March 10

Day 5: Melbourne

Morning

Another day, another ridiculously early departure. Cities that appear to be nearby on a map are actually quite distant. So in order to get to Melbourne in plenty of time for that night’s Robert Forster gig, we need to be on a 7am flight, as the only other flights to Melbourne are in the afternoon. And since we can’t check in online (they want to see proof we’re leaving the country, and it’s a one-way ticket), we need to get there no later than two hours before. Or we don’t get on the plane.

The Wellington airport is pretty small, which makes this looming figure above us in the gate area seem even more imposing:

It’s 5am and time for first breakfast. No fancy lounge breakfast this time, as we’re flying a budget airline. Though I am impressed that we’re able to get some quite good poached eggs on toast with spinach from one of the food vendors. Poached eggs, as I’m learning, are a standard breakfast offering in this part of the world. I approve!

The flight is long (around three and a half hours), and we’re both pretty tired, so Mike tries to catch some zzz’s and I zone out for a bit before catching up on my writing. It’s a budget airline, so no second breakfast (for now).

Stepping into the arrivals area at the Melbourne airport, I can already feel the temperature change — no more need for wool leggings. And time to switch our SIM cards in our phones from the NZ to Australian ones.

The clerk at the Vodafone kiosk in the Wellington airport had been very helpful in setting up our NZ SIMs, finally getting the Internet to work properly with Mike’s phone. He even showed us where the settings were to likely make things work when we got back to Australia, so Mike fiddled with his phone for a bit and then — voila! — the tweets and Instagrams began rolling in.

And it’s a good thing we had internet access again, because I hadn’t yet researched how to get to our Melbourne Airbnb from the airport, or even how far away it was. However… trying to use transit directions in Google Maps proved to be a bust. I guess they don’t have that in Melbourne yet? Signs pointed to an airport express bus that looked like it was going to be the quickest way into town, we hopped on that.

Arriving at the central railway station at the end of the bus ride, it appeared that we still had a ways to go. Time to cab it to the Airbnb and figure out the transit stuff after we’d dropped our bags and caught our breath.

I hadn’t heard from our host recently, so I messaged him now. By the time we arrived at his place in the Collingwood neighborhood, there was still no reply. So we walked up and rang the bell and… nothing. Another ring, still no response.

Uh, oh.

At this point, the wisest move seemed to be… second breakfast! A small Japanese cafe was a few blocks away, so we sat down to get some food and wait, while I messaged our host yet again.

Another flat white, and this time avocado toast. This is another thing I’d kept seeing on menus over here, and heck, for something so simple — very ripe avocado slices drizzled with a little olive oil plus salt on a large slice of toast — it was freaking delicious!

We finish breakfast and there is still no word from our host. And we have these heavy backpacks we really want to ditch. So we head back over to the flat to try ringing the bell again.

Ring, ring, no answer. Uggggghhhhh!

Time for Plan B: head back to the cafe for another coffee, contact Airbnb and start scoping hotels for the night just in case this goes completely south. Because we actually experienced similar flakiness with our Airbnb in San Francisco at the beginning of our trip: our host was non-responsive, then kind of evasive about checkin, so we ditched that for a hotel.

I call Airbnb and am starting to explain our situation to a customer service rep when the connection drops. Less than a minute later there is another call — from our host! He apologizes profusely for forgetting to message us with entry details, then gives me the code for the lockbox with keys.

Chugging down the rest of my coffee, we walk back over to the flat, get the keys, and take a breather in our space for the next four nights. It’s a self-contained, modern studio flat in our host’s back yard that looks like it was converted from a garage. With all the mod cons and a complimentary bottle of wine. Nice.

Afternoon

We still have some time to kill before night #3 of the Jen’s Musical Heroes Tour (tonight: Robert Forster!), so we decide to walk over to the main retail strip near our part of north Collingwood. There are a couple of “op shops” (thrift stores) we check out, in search of cool t-shirts or records.

Just as we arrive at the first one, a “Salvos” (Salvation Army), the overcast skies deliver on their threat, dumping down sheets of rain. We have no jackets and no umbrellas, so this is a worrying development. On the plus side, Mike finds a Making of Dune book and a t-shirt for NYC comic shop Forbidden Planet, plus a circa-1960s LP of Moog synth-peppered instrumentals that I gladly scoop up.

