Op-Ed Columnist
Is Obama Punking Us?
By FRANK RICH
Published: August 8, 2009
“AUGUST is a challenging time to be president,” said Andrew Card, the former Bush White House chief of staff, as he offered unsolicited advice to his successors in a television interview last week. “I think you have to expect the unexpected.”
He should know. Thursday was the eighth anniversary of “Bin Laden Determined to Strike in U.S.,” the President’s Daily Brief that his boss ignored while on vacation in Crawford. Aug. 29 marks the fourth anniversary of Hurricane Katrina’s strike on the Louisiana coast, which his boss also ignored while on vacation in Crawford.
So do have a blast in Martha’s Vineyard, President Obama.
Even as we wait for some unexpected disaster to strike, Beltway omens for the current White House are grim. Obama’s poll numbers are approaching free fall, we are told. If he fails on health care, he’s toast. Indeed, many of the bloviators who spot a fatal swoon in the Obama presidency are the same doomsayers who in August 2008 were predicting his Election Day defeat because he couldn’t “close the deal” and clear the 50 percent mark in matchups with John McCain.
Here are two not very daring predictions: Obama will get some kind of health care reform done come fall. His poll numbers will not crater any time soon.
Yet there is real reason for longer-term worry in the form of a persistent, anecdotal drift toward disillusionment among some of the president’s supporters. And not merely those on the left. This concern was perhaps best articulated by an Obama voter, a real estate agent in Virginia, featured on the front page of The Washington Post last week. “Nothing’s changed for the common guy,” she said. “I feel like I’ve been punked.” She cited in particular the billions of dollars in bailouts given to banks that still “act like they’re broke.”
But this mood isn’t just about the banks, Public Enemy No. 1. What the Great Recession has crystallized is a larger syndrome that Obama tapped into during the campaign. It’s the sinking sensation that the American game is rigged — that, as the president typically put it a month after his inauguration, the system is in hock to “the interests of powerful lobbyists or the wealthiest few” who have “run Washington far too long.” He promised to smite them.
No president can do that alone, let alone in six months. To make Obama’s goal more quixotic, the ailment that he diagnosed is far bigger than Washington and often beyond politics’ domain. What disturbs Americans of all ideological persuasions is the fear that almost everything, not just government, is fixed or manipulated by some powerful hidden hand, from commercial transactions as trivial as the sales of prime concert tickets to cultural forces as pervasive as the news media.
It’s a cynicism confirmed almost daily by events. Last week Brian Stelter of The Times reported that the corporate bosses of MSNBC and Fox News, Jeffrey Immelt of General Electric and Rupert Murdoch of News Corporation, had sanctioned their lieutenants to broker what a G.E. spokesman called a new “level of civility” between their brawling cable stars, Keith Olbermann and Bill O’Reilly. A Fox spokesman later confirmed to Howard Kurtz of The Post that “there was an agreement” at least at the corporate level. Olbermann said he was a “party to no deal,” and in any event what looked like a temporary truce ended after The Times article was published. But the whole scrape only fed legitimate suspicions on the right and left alike that even their loudest public voices can be silenced if the business interests of the real American elite decree it.
You might wonder whether networks could some day cut out the middlemen — anchors — and just put covert lobbyists and publicists on the air to deliver the news. Actually, that has already happened. The most notorious example was the flock of retired military officers who served as television “news analysts” during the Iraq war while clandestinely lobbying for defense contractors eager to sell their costly wares to the Pentagon.
The revelation of that scandal did not end the practice. Last week MSNBC had to apologize for deploying the former Newsweek writer Richard Wolffe as a substitute host for Olbermann without mentioning his new career as a corporate flack. Wolffe might still be anchoring on MSNBC if the blogger Glenn Greenwald hadn’t called attention to his day job. MSNBC assured its viewers that there were no conflicts of interest, but we must take that on faith, since we still don’t know which clients Wolffe represents as a senior strategist for his firm, Public Strategies, whose chief executive is the former Bush White House spin artist, Dan Bartlett.
Let’s presume that Wolffe’s clients do not include the corporate interests with billions at stake in MSNBC and Washington’s Topic A, the health care debate. If so, he’s about the only player in the political-corporate culture who’s not riding that gravy train.
As Democrats have pointed out, the angry hecklers disrupting town-hall meetings convened by members of Congress are not always ordinary citizens engaging in spontaneous grass-roots protests or even G.O.P. operatives, but proxies for corporate lobbyists. One group facilitating the screamers is FreedomWorks, which is run by the former Congressman Dick Armey, now a lobbyist at the DLA Piper law firm. Medicines Company, a global pharmaceutical business, has paid DLA Piper more than $6 million in lobbying fees in the five years Armey has worked there.
But the Democratic members of Congress those hecklers assailed can hardly claim the moral high ground. Their ties to health care interests are merely more discreet and insidious. As Congressional Quarterly reported last week, industry groups contributed almost $1.8 million in the first six months of 2009 alone to the 18 House members of both parties supervising health care reform, Nancy Pelosi and Steny Hoyer among them.
