By James A. Copeland
20 March 2007 – Byron Bay, Australia
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AT this point in time I find myself in a small town called Byron Bay in the far south east corner of Our Globe. It is tropical , lush and supremely laidback. Most of the people i see on the beach and in the streets are foreigners and alternative/hippy types. The hippy types are of the seriously motivated variety, and have fought to keep Mcdonalds out of town amongst other worthwhile causes. Interesting.

A few nights earlier I played one of my best gigs of the year in Melbourne. Shortly after landing and meeting my contact, Eddie B(who had organised the tour for me), we headed straight to the club. I was not in the best of moods due to the 16hr plane trip there and the last minute visa shenanigans of the previous day. Upon arrival at the club, i cant say i was impressed.

It was small and The Hefty Boys were playing before me. Hefty Boys sound like Damage, and i dont normal play a good set after Damage style stuff as i feel i need slightly more subtlety to work with. There isnt normally anything subtle about clubs to begin with, so things werent boding well.

I`d also found out that for some reason, everyone thought i was going to play a dj set as well. As a rule i dont play dj sets and I have never played one. I cant be bothered to listen to any more trance than i already do, so practicing to be a dj and collecting new tunes is out for me. I`d rather spend the time doing something more constructive like learning to play drums. So, in order to not dissapoint anybody too much, I compromised by playing an extra long 90minute live set – another thing i wasnt looking forward to.

There is nothing worse han a liveset that drags on too long, and in general i prefer leaving people wanting more than boring them to death. But as it turns out, i had totally underestimated the crowd. People knew tunes of mine from the early days and I was blown away by the response! After the 90mins was up, I even played a few extra! The cheering was drowning out the soundsystem and the place was heaving. It was also one of the first times i played tracks from the new album, so I was excited to hear them too.

My thanks go out to the guy who made it his job to be somewhat of a cheerleader/rabble-rouser and stood next to me on the stage gesticulating wildly whilst leading the dancers through the breaks and drops. Lord knows I dont do too much arm waving myself, so it really helps. I cant remember your name dude, but you rock. Thank you to the people of Melbourne. You made my year with that. Cant wait to be back again.

I slept straight through a day and a night and then headed off to Byron BAy, where i now find myself.

I am greatly out of sync at the moment due to jetlag and i just slept from 6pm until 2am. I contemplate risking the outside world in order to find some food. I read in a brochure that there is a 24hr shop on the other side of town further down the road from the hotel, but i dont think i`ll try to find it. If i do , it will be out of boredom and not out of hunger – I have tea and milk left in the room by the evermindful and forward thinking staff that obviously foresaw my peril. I recon it will be enough to keep me going until morning when my sunglasses will no doubt be earning their keep.

As always , i am mindful of what the actual time is back in reality – back home – and at the moment it is 7pm . I picture Malu there in Cape Town , no doubt wishing to hear some news of me as i wish i could send her some. But alas , no interweb in this particular establishment , and after only 3 days here , Australian Telecommunications have robbed me of enough hard earned cash already for me to attempt further voice interaction at this stage.

On the dresser to the left of the bed lies a small tab of very specific chemicals – a super amphetamine I am told – designed by very clever local residents. A brain amplifier – acid without the melting walls. I am tempted to take it and experience the promised momentary brain evolution but i know it will just degenerate into me watching porn and indulging in mass depravity and weirdness for the next 20hrs or more, and I can do without that right now. I`m still trying to adjust and fit in here , so perhaps it would be prudent to avoid brain maiming right now. Await the appropriate time jimmy. Patience…

* I hear strange monkeys shrieking from across the street in the first light of dawn. I think i should attempt another tiny shred of sleep before its too late… BYe for now.

PS – I think I`m really gonna like it here. Lots of funny kreecher noises and palm trees silhouetted against a languid approaching sunrise. Gorgeous…
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21st MArch

” If Nucular is the answer , the question was stupid ” – After pondering this graffiti for far too long , I am forced to agree on all grounds. I also agree that bad spelling can hamper the best of intentions and that i will not judge Byron Bay by this -especially seeing as the name BYron bay might be derived from a certain revolutionary thinker and writer by the same name whose spelling was perhaps more accomplished.

Anyway, this isnt a spelling test and Byron has been a lovely setting for me to do absolutely jack shit in for a while. I worked very hard to finish my album and now this is my well deserved time off. I wish i was slightly less jetlagged as yesterday was a complete write off and i didnt do anything at all.

