A Grant McLennan Story

This story happened in (I think) 1999 at David McCormack & Emma Tom’s wedding reception one Sunday afternoon in a backyard at Bulimba. My girlfriend (at the time) and I knew a few people there – but they were all much cooler than us and we were very little in those days. We were shuffling around in a corner somewhere looking awkward until I saw Grant was all alone and I had something to ask him — so up I went.

I think I either assumed he remembered me or I gave a very vague introduction. (See previous story). But he didn’t seem to mind and let me launch into it. “Have you heard of the Belle & Sebastian song Shoot the Sexual Athlete?” I asked.

“No,” he said. And it almost looked like he hadn’t even heard of Belle & Sebastian — or was only vaguely familiar.

“Well it’s all about how Stuart Murdoch loves the Go-Betweens!” I said excitedly and perhaps shocked he didn’t know about it. Although Belle & Sebastian were in their heyday at that time admittedly this song was not on any album or b-side — it seemed to be only available through a download on a fan’s website. The lyrics to the song go:

“Now I’m in a band people try to make me do things
Kiss arses and pay tribute
But I’m inclined today to do those things anyway
And I don’t care who hears it
‘Cause I’m a fan of the Go-Betweens
A fan of Robert, and I always have been
But I like Grant, now that I’ve met him
Because he’s charming
Of all the stars, and all the would-be stars
I’d take him home, to my mum and dad
Yeah, he’s charming, but he’s a trouble-maker too
He amuses me greatly”

I tried my best to relate what I remembered the lyrics to be to Grant and no doubt exaggerated my own perception of conflict and drama in the song — when now I look at it — it’s only ever so slightly balanced in Robert’s favour. And again — that was probably never the intention. It’s almost a love letter to Grant the more I think about it. But the way I told it, it was another of those Grant vs Robert tales where Grant always comes out second best.

Also — what I didn’t realise at the time — there was another song about the Go-Betweens by Sydney band Smudge — released in the early 1990s which I bloody guarantee you Grant was super-familiar with. It was called “Don’t Want to be Grant McLennan”. And I am sure it was intended to be cute and ultimately reverential: but I bet Grant wouldn’t have taken it that way in his heart of hearts. 

“Want to be like Robert Forster and rock and roll from heaven 
But the songs I write in the middle of the night make me sound like Grant McLennan 
Don’t wanna be Grant McLennan 
Don’t wanna be Grant McLennan 
Paul McCartney Ringo Starr 
George Harrison and John Lennon 
Don’t wanna be Grant McLennan”

I mean it is called: Don’t want to be Grant McLennan and even somewhat implies Robert is greater than all the Beatles.

Ouch. 

The more I learnt about the Go-Betweens, the more I listened and talked to friends about them, it was a bit of a running gag — Grant wrote the hits and Robert wrote the deep stuff. And there was this bizarre thing where if you were a true fan — you had to choose. 

And although I am a massive dork — I do possess at least the semblance of some social skills and perhaps the most modest ability to pick up on some cues. So when I told this story to Grant I could see he was secretly a bit guttered. You could almost see him thinking, “Not this shit again. oof”. 

But he bounced back.

Almost immediately he said, “Well I like the other Stuart better!”

I almost fell over laughing. It was so funny and revealed he was indeed a true Belle & Sebastian fan — and especially so because the band were famously very secretive in those days.

That was Grant.

The subject was quickly changed and he then told me how much he loved The Cardigans. I was like, “You are kidding – right?” But a few weeks later I bought their album and he was right. So, so right.

Stupidly I tried to get this story to Belle & Sebastian a few years later — and I am pretty sure I succeeded. But perhaps thankfully they didn’t acknowledge nor reply! 

And I guess I am supremely proud Grant got the last word in that conversation.

AND HERE IS SOME PICS I TOOK IN 2004 FOR ANY B&S FANS

(Some shot in Brisbane, some in Melbourne 2 nights before)

Photos by me! In Brisbane at the Tivoli in 2004

How I uncovered some long-lost Go-Betweens pictures

It began with a desperate call from my Dad. He’d lost his birth certificate and citizenship papers. Were they in that box of his old negatives and prints he’d given me during 2020’s lockdown he asked.

He was applying for a new passport and mumbled something about getting deported. I said I’d look and call him back. I soon found the papers he was after but in doing so I saw a picture of a smiling blonde woman lying on a bed, holding a hairbrush. I’d completely forgotten about this strange image.

I’d rung my mum when I first saw it and said, “Is this Lindy Morrison?” Mum had explained it was indeed Lindy from the Go-Betweens. But this was a promotional shot taken by my father for a play Lindy was acting in a year or so before she had joined the band.

Once Dad had calmed down he said the play was called “The Kiss” which was written by someone called Jackie McKimmie.

I began to wonder if Lindy had a copy of this photo – or had even seen it. That night I messaged Adele Pickvance who played bass for the reformed Go-Betweens — someone I knew through my days playing in a rock band with Wintah Thompson – the son of another member of the reformed Go-Betweens – Glenn Thompson. Glenn is also famous for drumming in Custard.

So Adele got permission and I soon had Lindy’s email. I waited until the next day and fired off a message with a copy of the photo. Very soon I got a wonderful reply.

She was delighted. “You have no idea how much joy this photo gives me,” she wrote. “I have nothing but a poster from this period….It was such a great play. Such a great time.”

I wrote back promising a better scan as I’d only taken an iPhone photo of the print. Plus I said I’d have a dig around those negatives because I suspected there were other photos she might be interested in.

Photo: Paul Hannah

See back in 2020 I had had a cursory look at those negs. Dad had dabbled in photography in the late 70s and early 80s. A few weddings, some sports photography for The Sun newspaper. He’d even had a Polaroid camera and had gone to restaurants seeing if punters were interested in a picture for a small fee. (Of course none of those ended up in this collection.)

There was a pub shoot of a 1979 meeting of the Brisbane Poets Union with some extra shots taken out the back of the Pink Palace Apartments on a massive fire-escape. These shots ended up in Time Off and in the UQ student paper — Semper Floreat. And there were many more shots from the play Lindy was in – all on negative film.

Photo: Paul Hannah

Now I was determined to have a proper look at all this stuff so I bought a cheap negative scanner from the internet and a few weeks later it arrived.