Then there are the 52 conservative Blue Dog Democrats, who have balked at the public option for health insurance. Their cash intake from insurers and drug companies outpaces their Democratic peers by an average of 25 percent, according to The Post. And let’s not forget the Democratic Senate Campaign Committee, which has raked in nearly $500,000 from a single doctor-owned hospital in McAllen, Tex. — the very one that Obama has cited as a symbol of runaway medical costs ever since it was profiled in The New Yorker this spring.
In this maze of powerful moneyed interests, it’s not clear who any American in either party should or could root for. The bipartisan nature of the beast can be encapsulated by the remarkable progress of Billy Tauzin, the former Louisiana congressman. Tauzin was a founding member of the Blue Dog Democrats in 1994. A year later, he bolted to the Republicans. Now he is chief of PhRMA, the biggest pharmaceutical trade group. In the 2008 campaign, Obama ran a television ad pillorying Tauzin for his role in preventing Medicare from negotiating for lower drug prices. Last week The Los Angeles Times reported — and The New York Times confirmed — that Tauzin, an active player in White House health care negotiations, had secured a behind-closed-doors flip-flop, enlisting the administration to push for continued protection of drug prices. Now we know why the president has ducked his campaign pledge to broadcast such negotiations on C-Span.
The making of legislative sausage is never pretty. The White House has to give to get. But the cynicism being whipped up among voters is justified. Unlike Hillary Clinton, whose chief presidential campaign strategist unapologetically did double duty as a high-powered corporate flack, Obama promised change we could actually believe in.
His first questionable post-victory step was to assemble an old boys’ club of Robert Rubin protégés and Goldman-Citi alumni as the White House economic team, including a Treasury secretary, Timothy Geithner, who failed in his watchdog role at the New York Fed as Wall Street’s latest bubble first inflated and then burst. The questions about Geithner’s role in adjudicating the subsequent bailouts aren’t going away, and neither is the angry public sense that the fix is still in. We just learned that nine of those bailed-out banks — which in total received $175 billion of taxpayers’ money, but as yet have repaid only $50 billion — are awarding a total of $32.6 billion in bonuses for 2009.
It’s in this context that Obama can’t afford a defeat on health care. A bill will pass in a Democrat-controlled Congress. What matters is what’s in it. The final result will be a CAT scan of those powerful Washington interests he campaigned against, revealing which have been removed from the body politic (or at least reduced) and which continue to metastasize. The Wall Street regulatory reform package Obama pushes through, or doesn’t, may render even more of a verdict on his success in changing the system he sought the White House to reform.
The best political news for the president remains the Republicans. It’s a measure of how out of touch G.O.P. leaders like Mitch McConnell and John Boehner are that they keep trying to scare voters by calling Obama a socialist. They have it backward. The larger fear is that Obama might be just another corporatist, punking voters much as the Republicans do when they claim to be all for the common guy. If anything, the most unexpected — and challenging — event that could rock the White House this August would be if the opposition actually woke up.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Why everything you buy is crap
The biggest contribution to modern society of the so-called market economy much-loved of conservatives is the complete collapse of quality in goods and services. The market economy supposedly dictates that price is determined by what the market will bear; this is supposed to bring prices down through competition. But what really drives this market economy is not production but the sharemarket, and the sharemarket demands ever higher profits, no matter what the prevailing economic conditions. To achieve these higher profits, companies - run by unimaginative, greedy men - have one tool: cut costs. What costs do they look to first? Labour. Sadly for the modern corporate boss, most products and services require people: people to do jobs, perform tasks, make things. Most big companies have now been through so many rounds of cost-cutting (sackings, lay-offs, redundancies, buy-outs, call it what you want, it all boils down to getting rid of people) that they are barely able to function. Buy any product; hire any service; the chances are, it won't be satisfactory. In today's economy, good enough is good enough. There is no room for pride of craftsmanship. Little is produced any more as good as it can possibly be done. Keeping costs down is more important than doing a good job. To replace quality, we have marketing, spin doctors telling us that something is the best of its kind when in truth it is rubbish. How many times have you bought something or engaged a workman - and paid good money - only to find that it's broken or hasn't been properly built? All this is courtesy of today's market economy.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
DVD review
Shadow Play
Rory Gallagher (Eagle Vision)
591 minutes, 4:3 format
4 stars
County Donegal-born Rory Gallagher was one of the greatest guitarists and rock performers of his generation, and his mastery is well represented in this collection of shows recorded for the German Rockpalast TV program. The three-disc set includes an intimate studio gig, club sets and massive outdoor shows, in seven brackets dating from 1976 to 1990. It showcases Gallagher's talents as a solo acoustic performer and as a master of the electric blues. Along with fiery renditions of favourites such as Calling Card and Tattoo'd Lady, points of interest _ historically, if not musically _ include guest jams with Jack Bruce, Eric Burdon, Roger McGuinn and members of Little Feat (amusingly cited in the accompanying booklet notes by Rory's brother Donal as ``Roger McQuinn'' and ``Little Feet''). Visuals are excellent throughout and the sound is mostly first-rate. Look for quirks such as odd subtitles and a smoke machine gone haywire.