The store doesn’t have any umbrellas for sale, and we’re at the point of considering buying a couple of secondhand rain jackets when I think to text our host to see if maybe he has a couple of umbrellas we could borrow?

He replies quickly that he does (yay!), so we check out and buy a bag to protect our purchases (and Mike’s head) from the rain, which has now lessened from torrential to heavy downfall. Our host, a very tall, gregarious Australian, meets us at our flat with the umbrellas, and we’re good to continue exploring on Smith Street.

The rain is fairly constant for the rest of the day, though it does ease in a bit. At one op shop I spot a “University of Washington” t-shirt on one rack, which makes me laugh. A little bit of Seattle in Melbourne.

We somehow manage to not do any record shopping before hunger gets the better of us. We both agree on the best food for a rainy day: soup. Specifically, we are lured by the promise of ramen at Shop Ramen. Though we first start with a steamed tofu bun for Mike plus a couple of cocktails: a watermelon shoju concoction for him and some Japanese rum mixed with ginger beer for me.

Then the ramen arrives, and it is seriously the best I’ve had outside of Japan. Still-crispy pork belly in a shoyu broth and soy-marinated egg and mushrooms. I sample some of Mike’s and it’s just as delicious: tofu in an intensely-flavored milky-white broth with edamame and marinated shiitakes. OMNOMNOM.

Evening

What comes after dinner? A rock concert, of course. We make our way down to the bustling central-city neighborhood where The Toff, tonight’s venue, is located. It’s on the 3rd floor of a building called the Curtin, which also houses a restaurant, a nightclub, and a venue for rooftop movies, among other things. We’re a bit early, so we get our stamps and head out for a drink in a slightly less posh setting. ($20 cocktails? No thank you.)

Mike finds a listing for a bar that looks pretty good, so we head down a street that seems to house an enormous, upscale shopping mall on both sides, then down a side alley. Inside are bottles of beer from all over the world lining the walls.

We grab a couple of pints of a local brew, find a seat, and start leafing through a local music weekly that someone had left at our table. Maybe there are some other gigs happening this weekend? Because we didn’t have anything planned for either Friday or Saturday.

A few pages in, I see it, and jab the paper with my finger: local band Flyying Colours is playing a gig on Friday! We both love that band — they’re on our personal short list of local bands we’d hope to see while in town — so this is pretty exciting. Then we see this is actually an opening slot for Irish band Ash, which is part of a festival, and the tickets are therefore pretty pricey. Hm.

Then I say, “what the hell, why not!” because when are we going to get the chance to see them again, and wouldn’t we totally regret it if we didn’t go? So I order tickets on my phone right then and there. Sorted!

We down the rest of our beers and make our way through the bustle back over to the Toff. The opening band hasn’t gone on yet, and there aren’t that many people there, so we’re able to grab a table near the back. There’s only one chair, though, so Mike asks if an empty one at the table in front of us is taken. Indeed — it’s for a friend who has yet to arrive. Other folks do have a free chair, though, so we settle in an wait for the first act.

Shortly afterward, the friend arrives to take that seat in front of us. He looks mighty familiar. “I think that’s one of the guys from Dick Diver,” I whisper to Mike. He starts looking up photos from the Dick Diver show we were at in Seattle last year, as I do a little Googling. “Yeah, that’s Al Montfort from Dick Diver.” Indiepop celeb-spotting powers: activate!

It looks like the first band, Lower Plenty, is about to go on, so we get up and move towards the (still mostly-empty) stage area. Wait, who’s that on stage? Why, it’s the dude from Dick Diver, plus some of his table-mates! They play minor key, slightly shambolic tunes, with odd bits of percussion — a rainy-sounding metal shaker, a brushed snare sound — gently flowing over most. Quite nice.

Since a few really tall dudes had ambled over and stood in our general area during the first band, as soon as the band is done we move to almost directly in front of the stage with surprising ease. Unobstructed sight lines, hooray!

