OK, OK ...Khe Sanh. And Acadaca.

I decided too much Jimmy is never enough...
...
So after introducing some of my northern hemisphere readers to the gravelly delights of the fabulous Jimmy Barnes, I thought to myselt: BB, you cannot leave it here. That would just be cruel.

So I had to bring you the unbeatable Aussie rock Cold Chisel pub rock song:

Khe Sanh.

This first version was recorded three years ago...

Man I love these guys...

The lyrics tell of a Vietnam veteran coping with life after the war was over. I know EVERY SINGLE WORD. I would hazard a bet that most Aussies aged between 30 and 60 do too. I don't think it's too much to say that (for this age group at least) this song is almost like another national anthem. Well, an after-dark, after pub-time national anthem. You know what I mean!

...

I am momentarily 20 years old and dancing at 2am in some nightclub in Brisbane, or at some B&S in the bush, screaming along with Jimmy. I confess I am actually doing a little hair-thrashing here in the lounge room... such a great look! Luckily no-one else is up to be embarrassed by me...

...

Interestingly (in my trawling) I discovered this version also :

...a much younger Cold Chisel with a 1978 rendition.

Some things just get better with age. Would you agree?

(And I am not talking wine, people!)

...

And lastly (if your ears haven't been bashed enough in this post) I thought I should share that OTHER great Aussie 70's rock band, ACDC, with their classic head-banging song:

You Shook Me (All Night Long).

This band are currently doing a sell-out tour of Oz.

...

I promise to go all gentle on you next post after these last two blasts into my past.

Hope your weekend was groovin' too.

...

Cheers

BB

Jiiimmmmmaaayyyy!

I love listening to music...

We travel long distances out here - everything is at least a half hour drive away, and while I do listen to ABC radio to occasionally catch up on what is going on in the outside world, my chief choice of audio entertainment is my i-pod. I plug it into the Prado's stereo and my kids brace themselves for Mum's terrible singing, as I belt along with whatever comes up on 'shuffle' setting. I feel quite sorry for them, but have noticed they are taking the "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" approach and are singing mightily along too. Regardless of whether they know the words or not

(Chips off the old block! Ah'm so proud!).

Among the many and varied artists on my little piece of newfangled electronic equipment are some numbers belted out by one of my very favourite old style rock-n-rollers.

His name is Jimmy Barnes.

Or as fans call out when he's on stage:

'JIIIIMMMMAAAAYYYYY!'
(Not that I have ever done that... well, not lately!)

Jimmy led an awesome Aussie pub band called Cold Chisel through the 70s & early 80s.
I have sung (badly) along to almost everything he has ever put out - in discos, pubs and at B&S's. I have swayed and rocked to his gravelly-voiced lyrics at his concerts. He was a wild man, with a reputation for hard drinking and hard partying.

I also had the amazing opportunity to interview and photographing him a couple of times, back when he toured through my old stomping ground of Griffith (NSW). Sadly, those hand-processed black-and-white images belong to my old employer... how I wish I still had them now.

Among the images I took was of the wild rocker with a girl called Alice. Jimmy had met this special little girl during one visit to the town. Alice was just six and fighting leukaemia - Jimmy had a daughter the same age and Alice's story touched him deeply. So deeply, that he dedicated a song to her on an album (when she passed away). I cannot help but think of him in this way (when I hear his music) ... a tough, gruff rock'n'roller with a purpling broken foot (from some over-enthusiastic partying after the previous night's concert) gazing quietly at two little girls playing in a motel room.

I would love to share the song he dedicated to Alice (I think it was "Tears We Cry") but cannot find it on YouTube, and also love "(Your Love) Keeps Lifiting Me Higher" (which he does an awesome version of) ... but instead have found this ballad (from album Soul Deep) to share: When a Man Loves A Woman

Do you like a little gravel in your ballads?

BB classroom: What's real? .

I have been doing a spot of teaching lately.
Not that I am any sort of professional teacher.

I have the utmost respect for teachers, and the importance they play in our lives.

Plus they have to be the most patient people on the face of the earth, no?

And Lord knows patience is not one of my natural virtues

...
But Dash's teacher called on me recently

to share a little of my 'expertise' in the photographic field.
And I hesitated about exposing youngsters to my brand of

fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants lesson organisation

but agreed, freaked out slightly, then girded my loins, and braved the classroom.

It's not any old classroom - the entire school: 16 kids aged 4 to 12.

Keeping them all interested was going to be tricky...

...
Among the many things we talked about over three one-hour sessions, have been:
What is a Photo?