Two Feathers
Rory Ellis
Villainous Records 4 stars
Rory Ellis glares menacingly from the cover of his new disk, released on the Villainous label. At first listen these portents seem utterly misleading. Ellis embraces each song with a voice like a big, warm, comfortable doona, and the musical accompaniment, led by Dave Steel on guitars (plus Dobro and mandolin) and Tim Neal on Hammond organ, is delightfully free-flowing and adept. As a songwriter, Ellis isn't a typical bluesman, owing more to the storytelling traditions of rural Australian country and folk. But there is an overriding feeling of melancholy to much of the music here, a sense of the blues more deeply felt than just a 12-bar song structure can convey, and a sad man can be a dangerous man. This, then, is a record that reveals its many moods gradually, from the tender Little One to the angry No Love in This War and the tough-rocking Dear Satan. Backed by many of Melbourne's finest players, including Barry Stockley on bass, Pete Luscombe on drums, Matiss Schubert on violin), Kerri Simpson and Chris Wilson on backing vocals, this is another mighty effort from a musician who just keeps improving. Catch him playing around town before he heads back overseas.
WEEKEND AWAY
DUNKELD
For the past several months, the tiny, tidy western Victorian village of Dunkeld has been an eldorado for every gourmand worth his or her salt shaker, as foodies from around the globe wend their way to the Royal Mail Hotel to sample of cooking of star chef Dan Hunter.
The impressions of Dunkeld one gets from these reports from the far fringes of food appreciation are _ well _ of not much at all, really. It's as if the Royal Mail exists in splendid isolation on an island of culinary adventure.
But there is a lot more to Dunkeld; OK, maybe not a lot more to the town _ just a few shops, a visitor centre, a school, and a stately old war memorial park with community swimming pool and bowls club. But most important, it is the southern gateway to the Grampians, one of the most picturesque destinations in this part of the world. And if you are staying at the Royal Mail or one of several guest houses around the town, you're well-placed to enjoy the many bushwalks and scenic drives the area has to offer.
The Royal Mail provides an illustrated map for walks that start from the nicely landscaped hotel grounds. These range in difficulty from easy to difficult and can take from 15 minutes, for a brisk pre-dinner stroll, to a four-hour hike that follows the Wannon River and up along the lower flanks of Mount Sturgeon. The trails are well-marked and only occasionally challenging to follow.
Along the trails you come across shady billabongs and stands of magnificent river red gums, pass through scrubby stringybark forests and discover hillsides of mysterious, skirted grass trees, always watched over by the tremendous rocky towers of the southern Grampians.
It's a good idea to bring a day pack for carrying water, wear sturdy walking shoes, and _ this is grazing country _ bring plenty of fly repellent. Also be sure to pack your swimming togs, because the hotel has a great pool, ideal for a refreshing plunge after a vigorous hike, or for some indulgent lounging between meals.
The hotel's guide lists some of the native animals and introduced pests you're likely to encounter on these walks. We saw Eastern Grey kangaroos, Swamp and Red-necked wallabies, and also rabbits, hares and foxes. Two natives we were happy to miss were the Eastern Tiger and Brown snakes.
The rooms at the Royal Mail are clean and well-appointed, with comfortable beds, a small fridge, tea and coffee, including a plunger with real coffee, and a good flat-screen TV. The bathrooms are spotless and modern. The small veranda out back is a good place to relax with a book or to simply gaze at the ever-changing panorama of the Grampians.
If food is the main reason for your visit, well, it's all the foodie adventurers say it is, ranging from the remarkable degustation dinner in Hunter's restaurant, to the fine bistro or an excellent pub meal in the hotel's front bar.
If food is the main reason for your visit, well, it's all the foodie adventurers say it is, ranging from the remarkable degustation dinner in Hunter's restaurant (this is what all the fuss is about), to the bistro, or a pub meal in the front bar. As far as pub grub goes, it'd be hard to beat the wagyu corned beef and mash or the Royal's version of the classic chicken parma. And no matter which venue you dine in, set aside plenty of time to peruse the prodigious wine list.
The neighbouring Gourmet Pantry and Mountain View Cafe are good alternatives for breakfast and lunch.
If you feel like getting into the car, Hall's Gap, in the heart of the Grampians, is less than an hour away, as is Port Fairy, on the coast. The rural centre of Hamilton is even closer, and the whole area is dotted with quaint little towns, many with splendid old pubs.
VISITORS' BOOK
Royal Mail Hotel
Address 98 Parker St (Glenelg Highway), Dunkeld
Bookings Phone 03 5577 2241 or see royalmail.com.au/
Email relax@royalmail.com.au
Getting there About 250 km west of Melbourne on the Western Highway via Ballarat and the Glenelg Highway
How much Choices range from hotel rooms and apartments to cottages and shared houses for big groups. Hotel rates for a Mountain View room are $220 a night peak and $180 off-peak
Summary The Royal Mail is a vast complex; by all means go for the food, but don't ignore the rest of this beautiful part of Victoria.