I got stuck in and after a few hours I had got through most of the film but there was a grubby bag leftover labeled my aunt’s engagement. I almost didn’t bother looking at these but I eventually pulled them out and sure enough the first 9 or 10 shots were of the happy couple but then there were shots of a weird party with a band I didn’t recognise. (There was even a couple lying on the floor pretending to be dead.) I texted my aunt and she was equally mystified: there was no party for her engagement. 

But then I got caught up in tracking down everyone in the other pictures. My mum’s friend and my old boss Robert Whyte helped by sending me the Time Off story for the poet’s union. The big group picture was thankfully captioned and I reunited lots of people with pictures of themselves they hadn’t realised (or had forgotten) existed.

Meanwhile my dad managed to identify those party shots as a pretend “Wake” my mum had held for the funding cut which led to the cancelation of the 1978 Queensland University Review. Another important detail here is that my mother worked at Activities in UQ and was part of the production team for that play Lindy was in. She had roped my father in to taking all those promo shots — perhaps for flyers, posters etc.

My mum on left. Photo: Paul Hannah

Then I was at my sister’s place on Sunday afternoon and telling her the story. She used to work at State Library and suggested I get in touch with John Willsteed – another member of the Go-Betweens and a local academic and according to my sister — a good old-fashioned local historian and archivist. That night I sent him a Facebook message and started feeding him random images. Turns out John used to live in the Pink Palace and he recognised a few people. He sent me his number and I promised to get in touch the next day.

So I had a chat with John, told him the story so far and he was keen for me to write everything down and submit the pictures to State Library. I said, “No problem!” And in the meantime I promised to send him the rest of the scans.

Later that day I dumped them all on him in a series of emails. And at the end I decided to tack on those images of the “wake party” and the band which I assumed were just the entertainment that night. I labeled the photo “Mystery Band”.

Next thing I know John sends me a message saying the mystery band was in fact The Go-Betweens. Like THE GO-BETWEENS. One of the most, if not THE most, iconic bands from Brisbane. One of my favourite bands it should be said too. And here I was, the biggest dork in the world, sending someone an image of the band he was actually a part of, with a message practically saying I have no idea who these jokers are.

In my defence it is Tim Mustafa on drums, Grant McLennan has an odd haircut and Robert Forster is looming in the dark in a difficult profile. Plus the image was taken over a year before Lindy joined. You kinda forget that there was an extended period when Lindy wasn’t part of the band in their formative period.

Photo: Paul Hannah

And then a whole lot of things made sense. Growing up I knew my mum had some connection to the Go-Betweens. In my head over the years the story became mum had given the Go-Betweens their very first gig. And this was at the UQ Student Union refectory. And so in 1997 the very first gig my own band ever played happened to be supporting Custard and Grant McLennan. After our soundcheck I brazenly went up to Grant and said as much and he was very polite and pretended it might be true. And then I think I backtracked – maybe it was just your first paying gig? Maybe you were just, like, at a party…? Oh gosh!

And then of course all those documentaries came out and I did my own research and eventually read Robert Forster’s book and there was never any mention of a gig at the Student Union Refec. I cringed over and over at what I had said to Grant that night. And much, much later I met Robert Forster a few times but every time I carefully took note to never mention that story.

But now there might be some truth to it. It was definitely not their first gig – but it was most definitely one of their earliest. And these pictures are perhaps some of the very first of the band performing — and the very first time they have been seen. I certainly cannot find any image of Tim Mustafa playing with Grant and Robert – so there is that.

CODA

After all this I sent my dad a message: “You know that picture you took of the band at the Wake? You won’t believe who they are.”

All photos below: Paul Hannah

The Brisbane Poet’s Union on the fire escape behind the “Pink Palace”; Photo Paul Hannah

Camp Mtn Railtrail + Goatness

I love checking out new bike infrastructure, and so I was keen to see the freshly sealed rail trail from Ferny Grove to Camp Mountain.

This former railway line was the scene of the worst rail incident in Queensland’s history, almost exactly 69 years ago. 16 people died and dozens were injured.

The train was charted by federal government workers keen to celebrate that Labour Day with a picnic out at Cedar Creek in Closeburn.

It was absolutely laden with people — over 200 — and the driver had never driven that route and on descent into Camp Mountain the train was going too fast and derailed on a tighter bend.

And our route today took us right over the top of that fateful journey. Just about 50m before we turned left onto Camp Mountain Road was where all that awful shit went down. Back all those years there was a train station at that intersection. It is pretty wild to think how things have changed so much in just the living memory of my grandparents.

Anyway. Just while I am feeling philosophical, I should note this ride was a bit like “Waiting for Scotto.” He was meant to meet us at Lifecycles but when he was late Mark texted him and it emerged he had only just left his house way over in Annerley.

We decided to roll away, going slow, and let him catch up. But that was a bit hard cause these were rubbish roads with a lot of traffic so you just naturally want to get through them as fast as possible. But we only had to “Wait for Scotto” for about 15 minutes. Mark started doing laps of the carpark. That looked like fun so I joined him. Benny practised track standing.

Eventually he arrived, looking resplendent in his new Pedla kit —  and we rolled on.

So here was where the rail trail started:

The new pavement has been a tiny bit controversial — as some people loved the dirt and grass and naturalness. And I get that, but if it makes people ride bikes more or just exercise (it was pretty crowded with walkers), then that is a good thing in my book.

We didn’t see any horses to yield to it should be said. Horses seem to be on the very top of the rail-trail food-chain.

Just cause I have been so neck-deep in gravel these past weeks, and have far more on the horizon, I decided to pick out a tiny bit extra on this ride. First was this dead end street traverse:

Then there was this dodgy next section which I had researched on Google Maps, but it was just a hunch that we could get through. Scott and Benny were a bit ahead and naturally missed it because it was hidden down this tiny grassy path obscured by this massive “End of Road” sign.

And they rode left up the bitumen before they realised we were all waiting for them to notice we had stopped. When they saw the route Ben said, “Well that was obvious”.

And this section, though short, had some super-treacherous sandy sections. And the last bit I lost it and did a half crash. I managed to unclip both legs and stay semi-upright. I don’t think it counts as a crash — but my sandy rear-derraileur attests to the fact the bike at least went totally sideways:

Here’s a shot of Ventura smashing through the last of that shitty section:

And here is a shot of a puppy. This is for my fiancé, Dee:

Next was the main road again and then up the Goat Track. Here’s Ventura again:

Scott and Ben talking new bikes

Instagrammin! 

At the top we gently rolled on to the Cafe. Cake-time!