(snapshot, portrait, newspaper image, x-ray, ultrasound, etc)
Why Photos are Important to Us

(record of our lives, our community, our country, our world)
and What is Real?

...

I find it startling and kinda scary that kids are so exposed these days to images that seem real, but are not. And the number of adults and parents who also cannot seem to be able to distinguish the difference... well, that's evident in the number of "can you believe these amazing photos' emails forwarded on through inboxes around the world.

...

We started with famous people (pics lifted from here):

After the retoucher has been at the photo...

Same photo before...Nice to see famous have pores too!

How about a retouched Desperate housewife: And before the airbrush hit the lovely Nicolette...
The boys in the class were amazed that
blokes get the same treatment by magazines:
And before the 'plastic-wrap' look...
And it's not just about faces...
Check out the change in Kelly's derriere profile...
Personally I like her with a little more junk in her trunk!
And while no-one could say this is an unattractive pic...

...that airbrush magician sure can tidy up those unruly locks...

I was careful to point out that all these people ARE genetically blessed too - that they are still beautiful in their 'before' photos. Just more real than the 'super smooth, super skinny' images that get published.

...

And then we finished on these images...

I got them to look closely where the wheel should have been...

to see where the sand had been 'copied' into the spot and the wheel copied and moved.

And then asked them the last time they had seen roos picnicking on a beach...

And described how I thought the photo manipulator had achieved the result.

Of course, I totally admire those who do this work so seamlessly that most onlookers are caught up in the fantasy - they are artists and extremely talented.

...
I just hope the kids can now look a little more carefully at the images in their world,

and value their precious childhood snaps which add up to their own personal histories,

and the glossy photos that (whether we like it or not)

help form view of 'what is beautiful' and 'what is real'.
...
Did any of these images surprise you?

She's the Voice

A funny thing happened eight days ago, on the other side of the world...

A few minutes of something special was recorded, giving the world a clip that should inspire people from all walks of life, all backgrounds, anywhere.

...

This woman happened.

Have you seen her yet?

If so, you are probably among the more than 30 million who have watched her on U-Tube. I don't actually watch that much TV anymore - a few hours a week really. But I caught this clip from Britian's Got Talent about four times on various talk shows this week, and then searched for it today on U-Tube. And every single time I watch it, it moves me.

Alright, I admit, I cry.

Every. Single. Time.

Why?

One middle-aged woman making strangers on the other side of the world weep with emotion - seems bizarre. I guess she touches me because she utterly transforms from ordinary, from so-called 'ugly duckling' - as seen through the eyes of a critical audience whose reaction to her was recorded - into powerful, beautiful woman. Because, Lordy Lord, this girl can SING.

...

She bursts forth with this unexpected voice from heaven ... a voice I always wished I had, kinda imagined I might have had with all those hours of practice in the hairbrush and behind the wheel of the car. But alas... my darling husband always wonders aloud who is standing on the cat's tail when I try to get melodious! (I am hoping my talents lie in other areas!)

...
But back to this amazing amatuer singer who has so gripped the world. The Britain's Got Talent clip is amazing for the shift in attitude that happens in an instant.

This single 47-year-old from a small Scottish village, with barely any singing training

wiped this nasty eye-roll from Simon's Cowell's face...

And replaced it with this slightly gobsmacked look...
And halted this unkind mimicking of her dancing ...
Into this shocked appreciation...
If you have not yet seen Susan Boyle in action...
Do yourself a favour:
click here.
You MUST...
And you will do this...
I promise.
On her already-erected Wikipedia page, Susan is quoted having no idea who twittering supporter Ashton Kutcher was, before going on to star beside him on American TV show Larry King Live. How refreshing! (I wonder if Ashton thought so too?)

...
She is also reported to have observed
(referring to BGT audience's initial reaction to her on stage):
Modern society is too quick to judge people on their appearances. ...
There is not much you can do about it; it is the way they think; it is the way they are. But maybe this could teach them a lesson, or set an example.

Well I think she looked beautiful...

especially when her confidence rose alongside that soaring voice...

and I hope she never gets a makeover.

What a marvellous gift she has.
Her voice, her story.
What a woman.
What an inspiration.
Wouldn't it be great if all the Susan Boyles of the world find their voice, their gift, and share that beauty with us.
We should be so lucky...

Being Demi Moore: for twits, British gits or cool as hell?

Brace yourselves: it's confession time again.

Forgive me my sins today, for I have joined the fray.

Despite being buried deep in the Aussie bush, miles from the merest hint of a mobile phone signal, I have joined Twitter. Have you already noticed the little (mostly one-way) conversations I have been having in the sidebar? Scroll on down to "Riding the Twitter Critter" or as I like to call it:

Being Demi Moore.