Verdict 17.
The score: 19-20 excellent; 17-18 great; 15-16 good; 13-14 comfortable. All weekends away are conducted anonymously and paid for by Traveller.
Primitive Tales
The Kits
Off The Hip 2.5 stars
Originality is overrated and playing spot the influence can be a dangerous pursuit in the pop-rock game _ points worth remembering when listening to this debut long-player from London-based but Melbourne's own the Kits. Led by Kit Atkinson emoting mightily on vocals and guitar, this is seriously tight, bright and shiny stuff. Michael Cleverly's bass chugs and churns and Kit's brother Jay's drums snap and sizzle. Kit's and Marc Bonet's lead guitar lines are clean, sinuous and perfectly formed. Recorded at various London studios, it's a well-rehearsed distillation of '80s power pop _ surprisingly so, given the band's presence on Off The Hip, Australia's foremost grungy garage-band label. No matter how consistently average and disposable the band sounds, doggedly pushing through 11 likeable tracks, it's undeniably poppy and smartly calculated. Dangerous Life works well, and City to City almost, but not quite, lets go and rocks out. Production is likewise straight and tidy. The band tries to cultivate a garage-band image but this well-lit music to look good to.
Live at the Nighthawk
The Moonee Valley Drifters
MGM 3 stars
What used to promise a reliable, professional country music package, the so-called Nashville sound today more often means bland, botoxed and by the numbers. Happily, this new record by Melbourne's own Moonee Valley Drifters is about as far from Nashville as you can get. Recorded live, with just a couple of overdubs, in front of an audience of fans and friends, it's rough and ready and a whole lot of fun. The band cover a dizzying array of styles, from the classic country of George Jones (Who Shot Sam) to Doug Kershaw's Cajun rhythms (Louisiana Man) and the Bakersfield rocking of Buck Owens (Flash, Crash, and Thunder). Indeed, this split can be disconcerting, the country-cajun mix sitting a little uncomfortably at times. At least it lets chief Drifter Tom Forsell scratch his squeeze-box itch. Led by the wonderful Nicky del Rey on guitar and Gerard Rowan on pedal steel, the music swings and sways and maybe lacks just a bit of fire. Let's act up and smash a few barstools, the music says, but the boys remain on their best behaviour. What the Drifters have in abundance is Forsell's great country voice, and that guarantees a good time.
MUSIC
JEFF BECK
The Palais Theatre, January 26
palaistheatre.net.au/
Along with his gunslinging reputation as one of the world's most innovative electric guitarists, British rock legend Jeff Beck is also known as a builder of custom hot-rod cars. His show at the Palais Theatre roared and purred and generally ran like a well-tuned high-performance road machine on a steamy Australia Day evening in St Kilda.
Propelled by a rhythm section led by drummer Vinnie Colaiuta and bassist Tal Wilkenfeld _ a 22-year-old wunderkind from Sydney; her solo during Stevie Wonder's Because We've Ended As Lovers, off 1974's Blow By Blow, was simply beautiful _ Beck kicked the show off with Bolero, which has been part of his set since Truth, his 1968 solo debut. What followed was 90 minutes of alternating bone-jarring power in songs such as Blast and Pump and the fine delicacy of Stratus and Where Were You, in a performance that was remarkable for its nuance and structure.
Looking better in black leather trousers and trademark black shag haircut than any 64-year-old man has any right to, Beck and his ever-present Fender Stratocaster, Wilkenfeld's sinuous, sexy basslines and the fills and and washes by super-session keyboardist David Sancious (Bruce Springsteen, Sting) provided all the required melody and drama, no vocals required; there was one vocal microphone on the stage, which Beck used once, at the end, when he introduced the band.
The show closely followed the set from recent CD release Performing This Week ... Live At Ronnie Scott's, and showed the full range of Beck's eclectic fusion of styles, drawing on everything from hard rock, funk and jazz to Middle Eastern and rockabilly. One of the highlights in a show full of them was Beck's version of Lennon-McCartney's A Day In The Life.
Apart from Beck's astonishing finger-picking virtuosity and occasional stage direction, this wasn't a highly visual show, completely lacking in rock-star poses; just lots of grins and nods of respect as the players got on with the job of making great music together.
As The Sun Falls
Jess McAvoy
Henduwin Music 3 stars
For a singer-songwriter with two highly praised, self-assured albums under her belt, Melbourne-based Western Australian Jess McAvoy seems oddly disconnected from her material this time round. Such a lapse is surprising: this is no pop tyro; apart from the songwriting and singing, McAvoy shares production credit, plays the guitars, runs the record label and helps design the packaging. It's not that the material is wanting, either _ indeed, it's a uniformly strong set. McAvoy is candid about her preference for playing solo, so maybe it's the presence of a full band that makes her push her voice well out of its comfort zone and into an upper register that lacks emotional bearing. Which would be a pity, because under the skilful direction co-producer Marty Brown (Clare Bowditch, Art of Fighting), this is a terrific bunch of players and they give the first-rate batch of songs palpable structure, strength and much-needed warmth, especially when the keys and strings kick in. Pals Clare Bowditch and Liz Stringer help out on backing vocals. Everything finally clicks into place when McAvoy lets loose, on tracks such as How The Hell and Best I Can, and the terrific ballad Part of Me.