There were several things to note here:

1. On the way to the Goat Track we saw a kid heading in the opposite direction getting motor-paced by a guy on a scooter. (“That’s weird”, we thought.)
2. Then as we were waiting for our coffee’s and food we saw the same kid and the scooter roll past. This time the kid was ahead of the bike and Ben said, “Look, he’s dropped him!” And it seemed this kid had smashed it to Samford then back up the mountain. Impressive.
3. There was a random roadie sitting next to us and he knew the kid from the Coot-tha Burn last whatever. His name is Sebastian Something. He’s only 16.
4. Another teenager then turned up in a very expensive sports car with a very beautiful date. They didn’t stay long and then the two tried to leave. But the poor kid seemed to have no idea how to work the car and took a few minutes and a few gear crunches and even more engine stalls to reverse and then eventually head down the road back to Brisbane. I was too embarrassed for the douchecanoe to even look.

Back to Brisbane and Ventura had a mechanical and so I suggested we fix it at my place. It was a great chance for Scott to be horrified at my lack of, and poor organisation, of my tools! oh well.

It was a good ride. Legs still feel sore from Boonah, but they are getting better. Just need to remember how to suffer more.

SHIRTS — an appreciation

So Shirts is moving to Australia’s second biggest metropolis — Melbourne.

It’s a THING we must suffer here in Brisbane. If we are lucky only about 30% of our friends suddenly up and move south to either Melbourne or Sydney. It should be noted some even move north — like locally as in there is a 4 in front of their new postcode. [Looking at you Brad and Thyri.]

And still more just take things to the extreme and move to London or New York or Baltimore or Berlin or Oslo or Japan or Indonesia or Africa etc etc where I don’t even understand the postcode system.

But at least there is some chance I will get to see (or even ride with) Shirts again as it is “just” moving to Melbourne.

ABOUT

Hopefully those who are familiar with this blog will know the entity we call “SHIRTS” and know all my opinions about him. I’ve noted these many, many times before.

But just to reboot everyone’s memory I will attempt to describe this phenomenon by beginning with something Dayne just noted and it rang true. Dayne, who moved here around 2012, said something to the effect of, ‘Shirts was just someone you instantly heard about and all these stories flowed’. It was almost like, “Hi! Welcome to Brisbane, and oh yeah there’s this guy called ‘SHIRTS'”.

And it was actually kinda true for me too. I had turned up to my very first alleycat only vaguely knowing 2 or 3 people and I remember one of those once-vague-acquaintances (Marty) telling me, and everyone else that would listen, the story of this guy Marty had affectionately dubbed “Shirts” because he never wore a top while riding. For me he instantly seemed a person of an entirely hardcore nature and someone I should be incredibly polite to.

Not quite the mystical bike-riding enigma, or superhuman weirdo that perhaps Dayne was imagining. But if I got more of a chance maybe I would say — not that dissimilar.

Anyway as it happens that night Shirts and I were teamed up together and I was so little back then. Like really LITTLE.

I had never run a red light. I had never participated in an unsanctioned and perhaps illegal street race and I had never been teamed up with such an absolute “athlete” ever. Like EVER. He was so fast and determined and obscenely more talented than me and his naked skin shone like he was magical as he smashed down Brunswick Street going the wrong way up against incredible traffic.

The other crazy and so amazing thing that night was the other FIRST that evening was that we came first. Like we beat everyone else and got prizes and a big applause and presentation at the end.

I have never been FIRST in my life. Ever.

Dee and Jess and James were there at the Alibi Room as well and as I related the news (before the ceremony and everyone else had finished) I said to them, “Um….I think we have come first.” Like I didn’t take it seriously when someone said “You won.” And I still didn’t believe it when we were the only ones not racing any more. The evidence was overwhelming but I was still expecting it to all collapse and reality to set in.

When I could not arguably dispute the result, the feeling was absolutely incredible. And you know what — it was even more amazing to see Shirts’ glee too. After all it was his first alley cat too. I think he actually might have been proud of me.

To be honest that first impression of Shirts has made me want to step up whenever I am in his presence even more. Even though I am twice the rider I was back then.

SHIRTLESS

Just for a second I should talk a little about how alien being shirtless is to me. Growing up in the 80s it was actually accepted to go around that way. No one really cared whether you were a kid or an adult. You couldn’t get into (most) pubs that way. There were dress code signs on those doors about needing a shirt and footwear. But everywhere else it was completely natural to see a lot, lot more skin than you do theses days. I can remember seeing neighbours only in their jocks getting the paper or watering the garden.

But once the 90s started the pubs and clubs didn’t always need those signs. People just generally got the vibe that times were changing. I actually remember the ONLY time I went shirtless in public. I was about 10 and it was mostly because my friend was doing it first and I just followed him up the street towards the shops and I was a mess just worrying about my nakedness and puny body and maybe I should have also been worried about skin damage cause there was no sunscreen back in those days. Well no sunscreen we could afford.

Anyway, Shirts used to say one of the reasons he went SANS was because it kept him cool. I don’t know the science stuff, but that doesn’t quite sound like a completely solid argument. I mean in the desert those bedouins had the vibe of more clothes, rather than less.

See when he said, “It keeps me cool” I think he meant like Fonzie “cool”.

MORE ON ALLEY CATS

Back in 2007 and 2008 Karl used to dominate the alley cats held in Brisbane. Any race was like a competition for who would come second cause the winner was all but guaranteed. But then Karl tragically passed and Shirts actually never got to race against him.

But Shirts just took that mantle. It would have been amazing to see those two actually genuinely race against eachother — but it was not to be.

HIT BY CARS

Shirts is the only rider I know who has been hit by cars as much (or more) than me. The first time I remember Shirts being injured was actually just a “pathetic self-inflicted crash”. His words. And it resulted in a broken rib which prevented him from taking part in Johnson’s Pentathlon Alley Cat. He was there all the while watching events and this made his injury even more acute. If Shirts was in that much pain — holy shit!

Then he was smashed by a 4WD exiting the St Lucia Golf Course. The driver stopped his car after the impact and casually wandered out and around the front of the vehicle to greet a very unimpressed Shirts. His entire forearm was pinned underneath the car’s left front wheel. Maybe you can imagine the exchange of words that ensued.

But in that circumstance Shirts was obviously compromised. In circumstances where a driver does something just as heinous (or worse) and he has some right of reply Shirts has dealt out some of the most amazing JUSTICE you can imagine.

