coming back to lay it down

Its been a while, but I didn’t think it would be this topic that would get me going…

When I was in Melbourne at the beginning of the year, this wonderful opening act before That One Guy and True Live was this incredible, soulful, talented singer called Paris Wells. I duly bought her EP at the show, and was amazed and disappointed that the clear stand out song from her set was the sexy, massive, saucy club number “Dat Du Dat”. Her debut EP was ok, but I was wanting to be first in on getting jiggy across my worlds with everyone else jumping on the bandwagon, and watching the ride begin.

So it was with great pleasure I managed to spy an ad for her upcoming album, and it announced that the first single was indeed that wonderment of “Dat Du Dat”. And in my excitement to procure said song, I have been having a bit of a hard time. First, I went to her myspace site, which informed me that I could get it from iTunes, but as every discerning music lover knows, that paying for DRM infested 128kb mp3’s that rarely actually gives any money to the artists is like stabbing yourself repeatedly in the eyeball with a pin. Its probably not fatal, but there are wayyyyy better activities to perform before resorting to that.

So off to her actual website we go, and whilst its nicely made, its not finished. That said, apparently I can get the cd tomorrow. I want the mp3’s (preferably an option for flac as well) now. So off to her label’s website. Which is decidedly unfinished. But launching any second now.

So back to google it was to find if anyone is selling the song who isn’t iTunes. No. But this review.

It takes just one listen the songs on Melbourne chanteuse Paris Wells’ MySpace page to realise she (or her powers that be) made a terrible error in releasing Dat Du Dat as a single.

Paris’ oeuvre is firmly in the soulful trip hoppiness of acts like Morcheeba. Her vocals drip lovingly over proceedings like Beth Gibbons on uppers. Yet this song with its almost annoyingly nonsensical chorus is smack bang in the middle of the realm of forgettable dance-pop. Although it would probably be lapped up by the Nova set.

Paris Wells is definitely one to look out for if you’re a fan of soulful funkiness, but Dat Du Dat is probably not the best starting point.

Hey, Stephen Bissett, you are so so so wrong. The only part you have right is that this will be enjoyed by a wide and maybe not necessarily discerning audience. But just because something is pop, doesn’t make it a mistake. The song is hot. Its both a radio banger, a saucy dancefloor number and more to the point, is completely and utterly the centrepiece of everything that Paris Wells is all about – sassy, empowered, vulnerable and stunning.  I know I am biased by context, having actually seen her play before, and perform this song etc. That trumps you and your bias of ‘having heard radio dance pop before and hating on it’. So consider yourself told.

Anyway. As it stands I’m listening to it on her myspace site, as I cant seem to find it anywhere else. Dear Ms Wells, I want to buy your song, yet cannot without crippling how it will sound.  Please fix this.

Had a scratch only you could itch, underneath the Glebe Point Bridge

A few years ago, some friends and I travelled up to Sydney to catch the Sleater-Kinney concert. The ladies were out for what would essentially be their farewell tour, and there was no way we were going to miss checking them at their side show – they were also on the Big Day Out bill, but who wants a shortened set?

Anyway, that concert was as great as it should have been, packed on in to the Gaelic Club, but after that, a friend of mine suggested we head on down to Purple Sneakers, a popular indie night nearby Sydney Uni and UTS. Sneakers was a blast. Touring bands got to play dj sets (I think I saw Broken Social Scene spin there once, though I cant be too sure, and the night that Quan from Regurgitator played still rates as one of the best of my life). But, kind of exactly like my experience with the band that sang the song the night is named after, it was easy to both overload whilst simultaniously drift apart from the connection I felt with the regular Friday night dance party. For me, the crowd kept getting younger, and the music kept, more and more accomodating that. Now, far be it from me to tell people what they should or shouldn’t like, but it was beginning to become very rare to hear some ‘actual’ indie at the now Presets, MSTRKRFT and Teenager dominated Sneakers. So essentially we stopped going.

I arrived relatively early for their third birthday – seeing a disappointed ‘older type’ get told he wasn’t on the door list, only to then be saved by the founder of Sneakers, PhDJ, come, shake his hand, and usher him inside, much to the chagrin of the door girl who had failed to find his name on her list. She found mine ok, and overhearing that there was both Wons Freely playing upstairs a bit later, as well as Guitar Hero in the VIP, I headed straight up there.

