Remembering Tim Hemensley

As the fourth anniversary of Tim's death approaches, it felt like an appropriate time to post some thoughts.
I met Tim when we were both quite young- I was about 18, he was about 11. I already knew who he was- the local papers delighted in carrying stories about the "primary school punk" antics of his first band, Royal Flush. For whatever reason, we didn't get on too well at first, but by the time GOD were up and running we were firm friends.
He had a complicated and busy life, usually based around music, girls and partying, and would occassionally drop by my East Melbourne flat late at night, for a chat, to play a new record he'd discovered ("Hermann Brood! He's like, like, the Dutch Lou Reed!") or just shoot the shit in general.
I was overseas during his time in Bored! and the Powdermonkeys, and bitterly regret never getting to see him play live with either of them.

There are some samples of their stuff available here courtesy of John Nolan's Powdermonkeys home page. Take a minute out to listen.

The last time I saw him was the Saturday before his death. Tracey & I went to the infamous "Star Wars" bar at the Espy, to see Tim's old bandmate Joel Silbersher playing with HOSS. He seemed to know everyone in the room, and was in fine form that night, darting from conversation to conversation, drinking anyone's beer, even getting up to sing. At one slightly serious moment I pointedly asked him how he was doing- a polite way to ask about his off and on chemical dabblings- and he assured us he was fine. He looked it too. Damn, but it was fun to hang out with him.
Then on the following Wednesday, listening to RRR on my way home having just been sacked from my job, I heard the news of his death.
I don't want to talk about the funeral, or the wake.
So, he's gone, but in no way is he forgotten. There's a memorial plaque on the wall of the Tote, and the Tim Hemensley medal is awarded at the St. Kilda Community Cup each year. He was partly responsible for christening me with this nom de plume, that I still use proudly. I still find myself humming "You piece of punk rock shit, you know you look like all fuck" now and again sometimes, and I'll make a point of playing some of his stuff over the next few days, too.

And I'm sure he'll get a mention from the stage on Saturday night.

I was on a mission on Friday night

I was on a mission on Friday night.
I had to get over to a place called the idGAFF (yeah, I don't know what it means either) Bar in Collingwood for a drink with Spencer Jones, Graham Hood & Billy Pommer- 3/4 of the Johnnys- then down to St Kilda Bowling Club for Killer Birds & HOSS.

Was nice to have a quiet chat with Spencer. There was an interesting discussion about the fact that Hoody's daughter & Billy's son have BOTH set up myspace accounts for the Johnnys ( Highlights Of A Dangerous Life and Dead Men From Boot Hill if you are interested)
But I had to bail earlier than I would have liked, and ride that 246 bus all the way down to St. Kilda Junction.

Despite my best efforts, I was late, and so only caught the last song by Killer Birds. They are three girls from Bendigo, they rock out to a fair degree, and the drummer's mother is an old friend. I saw part of a set at the Greyhound a few weeks back, and really wanted to catch this. Ah well, next time.

Joel broke a couple of fingers doing his laundry the other week (yeah, I know, don't ask me, even he can't figure it out) so was off guitar duties tonight. The sound was still thunderous, though, and he moves/acts very different with the mike in his hand, rather than being tied to the stand.

Had a chat with John Nolan afterwards, he is getting very frustrated at not playing these days. With Tim Hemensley gone, the Powder Monkeys will never reform, but he seemed quite wistful as he fingered chords and strummed riffs up and down his walking stick.

I didn't catch the last tram home, I walked.