Today I woke to have breakfast ( actually lunch by that time, but i persist in calling my first meal of the day breakfast no matter what time of day it is. I dont live by your rules! ) and had what was described in the menu as a “serious Ham and cheese sandwich ” by the establishment i was sitting in.
Things were going well until i looked up and saw a woman breast feeding right in front of me.

Now i dont care how proud you are to be a mother – I dont wanna see a miniature human sucking white stuff out of your tits! Not during breakfast anyway. Suddenly my sandwich started to take on the flavour of lactating milk and i was getting more and more disgusted with every passing second.

Perhaps in a less fragile moment i would`ve been able to tolerate this , and as it was, i decided not to complain. I chose not to mostly because i knew it would be fruitless , but also because i feel we are being dehumanised in the modern world and she was in essence participating in a very human act. But come on! How would she feel if i started jerking off while she was trying to finish eating a hotdog or something. Also a very human act but one that should be done behind closed doors or at least in a bush or something. If we had a showdown, I have a pretty good idea who would be arrested. How unfair…

After this unfortunate incident, my feeling of nausea persisted throughout the day – causing me to avoid the beach and instead remain within a 2 meter radius of the bed. I did stock up on popcorn , parma ham and San pellegrino before i went into quarantine which eased my pain a bit, but wasnt quite the alcohol exploration i had been looking forward to. New country – lots of new booze to try!

I`m always in search of the perfect drink at the perfect time – and there always is one – but get it wrong and my dissapointment is crushing. When asked what my “reason d` entre” is i have often been tempted to say – “Sundowners” . Mostly because its quite dramatic drinks that suit this particular occassion and also because that is the best time of the day. Beats the shit out of sunrise , thats for sure. Sunrise is often too cold and involves your eyes complaining coz now they`ve got a lot more work to do than they were. Take my previous journal entry for example – Lovely silhouetted palm trees and all that caused me miniature epiphany and feelings of rapture, yet the following hours were spent thrashing about under the covers, desperately trying to sleep as everything grew brighter and more stark. You need proper sleep to appreciate a sunrise, and it also helps if those first rays of the sun cast a golden glow over the naked sleeping girl next to you. Thats always a winner, but no such luck for me right now…

Also – I know that there is normally a very weird choice of drink at sunrise, and the fact that a drink is needed would imply that i am probably in the fairly-amused-yet-tormented state of mind following some serious debauchery. In this state , I`m not that discerning and any drink at hand would do (although a whiskey is by far the prefered tried and tested drink in this situation).

Enough talk of crappy sunrise. Sunset – The word sighs when you say it, conjuring images of work completed and feet being put up on things nearby. Husbands are kissing wives after a long day of separation, friends are shaking hands and jacking up spliffs, smiles spread across faces, and that all encompassing orange glow descends – heralding the start of the show. It helps if you get good seats to this daily event and, of course, the proper refreshments.

This show differs from Broadway in that the “star” of the show truly is a star and it all begins with the final curtain. A good seat in this case will often be on top of a mountain or on a westfacing beach (any point with an unhindered view) and it is imperative that you have prepared well and have the perfect drink at hand. Its little things like this that make life worth living, and i take much pleasure in them. If you take the time and get good seats to a sunset you can rest well knowing you accomplished something worthwhile in your day.

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22 MArch

So i was just dreaming about the main character from the 70s movie Shaft, which i have never seen, and i awoke and turned on the tv and it was on. Very strange.

Moments before , i was high up in an apartment building trying to sniper shoot one of my friends across the room. THis could only be done when a series of shifting bullet-proof glass walls with tiny slats in them lined up. I gave him a minor flesh wound in the arm. We were low on supplies and the cops needed to fly in with a helicopter, blast away one of the walls of the apartment with rockets and offload fresh ammo. It was here that the SHaft character entered and seemed to be getting some serious cold shoulder action from my friend with the flesh wound. I must`ve lost interest at that point because i woke up and turned on the tv.

I dont think i dream that often , but often when i do , there is a fair amount of weaponry involved. This is strange to me because I`m a really peaceloving kind of guy and i hate war of any kind (except for the war on waste! Littering sucks!). It should be noted that there never seems to be any serious maiming in my dreams , just a lot of guns ( it was only a flesh wound after all , and if i think back hard enough it seemed more like a pin-prick to be wholly descriptive).

Perhaps I hate war only because there doesnt seem to be anything noble to fight for like there is in our movies, novels and fantasy fiction – places where heros fight for what is right against a horde of evil doers. In the real world, war is all about  hidden agendas and profit and there doesnt seem to be any feeling of triumph or justice. Just innocent peaceloving people like myself getting fucked up and it is depressing and sickening.