I’m fidgeting with excitement yet again. I’ve seen both Robert Forster solo and playing with fellow Go-Between Grant McLennan (RIP) numerous times, mainly in the 90s when they’d visit NYC to play shows to promote their solo albums. But the last time I’d seen Forster was in 2005, also the last time I saw the Go-Betweens, at the Triple Door in Seattle. It would be interesting to see what mix of his own and his (late, great) band’s songs he’d choose to perform.

Taking the stage in style, with subtly stripey trousers and suit jacket over white dress shirt, Robert Forster briefly acknowledged the crowd’s adulatory applause before launching right into the first song with his four-piece band. The initial few songs were from the new album, 2015’s Songs to Play, which I still need to better acquaint myself with, especially since those songs sounded so great performed live. His band is ON IT, three younger dudes on drums, guitar and bass (plus backing vocals and keyboards from the latter two), as well as what I believe is his wife Karin on violin and backup vocals. So on top of every note, so effortless-sounding.

Of course the highlights for me are the Go-Betweens songs, especially one of my favorites, “Head Full of Steam.” He even dips as deep back as Spring Hill Fair-era, with “Draining the Pool For You,” which I’d never heard him perform live before. And of course the latter-day Go-Betweens catalog was well-represented: “Surfing Magazines,” “Finding You,” “Darlinghurst Nights” and “Here Comes a City” are all treats.

Throughout the set, Robert seems a bit quieter than usual, which he later acknowledges as he begins to loosen up, saying that this is the first time in awhile they’ve played. But by the time he encores with a 1-2 punch of two early solo live favorites — “I Can Do” and a riveting, guitar-less, Robert-at-the-mike tour-de-force performance of “Danger in the Past,” any lingering reticence has been shed. Out with a bang.

Would I see Robert Forster again on Saturday night for his second gig? Why yes, I do believe I wanted to now, after this performance. Mike, having never seen him live before, was also impressed by the show.

Why any doubt about going on Saturday? Well, as much as I love seeing old favorites, I’m just as excited to check out newer bands. So I wanted to leave room for the possibility of attending another show stacked with current Melbourne bands. But none such gig materialized, at least not with a strong enough lineup to tempt me. Besides, we already had tickets for Saturday due to my ordering for both nights when our final itinerary was not yet clear.

We hopped on the tram to take us back to Collingwood, and two stops later, wouldn’t you know it, on hops… the dude from Dick Diver! Maybe he’s able to play with so many bands because he’s secretly triplets? Anyway, see ya in Brisbane next week with one of those other bands (Terry).

Sleepytime now, so we can rest up for a day of hardcore record shopping (and hopefully better weather) on the morrow…

March 9

Day 4: Wellington

Morning

After the very long and busy prior day, we decide to sleep in to fully recharge. After all, tonight is yet another show from one of my favorite bands: The Verlaines. And d only material recorded through 1986. Same venue, same time as last night. And same level of excitement (!!!) from me.xr

Wellington apparently has more restaurants, cafes and bars per capita than New York City, so it’s no wonder there was no shortage of potential places to grab breakfast. We wander over to a cafe on Cuba Street where we both get fish-n-eggs for breakfast: smoked salmon with an artful swirl of scrambled eggs on toast for Mike, and smoked trout with potatoes and poached egg for me.

And not for the first time, I have an encounter where the server is momentarily confused about the need for me to sign my receipt. Because in Australia, every retail establishment uses “chip and PIN”: stick your card in the reader, enter your PIN (as with a debit card), and you’re done. But my card uses the current U.S. standard of “chip and signature.” So it looks like a chip and PIN card, with the shiny metal chip in it. But nope, it’s not the same.

With that sorted, we exit and make a beeline for the cool-looking record store we passed — and resisted entering due to our grumbling tummies — on the way to the restaurant.

Slow Boat Records has a section on display right near the front window labeled “New Zealand” that’s calling my name. So of course we dive in immediately. When you’ve spent as many hours as I have scouring the used vinyl bins of record stores, it’s fun to flip through a bunch of records by bands I’d never even heard of.

Midway through, we notice that the store has a listening station with two turntables, so I go back and grab a few interesting-looking records — mainly releases on indie labels from the 1980s — I’d previously passed. We toss a few more on the pile to finish our browse of that section. But we found no Flying Nun releases. Hmm, curious.