Western Stream
Andrew Hull
Heftos Productions 3 stars
Poetry and rock have a long if not always happy relationship. Indeed, rappers' rhymes might be seen as poetry. To stretch the point, viewed in a certain way, this recording debut from New South Welshman _ Bourke, actually _ Andrew Hull could be considered a sort of bush rap, spoken over a musical soundtrack created by guitarist Leigh Ivin (the Re-mains), Ronny Rindo on drums and Adam Bodkin on bass, plus guests including the great Chris Wilson on harmonica. Delivered in Hull's strong, clean-limbed tenor, free of histrionics _ if at times a bit uncomfortably sentimental _ much of Western Stream is taken from Hull's recent book of poems West: People & Places, which was inspired by the writing of Henry Lawson. Ivins' music mixes up the moods, track one Gulargumbone heating up the honky tonk while track two Cambell has a cool, back-bar jazzy feel. On the rocking title track, and again on the record's strongest piece, Where The Waters Used to Run (Reprise), you can feel Hull the poet straining against the melody, aching to burst into song. But he resists and stays true to his craft. Forget your rock and pop expectations and enjoy the flow.
Shadow Play
Rory Gallagher (Eagle Vision)
591 minutes, 4:3 format
4 stars
County Donegal-born Rory Gallagher was one of the greatest guitarists and rock performers of his generation, and his mastery is well represented in this collection of shows recorded for the German Rockpalast TV program. The three-disc set includes an intimate studio gig, club sets and massive outdoor shows, in seven brackets dating from 1976 to 1990. It showcases Gallagher's talents as a solo acoustic performer and as a master of the electric blues. Along with fiery renditions of favourites such as Calling Card and Tattoo'd Lady, points of interest _ historically, if not musically _ include guest jams with Jack Bruce, Eric Burdon, Roger McGuinn and members of Little Feat (amusingly cited in the accompanying booklet notes by Rory's brother Donal as ``Roger McQuinn'' and ``Little Feet''). Visuals are excellent throughout and the sound is mostly first-rate. Look for quirks such as odd subtitles and a smoke machine gone haywire.
Two Feathers
Rory Ellis
Villainous Records 4 stars
Rory Ellis glares menacingly from the cover of his new disk, released on the Villainous label. At first listen these portents seem utterly misleading. Ellis embraces each song with a voice like a big, warm, comfortable doona, and the musical accompaniment, led by Dave Steel on guitars (plus Dobro and mandolin) and Tim Neal on Hammond organ, is delightfully free-flowing and adept. As a songwriter, Ellis isn't a typical bluesman, owing more to the storytelling traditions of rural Australian country and folk. But there is an overriding feeling of melancholy to much of the music here, a sense of the blues more deeply felt than just a 12-bar song structure can convey, and a sad man can be a dangerous man. This, then, is a record that reveals its many moods gradually, from the tender Little One to the angry No Love in This War and the tough-rocking Dear Satan. Backed by many of Melbourne's finest players, including Barry Stockley on bass, Pete Luscombe on drums, Matiss Schubert on violin), Kerri Simpson and Chris Wilson on backing vocals, this is another mighty effort from a musician who just keeps improving. Catch him playing around town before he heads back overseas.
WEEKEND AWAY
DUNKELD
For the past several months, the tiny, tidy western Victorian village of Dunkeld has been an eldorado for every gourmand worth his or her salt shaker, as foodies from around the globe wend their way to the Royal Mail Hotel to sample of cooking of star chef Dan Hunter.
The impressions of Dunkeld one gets from these reports from the far fringes of food appreciation are _ well _ of not much at all, really. It's as if the Royal Mail exists in splendid isolation on an island of culinary adventure.
But there is a lot more to Dunkeld; OK, maybe not a lot more to the town _ just a few shops, a visitor centre, a school, and a stately old war memorial park with community swimming pool and bowls club. But most important, it is the southern gateway to the Grampians, one of the most picturesque destinations in this part of the world. And if you are staying at the Royal Mail or one of several guest houses around the town, you're well-placed to enjoy the many bushwalks and scenic drives the area has to offer.
The Royal Mail provides an illustrated map for walks that start from the nicely landscaped hotel grounds. These range in difficulty from easy to difficult and can take from 15 minutes, for a brisk pre-dinner stroll, to a four-hour hike that follows the Wannon River and up along the lower flanks of Mount Sturgeon. The trails are well-marked and only occasionally challenging to follow.
Along the trails you come across shady billabongs and stands of magnificent river red gums, pass through scrubby stringybark forests and discover hillsides of mysterious, skirted grass trees, always watched over by the tremendous rocky towers of the southern Grampians.
