ThreeThousand is a weekly snapshot of Melbourne's subculture - a Melbourne guide to film, music, design, books, art, goods and links for people who realise that the best things in life are often hard to find. Below you will find the latest additions to our Melbourne guide.
The word ‘free' is like my catnip, my knee-buckling kryptonite, the ‘bacon sandwich' Achilles heel to my staunch ‘vegetarian' calf. Free cardboard box? Free kick to the gut? Yes please! Unfortunately, while upon terra firma, it rarely occurs. Not for real, anyway. Things like, 'free love' come with dependents and DVD-nights attached, 'free booze', crippling hangovers and seriously cringey memories, 'free food' a BFF moment with your toilet bowl.
In April 2000, five men viciously bashed Mark Hogancamp outside a bar in upstate New York. He emerged from a nine-day coma with no motor skills or memory, and was shocked to learn from his own diaries that he'd been an unpleasant alcoholic. "It was like reading something that Stephen King wrote.
Do you love depressing music? I do!
Melbourne's Chris Bolton writes moody, sparse songs that intertwine folk, drone, minimalism and restrained indie rock. Perfect for listening to late at night, alone, it's an album that keeps you guessing and doesn't grow predictable; a treasure for fans of slow, beautiful bummer music, like labelmate Ned Collette, Thom Yorke on Quaaludes, or a less pretty Bon Iver.
Naming a documentary about The Magnetic Fields would be almost more of a task than filming it. From a prodigious band that's been pouring out gems since 1989, the list of perfect lyrics and titles to cherrypick from is daunting, each one glorious and cutting. Much like the band's songwriter and central nervous system, Stephin Merritt.
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