VIP sections to me are always amusing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an important person in one in my entire time of being invited to them, and certainly the ones making the most noise aren’t them. Two girls on the couches looked me up and down and decided I was no threat to their men (or something), and promptly ignored me. I sucked on a cigarette, eavesdropping on their phone conversations. Blondie was a bit drunk already, and I pegged her as about 20 years old, but definitely the one that was revelling in being upstairs.

“Oh, we will be down there in a bit, you should see if you can get up here but”

she demanded over the phone to whoever it was she had rung to brag about being in the VIP. Her little friend wanted to go downstairs, Blondie screwing her face at the thought of breaking the magic that an exclusive section should give. Her friend persisted for good reason though – there was no bar in the VIP, and to even deal with the banality of this section, we needed more drinks.

Indeed. I left before they could get their act together, going downstairs and grabbing a beer. And seeing the devastating impact Kevin Rudd’s new taxes on alcopops wreaked through busy bars like this one – the poor bar staff, run off their feet making mixed drinks, now that cruisers are up to $9.50 a pop. Mr Rudd should be made aware that at no point did the new taxes curb under-age binge drinking in my experience last Friday – it just made lines longer.

Don’t get me wrong – there were a lot of under-age people there. Id put it as high as 30% possibly. I met several. I was first alerted to this by a boy trying to hit on me, in a manner I had forgotten existed when I left school, so I replied with the old “Ah what school do you go to?” line from back then, and then he answered. “Year 12 huh?”

“Uh, yeah. Where do you go?”

I don’t, any more.

I took time out from interrogating little ones to dance for a while. Gosh I love that “Ruby” track by The Kaiser Chiefs, and I’m really happy it seemed to crop up once ever second set, as well as hear someone belt it out on Guitar Hero on on of my escapes back to the VIP couches. Chris Taylor from The Chaser was standing behind the decks with a massive smile on his face, I think letting most of the work be done by one of his friends, but “9 to 5″ by Dolly Parton is dance floor gold no matter where you are or who you ripped the idea from. so 10 more awesome points to you Chris. Jane Gazzo played a killer set too (actually, i don’t know if it was her – i couldn’t see, and didn’t look, but thats who it was listed as and I’m running with it). Wons Phreely is a pretty singer songwriter, who made me fall in love with one of his songs, that turns out not to be on the CD I acquired a day later. His CD is still kind of good though. All night, I was singing along, having a dance, and hearing heaps of my favourite songs played loudly. And with the constant reminder that even if the music was going astray, someone soon enough would drop some Kaiser Chiefs, it was all ok.

Despite my cynicism going in, the guests played awesome Sneakers sets, and by the time the regulars were stepping up, I was ready to step out. I slipped home, boozed but happy. I’ll go back in a year.

You were already there. You were ready to cast our fate to the wind.

The perception, when you aren’t from somewhere big and famous, is that big, famous, populated places have so much more ‘night-life’ than wherever you live. When I didn’t live in Sydney, the dream was to either move there or Melbourne, or if not, London, New York or somewhere else that knows how to party, because there would be enough people there to support the kind of scene that us perma-alterna kids so long for.

Now, I’m not suggesting that Sydney isn’t all that, but it takes its sweet time exposing the true flavours of awesome that you dreamed of before moving up here, and for me it exposed them pretty much a week or two after I got over the whole wishing for some scene to save me anyway. So sucks to be it, but at least that allowed me to go along on Thursday night to the intimate, not quite there venue “The Sound Lounge” in the Seymour Centre, to catch the first of Feral Media’s PowWow events. Essentially, over the last year or so, this Sydney based label-of-awesome has been putting out a really great selection of low-fi, indie, underground, eclectic musicians work in a series called PowWow, but also have got around to releasing acclaimed records by groups such as Sydney bliss-rockers Underlapper… Understandably I was curious to check out what their night would be like, and the kind of post-rocky shoegazy Longest Day.

Upon arrival I was caught my the incredibly good looking merch table… It reminded me of a more organised idea of what the punk boys used to do back home – just go to shows and set up a table, selling all manner of different records they chose to be the local distro for – a box of 7″s and a couple of racks of cds. This was that, but more colourful (the whole set of Pow Wow discs is really pretty on display), and all obviously to do with the record label itself.