The time he caught up with that car, ripped open the driver door and wrapped the seat belt around that dickhead’s neck is my absolute fave.

BREATHING

Tom has also documented this below: but I have only heard Shirts breathing on two occasions. And I know that sounds weird, but that’s just what it is. Normally he could ride so freakishly hard and forever but it was like his lungs would take absolutely no notice.

So those times I heard him actually panting, like he was actually doing something that required “effort” — it was equally magical and equally disturbing. And all the while I was inhaling and exhaling like a jet engine. He had excuses on both those occasions. First was he was coming off that car-crash and second was the 20% Toowoomba mountain which he rode on a single-speed with some massive 86″ gear.

RIVERLOOPS

So around 2010 Shirts started ramping things up. As soon as he was clear of that injury — that first rib one — he started boasting about the fact he was doing a riverloop in his lunch hour. The Riverloop is about 30kms and most of us “normal” bike riders can do it at about 30ks an hour if we dig in and we are decent enough. But Shirts was doing the loop at 35km/hr plus. More than enough time to get into gear, do the ride, and shower and change and be back to work after like nothing ever happened.

And then he was saying stuff like, “If you’re not on a ride for at least 3 hours, what’s the point of leaving the house?”

That quote is VERBATIM.

He ripped that Riverloop apart. It was carnage. He would always get challengers that would attempt to test his abilities. Like they would come up behind when he was resting a bit or he would overtake one of them and they would step up and try and smack him down. Fools. Shirts is the kinda guy that could never resist that assault on his abilities.

I can’t imagine how many riders who thought they were good enough and then were quietly put back in their place.

EATING IS CHEATING

Shirts genuinely doesn’t seem to eat much. Whenever we stop at some bakery or pie shop Shirts at best just munches on a muesli bar he has shlepped with him.

And then there is his coffee thing. He will get two short blacks.Then he will grab the saucer of the one he isn’t drinking yet and cover that cup until he is finished drinking the first coffee. It’s science. He gets to keep his second drink warm while he sips away at his first.

RIDING STYLE

I have ridden thousands of kilometres with Shirts. I am not quite sure, but just doing the maths in my head, it might be maybe even approaching 20,000kms.

But it didn’t take me even 200ks with him to work out Shirts has this style. There’s two categories in which he rides. Both of which can be serene and awesome, or stupidly epic but awfully painful.

The FISRT is the most prolific state. And this is the state in which we are in a group and he’s being enigmatic and at the back shadowing our ride. It’s like he’s ghosting our peleton. He sits at the back, like WAAAY, WAAAAAAY off the back, and then at least a metre to the right so there is absolutely no chance he is getting any material benefit from the train of riders in front. And the reasoning is that he purposely doesn’t draft. He sucks no ones wheel. He is training ALL. THE. TIME.

The SECOND state is where he gets all generous and just jumps in front and nails it and encourages us to suck his wheel. I have only felt this extreme pain a handful of times and it is WILD. It feels great looking down at the Garmin as the average speed goes mental, but then you suffer and suffer some more and you actually wish someone would get a flat tyre just for the chance to seriously catch your breath. But then you realise the true awesomness of sucking his wheel and you are going so fast and it’s like a drug and you maybe will never go this speed ever again.

OVERNIGHT RIDES HAVE ALWAYS FEATURED SHIRTS

Every year we do a few overnight rides where we spend a weekend riding out to some crazy place somewhere between 130-170 kms away, usually lumping all our shit with is, and stay the night — drink an epic amount of booze and eat a lot of pies and chips — somehow get away with wearing no shoes in these country pubs — tell a bunch of stories and laugh at a bunch of jokes — then on the ‘morrow, somehow manage the ride home.

It’s a bit like camping and a bit like those sleepovers when you were a kid and a bit like incredible suffering. But it is ALWAYS such amazing times and something I bet I’ll be recounting to the day I die.

Every single one of those awesome overnight adventures we have done since the first one Ryan adventurously proposed in 2010 has featured Shirts. And me too — but I bet no one else would come along as well unless it had the seriousness that “Featuring Shirts” would inevitably bring. TRUE STORY.

I am so fucking glad he is such a trooper in these endeavours. He gets it. It’s not like Shirts really super-values the riding bit in the suffering sense us mortals usually experience. Instead he understands that it is mostly about the company and the sharing of epic experiences and the value of being part of something.

THE WORST

Following on from that is this FACT: the worst thing in the world is to ride one-on-one with Shirts. It’s brutal. I remember Ryan did it first. He sent me this text about how they did this smash up to Redcliffe and on the way back Shirts just next-levelled everything. (This story is detailed below). Ryan just had to hang on as best he could behind as Shirts just punished him and then punished him some more. The way he told it, that ride almost broke him — in a good way I guess.

For me personally — my time came early in 2012 when I stupidly assumed I could manage Queensland’s late summer brutality. It was a 100ks loop including a trip up Mt Mee. Naturally I invited everyone I could but somehow they all mysteriously bailed and it was just me and Shirts and it was 5 minutes past official start time and I just had to nut up.

And Shirts did that “stay off the back” vibe but I just smashed and smashed as best I could worrying all the time I was useless and ruining his ride by being so slow and pathetic. Looking back on the Garmin records of that ride, I fucking killed it by my own personal standards. Despite destroying myself on the front he was all nonchalant way there at the back. Even up Mt Mee I let him go ahead and you’d think that would give me some peace. But no. I smashed up and according to my Garmin/Strava I am yet to beat that record.

On the way back to Brisbane Shirts decided to tow me. FARKKK! I broke a little over 5ks later and eventually Shirts noticed I was missing and slowed down. I finally got my shit together again but about 20ks later and 95ks in I got a cramp and had to beg him go on without me. Like plead.

Somewhat like those scenes in the old movies where the tragic hero says, “Go on without me. I am doomed. Save yourself.”

THOUGHTS FROM OTHER PEOPLE:

RYAN

1st story: We finished a ride. I don’t think it was anything too epic, but it was hot. Real hot. Shirt was shirtless and sitting at the back of the pack, like he did. Next thing I knew; he went screaming past holding onto the back of a big black hurse. It was so symbolic and was perfectly consistent with all he stood for. 

2nd story: It was a spring Sunday. The prior day: you, Shirts and I had done a Mt Cotton/Bayside 100, followed up by a carton and a half at my place. 

