Last night I went with a few other people to see RockWiz at the Forum as part of the comedy festival. I got the tickets over a month ago, when I was still annoyed with L for getting presale Pixies tickets and not telling me [sorry L]. I really did get us a kickass table – one back from the front. M and I whizzed into the city and had a pre-show hot chocolate at the new Koko Black in Collins Street. “Hi!” said the staff, “Are you guys still on holiday?” We shuffled our feet. “Nah. We’re back on the farm.” But we did feel quite chirpy that they had remembered us.
Then to the Forum, where we waited in vain for hopeless Chris, who never showed up, and for M & R, who did. Along with Mr and Mrs H., and Margie. Oh – and if you’re planning to go to a show at the Forum? Smuggle in your beverages of choice, because they were flogging off stubbies of Carlton Draught for SEVEN DOLLARS FIFTY. That’s right. And bottles of wine were $44. Yes. They obviously want to make sure there is no inebriation among the poor. Gah.
I saw my sister and K there – my mum had passed her tickets along and headed off to China. Anyway, to cut to the chase, 18 tables in the place had cards taped under a chair, enabling that table to vote one of their party as a rock brain. That turned out to be Margie’s chair. That turned out to be our table. And the rock brain? That turned out to be me. Rock brain. Lives in a trailer, but voted a rock brain. Thus I, the most diehard opponent of a.u.d.i.e.n.c.e p.a.r.t.i.c.i.p.a.t.i.o.n [shudder] in the state, was summoned up on stage with 17 others, and, as well as doing a bit of a group dance, got put through the elimination rounds.
The first round (that I wasn’t in) got asked quite a few questions that I knew. Soooo frustrating! I was in the second round – which contained quite a lot of old-man-rock-questions. But I did get one of the singing questions right – thank you Hunters & Collectors. Anyway, there was one more round, and then we all got sent back to our seats. I was out of the running, and thankful to be reacquainted with my not yet warm, $3.50 worth of remaining beer.
I almost wasted a whole gulp of it when they called out my name as one of the three to go back up and be on one of the teams. Staggered. Horrified. Thrilled. QUAKING. As we waited backstage, two of us sensibly decided to ask if we could use the loo – so they hid the special guests from us and we were allowed through. While we waited to go on, Julia Zemiro – the television girlfriend of several of my male friends, wandered from person to person. In bare feet she was quite short, and made me feel giraffe-like. She whipped those fabulous two and a half inch heels on just before she went out on stage an immediately looked more televisiony. (Sorry, all you drooling males, but you are actually all married, and so it would really just end in tears. Someone might lose an eye.)
Back behind the curtain, we heard Christopher Walken being introduced. Christopher Walken? My brain started going into quiz-show-spasm overdrive. Christopher Walken. Christopher Walken. OK. I’d just recently read an article about how he appeared in that Spike Jonez clip for – oh god, mind is blank – Norman Cook? No. Beats International? No. Fat? Fat something? And what the hell was the song, anyway? OH! Fat Boy Slim!
As it turned out, Christopher Walken was nowhere to be found during the show, and completely dropped out of my adrenaline fuelled mind until this morning, when I remembered to ask M what the story with Christopher Walken was. I’d head someone talking that sounded like him, but where did he go? M explained to me, in slow simple sentences, that it had been a Christopher Walken impersonator. Of course. Who else?
We had microphones put on over our ears, were told where to sit when we walked out on stage, and waaaaay too quickly were stumbling out into the lights in front of a rather full Forum Theatre. I decided three things.
- Try not to be shy or look like I was having palpitations
- Do not try to hide behind hair, as it is no longer there as of two days ago.
- Have fun!
Except for the bit where my microphone pack fell of the back of my jeans and landed with a bang on the floor, I think it went OK. I was pretty happy that I was able to get the answer to the ‘who can it be now’ question – who was much closer to my era than the other muso person that they had on! It all seems like a rather fragmented sort of blur – the band were/are fantastic – and the other people seemed a bit more relaxed than me – but it was hugely exciting! Our team kept getting shown the scorecards last, so I kept having to look down at our table to gauge whether we were ahead or not according to their cheering.
At the end, we all got up and joined hands to take a bow, and I was watching Mr H. squirm in his seat as I got to briefly hold the hand of his television girlfriend. He later suggested I could sell it on ebay, but I think I’ll probably need it. RAWK!!