Upon entering, I slunk across to the bar and ordered a wine – this wasn’t a night where one smacks back longnecks in paper bags stamped with the clubs brand on the bag, nor the type of place that scene kids would create a new dance for. This is a classy little space, with tables, red lighting, tea candles and a grand piano. The sound system wasn’t cranking too hard, which was nice, but Alistair Erskine’s tunes were nicely presented in stereo by the set-up. He played a mixture of downtempo electronica – from the bassy to the funky to the glitchy, not particularly well mixed, but really quite well chosen. I think I heard tracks by Cepia, The Flashbulb and Boom Bip in there, and was kind of chuffed.

The bands were good. Aheadphonehome comes across kind of like if Billy Corgan got boxes and never was famous and he probably had a little more creativity and heart, and due to some calling infulenced by his tropical surrounds, he would make music kind of as endearing and ultimately beautiful amongst its abrasiveness as what we witnessed. Honest, sometimes almost awkwardly so, the songs were played with a video beamed into the background – two African girls attempting to halt the work of a labourer, just trying to unravel a bunch of cords. It was a pretty blatant metaphor, but reminded me of old ACAT end of year projects, and thats a nice bit of nostalgia.
The Longest Day take the shoegazy-post-rocky place from another angle – more spacey, atmospheric, ultimately definably British influenced. I had first come across them when someone pointed me towards one of the members Livejourals a few years ago and they had decided to just put their entire album online for free – one of the first local artists I had ever seen do that. Their music has gone a long, long way from then, and is now quite encapsulating and warm. Indeed, it lulled me into a false sense of doonaness, and once the DJ started up again, I took my leave and tottled off home to maintain that comfort.

But it was a grand night of music, and I’m really glad I went along. Not only did it dispel, for the evening anyway, the notion that nothing good ever happens in this town, but I didn’t feel alone or under any pressure to be a stalwart of keeping this scene alive, and I consider that a very healthy thing, something that a lot of other marginalised music scenes in this town might do well to learn from.

Anyway, tonight I am going to battle an entirely different beast – the typical rammed Sydney indie night. I may or may not report back.

sweatshop, sweatshop, take a glimpse inside my sweatshop

If you don’t have that Neon Neon sleaze banger curling around your head right now after reading that title, then you haven’t been paying enough attention to the words that I’ve been saying.

So it might be an opportune time to tell you about some of the other words you should be listening to, the ones sprouted by the kids that reside in the (always amusingly titled) blogroll of links down the side… I am alerted to this cause because todays post by John Darnielle in his brilliant Last Plane To Jakarta blog, I completely disagree with.

the album-opener, “Another Day,” is absolutely the most perfect song for putting on first thing in the morning that I have heard in ages: that piano! that melody!

he writes, showing just how different we must be as people, when the only time I’ve put on Jamie Lidell’s “Jim” album in the morning has been whilst driving somewhere, and within 2 songs almost crashed my car on the Anzac Bridge frantically trying to find the skip button/change albums function on my ipod.

The rest of the album is as good. It went directly to the year’s-best list. Nobody who wants or needs the affirmation of goodness that great pop music can sometimes give should put off hearing this record for long.

More lies! There are actually two relatively awesome moments on the album compared to the sappy pap that makes up the majority of it, those two songs are big, soulful, funky numbers “Little Bit Of Feel Good” and “Hurricane”. The rest are appalling… as though someone heard Flight Of The Conchord’s “The Most Beautiful Girl In The Room” and decided maybe that style of song was really good, and maybe they should make an entire album of songs like that but maybe less funny. “Jim” for the most part is slimy, revolting and completely everything that makes me glad I have noone attempting romance on me at present…

The reason this is important, is that John Darnielle is so often on the money. Or close to it. And you should read his blog, often.

I would talk about some of the others with a bit more depth, but its too cold for that today, Instead I will just mention briefly that I met one of the girls talked about in Matt Levinson’s “Fortune Grey” blog at a gallery opening the other week (and being reminded of Jess by this blog gave me a thrill of sorts), and that I really like Emmy Hennings writing for music magazines and so on, and her blog, Fangirl, does her justice.

party hard, party hard.