So it feels weird to me – all these misplaced weapons and all. I think it goes back to my childhood where i was beyond obsessed with the Veritech fighter jet in the Robotech series – the one that changed from the robot into a jet. I was around 4 years old when this program was on TV , and i am amazed that the SABC actually aired it back then. It was an epic space opera with serious human emotions, true trials and tribulations, and it burned like a fire in my tiny childs brain. I never missed an episode, as that would`ve been as bad as skipping a few chapters in a book you were engrossed in, and the ongoing story unfolding became a central part of my existence at this time. I remember swinging as fast as i could on  the swings in the playschool i attended, eyes squeezed tightly closed, pretending that i was wizzing around in the fighter plane , awesome speed ,power and mobility at at my behest as i battled invading aliens to save the human race.

At this point in time , I`d probably side with the aliens , especially if they gave me a kickass jet…and safe passage for friends and family.

A quick side note of some importance here – The original inspiration for this Broken Toy thing was actually a toy I was given as a child while i was suffering from chicken pox. My mother saw it in her heart to lift me up from my misery by buying me , you guessed it – a tiny replica of the fighter-jet of my dreams – the Veritech fighter from Robotech. It was a perfect design and it did a perfect transformation between robot and jet, something i was never to see as my younger brother broke it showing it to a friend before i even had the chance to fully transform it. Due to the rarity of this particular toy, I never got a replacement and it haunted me for what i expected to be the rest of my life.

NOw let it be known that I didnt choose the name Broken TOy based on this experience – the name seemed to choose me as i stared out at the undulating landscape of SOuth Africa as it rolled by through a car window, mesmerising me with its constant change. In this state of hypnosis , the words struck me as vividly as if they were written on a sign post. I`ve had some of my best thoughts in this particular state of mind and this is a very good example. Once i had the words , it all started to make sense…

The basic meaning of it all would refer to my inability to dance and feel comfortable about it. My movements always seem jagged and uncoordinated to me, without grace, like a Broken Toy. Then it could also have something to do with the fact that I have a massive scar across my chest from the time when i was about 8 years old and doctors smashed apart my ribs to put them back together again in a more appropriate form. A rare condition. One that i was surprised to discover I shared with Deon , my friend that i started my first project with , Damage. Imagine our surprise the first time we went for a swim. Then of course, there is the case of the Veritech fighter that was never able to transform…

Fear not , for this story has a happy ending. The music that i made and this new project started to become quite well known and I started to travel. My travels would lead me to the birthplace of Robotech – Japan. Once i figured out that in japan , what we in the west know of as Robotech is in actual fact composites of a Japanese series known as Macross, a whole world of joy opened up to me. Once i said the magic word “Maa-cu-ross” to toy store owners i found a multitude of classic merchandise , including an exact replacement for the toy i had lost about 16 years before.

And you know what ? That is one flimsy little item. Its beautiful. Its design is amazing, but it is made out of tiny pieces of plastic and there is no way that a youngster like my brother at the time could`ve transformed it without breaking it. Absolutely impossible.

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26th March

I`m still trying to get to get to grips with the mess that just took place:
Possums, goat wrestling , 4×4 wrecking , snake chasing, spiked drinks , gum trees, naked dudes with bowties on, massive paranoia, cuddling mysterious rabbits that appeared out of nowhere, passing out in bushes… Yep – you guessed it – Outdoor party Aussie style.

There is a very apt Aussie description for this behaviour – Getting loose. ” Yer a lews cunt arentcha Jimmy? hehehe”. Yeah, yeah. I know. I failed to keep it tidy on all levels at this party, but lets rewind a bit and take it from the beginning…

The party was fucking miles from Byron after the usual indoor venue was shut down due to some fight that took place at a previous event. Therefore, a bush-doof had to be arranged on a farm/resort called Rover Park, in what was to be the closest I would get to the outback.

The farm had a petting zoo, cabins and plenty of open wild land to party and get lost on.

On the way there, we found a most amazing kreecher on the road. We stopped to check it out and it was an echidna. It closely resembles a porcupine but with a pointy tube-like nose and weirder face. Apparently Knuckles from Sonic the Hedgehog is one too. Go figure. Aboriginal people say that if you find an echidna on your path, the way forward will be fortuitous. Well, if thats true, why the fuck did i get far too mashed to even finish playing my set ?

