling staff at LAX hates musicians? It's true!! I stood in this really long line for a really long time waiting for my checked luggage to be examined, and then a baggage handler said "Anyone leaving at 1pm, give me your luggage NOW." So I gave him a rolling suitcase that had cds in it and then I tried to give him my guitar, which is packed in a keyboard case of prodigious size, and he cocked his eyebrow and slowly began shaking his head, nervously asking, "What's in there?" "A guitar," I said. As soon as the words left my mouth, it was on. He shouted into his walkie talkie: "Come in, come in, we've got one! Sector 5, Gate 2!" Suddenly metal walls descended on all sides of the room. A team of baggage handlers, donned in rubber suits and masks, poked tasers suggestively in my direction. The rest of the travelers were ushered hurriedly out of the building through a secret sidedoor. "Put the guitar down!" one of them yelled behind his mask, "NOW." Like a frightened fox, I made a break for it. I sprinted futilely toward a metal wall when I was tackled by a group of handlers and repeatedly tased. From the bottom of the dogpile, my guitar was stripped from me. I came to, then battled my way to a standing position, only to witness a strange, disturbing ceremony: the baggage handlers had formed a semi-circle around their baggage handling leader, who removed my guitar from its case and held it in triumph above his head. The handlers softly began to chant: "Levitate...Levitate..." And to my amazement, the baggage handling leader (let's call him Senior Bag) floated slowly toward the ceiling. His rubber suit transformed into willowy silk that blew dramatically around his body. He still held my guitar high above his head. Before he reached the ceiling, his body came to stop. He held his position for a pregnant pause before speaking. When he finally said, "We have gathered here today..." the reverb on his voice was so heavy one could hardly understand. He spoke slowly: "We have gathered here today to show Ms. Davidson exactly what happens when one decides to check a guitar on an airplane." The baggage handlers below bellowed with glee, snorting and wiggling around like hogs. Senior Bag laughed an enormous echoey laugh, then fell silent. The next thing that occurred was so grave of a sight, it seemed to happen in slow motion. Senior Bag cocked his arms backward, then hurled my guitar at the ground with ferocious force. My guitar turned 360 degrees through the air, a model on a runway, displaying its grace for a final instant before smashing into twenty pieces on the tile floor. The baggage handlers scurried for the pieces, grabbing them, ripping, tearing, and finally devouring them. I held my head in my hands, yelling, "NO!!! NO!!!!! NO!!!!!!!!!! NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Suddenly the entire scene vanished and I was in Sydney, Australia.

2006-10-19T18:45:00.000-07:00

T-Shirt Design for Australia Tour 2006!

Brought to you by Frank the Witchdoctor!

2006-10-19T08:55:00.000-07:00

We Curse Only Behind Metal Masks

Frank the Witchdoctor sleeps as birds squawk and planes hum. Stress and I were dancing the Macarena, but it evolved into more of a Salsa.

But this is me, here, now, inserting chill pill into mouth. Swallowing chill pill!

I bought a heavy duty guitar case that I can throw under the plane. Cynthia said, "Do it." It's actually a keyboard case that Frank and I will modify with foam.

I've been practicing. Long, organic D and G drone solos. Thirty minutes each or deeper. I've also dug into the back catalog! I've been feeling some of the oldies, some of the three/four chord trippers. What will unfold onstage remains to be seen.

Frank and I drove to Fascist Square Mall. We tiffed momentarily near Anthropologie, and walked separate directions. I hopelessly scanned a mall directory. Frank called my cell phone from twenty feet away. Smooth jazz permeated everything. Our tiff ended with me revealing to Frank, in all honesty, that the booth near us was where I got my ears double pierced in the early '90s. We browsed at Circuit City. I bought a hard drive.

I drove to Upland to run spotlight. I spewed long strings of expletives at other drivers. Creative ones! Ones I probably couldn't remember now if asked. The metal mask feels good though. I got my music, my loud phone calls, my loud singing, my strings of expletives. Animal Collective was perfect for the 605 at rush hour sunset. Absolutely meant for that environment. It's a shame that cars feel so good.