Of course I should state categorically that I am NOT Demi Moore. I may be brunette, but I am not nearly as interesting or buff, nor do I really wish to emulate her frantic twitter-pated life... although I must say that I wholeheartedly applaud the 'younger man' thing. Heh.

...

If you are up on the Twitter game, and more advanced in modern technology than I (let's face it, that would make you part of 95% of the world's human population!) you will already know that celeb couple Demi and Ashton Kutcher are 'hawt' professionals at the Twitter Game. The gossip mags hang on every strange staccato offering they tweet out into the world. And let's not forget that nasty bit of work, whatizname who went and dumped Jen again... and let the world know on Twitter. Nice. They post (what seems to be) to be the most inane twaddle, in cool code that most people over 30 couldn't possibly interpret to (I imagine) amuse themselves while waiting in lifts and after holding auditions, and generally mess with heads of the paparazzi in their vicinity. I don't have that tempting option as motivation for my own twitter twaddle (seeing as how my paparazzi followers are all closely related to me).

...

I do kinda like the fact I can update those of you who bother check in on my silly little bush blog - providing snippets that I don't really want to write a whole post about - stuff like the weather, and the washing and providing riveting mental images like:

Watching 20 to 1 and catching up on emails - now singing Sweet Transvestite loudly at my computer. It's not pretty!

and

Clear skies and sprinkler off versus jeans on the line and clean car - weather prediction anyone??

Because nothing sucks people in like imagining a 40-something woman getting all 'Rocky Horror Picture Show' in the office, or being asked to be a weather forecaster... I feel the need to paint a picture for you, to really colour in any romantic outline you have of my life!

...

And the excitement doesn't end there.

I can 'reply' to the people I am 'following', by clicking the arrow link after my friends' little pieces of witty repartee and starting my twitters with the '@' symbol... like this:

'@utahzen I KNOW... perhaps I need to wash the rotten thing more often! Lord knows we need the rain...'

or

'@thepioneerwoman you rode a horse?? You are pulling our legs!!'

...

That's right.

I can pretend that I am talking to famous people and fellow Twitterers like The Pioneer Woman and Dooce and John Cleese.

No, seriously. John Cleese!

My favourite Python of all, whose twitters I imagine being uttered with a marvellous clipped British accent. Possibly accompanied by a silly walk.

Of course Ree and Heather and John don't actually twitter me back (having 11, 843 and 325, 010 and 129,054 followers respectively to keep twittered up) but they might.

One day.

And that would really give me something to blog, wouldn't it?

...

Cause Lord knows how I am going to keep my, er, 7 followers entertained otherwise...

So be brave and Twitter me back, my sweets.

Or not.

I'll still love ya!

In ridiculous-yet-heartfelt twitter-twaddle

@BB

(Your technologically challenged but game-for-anything bush blogger)

I Once Met a Man - Tommy Emmanuel

Debby posted an amazing clip of a gifted American guitarist on her blog today... took me back to my journo days. I was 20-something (almost two decades ago) and wide-eyed, armed with a heavy black battered Nikon, a notebook and lots of enthusiasm. I worked for a small paper in rural New South Wales at the time, and spent my days mostly dealing with used cars (and associated salesmen), football (and associated players) and various pillars of the community (and associated Mafia associates!).

...

Then one day, a young guy called Tommy Emmanuel came to town. I had heard vaguely of him, that he was a pretty amazing guitarist, and that he was holding workshops for kids in our town. I walked into the hotel lobby where he was staying to interview him and watch him work with kids. He was lanky with an easy grin and a laidback manner. Kids surrounded him and his worn-looking guitar, shuffling in anticipation. Pushing back his floppy hair, he hunched over the wooden instrument, eyes closed and suddenly intense in his concentration.

...

To say I was blown away by what he did that afternoon would be a serious understatement. His enthusiasm for his art was something to behold (matched only in my experience by the inimitable Steve Irwin). His whole body was involved in his playing, and his expressions verged on the comical as he shared his talent with us. Within a minute though, I was hooked. Transported to another place as this man showed exactly what a guitar CAN DO... I actually forgot to take photos I was so transfixed. And that NEVER happens...

But don't just take my word for it...

Here is the great Tommy Emmanuel and Guitar Boogie.

Let me know what you think??

BB

The Croc Hunter and Me...

Now I must admit that this headline is designed to capture your attention. I wasn’t actually a close personal friend of Steve Irwin. And I know that using "me" is bad grammar. And I have inferred that we are good mates. That would be a bit of an exaggeration. So slap my wrist, please.