It's a good idea to bring a day pack for carrying water, wear sturdy walking shoes, and _ this is grazing country _ bring plenty of fly repellent. Also be sure to pack your swimming togs, because the hotel has a great pool, ideal for a refreshing plunge after a vigorous hike, or for some indulgent lounging between meals.
The hotel's guide lists some of the native animals and introduced pests you're likely to encounter on these walks. We saw Eastern Grey kangaroos, Swamp and Red-necked wallabies, and also rabbits, hares and foxes. Two natives we were happy to miss were the Eastern Tiger and Brown snakes.
The rooms at the Royal Mail are clean and well-appointed, with comfortable beds, a small fridge, tea and coffee, including a plunger with real coffee, and a good flat-screen TV. The bathrooms are spotless and modern. The small veranda out back is a good place to relax with a book or to simply gaze at the ever-changing panorama of the Grampians.
If food is the main reason for your visit, well, it's all the foodie adventurers say it is, ranging from the remarkable degustation dinner in Hunter's restaurant, to the fine bistro or an excellent pub meal in the hotel's front bar.
If food is the main reason for your visit, well, it's all the foodie adventurers say it is, ranging from the remarkable degustation dinner in Hunter's restaurant (this is what all the fuss is about), to the bistro, or a pub meal in the front bar. As far as pub grub goes, it'd be hard to beat the wagyu corned beef and mash or the Royal's version of the classic chicken parma. And no matter which venue you dine in, set aside plenty of time to peruse the prodigious wine list.
The neighbouring Gourmet Pantry and Mountain View Cafe are good alternatives for breakfast and lunch.
If you feel like getting into the car, Hall's Gap, in the heart of the Grampians, is less than an hour away, as is Port Fairy, on the coast. The rural centre of Hamilton is even closer, and the whole area is dotted with quaint little towns, many with splendid old pubs.
VISITORS' BOOK
Royal Mail Hotel
Address 98 Parker St (Glenelg Highway), Dunkeld
Bookings Phone 03 5577 2241 or see royalmail.com.au/
Email relax@royalmail.com.au
Getting there About 250 km west of Melbourne on the Western Highway via Ballarat and the Glenelg Highway
How much Choices range from hotel rooms and apartments to cottages and shared houses for big groups. Hotel rates for a Mountain View room are $220 a night peak and $180 off-peak
Summary The Royal Mail is a vast complex; by all means go for the food, but don't ignore the rest of this beautiful part of Victoria.
Verdict 17.
The score: 19-20 excellent; 17-18 great; 15-16 good; 13-14 comfortable. All weekends away are conducted anonymously and paid for by Traveller.
Primitive Tales
The Kits
Off The Hip 2.5 stars
Originality is overrated and playing spot the influence can be a dangerous pursuit in the pop-rock game _ points worth remembering when listening to this debut long-player from London-based but Melbourne's own the Kits. Led by Kit Atkinson emoting mightily on vocals and guitar, this is seriously tight, bright and shiny stuff. Michael Cleverly's bass chugs and churns and Kit's brother Jay's drums snap and sizzle. Kit's and Marc Bonet's lead guitar lines are clean, sinuous and perfectly formed. Recorded at various London studios, it's a well-rehearsed distillation of '80s power pop _ surprisingly so, given the band's presence on Off The Hip, Australia's foremost grungy garage-band label. No matter how consistently average and disposable the band sounds, doggedly pushing through 11 likeable tracks, it's undeniably poppy and smartly calculated. Dangerous Life works well, and City to City almost, but not quite, lets go and rocks out. Production is likewise straight and tidy. The band tries to cultivate a garage-band image but this well-lit music to look good to.
Live at the Nighthawk
The Moonee Valley Drifters
MGM 3 stars
What used to promise a reliable, professional country music package, the so-called Nashville sound today more often means bland, botoxed and by the numbers. Happily, this new record by Melbourne's own Moonee Valley Drifters is about as far from Nashville as you can get. Recorded live, with just a couple of overdubs, in front of an audience of fans and friends, it's rough and ready and a whole lot of fun. The band cover a dizzying array of styles, from the classic country of George Jones (Who Shot Sam) to Doug Kershaw's Cajun rhythms (Louisiana Man) and the Bakersfield rocking of Buck Owens (Flash, Crash, and Thunder). Indeed, this split can be disconcerting, the country-cajun mix sitting a little uncomfortably at times. At least it lets chief Drifter Tom Forsell scratch his squeeze-box itch. Led by the wonderful Nicky del Rey on guitar and Gerard Rowan on pedal steel, the music swings and sways and maybe lacks just a bit of fire. Let's act up and smash a few barstools, the music says, but the boys remain on their best behaviour. What the Drifters have in abundance is Forsell's great country voice, and that guarantees a good time.
MUSIC
JEFF BECK
The Palais Theatre, January 26
palaistheatre.net.au/
Along with his gunslinging reputation as one of the world's most innovative electric guitarists, British rock legend Jeff Beck is also known as a builder of custom hot-rod cars. His show at the Palais Theatre roared and purred and generally ran like a well-tuned high-performance road machine on a steamy Australia Day evening in St Kilda.