Not that any of you should care, but I do find it kind of gratifying that Punk Rock Holocaust 2 has been made. It seems that the director/producer/whatevs, Doug Sakmann, cut his teeth doing Troma type stuff and a couple of hilarious horror-pornos that I hope are in the same vein as the Troma films, and then went on to make what a friend of mine accurately described as “The most WTF film ever, especially because it highlights that Simple Plan were considered legitimate headliners of a major music festival”. Yes, Punk Rock Holocaust exists, and really is either the best worst movie of all time or worst best movie. Its kind of great – if death sequences of bands you kind of hate (and some seriously awesome z-grade gross out moments at that) and being reminded of Tsunami Bomb! wasn’t enough, then the battle to work out whether it was just a Warped Tour promo video or not that keeps you kind of guessing for ages is a challenge on a level posed by few films I’ve seen of late (I probably need to re-neg and become the foreign film wanker I have always known I would become, but its been a good run without that tag so far, even if I am lauding the mental challenges posed by Punk Rock Holocaust to my blog…).

In other news, when I could be bothered doing stuff on my other computer, I’m going to make you all a mix-tape, using this fancy mix-tape streaming thingy that I have been alerted to of late. I figure its only fair.

yeah, thats right, yo, coz I am in the flow

There was always something sickening about his music, some type of effect that was put on the voice that made it kind of artificially smooth, like a less damp than usual slug or something. But, like most of us, I had assumed that it was just one of those things that would be around forever, popping up inconveniently to mildly iritate at some later junction. And I don’t doubt the guy is nice – he looks it, seems like a honest, down to earth kind of chap, to be sure. But my overriding feeling at the news contained in this article that Phil Collins has called it a day, is one of elation – it really  is quite good news. Good enough to make me note it here.

The scariest Phil Collins moment of my life was being surrounded by women, from the ages of around 20 – 50, all kind of admitting to the fact that they found him sexy. I was 14 at the time, and thought I was forming a pretty good grasp on what sexy was – for me then it was strong arms, big chest, dark eyes, a nice bum, everything that well… the former drummer from Genesis wasn’t. He was 50, fat, bald, and sang Phil Collins songs. I blame that moment for me having at least a month or two of very confused sexual identity. And whilst he would probably claim it wasn’t his fault, as if it wasn’t. He made those ladies feel that way, that something, and that IS his fault. Its not mine for not feeling it, but its his fault for making me feel like an outcast. So, Phil, take your divisive drumsticks and tepid love songs, and leave us alone. And maybe apologise. But your retirement is enough for now.

What’s the weight of the world worth?

I think its customary, after a long break, to apologise to readers. But seriously, what for? My concept for this blog wasn’t to entertain you, if it was going to do anything to you it would be one of three things: Inform you of something good you previously weren’t aware of; Make you feel like a dickhead for sleeping on stuff that you shouldn’t have been sleeping on, or; Allowing me to vent my fangirlism across the world without having to bombard my best friends, housemate and family with sociopathic rantings that they just dont seem to want to even try and get anymore.

If you have been missing me, then hopefully you have had time to track down that Gravenhurst album, and dig it. Whilst not my favourite effort by Nick Talbot + co, its still better than everything else out there, and when he gets his whistful remorse on, nothing makes me melt more.

I have been experiencing a whole bunch of music that, I’m not overly fond of, but its interesting enough to talk about. Some p2p person hooked me up with I Hate This Place’s new album “Never go” which is a wonderful example of pretty much carbon copying the Postal Service, but doing it way more quickly than the wait for a new Postal Service album suggests about the difficulty of making this stuff. And its lovely… kind of fitting in somewhere between the afformentioned Postal Service, and later day Hellogoodbye, its sweet (often syrupy thick sweetness) with a slight attitude that takes the edge off, and a naive innocence to the style of lyrics that fit with me way better than they should. And sure, I liked it initially for the name of the band, I Hate This Place are really worth checking out.

It came into a pigeon hole a little while ago, but I have become really quite enamoured with Neon Neon’s “Stainless Style”. Basically, Lex records whiz kid turned electro boy Boom Bip has teamed up with Gruff Rhys from the Super Furry Animals, and made this wonderful concept album about Richard Delorean, the guy that made that ultra eighties sports car that was used as the car in Back To The Future. Steeped in wonderful eighties reverie, there are songs about Raquel Welch, Michael Douglas and love songs set on Alderraan, as well as some really wonderful hip hop tracks that kind of serve as the naration to the more esoteric eighties space-pop ditties. I cant get enough of it. I put my sunglasses on, wind down the windows of my car, crank it up, and cooly smoke cigarettes at pedestrians and other drivers when stopped at lights, listening to this album. And you should too. That, or you will realise how much of a dork Darcy Wigram really is.