...

But there was a program on Australian Story (best show on Australian TV) with Bob Irwin talking about his life and his son. It made me remember my small experience with the Crocodile Hunter. There are probably millions of Steve-encounters stories in the world. This is mine.
…
In my previous job, in my previous career, in my previous life, I interviewed and photographed him. Before he was famous and considered “cool”. In fact, the first time I met him, I had been passed on the job by another photographer who thought Steve was “a bit too in your face”. I mean, no-one any of us knew actually used the word “Crikey”… a bit OTT.
…
As an aside, one thing you need to understand about most Australians (including me) is that “in your face” and “over the top” are not considered a particularly attractive attributes. We like people to achieve like crazy, be successful, be nice and be humble and be QUIET about it. Now Steve was all of the former things, and remained pretty humble but ‘quiet’… well, perhaps not. It’s called Tall Poppy syndrome – and it’s alive and well Down Under.
…
Steve had not long been married to Terri, when I made my first visit to Australia Zoo. In those days, they literally met visiting journos at the front gate. Steve had a huge smile, a booming “g’day” and was a flurry of arms and enthusiasm. I was forewarned about Steve’s sheer “in your face-ness” and was probably a bit cautious about this mad croc hunter. But the genuine warmth and infectious delight in the wildlife and his life made Steve the easiest bloke in the world to like. It was utterly impossible not to be swept up in that fervour. And I’m an animal girl anyway, so I was easy prey.
…
He was a delight to photograph – keen for anything suggested, and then some. Climbing half-way up the side of a cage for a good angle. No worries. Letting me get into a corner of an outer enclosure to shoot a croc leaping from the water – done. Finding out extra info on the latest addition to the zoo for the story – too easy. And it became apparent that Steve was a good sport - with a ready laugh and ability to send himself up - I believe it was this attribute (as much as any) that finally won his fellow countrymen over.
…
He loved a good reaction, and would test out any unsuspecting visitor with a surprise show of a snake or other creepy creature. I managed to (mostly) keep my poker face on. And I fell in love with some of the creatures – especially Harriet the Tortoise (then the oldest living animal in captivity at about 160 years old) . Not the snakes and crocs though. But I never told Steve.
…
One thing clear in my memories is how he was the proudest, most excited guy in the world when they announced Terri’s pregnancy (with Bindi). I photographed them together and was bowled over anew by their love story, and their energy for each other and for their lives together. It was inspirational. I hoped someday I would find something similar.
…
As his fame overseas (especially in America) grew, and gradually spilled over into Australia, there was more competition in our newsroom to cover Irwin and Oz Zoo stories. That was OK – it was nice to see some reward and respect for this genuine bloke with energy to burn and enthusiasm by the truckload. I really enjoyed Terri too – she clearly adored her husband and revelled in the work they did side-by-side.
…
I have to admit, I never really got into his TV documentaries much. But I loved seeing him interviewed and watching that twinkle of humour and spark of energy ignite and burn bright, warming those nearby and on the other side of the screen. He energised us all.
…
It had been almost a decade since I had last photographed the Irwins when news of Steve’s tragic death hit. Much had happened in my life, but I always listened with a sense of pride to his achievements. I was here, visiting Granite Glen, when I heard. Mum and I sat there and stared at each other for a good five minutes in stunned silence. It seemed utterly incomprehensible. That someone so full of life could be gone. It still does.
…
My kids were too young to understand at the time. Dash thought Steve WAS Australia Zoo – the giant billboards we’d pass on the highway, with that famous gap-toothed grin and daggy hairdo, were synonymous (to a kid) with the Zoo. The face and the place were the same to him. Images on the news of Steve in the aftermath of his death would evoke the comment: “Look Mum, there’s ‘Stralya Zoo’!!”. It made me cry.
…
The wild thing is that the Dash and TLW now adore “Bindi the Jungle Girl”. It’s their favourite morning TV show and gets quoted regularly to me. “Mum do you know the tiger is getting ‘dangered?” Dash will demand. “Gotta be careful with frogs, they might get ‘dangered!”. It fazes them none that Steve features constantly in the clips. They know he is dead. But they take that fact in their stride. (Maybe it’s only adults that make that issue complicated?)
…
While the kids were playing at the yards recently, a role-play in the back of the ute took my breath away.

“Mum, I’m a shark and the bad men have taken my fins off.

You know what sharks are Mum? I’m a shark and I'm ‘dangered.

Steve Irwin says so.”
...
Jeez, Steve, old mate.

You are as bloody potent an influence dead as you were alive.

Crikey, we miss you, you great dag.