‘Oh, God,’ sighed Pinky Beecroft, releasing my hand that he’d been shaking. ‘Are you a journalist?’
His debut spoken-word show had ended only moments ago, and I’d clearly interrupted the determined bee-line he was making through the Northcote Town Hall’s bar to debrief with friends, but it seemed very important to introduce him to my friend Kip. She is probably Machine Gun Fellatio’s biggest fan, so I’d pounced on the band’s singer the moment he drew near.
When I replied to his question with ‘Kind of…’ Pinky repeated ‘Oh, God!‘ this time with more enthusiasm. ‘You’re not a blogger, are you?’
With his unashamed disdain for my implied career, Pinky gained several admiration points. Despite the theatrical outburst, he humoured us in his down-time following the show as Kip reverted to teenage-fandom and could find little more than a giggle to respond to Pinky’s observations. We chatted a while over the house cider, and it seemed wholly appropriate that we had to raise our voices to be heard over the moans coming from within the nearby erotic finger-puppet theatre.
Pinky Beecroft’s Mainstream Freak,
North Melbourne Town Hall, October 6, 2012
I used to be really down on the whole spoken-word tour thing that rock stars started doing. I guess – after reading so many of Henry Rollins’ political opinion pieces – I kind of assumed they would all take a similar view. Or maybe it is just a sign that I’m getting older. Either way, I’ve started to enjoy hearing tales of touring from admired musicians. Pinky started his show in the intimate space in the town hall by admitting his own feelings towards such shows. He acknowledged the new walking stick that he’d taken to the stage with and brushed over the fact that he’s suffered an illness that has kept him from the concert circuit where he might be expected to be found. Nevertheless, he felt like being on stage, one way or another.
‘I don’t really know what the hell I’m doing here,’ he laughed, and we all joined him. As though to combat this uncertainty, Pinky unveiled a school-fete-tacky Wheel Of Fortune, with prizes replaced with various titles, including some Machine Gun Fellatio song names. A more than whiling lovely assistant was plucked from the audience, and gave the wheel a spin, returning between impromptu segments as Pinky fluctuated between touring anecdotes – including a highlight about an out of place limo hired for a Rockhampton show – readings of different written pieces, and a few songs (one of which was shamelessly rigged by the aforementioned assistant, to no one’s dissatisfaction.)
After the last (less than random) spin, and a song to close the evening, we were left satisfied with the topics that had been spun up and the tales and tunes that resulted, but equally as tempted to return for another night with Pinky by the ones that had not come up: Would the ‘Horny Blonde Forty’ topic have resulted in a song, or maybe the twisted story of the tune’s background?