Fisherman's friend.

I've never been to a rave before. There's something about the tempo of the music combined with the tempo of the transformer pants everyone wears that has never really meshed with my current lifestyle choices, which currently don't include trance-nation-climax and deceptecon overalls. Everything is really fast and turbo and i just imagine heaps of sweat flying around and people latching on to each-other and dancing like it's the last night in the history of the world even though they clearly know it's only another four hours before they'll all be together again outside Central Park maccas, practising their shuffling and bumming cigarettes. I don't have anything against it personally, i'm just glad they're all babies and don't enforce their culture too relentlessly unlike some other sub-genres of dance (goth, christianity). Plus, their pants are actually pretty cool in a creepy, steampunk, i-wish-i-was-Neo-from-the-matrix-oh-thats-right-i-already-am context.

Obviously you could imagine my excitement the other night when seemingly out of nowhere, but actually right in front of me, i was approached by an old friend with whom i used to party down at my local watering hole that i never go to. The topic? Hot action sweet rave parties. The subject matter? Me. The verdict? Why not. I figured it was early enough in the night to experiment with new things, but still have that chronological safety blanket should i feel the need to leave early and get a good night's sleep. Before we'd even entered the party an unimpressed patron was making an early exit due to an apparent "lack of bitches". We casually countered his statement with "perhaps you weren't raving hard enough?" The proposal appeared to strike him harder than expected and in that instance he realised he probably could have raved a little bit harder and continued on his journey shaking his head with his glowstick between his legs. The lesson was punctuated by the omnipresent squeals of the abundant bitches as we arrived.

As opposed to most parties, where it's considered tradition to stand around drinking and discussing subjects you wouldn't dare breach during sobriety, the rave party follows a strikingly different itinerary. People were standing around drinking and discussing subjects they wouldn't dare breach during sobriety, only they were doing it whilst clad head to toe in glow sticks. It was a confronting and appealing image and i soon learned that it was commonplace at a rave party for the guests to drape themselves in sticks of the luminescent nature and/or air-conditioning ducts. I put this down to the fact that the party wasn't very well lit and the glowsticks help everyone recognise each-other for ease of introduction and conversational initiation. I immediately thought of how awkward it would be if someone wasn't wearing glowsticks and you started talking to them only to find you don't even know them!

I saw some people i knew and addressed them with (what i thought was) the obligatory rave greeting. "Sweet rave" i announced. "Yeah, real hot rave" they all replied. I was in. We stood around awkwardly for a few seconds when one of them asked me "have you been to the rave cave yet?". I assumed they were talking about a new rave bar that had opened up in the greater Northbridge/Highgate area and replied "Nah, i haven't been there yet. Where abouts is it?". They looked at me, perplexed by my actions yet somewhat intrigued by my ignorance. One of them had been waving their arms around in the air throughout the whole conversation and suddenly stopped to proclaim the rave cave as "only the hottest, sweetest cave at the whole party". I felt bad for not knowing about this cave by default and immediately scanned the expansive backyard for any cave like rooms i may have missed when i first entered. After a solid 345 degree rotation i noticed a brightly lit shed, shooting out what appeared to be lazers coupled with people letting all their inhibitions go in the name of upper body movement. The group i'd arrived with had dispersed for the time being and i carried on conversation with the group i was currently conversing with, not once letting this 'cave of raves' leave my sight. I had to find out what it was about this seemingly normal shed that had all these people in such a rhythmic, almost cult-like trance.

I regrouped with my clan not long after and we were just maxed out having this totally chilled out conversation when one of our other friends approached us in a totally un-relaxed manner. He was really pumped and paying heaps of attention to us while we spoke but every time we looked to him for contributions he'd be looking somewhere else. He was moving around heaps and his pupils were about 80% bigger than when i'd seen him earlier on but he didn't really seem to mind that much. He was just that pumped! The he started talking about the rave cave and how it's pretty much the best place in the world right now and that we were all pansies for not being in there and this one time when he was really young he went swimming in this lake on a camping trip and he got bitten by what felt like a piranha but not quite and he swam back to the shore and it was the single most enlightening experience he'd ever had and he'd never forget it ever again and we were the only people he'd told and not to tell anyone else. It seemed as though our inevitable encounter with the rave cave was now more inevitable than ever. We all took one last sip of our respective beverages, gathered as many glowsticks as we could and started our journey to the point of no return, which was the shed in the corner of the backyard.

The rave cave was sweeter than expected. There were lazers everywhere, there was smoke coming out of nowhere like there'd just been some totally hot explosions and the music tempo was too fast for me to enjoy but too slow to be lame. It was like walking into a techno version of the final housing estate scene from 'Children of Men', except instead of everybody getting shot and maimed, they're all just embracing the music and expressing their friendship. As expected, our friend that was more pumped than anyone was enjoying himself more than everyone and there was even a point during the rave where we made a coat of arms with the glowsticks and he flipped out on the ground below us for what seemed like about 80 seconds. It was one of the most explosive displays of movement and music appreciation i have ever seen and everybody else at the rave just stood there in awe for what seemed like about 80 seconds, absolutely devastated they hadn't performed a similar ritual but totally appreciative that someone else had done so. Inside the rave cave it wasn't rare for random partygoers to loudly proclaim their love for the song that was playing at that point in time and it seemed as though this announcement was like a mating call for any other ravers that felt the same way, a mating call to make love to the music, if you will. It was the hottest, sweetest, most explosive five minutes of my life and if someone asked me to trade it for anything in the world i'd think really hard about it for a few minutes and then decline.