My bestie took my broke behind along to see the best DJ set I have ever experienced – the Hard Sell tour by DJ Shadow and Cut Chemist. It was truley amazing and if its coming to a town near you, dont miss it. For days afterwards I was waking up, inspired that there is some creativity left in DJing, and awed that I had the chance and privelege to witness a set ‘by music lovers, for music lovers’. Much love to friends that love their realness as much as you do…

Anyway, thats enough for now. I hope you see me again soon, but I have a feeling I will have some nagging reminders to keep this up. Its kinda important, in the way that its not at all.

What a pity there’s things to do at home

I went to Melbourne last week. It was kind of a big deal. I hadn’t been down there for a year and a half, and whilst I always knew I would be back, something about my last trip down there had managed to clear my eyes of the magical fairy dust that charms you into thinking it really is the most wonderful city on earth, and that no self respecting alternative minded individual should even consider living anywhere else.

Just like I quite happily don’t live in Newtown, that last trip had made me leave knowing that, in terms of living the dream, its better to leave Melbourne as a place you can visit, not reside.

Confusingly, this trip down made me forget all of those rules, and strongly consider staying down there forever, but I doubt I can make that happen quickly; nor should I. I have only just moved house, and that was painful enough! The ever expanding crates of vinyl are really heavy, and so won’t be leaving the stereoside shelves for quite some time thank you very much!

I was down there to go to the Big Day Out. Let me say right now (probably a week late) that Melbourne’s version of it is appalling in comparison to Sydney’s. The dreams I had for it – a flag-draped-bogan free event, instead surrounded by ‘pale, interesting indie people’ (thank you Billy Bragg for that generalisation) weren’t fully realised, and the dust stirred up by holding the event in the car park of a horseracing track gave everyone a slightly darker, grimier complexion than the demure indie minimal sun for maximum cool tans I was kind of looking forward to. So you kind of had to focus on the music a bit as drinking was neigh on impossible – three lines that never seemed to move meant I didn’t get a wrist band for a good few hours, and then when one wanted drinks, the good-idea-for-nobody beer ticket system meant lining up twice for a drink… that had to be drunk within the caged bar areas strategically placed at being able to hear a low hum of the closest stage, but no more. The early part of the day went well though – Mountains In The Sky were putting in a great bid to be the best act in the Boiler Room that day, and they were on second. Children Collide were my winners of the Local Produce stage – though a girlfriend tells me that The Galvatrons channeled Van Halen so well, that I was a fool to miss it. And I probably was. Regardless, Children Collide certainly are one of the better bands to be keeping the grungey distorted guitar dream alive – let me say it right now I do quite appreciate a guitar-spazz-out instrumental song (probably because they are quite rare) and the boys slipped one in with aplomb…

In care you were wondering, neither the Arcade Fire or Bjork work well on a festival main stage. And Rage Against The Machine were a step slower than, you know, the way they were 15 years ago. Indeed the real revolution was to be found with the Little Britain portion of the festival – over at the Essential Stage where Kate Nash, Enter Shikari and Billy Bragg all played in a row, and had pretty much the best fun to minute ratio of any of the stages. The seriousness of the Green Stage’s Spoon and Battles and Gyroscope etc didn’t let it rate, the hip hop in the Hot House just seemed like somewhere you would stop for a song on one of your cross car-park journeys (Aceyalone was very good though). But Enter Shikari won band of the day, and the Kate Nash and Billy Bragg duets won songs of the day… And don’t look at me like that, if you don’t like Enter Shikari’s tongue in cheek, forced hybrid of cheesy trance music and screamo in perfectly even proportions, then its hardly my problem you are a little behind the times.

Anyway, as I sat yesterday watching break-dancing competitions (specifically, the popin’ and lockin’ battle heats) before I headed back to Sydney, I marveled that this town with its million pokey excellent bars, street presses in need of some help, rooftop bars with cinema screens, shops with friendly assistants, in fact town with friendly people… well… It would send me very broke, very quickly.