You left and shirts and I finished our beers. We casually agreed to meet at gentleman’s hours at Radcliffe place on the Sunday for a Redcliffe ride. I was surprised when we both showed up. But no words were spoken. A quick, silent acknowledgement and we were rolling steadily North. He was relentless. Into the wind and with it, up and down the hills. 

After 90kms and well under three hours we got back to the valley. I just slid off his wheel and pedalled my sorry ass home to die. Still hadn’t said a word the entire ride. 

TOM

The first time I met shirts was on a Saturday morning ride (my first Saturday morning ride with the crew from fixed.org) so naturally, I had read a lot of the fabled ‘shirts’ during my time procrastinating on the website. I thought, how will I ever keep up with this bio mechanical machine, reading about his river loop efforts at lunch and his sodomising of freds on his black tt bike? I was anxious. The crew choose a mt cotton loop – a loop which for the most part I was knowledgeable on. I thought I knew what to expect. Then shirts throws a spanner in the works and leads everybody onto west mt cotton; a quarry road with an 18% pinch in the middle. I shot off the front, got into the little ring and began spinning my little legs out! Shirts was only a bit behind me, but what happened on that pinch will go down in history. Like any good story, I didn’t witness it (I was at the front, naturally 😉 ), but it was claimed that if you were on the ride behind shirts on that fabled pinch, you could actually hear him breathing as he grinded up the hill! Now, I didn’t hear him breath, and if you ask shirts about it he’ll tell you he only had a big ring on his crankset, pushing something like 53/21, whilst recovering from being hit.by a car weeks earlier, but I don’t buy his story. I’d like to think thats the only time he’s shown any hint of human stamina. NB: that hill punished me as well.

SCOTT

First time I met shirts was on my first ride with Brisbane FOA crew. We were headed to mt Tambourine, a decent 120+ km ride. I was so keen to make friends and get amongst the action, I disregarded advice regarding the suitability of me and my fixie to this ride, because I thought I’d be sweet with my 47/17 “climbing gear”… Halfway to the base of the climb, I was suffering. I chose to wear shorts and a flannel shirt over some cycling kit underneath because I thought it would be more “waterproof”. It was not. I was wet, and cold, and falling off the back. Shirts consistently came and towed me back onto the group. Legend. 

We got to the base of the climb and I had a pie and a red bull and tucked another red bull into my jersey pocket for later. I instantly lost sight of the boys on the climb, and with Shirts’ words in my head I just ‘kept on pedalling’. When I finally made it to the cafe, I believe I was 3 long blacks behind Shirts. This became a common measure for me, and to be less than one long black behind Shirts up any of Brisbane’s climbs is quite an achievement. The rest of that ride is a whole other story, but as far introductions go, it was a memorable one. Thanks to all the boys who went on that ride, and the many more after that.

DAYNE

Plus I don’t know if it’s just me but shirts starts as a rumour. A story that some one tells you about then the rumours grow into fact about the shit he has done.

Shirts is by far the most no bullshit cyclist I know, gives zero fucks about what everyone else thinks and purely rides to hurt himself, he really enjoys suffering. I guess it’s his release but himself and Red [His younger brother] are probably some of the most gifted people to ride bikes plus he’s always down for a laugh.

I’ll never forget the bayside loop we did and I was blowing air down my shoes to cool off, shirts TT’d off the front so I went with him and just grabbed his wheel, we were off on our own for kms and I was chatting away and he was nodding his head I then was kept asking him if we should turn back he kept nodding but no slowing down, I eventually got his attention and realized he had head phones in and was only nodding to the beat, haha it was probably mud vain he loves that shit.

DUGGY

This story takes place around the hundred-something kilometre mark into an epic overnight mission not long after “where the ride began” according to Dave. I was not even half way up the most ridiculous climb I have ever been on and was starting to feel the pinch. I had decided to go out hard and just try and put this suffer fest to bed. I did not work out that way. Coming around a particularly steep switchback I was gifted a complete dual calf and dual quad crap fiesta that brought me to a stand still immediately. I got my sorry arse to side of the road for a rest and then Shirts turns up, with a look of “what the fuck is this hill all about” on his face.

So we sit, we procrastinate, we swear at the mountain and eventually get going… for about Fifty bloody meters on 15%, hit the next hairpin and no BS it ramps to a 20% straight for the foreseeable future. Hope, abandoned. I know it’s over for me and politely let Nate know I’ll catch him later and get off my bike, and then it happened. He got off his bike. And he walked! No shit! We soon realised we were both going to be walking for a while and then the shoes came off, like a couple of strays on the way home from the races. So If you’ve ever found your self doing 37 kmph at 170 bpm up frigging hill with shirts, with him laughing and telling stories of random piss heads from last night, when he too was on the piss and wondered…. what the fuck dose it take hurt this guy? I know, I was there, it was awesome AND theres a photo to prove it. Yesssss

DAN

My Shirts story is not of one event, instead to borrow a phrase from the inimitable Dennis Denuto: “it’s the vibe of the thing”. Wind back 6 years to a time before #becausefixie and cheap single speed Reids, and there was a crew that used to ride on a Thursday night through the Valley, the City and West End, always finishing up for a drink at Rumpus Room. Shirts was amongst the regulars, as was Goose, dubstep Dave, supermanlegs Paul, The Bell Boys, Marty, the Dutchman, Prolly 2, Gypsy and plenty of others. On some nights we’d have around 15 riders which for Brisbane was pretty exceptional. It wasn’t your well-disciplined bunch ride, but we would generally try to ride with some semblance of bunch discipline, trying to take a single lane and signal our intentions. All of us except Shirts that was.

Conjure this image in your mind, 14 dudes riding down Ann st, all neatly placed two abreast in a single lane. And one lone rider popping a one handed mono in the lane next to the bunch, shirtless, long hair waving around behind him, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, unfazed about the line of cars queueing behind him. Meet Shirts. Then upon arriving at the Rumpus Room at the conclusion of the ride, Shirts would causally stroll in and collect the clean white singlet that they kept for him behind the bar (so that he met the strict dress code).

He may have cut his hair, and he may wear a shirt on more occasions now, but this is the image of Shirts that will stick with me forever.

FINALLY I WANT TO SUM UP

SHIRTS is definitely a personality. He has gravitas. He is one of those “characters” in our biking scene — and I am sure he’s also an absolute character in the world he occupies outside our influence or attention. And that’s probably why I love him even more. Shakespeare said all the world is a stage and maybe he had a dude like Shirts in mind. But he’s in the chorus of any characters who want to take that stage — and the lead at that.