I was just that pumped.


Update: It has been recently brought to my attention that the above rave was brought to you by Soul NRG, which is a subsidiary of the conglomerate. Not sure what to do with that industrial sized drum of glowsticks you ordered before last New Years Eve? Out of touch with the burgeoning Perth fixed gear scene? Check their blog at www.kasiconcepts.blogspot.com

Sam Worthington is versatile.

I saw Clash of the Titans last week and was completely blown away by how i wasn't blown away by it. Months before the release i was promised a quality film by the life-size cutouts of Sam Worthington screaming at a freshly slain Medusa head atop a mountain in the rain. There was no explanation as to why he was screaming at her, i assumed that it was tradition back then or maybe that they'd had an argument on the way to the mountain and Sam Worthington was like "if you don't stop hissing at me you're going to have another date with my right hand and some sideways rain/lightning and i know how much you hate that" and she just kept hissing at him and taunting him about how he can't play any roles outside of the surly, screaming action hero that spends most of his role in the air with a weapon aimed at the camera from the perspective of whatever it is he is slaying at the time. That's why i wanted to see the movie, i needed these questions answered and i also wanted to see a big screen adaptation of the most feared creature in Greek Mythology, the Kraken. I hadn't seen a Kraken in real life yet and i figured with all the technological advancements modern man has commandeered, ('Real-d' or 3-d to those that don't work in the industry) it would be pretty close to seeing one in real life, which i haven't seen yet.

Newsflash: Don't see this movie in Real-D.

Real-D by definition is a projection of imagery from a flat surface that gives said image dimension. That's probably not the real definition but it's my blog which by definition means i can do what i want. Real-D has worked wonders for recent computer generated outings like 'Up', 'Bolt' and the new Toy Story which, much like the Kraken, i haven't seen yet. However, human actors were never meant to undergo the Real-D makeover. Every time one of the actors moved, you'd be given first class tickets to millions of layers of that actor behind them which resulted in headaches and regret in that order. You'd think a million Liam Neeson's could save any film but this is not the case when he has to battle with a million Luke Treadaway's. I decided to be a smart ass and take my glasses off. This resulted in two outcomes:

1. I got to see how stupid everyone looked with their glasses on.
2. More headaches.

I didn't pay for this. Literally, someone else actually paid for the ticket and i was dangerously close to asking them if i could rain-check their free ticket for the next movie we go to, effectively doubling their expenses and leaving me at an even zero dollars outgoing. I figured we were past the halfway mark and this would be a pretty unfair request even by my standards so i bit my tongue on a rogue portion of popcorn, which took my mind off asking for another ticket. From what i'd gathered up to this stage, Sam Worthington is pissed at Hades because Hades accidentally killed his family. Hades is pissed at Zeus because Zeus made him ruler of the underworld which is like getting stuck with Old Kent Road on Monopoly, no matter how many hotels you throw at it, it's never going to make you any real money. Zeus is pissed at Hades because Hades is pissed at Zeus and then there's a scene with these massive scorpions and some asshole tries to kill Sam Worthington, the asshole later turns out to be his dad. This review may contain spoilers.

The scorpion scene was pretty cool for the most part, however, the battle went on for so long that i started wondering whatever happened to stinkbugs. Remember those smelly little insects with the shields on their back and the shields had symmetrical tribal patterns on them? They smelt like a combination of licorice and vomit and i haven't seen one for about 15 years. After the stinkbug scene Sam Worthington and his homies have to go and kill Medusa because she's so ugly that she has to live in a cave and hasn't been laid for god knows how long. Apparently she used to pump heaps of guys but Athena got crazy jealous and turned her hair into snakes. The movie taught me heaps about Greek Mythology.

Sam Worthington is from Rockingham. He has an Australian accent that he couldn't seem to shake for this movie or Avatar. It wasn't too bad because he only had about eight lines of dialogue but when they were about to go into Medusa's cave he heartily announced that none of his comrades should "look this bitch in the eye". It was the most Australian thing i'd ever heard. He may or may not have said 'mate' afterwards. It was definitely a high point for me and got me wondering if there was any Australian heritage in Ancient Greece that would justify his accent. As far as i can remember, Australia wasn't even around during these times, nor was the barbecue, it's accompanying shrimps, the Collingwood Magpies or the famous Australian made 'Fuck off we're full' stickers. I pictured one of the stickers on the back of Sam Worthinton's pegasus and these guys getting offended.

After the Medusa encounter Sam and his remaining posse go back to their home town, only to find that it's getting it's shit ruined by the film's crown jewel, the Kraken. The Kraken is a mythological octopus summoned by Hades himself and could probably benchpress more than most. I was like, "this is it, epic full profile shots of the Kraken in all it's glory". Throughout the movie any mention of the Kraken was met with epic orchestral background music and a sense of apocalyptic catastrophe should it ever decide to leave it's volcanic stronghold. So during the final battle there's all these high speed pans of the Kraken and it's surrounding tentacles and it was pretty well animated and all that but not once did i get a full profile of it. Why do movies always do that? You've got these awesome beasts whose immense scale is hyped up throughout the entire movie and all you get is a bunch of close ups on it's mouth and dumb citizens running away from it when they know they should've not gone into the city that day or at least headed home when the colossal, destructive, end-of-civilization-as-we-know-it monster newsflash was broadcast.

I'm not going to say don't see Clash of the Titans, because you'll see it anyway. Do yourself a favour and don't watch it in Real-D though, it's the equivalent of sniffing petrol and trying to concentrate on a Dragon Ball Z fight scene.