I suppose I need to assume responsibility for my own actions, and i did start drinking Jamesons at about 11am in the day, but the fact remains that Australia has a reputation for spiking artists and djs with acid. By the time I played my set at around 2am Saturday night, I was merry enough to be swigging gulps of tequila straight from the bottle and accepting drinks from strangers. Many were handed to me across the decks from the dancefloor during what was turning out to be a seriously raucous set and by my reckoning, one of these drinks was suspect.

I was wearing funny hats and inviting people such as the illustrious Kyle Dillaway off the dancefloor to help me tweak shit on the synths, when suddenly things went dreadfully wrong. Eyewitness accounts confirm that i got a very confused look on my face and the sound started fucking out. I was trying to fix the problem, but I was only receiving one snapshot of visual to my brain every 5 seconds. I couldnt make out what the hell the problem was in my current state and after a crazy uncoordinated looping frenzy of crescendoing sounds, i reluctantly admitted defeat and retired from the dj box.

I`d played over an hour already. Thats what i normally play in a live set. This was meant to be an extended live like the one in Melbourne , but at least i didnt shortchange anybody from the usual run of things. Besides, my “looseness” seemed to have earned me some kind of respect amongst most of the Mullumbimby/Byron crew. By all accounts, i found that my behaviour was nothing out of the ordinary at this particular party.

The next morning I woke up in a bush with only one shoe on. I doubt i would`ve woken up if it werent for the gentle caress of rain on my cheek, but as it was, i headed back to party civilisation to go get proper-on-it again. Then came the rabbits and possums, snake chasing etc. Pure comedy madness the like of which i will probably never experience again… until next year hopefully.

Big shouts and much respect goes out to Kyle, Eddie, Taya, Cretin, Bo, Faigo,Jazz and the rest of the crew. You`re all a bunch of suss cunts and the party was buuuullshit.

* A quick side note on the Aussie use of the word bullshit:
Somehow , to certain Australians (like my present company), the word bullshit actually means something is super-cool or tops. They use it in such fashion with no explanation whatsoever. Imagine my shock when a punter came and told me: ” Maaan, yer basslines are sooooo buuuulllshit mate!”.
Then again, maybe I`m being had here…
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Sometime, MArch 2007, Byron Bay (written retrospectively)

Oh! the shame of not finishing a set properly! When i returned to Byron , i was afraid to show my face in the streets for fear that somebody would recognise me as the mashed up clown from Saturdays` doof. I busied myself with internet correspondence relating to the completion of the artwork of my album. Sexy girls, splashes of pink and strange winged kreechers streamed across the wires to me.

Redemption was at hand though in the form of a midweek gig i was to perform at the infamous “Play” night club. It was to be the last psy party held at the venue before it was closed down due to fire risks or something arbitrary like that.I knew that most of the people at the club would`ve been at the party or at least heard about it , so i felt that the stakes were high and that I had something to prove. The hotel i was staying at was around the corner from the club and i was going to walk over there when it was time.

It was with trepidation that i set off down the street , wondering what the night would hold for me, feeling a bit shook up and nervous. I looked up at a tree and saw a great leather bat unfurl itself and fly slowly across the street in the orange glow of the lamps. I knew then that I didnt have anything to worry about.

The set was great, but once again cut short. This time by the battleaxe of a sound technician who refused , even on the last night of the club, to let me play one track past closing time. Grrr….

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Some other time, Byron Bay (written retrospectively)

My last few days in Byron and Mullumbimby were spent visiting extremely high waterfalls out in the forests( Minion Falls ), chilling on the beach, and doing the prerequisite shopping. Eddies` mum owns a killer clothing store in Mullumbimby and I was given loads of absolutely killer clothing. Thank you so much. It more than made up for the hoodie of mine that got nicked at the party.

Also, a small mystery was cleared up here, as earlier in the week, I`d gone into a shop looking for clothing and had been asked by a store attendant if i needed help with anything. I replied i was just looking for “random stuff” and was surprised to hear that they “didnt have any”. Confusion reigned until later in the week when i found out that Random was a clothing range made in nearby Bali. My mind was set at ease and i got 2 killer pairs of shorts for it.

During the weeks inbetween the gigs, I was pretty much left to my own devices. I kinda prefer it that way. Especially in such a kickass little town. The only problem is that you are forced to eat out all the time and sitting by yourself in restaurants is quite lame. Its all fine while you have the menu to look at, but once you place your order and they take it away, a strange emptiness decends in which I usually end up fiddling with the cutlery too much. Tentatively at first, then more percussively as time passes.

