farmdog: “BAR ITALIA AND THE 3 STAGES OF HYPOTHERMIA”

STAGE ONE (PROLOGUE).

According to the Government of Canada, there are 3 stages of hypothermia:

37 C - First stage - shivering, reduced circulation.
31 C - Second stage - weak pulse, lack of coordination, confusion.
27 C - Advanced stage - absent respiration and pulse, loss of consciousness.

NOT TO BRAG, but my day begins with two romantic and heated dates. The first one stands me up, and the second one isn’t actually real. However - I am a believer in the intersectional advantages of being routinely humbled, so this is good for me, it’s good for everyone. Instead of wallowing, I find myself reflecting in the crypt of Christchurch Cathedral. I’m texting the director of an upcoming video shoot that I “can’t talk I’m in the crypt rn”- at one with the American tourists - I assimilate. My avatar gets upgraded with a north face jacket and Yankees cap. Perfect, coz down here there’s no time for distractions, plus no one knows about my awkward forenoon except the observing window cleaner, and god. I am squinting at the showcase of illuminated manuscripts and wondering which blogging platform the (s)laymen would have used. It’s giving Wordpress.

I say goodbye to new friends Randy and Kayleigh, shake off the Idaho expansion pack, and scurry out to the car. The guitarist of the band I am helping out picks me up coz it’s time 2 film. I am cast as the uninterested love interest. This role is somewhat challenging. I piss off my directors with conspicuous stupid giggles and wide eyes.

“Look at the focking camera! don’t look at him!”

This is where the first stage of hypothermia sets in, because its also storming horrendously while this on-screen chemistry is withering. It’s Ireland, so there’s rain gunning down my ears sideways like wet bullets. It’s just so lucky I left any lingering traces of dignity in Australia, because a hot stream of snot trickles out my nose and alerts my forged date - I wipe it off with my jacket sleeve. The seagulls cringe.

STAGE TWO.

I wade out of the ocean of shame and onto the shore of honour, because before me on the red-lit Workmans stage, is a gentle creature resembling that of Neptune - ethereal, easy and etched within the West Coast of Connemara. Slowly dispensing the greyish blue aura over the crowd, is OLAN MONK, appearing silent and austere behind the microphone - I shiver as the temperature in here begins to plummet. “Fameless” is a castle built with the stones of a drum machine, some diluted strings, and a sampled cheering crowd. The vocals for this track have some kind of satanised effect, added on that arouse me and all the Catholic school observers in a way no one really understands - collectively, I feel a push toward Monk’s mythology and the unknown.

The otherworld keeps opening with “Drone Island”. A tin whistle is taken far from its usual traditional Irish setting, and instead, is stretched over a belt of gravelly distortion that “feels like I’m suspended over a huge industrial volcano slowly opening in pulses……”(1). Volcanic ash starts swirling around and forming ancient runes in the red light. I’m so bewildered and entranced that I forget how cold it is in here. Or is it just me? “Addict” draws me back earthside with its heavy-pop-electro-punk *inhale* extravagance. It’s confusing and its cool - so cool I think I’ve reached the second stage of hypothermia. OLAN MONK is a showcase of talent I'm happy to have stumbled across.

So, serious life altering condition aside - it's time to explore the dreaded Workmans. There’s lots of things happening here, like lots of alt kids spawning in the smoking area. Irish alt kids can be surmised into one defining adjective: bubblegrunge. They’re like lighter fluid flavour marshmallows. It works! I like them and wish to acculturate, so I confidently annunciate my interest in neolithic portal tombs and inflation’s impact on Amber Leaf tobacco. Before I have time to see if my bait works, I hear the start of some sweet melodies downstairs. Aw, GTG!

STAGE THREE.

Myself and my friends bowl over the bubblegrunge people with no remorse 2 get 2 the front, because the time has come - the holy trinity (BAR ITALIA) are here to explain how to confess your love to someone in the absolute most D.I.L.I.G.A.F way possible. “Rage Quit” rains down on us with some nutritious distortion and breezy bass. We start bopping in a very wholesome and jovial way. The only problem I have with this song, is that its not long enough - this makes me almost as vexed as the little bug on the cover of “Bedhead”…. (2) This venue is very intimate, so much so I sense the aroma of the guitarist to the left of Nina because he’s so greasy that he “smells like a gear” (3) - that’s (alt) rock and roll personified though, n’ it suits him fine! Gears keep grinding for “Clark” - my favourite BAR ITALIA beat (aside from 2020’s “Mangelica” - which I urge everyone with ears to give a spin). The baseline is distinct and definitive, and the chorus is crazy catchy:

“Coz you caught me on a bad day,

But its ok if you’ve got time.

You fucked me up so gladly,

Kinda telling me that I don’t mind”

True! We’re looking up at Jezmi, Nina and Sam like adorning little lambs. Nina dances so nonchalantly while she sings - and when a string breaks, there’s no ruffled feathers. It’s cool. They’re cool. I’m fuckin’ shivering. The drums start bubbling away like a brook for “Polly armour” and the lambs go mad for their trilateral shepherds. Jezmi’s angry and assured vocals stand out the most for this song, because theres a sincerity in the delivery of the lyrics dats’ real. He’s howlin’ down the mic n’ fogging up his glasses as he fervidly declares - “I’ll always have to worry coz you’re just like me”. Double true!

I meet the band at the end of gig and give them my Farmdog business card. In the process, I reach the advanced stage, and actually die. This is sort of annoying coz I was gonna see Sweeping Promises next month. BAR ITALIA, if you’re reading this, you gave me frostbite. It’s still love <3 though - just next time I see this band (as a ghost?), I’ll take more preventative measures and wrap myself in a foil blanket before the show. Right - time to seek out some Leprechauns. I hear they hang out at Bambinos,

and Uno Mass.

(1) "RaymondStephens", comment from Olan Monk's Bandcamp page

(2) See Figure 1.

(3) McKeon, Finn. Gig attendee and Smartass.

https://olanmonk.bandcamp.com/

https://baritalia.bandcamp.com/