The 7″ singles bins get the same thorough treatment. In fact, unless it’s pretty clear that a record bin holds nothing but dreck — think thrift store cannon fodder like Mantovani, Barbra Streisand and Poco — both Mike and I suffer from he same need to look at every. single. record.

At the listening station, two of the seven contenders pass and join the buy pile: Cement Garden, a kind of jangly new-wave thing, and a shoegazey 7″ by Aspidistra. It’s only when leaving the register with these purchases plus a reissue of the Embarrassment’s first single (weird I hadn’t seen it in the stores back home) and a 7″ by Electric Blood (early band w/Robert Scott of The Bats) that we notice the bin labeled “Flying Nun.” Ahhhh…! Except that, ironically, it’s most filled with classic releases that a) I already own, b) are the reissues anyway, and c) are on a U.S. label (Captured Tracks). So even if I did want a reissue of a record I already owned, I’d be paying import prices. No thanks!

Afternoon

At this point it’s time for a flat white pick-me-up at one of Wellington’s many excellent coffee bars, with some cool murals along the walk. The city has a lot of interesting street art, in fact, which I always love taking pictures of.

The coffee is going to help fuel the next part of the day’s adventures: a trip to the headquarters of Weta Workshop, a special effects and prop company most famous for having created all of the props for the Lord of the Rings movie trilogy. We’ll be taking one of the behind-the-scenes tours they offer to the public, and I expect to see a lot of puppets.

One short cab ride later, and we’re in the outskirts of Wellington at a building that is rather unassuming-looking… aside from the two large, metal weta bugs atop the entryway. Stepping into the building, we arrive into what is basically a gift shop. Want to buy a solid gold replica of that fabled ring? Well, you better find it precious indeed, at around NZ$5k. Or just get a hobbit feet fridge magnet for NZ$10.

Tour group: assemble! No picture-taking inside and no touching unless otherwise instructed. Among things we did get to touch: various kinds of chain mail, silicone arm and nose pieces, and a replica of a gun used in the movie District 9.

It was actually pretty cool to be able to look around and see recognizable props and models in every direction. Fun fact from our tour guide: Viggo Mortensen insisted on riding his horse to the set of the LotR movies every day instead of being flown in by helicopter like everyone else. Method acting, man.

The only other employee in the prop-filled warehouse area we toured through was this poor dude up on a stage, painting a model. Apparently employees take turns being the featured entertainment for the tour while trying to get actual work done. I could only think of how much I would hate that, and the guy seemed a little nonplussed (though polite) when asked to answer a few questions. Hello! Trying to concentrate on painting teeny-tiny details onto exceedingly intricate model here.

Tour over and back to the gift shop where some gifts were bought and we called a cab to take us back into town and to our Airbnb where we could drop our purchases and prepare for the evening.

Evening

We’d already decided where to eat earlier in the day when, on the way to breakfast, I happened to spot a sign down a side street that said “Dumpling House.” A quick scan of the posted menu was all it took for me to say: dumplings, get in mah belleh! (Just wait until dinner time.)

At $2 each, it was hard not to want to order ALL THE DUMPLINGS. But I decided to try 3 kinds: garlic prawn, shiitake mushroom and smoked mussel in squid ink pasta. Mike got the latter two plus a tofu one in spinach pasta. And we split a Vietnamese slaw that was fish sauce-and-peanutty goodness. Best dumpling? Me: smoked mussel. Mike: shiitake mushroom.

And the homemade garlic-ginger-soy dipping sauce was so good, I’d have bought one of the bottles for sale by the register if I felt like transporting something that is both a food and a liquid across foreign country borders and… let’s say no more because I like my travel to be uncomplicated and pat-down-search-free whenever possible.

Food had, it was time to hit a few local secondhand shops, all on or near the Cuba Street retail strip. First, a bookshop where, after doing a $$-to-transport weigh calculation, I narrowly avoid buying a cool-looking book about Public Image Ltd. (I will probably regret this.) Then a vintage store where, for once, I get to ogle all the cool old furniture without having to entertain any ideas about actually buying any of it. And I see a cool, flowered cotton dress much like those filling my closet and lean in to take a look before I recoil at the price tag: NZ$225. Jeez, maybe I need to get insurance on my collection. Or an Etsy store?