Propelled by a rhythm section led by drummer Vinnie Colaiuta and bassist Tal Wilkenfeld _ a 22-year-old wunderkind from Sydney; her solo during Stevie Wonder's Because We've Ended As Lovers, off 1974's Blow By Blow, was simply beautiful _ Beck kicked the show off with Bolero, which has been part of his set since Truth, his 1968 solo debut. What followed was 90 minutes of alternating bone-jarring power in songs such as Blast and Pump and the fine delicacy of Stratus and Where Were You, in a performance that was remarkable for its nuance and structure.
Looking better in black leather trousers and trademark black shag haircut than any 64-year-old man has any right to, Beck and his ever-present Fender Stratocaster, Wilkenfeld's sinuous, sexy basslines and the fills and and washes by super-session keyboardist David Sancious (Bruce Springsteen, Sting) provided all the required melody and drama, no vocals required; there was one vocal microphone on the stage, which Beck used once, at the end, when he introduced the band.
The show closely followed the set from recent CD release Performing This Week ... Live At Ronnie Scott's, and showed the full range of Beck's eclectic fusion of styles, drawing on everything from hard rock, funk and jazz to Middle Eastern and rockabilly. One of the highlights in a show full of them was Beck's version of Lennon-McCartney's A Day In The Life.
Apart from Beck's astonishing finger-picking virtuosity and occasional stage direction, this wasn't a highly visual show, completely lacking in rock-star poses; just lots of grins and nods of respect as the players got on with the job of making great music together.
As The Sun Falls
Jess McAvoy
Henduwin Music 3 stars
For a singer-songwriter with two highly praised, self-assured albums under her belt, Melbourne-based Western Australian Jess McAvoy seems oddly disconnected from her material this time round. Such a lapse is surprising: this is no pop tyro; apart from the songwriting and singing, McAvoy shares production credit, plays the guitars, runs the record label and helps design the packaging. It's not that the material is wanting, either _ indeed, it's a uniformly strong set. McAvoy is candid about her preference for playing solo, so maybe it's the presence of a full band that makes her push her voice well out of its comfort zone and into an upper register that lacks emotional bearing. Which would be a pity, because under the skilful direction co-producer Marty Brown (Clare Bowditch, Art of Fighting), this is a terrific bunch of players and they give the first-rate batch of songs palpable structure, strength and much-needed warmth, especially when the keys and strings kick in. Pals Clare Bowditch and Liz Stringer help out on backing vocals. Everything finally clicks into place when McAvoy lets loose, on tracks such as How The Hell and Best I Can, and the terrific ballad Part of Me.
Western Stream
Andrew Hull
Heftos Productions 3 stars
Poetry and rock have a long if not always happy relationship. Indeed, rappers' rhymes might be seen as poetry. To stretch the point, viewed in a certain way, this recording debut from New South Welshman _ Bourke, actually _ Andrew Hull could be considered a sort of bush rap, spoken over a musical soundtrack created by guitarist Leigh Ivin (the Re-mains), Ronny Rindo on drums and Adam Bodkin on bass, plus guests including the great Chris Wilson on harmonica. Delivered in Hull's strong, clean-limbed tenor, free of histrionics _ if at times a bit uncomfortably sentimental _ much of Western Stream is taken from Hull's recent book of poems West: People & Places, which was inspired by the writing of Henry Lawson. Ivins' music mixes up the moods, track one Gulargumbone heating up the honky tonk while track two Cambell has a cool, back-bar jazzy feel. On the rocking title track, and again on the record's strongest piece, Where The Waters Used to Run (Reprise), you can feel Hull the poet straining against the melody, aching to burst into song. But he resists and stays true to his craft. Forget your rock and pop expectations and enjoy the flow.
Conservative? No thanks.
Conservatism is contrary to human nature. Humanity evolves, people change, society grows and moves forward (OK, looking at Oakland Raider fans, maybe not). But conservatives want things to either stand still or go backwards. Bush is a deluded fool but Dick Cheney is evil. Australia's John Howard only wanted to wield power, to diminish all those around him in order to enhance his own stature. These men personify conservatism as it is practised in the west today.
Whenever the opportunity arises, at any level of government, vote against conservatism.
Whenever the opportunity arises, at any level of government, vote against conservatism.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Call me a late arrival, but I've just discovered the joys the the Yelp website. Check it out at http://www.yelp.com/locations/states
The Los Angeles Times of Wednesday, March 18, 2009, contained an interesting opinion piece by Timothy Rutten. He starts with an odd assertion:
"President Obama and his administration have made a complete shambles of the AIG bailout..."
