The Band of Discovery’s first live gig

While Wall St protesters make history in their brave defiance of corruption, soaring income inequalities, poverty and grotesque perversion of democratic process in the corporate fiefdom that is present-day America, two Australian women were quietly making their own statement against turning 40 in the suburbs of Melbourne. It was Foley’s 40th birthday party shindig, and folks had gathered from far and wide around Melbourne to gather in Foley’s little Thornbury apartment and hear rousing middle aged protest songs by Skeltys and Foley and The Band of Discovery.

The Band of Discovery relaxing in Melbourne's Electric Dreams studio

So much to complain about, so little time.

We started the set with a recap of the hits born of our now legendary journey through the Appalachians in October last year. “Hightailin’ It” – a bittersweet homage to the “wilderness made mall’’ experience of Dollywood’s Smoky Mountain playground, and “Shrimpzilla” – the original fast food gospel track that brings a tear and a tummy grumble to everyone of religious sentiment. Click below to have a listen to this great southern fried snack:

Shrimpzilla

While we paused for Evan to retune his banjo and for a hyper-excited Blind Dog Nico to whump her head against the dining table legs for the hundredth time, I manipulated my breast to adjust the egg shaker that I had secreted down my bra for a surprise entry later in the set, and surveyed the crowd. Lucy’s friends and family sat in chairs and crouched on the polished dining room floor, beers in one hand, vegan sesame balls in the other, staring at us, waiting innocently for ‘more’. Rowdier types hung out in the kitchen, including my lovely Japanese former flatmate, Hiroko, who was the one friend out of about a dozen of my invitees who turned up, a higher ratio than normal.

The Band of Discovery broadcasting live across Thornbury

The break also afforded me the opportunity to grab the black pantyhose I had slung around my neck, and re-tie the legs onto my washboard handles – my ‘strap’ had unwound during the excited scrapings of the first two songs. I glanced back at John leaning laconically against his double bass in the corner, and frizzy haired Jenny, tuning up her spoons. I noted with satisfaction that we were a handsome band, particularly Foley and I who were dressed in dark blue spinster polker dot dresses with pinched waists, set off by little red scarves. Foley assured me that “all the youngsters” were into dowdy dresses with pinched waists nowadays, dowdy was “in”. I, of course, had no idea about such things, but deferred as always to Foley’s superior sense of what was really “now”.

Then we started in on the old time country complainin’ in earnest. Patsy Cline’s “Walking the Dog”, which many bands including the Rolling Stones have covered, trying to make out that the lyrics are some kind of saucy metaphor for sleeping around, when in fact, its obviously just a simple complaint song about dogs. Then Tammy Wynette “Your Good Girl’s Gonna Go Bad”, which featured my egg shaker solo. With lines like “I’ve never seen the inside of a bar room”, and Tammy singing this with her 21 year old daughter, you can get a sense of just how much women in the ‘60s had to complain about compared to now.

But it was only when we launched into more Band of Discovery originals, that we could truly give voice to the gripes that face gals in their 40s today.

“Old Enough to Be Your Mother”, a ‘pull no punches’ ballad about the inevitable heartaches of the Cougar/ Cub relationship – left not a dry eye in the house. And “Skunkline” – a complaint song about having to vanquish “the big ole streak of grey, where there used to red” with hair dye every six weeks, got folks to their feet with its heart wrenching honesty and bluegrass mania.

The night wound down from this high point with some more Carter family songs, including a never to be forgotten rendition of “Ring of Fire” featuring a solo by my good self on the traditional mountain instrument, the Casio. The whole audience joined in on the chorus, and I caught Foley’s eye as she passionately strummed her Maton and we sang together into the retro birdcage mic. “What better way to mark the transition from our vibrant youth” our warm glances seemed to say, “to female middle age, than a sing-a-long about an extra-marital affair that was a monster hit in the ‘60s?” We nodded, then that was it, and we made our gracious bows, to shouts of “Encore!” etc

Warm glances between Skeltys, Foley and Casio

Nico woofed hysterically under the table, her white eyes staring at nothing in particular.

So what will the Band of Discovery discover next?

The Melbourne International Comedy Festival is one of the top five comedy festivals in the world. Its a fact that Foley and I are now suffering from ‘post-40th birthday party’ ennui. Surely any cost-benefit analysis would show that ‘Comedy Festival entry fee plus five pissed audience members for hipster Northcote micro-venue show, is equal to, or greater than, ten psycho-therapy sessions plus five scripts of Effexor?’ I think we are all on the same page here.

So look out, BoD may well show up on the Comedy Festival program for April next year.

Meanwhile, if anyone can’t wait, and simply MUST see the ‘road trip that spawned the fast food gospel that spawned the film that spawned the album covers that spawned The Band of Discovery then email me, and I will gladly send you a link to “Skeltys and Foley: The Journey of the Band of Discovery” for your very own private viewing.

May the Shrimp be with you!

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