The shops are starting to close, even though it’s not yet 6, so we go back to the less-cool-looking record store we’d passed earlier in the day. It’s open for another 30 minutes so we first check out the new local vinyl bin… nothing. Then the local CDs… jackpot! Specifically, a CD copy of my #2 album of 2015, the self-titled debut by Auckland band The Moonlight. And it had been hard to find because apparently they only made 50 (!) copies. I also grab the 2007 album by The Verlaines (tonight’s entertainment!) and a Shifting Sands CD.

It’s getting close to showtime, so walk towards the waterfront, resolving to once more get some liquid refreshment at Cuckoo. Sharing a worn velvet loveseat and two sidecars in the bar’s outdoor seating area, Mike and I agree: Wellington is way cool, and we could easily spend more time here.

Fortified and ready for what I hope will be another amazing show, we head to the venue. This time, my spare tickets end up in the hands of an actual ticket-needing person when I go to hand them to the (again, confused) person at the ticket counter. And we take our seats: the same ones, front row, stage left.

Not surprisingly, our seatmates to my left are the same couple who were there last night for The Chiils, and they recognize us straightaway and strike up a conversation. They are Wellington locals and also big fans of not just Flying Nun bands, but indiepop in general. In fact, upon hearing we’re from Seattle, the gentleman name drops local band Math & Physics Club. Do we know of them? Uh, yeah! This fellow also saw them play live in Olympia, WA a number of years ago. Small fucking world, indeed.

Time for The Verlaines to take the stage and I am again on the edge of my seat. As the band walks out, I see a familiar-looking woman grab the bass. Is that Jane Dodd? Oh hell, I think that is! And Robbie Yeats on drums. It’s the classic 1986 lineup performing all their 1986 and earlier material tonight!

The band kicks off with “Pyromaniac,” a rip-roaring favorite of mine from their very first EP.

The next song is a total surprise.

I’d mentioned to Mike earlier that The Chills didn’t play my favorite song of theirs (“Rain”), and I thought it even less likely to hear my favorite song from The Verlaines, as it’s not that well-known and isn’t on any of their releases proper.

Graeme Downes begins with an introduction indicating this isn’t one that’s been played in a very long time (if at all), but that is was the “Dunedin Double” show, after all… then plays he chugging initial chords of “Crisis After Crisis,” one of the band’s tracks from that double EP comp.

The rest of the set is a dizzy blur of tuneful guitar cacophony, ever-shifting rhythms and delicate beauty, all ebbing and flowing in fits and starts and flourishes as Verlaines songs are wont to do.

I know their early catalog by heart, so my only moment of confusion came when they started to play a song I simply couldn’t ID. What was it!? I started scribbling down lyrics to Google later. But at the end, Graeme said it was one they played live but never recorded. Aha!

The dancing by audience members in the side aisles, as at the Chills show, grew as the show went along. Turns out, Verlaines fans are a raucous bunch, and by midway through the set the dancers had increased in number and spread to directly in front of the stage. Hoots and hollers of encouragement and ever-more-frenetic dancing followed.

But even though my view was now partially obstructed, it was cool. We were all caught up in the same, transitory giddiness, transported to the first time we’d heard those songs.

At the end of the set, I lurked around once more in hopes of snagging a set list. I saw two others catch the stage tech’s attention before I did, handing lists to them before wandering off. I asked to take a picture of one person’s list after seeing someone else make that request, and just then another fan by the stage said Jane’s set list was still on stage, suggesting I ask for that.

With the loudest polite “excuse me?” I could muster, I was indeed able to get the tech’s attention and that last list. Thanks, dude! And thanks to the fellow fan who, wouldn’t you know, also traveled a long way for the show. And he had us beat: he’s from Toronto. At least I was able to help return his kindness by letting him know that The Chills would be in NYC in May, something of which he was totally unaware. See you at NYC Popfest?

Another windy walk back along the waterfront, with echoes of well-loved songs ringing in my head. And time for a few hours of sleep before heading to the airport to fly to our next stop: Melbourne.