Whether Obama & Co. have messed up remains to be seen. What is truly worth reading is Rutten's concluding points about American unionism:
"The last time the right of contract was draped in as much sanctimony was when lawyers representing the robber barons of our first Gilded Age argued that the inviolability of contracts precluded the adoption of child labor laws.Think back for a second to the beginnings of the financial crisis last year. When the auto companies went to the Bush administration asking for help, the first conditions imposed on them were executive pay cuts and renegotiation of their union contracts to bring down labor costs. The United Auto Workers went along because it wanted to save the firms and the jobs of the workers they employ. What we're essentially being asked to believe is that employment contracts involving hardworking men and women on Detroit's assembly lines are somehow less legally binding -- less "sacred" in the current rhetorical argot -- than those protecting a bunch of cowboy securities traders living in Connecticut. When Larry Summers, Obama's chief economic advisor, piously tells us that the administration's hands are tied because we all must abide "by the rule of law," perhaps it's time to ask: What rule and for whom?"
Here's the guts of his argument, and it is salient for all workers, everywhere - in Australia, from which this blog is being written, and in the US, Rutten's primary target:
"For years, the smart guys on Wall Street have convinced a growing number of Americans that organized labor is an impediment to economic progress, an unacceptable "cost" in a globalized system of production, a quaint social fossil from the era of mills and smokestacks. If there's a lesson to be gleaned from the current crisis, however, it's that when the chips are down, organized labor is a far more responsible social actor than the snatch-and-run characters who fancy themselves financiers.The implications of this are wider than most of us imagine, and they deserve to be considered. Today, slightly less than 8% of all American workers belong to a union. Half a century ago, when more than one in three American workers were unionized, the middle class was growing -- not simply because organized labor won better wages and benefits for its members but because the presence of a vigorous labor movement pulled everybody else's compensation up as well. As union membership dropped, middle-class incomes -- and average families' share of the nation's wealth -- stagnated and then fell. Families compensated for their reduced opportunity at first by sending both parents into the workplace, then by working more hours and, more recently, by simply going deeper and deeper into debt. At the same time, the incomes and share of the national wealth held by people like the AIG securities traders grew exponentially.The Employee Free Choice Act, currently pending in both houses of Congress, would give unions the tools they need to reorganize a reasonable share of the American workplace. Whatever the howls of opposition from Wall Street's mandarins and their lackeys, the House and Senate ought to pass the bill and Obama ought to sign it as quickly as possible. We may have to swallow the outrage and injustice of AIG's and Goldman Sachs' venality and social irresponsibility for the moment, but we ought to spare our children that bitter taste.
"President Obama and his administration have made a complete shambles of the AIG bailout..."
Whether Obama & Co. have messed up remains to be seen. What is truly worth reading is Rutten's concluding points about American unionism:
"The last time the right of contract was draped in as much sanctimony was when lawyers representing the robber barons of our first Gilded Age argued that the inviolability of contracts precluded the adoption of child labor laws.Think back for a second to the beginnings of the financial crisis last year. When the auto companies went to the Bush administration asking for help, the first conditions imposed on them were executive pay cuts and renegotiation of their union contracts to bring down labor costs. The United Auto Workers went along because it wanted to save the firms and the jobs of the workers they employ. What we're essentially being asked to believe is that employment contracts involving hardworking men and women on Detroit's assembly lines are somehow less legally binding -- less "sacred" in the current rhetorical argot -- than those protecting a bunch of cowboy securities traders living in Connecticut. When Larry Summers, Obama's chief economic advisor, piously tells us that the administration's hands are tied because we all must abide "by the rule of law," perhaps it's time to ask: What rule and for whom?"
Here's the guts of his argument, and it is salient for all workers, everywhere - in Australia, from which this blog is being written, and in the US, Rutten's primary target:
"For years, the smart guys on Wall Street have convinced a growing number of Americans that organized labor is an impediment to economic progress, an unacceptable "cost" in a globalized system of production, a quaint social fossil from the era of mills and smokestacks. If there's a lesson to be gleaned from the current crisis, however, it's that when the chips are down, organized labor is a far more responsible social actor than the snatch-and-run characters who fancy themselves financiers.The implications of this are wider than most of us imagine, and they deserve to be considered. Today, slightly less than 8% of all American workers belong to a union. Half a century ago, when more than one in three American workers were unionized, the middle class was growing -- not simply because organized labor won better wages and benefits for its members but because the presence of a vigorous labor movement pulled everybody else's compensation up as well. As union membership dropped, middle-class incomes -- and average families' share of the nation's wealth -- stagnated and then fell. Families compensated for their reduced opportunity at first by sending both parents into the workplace, then by working more hours and, more recently, by simply going deeper and deeper into debt. At the same time, the incomes and share of the national wealth held by people like the AIG securities traders grew exponentially.The Employee Free Choice Act, currently pending in both houses of Congress, would give unions the tools they need to reorganize a reasonable share of the American workplace. Whatever the howls of opposition from Wall Street's mandarins and their lackeys, the House and Senate ought to pass the bill and Obama ought to sign it as quickly as possible. We may have to swallow the outrage and injustice of AIG's and Goldman Sachs' venality and social irresponsibility for the moment, but we ought to spare our children that bitter taste.
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