He steps up. But he also has a great deal of humility and crucially — a humanity. He has a tiny bit of understanding of the rest of us who can only dream of achieving a fraction of his awesomeness.

I have never had such an alpha-male as such a good friend (it should be said) and it is entirely refreshing and entirely awesome at the same time.

I am not sure where Shirts gets his drive. It is somewhat because he is first-born. It is a tiny bit that he is a secret-ginger. It is also perhaps that he grew up in a tiny town and made his way to the big smoke.

But I think it is also because he has a drive which just means more drive. It’s inspiration. It’s an unbridled enthusiasm. I really admire that. He constantly challenges himself and whenever I am in his presence I can’t help doing that too.

He is an absolute inspiration.

And here is a pic of Shirts and Dee’s mum at our engagement!

INTERVIEW WITH SHIRTS!

Marty came up with the “shirts” label — what made you embrace it?

Was left with little choice in the matter.  In line with question number 2, the moniker and reputation got around before I actually got to know people properly, so if anyone referred to me by name, no one knew who they were talking about.  Seemed fitting anyways, so was happy to run with it.

Re your ‘aside’: just depends on the group – cycling people it always seems to be better running with Shirts (otherwise they won’t know who I am, particularly when talking with the rest of the crew), whereas if it’s non-cycling, I prefer Nate

Most people I have interviewed don’t remember the first time they met you — but instead the first time they “HEARD” about you — how do you account for that?

Have always managed to have a pretty big reputation (good, bad or otherwise).  Being a person of extremes is probably the foundation of it, but not overly sure as I never really cogitated it

What’s the deal with you hanging off the back of the group and about 1 metre right of the draft?

Depends on the crowd.  Riding with most of the FOA crew, if I’m on the front, it usually doesn’t take too long before I’m being told to slow down – particularly with rolling hills.  So I generally prefer just to let everyone else set the pace at what they’re comfortable with, rather than wind up halfway through the ride with people cooked and spent and have the group fully fall apart.  I’ve no intention of sucking wheel unless I’m rolling turns in a pace line at pace fast enough that my lungs feel like they’re on fire, so that’s why I ride off to the side and push through the wind on my own… plus I like to look around and check shit out.  Hanging off the back on my own is particularly more comfortable on the longer overnighters we’ve done while fixed or single-speed cause then I can keep to my own rhythm as opposed to speeding up/slowing down with the group.  It was also the best position when I used to ride with the crew on a TT bike – off the back a bit and out of the draft meant I could relax and cruise on the extensions in an aero tuck (weight on forearms as opposed to hands)

I think you might have changed more of my own flat tyres than me — what is your secret to a super quick tube change?

It’s a combination of many little tricks which, if you’re asking this question, you’ve not watched me properly. Briefly: no levers, you need a bit of air in the tube first, start at the valve when putting the tyre back on and push the valve back up into the tyre to make sure the bead seats against the rim properly, work each way around the tyre feeding the tube up into place to avoid pinches, roll the tyre on all the way and you’re done.  Speaking of which, you better have put a new front tyre on the Ritte.

What were the favourite rides you’ve done with us? (and why?)

All of the overnighters have been outstanding experiences.  The first Byron one had a special kind of epicness about it – first time doing anything like that, pouring rain, crazy route to ride on 88GI with no brakes, sooooo much booze, good times (and no train, just door to door riding).  The Mt Warning one was excellent too with just you me and Ryan – some cracking pace (specially from Chillingham onwards), cool scenery and wound being the last time I’d ever have beers at the Uki Pub (given it’s burnt down now).  Climbing to Toowoomba up Blanchview/Silver Pinch Road on a highly geared single speed carrying all my gear won’t be forgotten in a hurry – specially considering the view from the top at Toowoomba afterwards.  The downhill run on the next day was fantastic too – such a long time descending, just needed gears to make use of it.  Dragging you from Noosa to Nambour was fun – despite the headwind, traffic and prevailing gradual incline in elevation along the Bruce highway.

You’ve planned some awesome routes over the years.

What’s the deal with carrying all your shit on your bike?

There’s a certain level of personal satisfaction I derive from being independent and self sufficient.  It may make things harder, but it makes for a better story too.  As to actual placement, backpacks are crap – they make you sweat more, reduce airflow, increase your body temperature, constrict circulation (minimally I know), are guaranteed to be a source of discomfort over decent periods of time and raise your centre of gravity.  Strapping on the bike leaves you comfortable and keeps the weight down low and central to provide better handling characteristics.

In your biking adventures — what would you do differently?

Start road/crit racing earlier.  It’s definitely my favourite, but seems to have been something that took me a fair while to find and eventually get into.  Love the speed, strategy and pain of a brutally fast criterium.

Most times you ride at the back but sometimes you will brutalise us by riding at the front so we can just try and hang on — when and under what conditions do you effect that vibe?

Interesting question – I don’t know that I think about it too much, but just run with the vibe when I get the feeling that everyone seems strong enough to tag along… or also when I just want to get home quicker.

How did you get into the fixie crew in Brisbane?

Had been battling some persistent stress fracture issues from running too much, so bought a fixed gear bike to allow me to keep exercising during rehab.  Had been doing riverloops after work and came through West End on a Thursday evening after finishing one and had a heap of people yell out while I went through the Melbourne/Boundary/Mollison Street intersection.  Turned around and cruised back to where they were gathered (being out the front of Gear) to find out their story.  That was the first of many Thursday night rides and the first time I met all the crew.  Had plenty of chats that night, a shitload of cider and think I wound up leaving the Rumpus room when it shut.

Goat Track G20 Ride

Scott getting a bit to excited by late ride coke

The “Goat Track” re-opened just recently after being washed out for years. Anyway – I’d never done it before and as we have a public holiday here in Brisbane for the G20 I thought it might be worth a go.

So Dave and Scott and Jesse and me met at Lifecycle at 5:30. Then we piked up Benny (at Ashgrove) and Zach (at Alderley).

Was pretty damn hot already and I was soaked in sweat most of the time. I was actually pretty surprised I didn’t get any serious cramps seeing as how much fluid I was losing.

The climb was really nice and generally fine for a road bike with slicks as long as you concentrated and stuck to the ruts and didm’t spend too much time in the sandy bit between. Views were excellent and I stopped a few times to take pics.