I discovered the solution to this problem – The sushi train. I could sit at the bar at the nearby sushi restaurant and watch the snacks rolling by. It has to be said that this is some of the most creative and amazing sushi I`ve ever had anywhere. Was it fresh? I saw them gut a fish right in front of me while i was eating. Hahaha!

Many a delicious and entertaining meal was had there, and i never felt the need to play drums with the cutlery, even though the chopsticks would`ve made better implements.

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Later, Sydney (written retrospectively)

Now i was in Sydney. I havent mentioned it before, but pretty much since i arrived in Australia, i had been making my intentions very clear that i needed to hold a Koala in my arms and get a picture to prove it. Its no secret i am a big fan of bears and its very possible that i am actually a small bear in a very cunning human disguise.

People refer to Koalas as “Koala Bears” , yet many i spoke with disputed the fact that they fall into the bear category. This was seriously fucking with my head, as i was trying to establish whether they were the coolest of the bears or not. How could they be the coolest if they werent even proper bears ? I didnt establish whether they are real bears or not, but i did uncover a more startling truth about them. They rely on bacteria in their stomachs to help break down and digest the poisonous eucalyptus leaves they eat. This bacteria is given to them by their mothers in their first meal, which happens to be a big helping of mammas` shit. Charming little animals actually…

I hear that they are also quite ferocious when unhappy, so holding them is not an option in most places. I had to be content with seeing them in the Australian Zoo , which was pretty cool as far as zoos go. They were chilling out Koala style, like little tree dwelling stoners who could hardly keep their eyes open. You could blindfold them with dental floss. Ferocious? Impossible. I will insist on holding one somewhere next time. The quest continues…

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The last gig i played before going back home was a small party near to Newcastle on top of a hill in a little forest. I think the venue was illegal as i did see everybody vacate the dj box when a cop car pulled in there later in the day. Tense moments as the unmanned ship pitched and rolled in the uncertain waters, but more comedy moments for me seeing everybody and the current dj hightail it out of there. Hehehe.

This would be the first time i played on a solar powered sound system and i have to say I was very impressed. Tiny looking system with  a mega fat sound defying its stature. Very nice. For those of you that are wondering, they store up energy in big power cells over the course of a week, so the system does not depend on sunshine during the course of the party. Otherwise it would make the night session a bit out of the question wouldnt it ?

You might recall me mentioning earlier in the story how i was not a big fan of sunrises. This extends to me playing the sunrise set, which i did at this party. When people are severely hammered on narcotics, night time can be quite pleasant and also fairly anonymous. Once the light dawns and floods the area, everybody has some serious adjustments to make. Is this the person I`ve been speaking to all night? Do i look as fucked as them? Where are my sunglasses? Where is my mind? Who am i? Whose rabbit is this and where did it come from? That kinda shit…

Another thing I dont like about playing sunrise:  You know they say the darkest hour is right before the dawn? Well then the coldest hour is from dawn up until the first ray of light actually hits the dancefloor. It may get light, but you might not feel the warmth for ages! Nearby Mountains and other obstructions can delay the loving embrace of direct sun contact for ages. This can really suck sometimes, and trying to lead a dancefloor through this chill and troubled time can be difficult.

So i began to play just before dawn broke. At the point where it got fully light , i looked up to find that everybody on the dancefloor had unconciously formed into a line parallel with the stage and had stopped moving. I stared into the eyes of a legion of acid zombies bearing down on me , waiting for the right moment to lumber forward in search of my brains ( good luck finding that! -ed). The feeling was unnerving to say the least, and paranoia began to set in. When would they launch their attack? Could i fend off so many of them at once? What weapons were near at hand ?

I was contemplating making a run for it when i saw a few friendly faces with a familiar fabric draped over their shoulders. To my surprise, there were three guys with a South African flag grinning at me from amongst the horde. I decided to stick it out and within three tracks the weirdness of sunrise was over. Rays of light were slanting through the trees, glinting in the dust being kicked up by the mad 50 people or so going crazy in front of me. It was all over too soon.

A great way to say goodbye to Australia. A bit of a challenge to get the people moving, but really rewarding in the end. All the parties i played in australia were so different from each other but there was definately the same party spirit at each one. I love you guys. You get thrashed to the core and you have a blast. I dont know when last i laughed so much too. Pure comedy all the way through. I appreciate it and thanks for an awesome tour.

Hey Edd, thanks for putting it all together for me. Keep it tidy mate.
Jimmy