22 Dreams

Sweet news: I had my first article published in suite 101 yesterday.  Over time I hope to build up a revenue stream with it; supply more articles, make more money.  If it comes to making about a coffee's worth of coin per year I'll be happy enough. Here is my article for suite 101, a review of Neil Finn's solo concert at the Seymour Centre in Sydney from a couple of weeks ago: click here I'm not entirely happy with this article.  I feel it's too self-conscious, wooden even, constrained.  I'm hoping in time I'll learn to relax just like I do on this blog and be able to write a bit more casually. I blew Neil an Italian-style opera-arrivederci kiss during the standing ovation.  Neil caught this and beamed in a flash as his eyes met mine momentarily.  I couldn't help but chuckle at this, to think that a year ago I wrote a decidedly salt'n'pepper article all to do with my mixed feelings about the man, why I loved him, why I hate him.   (link ...

--> I believe the inexplicable has happened. Something that I’d never believed could swing and shift in the space of this one lifetime. That is, I’m beginning to like Neil Finn. I mean, really like him, and with little reservation this time. You see, I’ve always had this love/hate relationship going with Neil Finn. He is a man whose work I could occasionally love, and oftentimes hate. By “hate”, I’m talking about much of the Crowded House-era work, and more specifically, the first self-titled Crowded House album and Woodface . There’s been always something antsy, projective, and bombastic about Neil Finn – particularly in his lyrics and delivery – that ticks me off time and time again. And yet I find I borrow the Crowded House first album off a friend, listen to it, and find with wonderment that I actually quite like it now. Years ago it would have been the Frisbee I would have thrown the furthest. It strikes me that the eponymously-titled debut album...