We saw a puppy which I dutifully documented for Dee. The only real issue today was a total goob was in such a hurry to overtake me on the decsent that he came pretty close. Then at the bottom Dave was complaining about a similar incident and we worked out it was the same douchcanoe. Dave and Jesse decided to nail it and overtook him and smashed down. Revenge!

Jesse got a random flat at the BP and make Dave and Zach hold his bike steady as he pumped. Perfectly reasonable explanation for the photo above.

Rail Trail

Oh Hai!

Chris an me went on a reconnaissance ride out to Fernvale to peruse the Brisbane Valley Rail Trail.It was also my first MTB ride! Chris rode his new CX bike and donated his Specialized MTB for me to mash. And it was fun. Tough to get some speed, but fun. On dirt i would say an MTB is at LEAST 10km slower than a road bike. It can seem quite demoralizing going so slow – but at least the terrain keeps your brain interested.

My hands hurt quite a bit from being not used to that perpetual position on those wide bars. And the constant vibration and intense grip your hands needed to do when negotiating terrain that could send you sideways at any moment didn’t help.

I brought my Garmin along just for lols and to DOCUMENT this event.

Despite the intense headwind and the fact we were struggling to maintain a 20km/hr average speed, I was hooked on MTB and decided 5 minutes in that I would buy my own hardtail MTB as soon as I could. Yeah.

The bike felt washy at the back but that didn’t seem to freak me out. And when going over massive boulders it seemed to handle that situation best with speed. It felt most unpredictable when you approached obstacles timidly. You needed to trust the bike to get through things. Whereas on a road bike you necessarily have far less faith.

But then we came to the INDIANA JONES TEMPLE OF DOOM BRIDGE.

And I flat out refused to cross it. It had these big gaps, no hand rails and was literally ANCIENT. There was certain death if you fell. It was at least 50m above the river at it’s most extreme point. And straddling a bike and crossing at the same time would have been fucked up. And then you would have had to do the same again on the way back. The picture below does not do the potential ordeal much justice.

But then we worked out that the trail went down to the river and up again. A pretty intense dip in and out it should be said. But at the river crossing the water was huge and deep and we’d need to cross it again on the way back. I voted to turn around and Chris agreed. Phew.

At Lowood we saw this awesome old Brisbane map at the antique store. Then Chris and I had pies at the Fernvale Pie Shop who have 100 different pies to choose from – the largest selection in Australia apparently.

SONGS (FROM NOWISH)

Photo from his label Secretly Canadian

SONGS:OHIA — Farewell Transmission

Jason Molina died a few weeks ago of alcohol-related organ failure. If you don’t feel anything when he sings, “Momma, here comes midnight with the dead moon in it’s jaws.” well, I feel sorry for you.

 

 KURT VILE: Wakin on a pretty daze

 

This is my tip for the best song of 2013. TRUST ME. Sublime and such a chill to stroll to. And that riff with its hints and constant self-alludes before it just smacks you in the face — well, it just cuts me in half. And it employs the magically beautiful word “Lackadaisical” — in it’s adverbial state. Genius.

 

 

 

THE INTELLIGENCE (Feat Kelly Stoltz) — (They Found Me on the Back of) The Galaxy

 

Fuck yeah — Rock n Shitdoggin Roll. The clip is a bit sexy-mesmerising too.

 

 

 

TY SEGALL — Thank God for Sinners

 

Another shameless rocker. But sweet singing on top of the fuzz — which I fucking love. Plus the pumping bass at the end of the chorus. The clip makes skin look a bit creepy, but I am sure you can get over it.

 

 

FASCINATOR — Mr Caterpiller 

 

Funny little jaunt with lots of shit happening. A massive amount of detail in this song! 

 

 

 

JONATHAN WILSON — Desert Raven

 

A really lush song with a bunch of guitar riffs and orchestral shit and faraway vocals. You might call it Rock—Dreamy. But to me the song feels just like you were a bit parched and wandering around the desert wilderness just drunk on the isolation. Maybe.

A Mystery

So with quite a lot of help from a fellow Auchenflower blogger, I have been looking into the history of our home.

I suppose you might be thinking, “Why?” or something worse, but I guess I have some predilection for the dreaminess of history. And sadly there is not much actual meat to the facts you find — just random names and dates from long, long ago and perhaps some other minor details — but it’s fantastic to dig and with every bit of discovery — let your imagination swim around those few skerricks of information and perhaps build a mental time machine that transports you around this home you know and love.

But there’s also a real mystery to this house.

Although the original/cool part of the house is over 100 years old, and the land has been owned privately since 1862 (a very early land release in Brisbane) — the house wasn’t built at this site. It seems the house was built and lived in at some other location for about 70% of it’s lifespan — then split in two — and transported here at about 1980/81.

This was only discovered through viewing the aerial survey of Brisbane made by the Council in 1946. And when I zoomed in on the site of our house all that was there was grass and trees and the roll of the land. The next-door house on our right was there, a much more humble version it should be said — but our house was bizarrely absent.

But that strangely made a bit of sense because when we first had the building properly inspected (during the settlement process) we discovered a lot of recent timber in the roof and it seemed the floorboards were all modern too (except for the deck). Half the living room had ancient VJs and the other half were from a different period. And that is not to mention the extension out the back and then the other extension in the 2000s to modernise the kitchen. It was a real jigsaw puzzle then and is now even more so.

So my awesome blogging-history-helper delved a little more into the records and discovered a name — “Palazzi” — who had bought the property in the 1980s and had got building approval for some sort of structure. Bang! So I fired off a few snail-mail letters explaining the mystery and seeking help to all the “Palazzi’s” in the phone book. And there were only two — so not such a big deal. That was a week ago and no response as yet — but it is early days.

Upon asking another quasi-local-history buff — she told me houses got moved all the time in Queensland. Indeed then I remembered the house next door when we lived in Clayfield was shipped off to Macleay Island in the dead of the night. And although there are no real signs of the house being split in two — dad was saying they split it along the natural joins and so it looks like a jigsaw puzzle when split but looks entirely natural when put back together. And seeing as they replaced the stumps, the floorboards, the roof timber and perhaps the tin on the roof too, it would be a pretty simple move.

THE LAND

But then something else was weird. From all the records for a few weeks we believed the house was the product of a bloke called John Potts who in 1890 acquired the land here and then took out a mortgage — presumably to build a house. 1891 seemed to be the magic date where our house began. That date was just amazing to discover. What else was going on in Brisbane at that time — and the world?