But now it's all about Long Beach and putting things in bags. Sunny, bougainvillea, backyard, hardwood Long Beach. And Saturday's that damn plane.

This band is called Oil. Oil was formed in Long Beach in 1997 by guitarist Blake Nelson and ex-Dark Angel vocalist Ron Rinehart.

2006-10-17T21:49:00.000-07:00

Stress and I Are Dancing the Macarena

More soon. (Bookmark this page!)

2006-10-14T16:45:00.000-07:00

Basking in the Eternal Now: A Walk in Southeast Portland

There are things that I know I have forgotten, and I am bummed to have forgotten them. And there are other things I know I've forgotten, and I'm happy about it. But the things I wished I remembered, they usually don't matter anyway, because I usually don't spend my time wishing I remembered them, so they usually don't exist.

I walk in Southeast Portland, basking in the eternal now. I hear the legs of my jeans brushing against one another. I know that I am in a good place when I can hear my own footsteps. There are roses and rhododendrons and so many multicolored leaves on the ground and the trees. There is a bicyclist for every car. Many cats and kids and ravens. Waves of autumn roll through the streets, waves of ash, auburn and grey. We are drowning in Portland, but it's not wet. So many people smile at me as we cross paths. Where am I? Scandinavia? There's something eerie in the perfect. Are people content because of the miracle of life or coffee? My past washes in the waves and all I know is sidewalk and crunching leaves.

Curt reminded me of things I had forgotten, and it made me bummed that I had forgotten them, though I remembered that I wasn't bummed when I didn't remember that I had forgotten them. But it was OK anyway, hearing these stories about a stranger. He remembers me a different way than I remember myself, and that goes for everyone. My whole time in Portland, I've found myself thinking over and over how much safer I've felt to have everyone be "older."

But why is Five Weeks in Australia starting on a walk in Southeast Portland? The five weeks haven't even begun. They only exist in anticipation, like a mirage on a desert highway: the glowing promise of a fast-food and gasoline oasis after miles of Nothing. Right? You know what I'm talking about? When you're driving on a flat freeway for miles and miles and then in the distance you see the silhouette of tall poles topped by shapes? Then you're closer and you can make out the colors on the signs, the familiar fonts, the familiar feelings associated with the icons. Perhaps that is so distinctively American, those tall signs on the freeway in the distance. What are they called? (Pause for extensive Google Image Search. Signs of this type are very difficult to find on the Internet. They are exciting monuments reserved soley for real time American freeway experience.)

What is the Nothing that lies between these fast food and gasoline oases? This is where I long to be, existing actively in the Nothing space that spreads out infinitely on both sides of the freeway. How long could I survive if I slowed from 80 mph, pulled over on the shoulder, got out of the car, and with no preparation other than mental, walked in a perpendicular line from the freeway, out into the American Western Nothing? I'd probably die in 48-72 hours, from thirst and exposure. But I'd experience some pretty pure desert before I died. Maybe I'd trespass on military land and get tased and dragged to an underground office and interrogated. And I could only say, "I was curious!" Good to die curious.

(I'm making fun of people who call the desert "Nothing.")

That all was totally a tangent.

The walk is over, the walk will never end. This is the one week mark, it's T minus seven days to departure for Australia. I have a strong disdain for airplanes and it has nothing to do with fear of crashing. I dislike the way people eat on airplanes.

But I assume I will get over that and then I will be there, out of the plane cabin and into the dome of existence that holds Sydney, then smaller cities, and on and on. I'm going away from my home to a faraway place so I can play songs written in bedrooms on large public stages. Think about how weird that is objectively.

But it's cool.
-----

Sort of like this, but also deeply not like this:

(All of these images courtesy of Google Image Search, except Digital Caveman Freeway Drawing. Thank you.)