Author Archives: dogpossum

Lemon parsley sauce

Make this and serve it with roasted veggies, some greens and poached eggs, or with salmon.

  • 1 bunch flat leaf parsley
  • 6 anchovy fillets
  • 2 tbsp capers
  • grated zest 2 lemons
  • 1/2 cup lemon juice
  • 1/4 cup olive oil
  • ground pepper

Whizz everything except the olive oil and pepper in the food processor. Then add the olive oil gradually as you whizz, til it’s mixed in properly. Then add some pepper.

If you’re a vegan or a vegetarian and you don’t eat anchovies, I’m not sure what you can do. Or what can be done for you. You’ll need to up the salt without them. And, well, look. Just don’t bother. Don’t bother. You need anchovies.

Honeysuckle Rose

‘Honeysuckle Rose’ is one of my absolute favourite songs. It shouldn’t surprise you that it was composed by Fats Waller, with lyrics by Andy Razaf. Waller was super talented. Duh.
There are sixty billion different versions of Honeysuckle Rose. Sixty billion.

This is one of Waller’s:

linky

But I want to look at this one, by Basie’s band in 1937:

linky

I love love love love it. There’s something about that bigger band, and Basie’s different piano style that adds to the song.

I was just listening to this version by Jonathon Stout and Glen Crytzer’s bands battling together with this song as the framework:

linky

I’m not an expert, but this sounds like an adaption of the Basie arrangement. And then they add a bunch more layers to the song. The dixie ‘joke’ in the middle is gold, and a really good example of the difference between swing era swing and that earlier moment in jazz, before swing stormed the world. I’ve written about this performance a bunch of times, and you can follow up some links to the musicians’ own ideas about the song via links in my post bands for dancing.

hot as fuck: bands

It’s 45*C in Sydney.

Things that dancers just need to get over wrt live bands:

  • Long songs. Just deal, yo. You don’t have to dance the whole thing. And you don’t have to dance two songs with each partner.
  • Songs that start slow, then get faster after the intro. It’s not that big a deal.
  • Fast songs. You don’t have to dance the whole thing, and you don’t have to dance every song. Get some fitness, get some small dancing happening, get over yourselves.
  • A band’s songs all ‘sounding the same’. Geezus. They’re a BAND not a DJ. They got a thing going on: get used to it.

Things that bands need to figure out if they want to play gigs organised by and for dancers:

  • Dancers like songs that are about 3 minutes long. This is because they’re usually used to dancing to CDs. Technology enforced this 3 minute rule. Suck it up. You can play your long songs, yo, but if you play lots of really long, really fast songs, the dancers will eventually all sit down. SCIENCE, BRO.
  • Not everyone in the band needs a solo. Unless your band is made up of the Esquire All Stars, you’re probably not that good. Sorry, mates, but that’s how it is. This isn’t a democracy: it’s jazz. Even if you are that good, I’m not convinced you’ve always got something to say.
  • Dancers aren’t seated audiences. They’re not listening to the music the way seated audiences are. They’re riding their adrenaline, and their appreciation for your art is going to be tempered by their physical abilities. This means:
    • If you play all super fast songs, and all super long songs, your dancing crowd is going to die. Work the tempo wave, yo.
    • Dancers are jocks, pretty much. They’re not going to appreciate that complicated, noodly bit of low-energy, finger-fiddling bit of solo that goes on for four phrases. Stop that. It’s wankery. Get your head up, look at the room and not at your fingers. Work the crowd.
    • Engage the crowd. Yeah, you’re an artist. But right now you’re playing for dancers. Make some eye contact. Pay attention to what you see, and learn to understand what you see. The communication between dancers and audiences isn’t verbal. It’s non-verbal. Dancers learn to dig what you’re doing, so you learn to dig what they’re doing. Then we can all be a TEAM.
    • Long bass solos are boring. Sorry, Ray Brown, but four phrases of subsonic twiddling = dull dancing. Stop it.
    • Dancers are unlikely to clap your solo. Sorry mates. But they’ll let you know they’re listening with the way they move.

Just reminding myself…

Feminism for me, can often be a profound discomfort with the way things are. The sort of niggling irritation that eventually just pours out as rage. Because shit is WRONGTOWN. I’m a white, middle class woman living in a developed city that’s wonderfully resourced, in a country that has free health care. Sure, it’s a bit shit being a woman in a patriarchal culture that keeps trying to convince me I should starve myself for approval, or lock myself away in my house so I won’t force men to rape me. But mostly I think I have some good things going for me.

So when I discover one of those niggling irritations, I like to use all that privilege and do something about it. Because, fuck, I can. And I tend to think that if you’re in a position to do something, you should. Partly because, you know – responsibility – but also because doing stuff undoes that crippling disempowerment that comes from being told you’re too fat, too old, too skinny, too boring, too smart, too dumb, too loud, too ridiculous, too hairy, too opinionated, too female every single day. Just doing a little thing reminds you that you’re not a complete failure as a human being. You’re actually pretty damn awesome. So you can do awesome things.

Generally, speaking up about shitty things that you see happening in your community, particularly if you’re a woman, means you get some pretty bad reactions. I get the odd bit of hate mail. Stupid comments on my blog. Nasty interactions on Faceplant. But you know what? I get far worse every day yelled at me from passing cars when I’m waiting for a bus. So fuck that lamearse nastiness. I can tolerate persistent sexual harassment and fight down the fear that I’ll be beaten and raped on the street, so those stupid little comments sure as shit aren’t going to stop me.

I strongly believe that stewing on your rage makes you feel worse. A key part of patriarchy involves convincing women (and men) that there’s nothing they can do. That they just have to suck it up and tolerate being told what to wear and how to behave and how to think and what to do with their bodies and lives and minds. That if you do question the way things are and then do do something about it, you’re a bitch.

I’m totally ok with that.

Bring me all your partners, and make them bounce really high in their bodies



(image from here)

I’m mad keen on partner charleston atm. I go in and out of love with it, but now I’m the best at lindy hop*, I can concentrate on other dances.

linky

*I feel I need to signpost that this is a joke, because I quite regularly get dumbarse readers rolling through who’re just a bit too literal. While I’m at it, I do actually hate all men**.

**That was a joke, too. But I get accusations of man-hating every couple of months. I mean, obviously.