And then 25 years or so later it became the property of a Herbert Lindsay — a railway worker — with 2 sons and 5 daughters who died in 1936 but the land stayed in that family for another 45 years — another epic tale. The house had a dynasty.

So trying to learn more about Herbert and his family I was trying to decipher the handwriting on the title note (because the middle name was obscure) and posted it Facebook. And the consensus was “Colross” or “Colrass” and soon enough my mate Andrew posted a link to a Trove story about Herbert’s death and his address. And that address wasn’t here. BANG! It was the house directly behind us. So suddenly everything made sense. Our land was part of their backyard and was eventually sub-divided.

So where now? I don’t know, but hopefully the Palazzi people get back to me. But there is more searching on Trove and Ancestry.com.au to do.

ANOTHER MYSTERY

My mum is visiting from Melbourne this weekend and yesterday upon hearing the story above we decided to try and track down the house in Auchenflower where my first memories of the world were. See mum (and dad) had totally forgotten where it was — how does that happen? We did move around a lot. By 12 I had lived in 11 houses/flats over two States and four towns. Anyway mum drew a little map of how she remembered getting to the house from Milton Road and we did some google map searching and eventually we found a location that made sense. Then we trekked off to find it. It was a bit of harrowing journey for mum — I forget how ridiculously steep the streets here are.

Being only 3 (almost 4) back then — the things I remembered about the location of that house were limited to the fact it at the top of a hill, and the road had a kink in it and the house was wooden and raised and the cars parked underneath. So when we got to Patterson Street and stood outside mum was instantly convinced this was it. Mystery solved. And I was convinced too — the street indeed had that kink and the house was on a hill etc.

I desperately wanted to knock on the door and look at my old room (which I do remember) but no one was home and just standing outside looking intensely at the building seemed pretty creepy enough already.

Bumpy Lake Manchester Ride

Waking up to the news of another epic gun tragedy in a country where just this week a few States were ‘umming and arring’ about banning guns from workplaces just makes you so angry. So angry you just have to punish some hills to calm the blood.

I almost cancelled today’s ride cause mum is visiting and today was gonna be busy but then got a rush of blood to the head last night cause Shirts was like, “Just do a shorter ride – DER!” and then he doesn’t even show up! He is certainly a man of mystery.

But luckily Tom and Benny made it and we set off to Lake Manchester — north of Ipswich — on Tom’s suggestion.

And it was a bumpy ride all the way. Lot’s of shitty little hills, many that were fucking steep.

Plus Tom seems to be a magnet for dirt roads which mean you have to really, really concentrate of the road, trying to avoid the big rocks and finding the safest lines but trying to keep the bike straight.

The View from Mt Bill Cosby

Tom: “There should be more dirt roads in Queensland!”

At the end of the Lake Manchester Road — which incidentally had a very, very sweet and straight downhill where I broke 80km/hr — was this old building and a mango tree, but no lake. It seemed you had to go down this rutted and narrow and steep dirt road so we collectively said, fuck it, and turned around.

Then we turned right into Kholo Road which we hoped led to Ipswich. This road went on forever and had many bullshit pinches and never seemed to be heading towards civilization. I started wondering if we were lost.

But then we arrived at the Warego Hwy and all was well. After a pastry at some bakery we skipped through the ‘Switch and at Riverview we jumped on this brand new bit of bikepath. It was nice and smooth, but it kept crossing roads and at one point becoming a footpath. It was just too fiddly. I think we’ll stick to our usual route next time.

Benny got a flat outside the Correctional Facility, but we needed a rest anyway.

Just Tom wandering around kids play equipment.

Then Benny shot off to do a Mt Coot-tha on his way home — he is a machine that boy — and me I road with Tom a bit just so I could get over 100kms. When I got home I was the kind of hungry where if you just tap your stomach all your insides hurt.

BUMPY!

Best music of 2012

You all know how much I like lists — and so I get a bit excited in December when everyone puts out their “best of” lists and thus it seems the world is suddenly in-tune with me. But by January I am a freak again. Oh well.

And reading all those music lists is a bit bitter sweet as it completely distorts the list I have provided below — because I discover all this awesome music I have missed — but I can deal with it.

So here is my top 50 songs released in 2012. (And I have only provided a link to some that might not be so well known).

1) Pretend You Love Me — Sonny and the Sunsets
2) Feels Like We Only Go Backwards — Tame Impala
3) Fold the Cloth — Cate Le Bon
4) Time to Dance — The Shoes
5) Eye Pattern Blindness — Pond (live version linked)
6) DTV — Natural Child
7) No Idea Why — TV Torso
8) Moth Wings — Pond
9) Cooking up Something Good — Mac Demarco
10) Go Quietly — Little Scout

11) Lance Jr — Courtney Barnett
12) Tidal Wave — The Laurels
13) Heaven — The Walkmen
14) Big Love — Matthew E White
15) Black White Blue — Ladyhawke
16) Wild Desire — King Tuff
17) Hey Jane — Spiritualised
18) Nancy From Now On — Father John Misty
19) Seven Stars — Air
20) Skyfall — ADELE

21) Here I Am — Adam Green and Binki Shapiro
22) Bend Beyond — Woods
23) Ploughing Out (pts1 & 2) — Cate Le Bon (live version linked)
24) Ballad of the Golden Hour — Widowspeak
25) What’ll It Take — Graham Coxon
26) How Do I Know — Here We Go Magic
27) Friends of Friends — Hospitality
28) She Got A Mind — Natural Child
29) Alison Road — White Fence
30) Elephant — Tame Impala

31) Ode to Viceroy — Mac Demarco
32) Make it Known — Foxygen
33) Serpents — Sharon Van Etten
34) Roman Ruins — Line & Circle
35) Passenger — Emily Wells
36) Satellites — Catcall
37) Baby’s in Blue Jeans — Mac Demarco
38) Apocolade — George Barnett
39) I Wanna Go Out — Teen Mom
40) Go Outside — Cults

41) Whispering or Singing — Boomgates
42) Are you looking after yourself — Courtney Barnett
43) The Night — School of Seven Bells
44) Myth — Beach House
45) Please Be My Third Eye — La Sera
46) Too Young to Burn — Sonny and the Sunsets
47) Falcon Eyed — Cate Le Bon
48) Messing up my Mind — Fletcher C Johnson
49) Stairway — Yukon Blonde
50) Gangnam Style — PSY

LATE EDITION: Cut Me Some Slack!