I’ll be down there when the weather is worse. That way the fairy dust that makes it the best place in the world might have a chance to wash out of my eyes by the time I get back home again.

And when the next wave is the last wave

A girlfriend and I were having a quiet Sunday in. Well, as quiet as can be expected around this part of the world, in this stage of our lives. We were both fairly fragile from the night before, so we had settled on getting DVD’s and eating pizza, smoking far too many cigarettes and having a giggle. Anyway, you need to know that, because it will give you an indication of why we hired This Is England, a critically acclaimed movie, produced (at least in part) by Warp Records. Because there is very few things as enjoyable as a remakably confrontational, disturbing or messed up film to make one feel far less fagile.

Shane Meadows directs this beautifully shot look inside the Thatcher-era small town rise of the National Front white power movement, with the central charachter being a little boy who’s father had died in the Falklands War. Its cute, rough, ugly and bright all at the same time but the bit that made me melt into a warm, gooey mess was a scene at the beginning of the film, where the little boy was getting montaged about bullying or something like that, and the guitar from Gravenhurst’s “Nicole” slide in. And as we get emotioned away by the fantastic collection of shots of the English towns of the 80’s, I start breathing the words ” Oh, Nicole! From the moment we met we let it get out of control”

Gravenhurst is really special. His first album on Warp was a tweaked collection of gorgeous accoustic songs – well, gorgeous until you actually hear what he has to say. And then it hits you – this man has the most amazing sense of impending doom! A spine and heart shattering finality to his psyche. But sung in such a lullaby way that you just cant help but drift happily to sleep. Adding band members, and amplifiers, for Fire In Distant Buildings, the sprawling, addictive morbidity and loathing gets swept along by truimphant guitars, rolicking drums and really driving passionate music. So it was great pleasure to find out that a new Gravenhurst album has come out. I’d suggest you go and listen to it right now (and buy it if you want). As that is what I will be doing all week.

Introducing, for the first time

A lovely friend of mine exclaimed that the excitement she heard in my voice, as I described the awesome of some gig or another a few months ago, that I should really have a blog. And as the rain tumbles down on my new city, instead of me just putting on and attempting to mix some turn of the century “progressive house” records (as I usually do, as rainy days are the only days appropriate for such records), I figured I should actually start one up. So today, I get to tweak settings, ponder directions, alter fonts and layouts, and see moods shift with different colour schemes.

Before I tell you about myself, I want to pop down a bit about why I want to record my experience in this way – my manifesto for this blog, and a slight map for its direction. It will be about popular culture and my experience with it. Probably, mostly, it will be music related. Kind of ‘indie’, ‘underground’, ‘art-wank’ style music. Not exclusively, mind you – I’m sure I actually have more than enough posts bubbling inside me about the trials, tribulations and occasional triumphs of boy bands and pop princesses, but I think it will be another rainy day before I post up an article entitled “Skanky Tart Comes Good”. I don’t want this to be a repository for the latest leaks and retrospective mp3’s – I find blogs that do that far too often get their taste melded to that of their blogs – my taste is far wider than this blog will ever be, and similarly, I am precious about it, and won’t risk it for the sake of cyber-music-hawks. So if you read here, and want to find a song I’m talking about, its up to you to google, torrent or whatever it is you scavengers do.

Who am I then, to be putting down all these rules?

Whilst this isn’t livejournal, I think a personal introduction will help. My name is Darcy, I live in what the rap boys call “Syn City”, others “the inner-west”. I have been in love with music since I was about 14 years old, though I remember music from when I was little, and so have a massive love for dodgy eighties pop. My favourite bands have changed throughout my life, but The Beatles, Oasis, Blur, Elastica, Pulp, Supergrass, Dead Kennedys, Coldcut, Princess Superstar, Sleater-Kinney, a week where Tegan & Sara were totally it for me, The New Pornographers, Black Mountain and this week I’m really liking Low. My 15 year-old self would be completely embarrassed by the amount of ‘rap’ and ‘techno’ I listen to as a 25 year-old, but know this – hip-hop and electronica are equals, and superiors in some respects, to guitar-based music, and this attitude means I get to have a great deal of fun at a great deal of shows.

So intro-post out of the way, now I can see how this looks! Any questions, just leave them in the comments, but actual content will come along when I have the place looking nice for visitors.

xDarcyx