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Issue #001

Summer 2007/2008

Free!


shop front sign

raised by wolves shop 9 b waratrah st mona vale 2103 ph: 9997 4838 dear wolves what's the retail concept for your store? X p.s. where the hell did the name ‘raised by wolves’ come from?


retro and collectable sunglasses

limited edition shoes

massive re-issue skate collection

local and obscure clothing labels

customized denim

handshaped surfboards by terry Fitzgerald

unique membership opportunities


amn! Braydon Szafranski, front tail 270 out. Daaaa www. quatrosports.com.au


100% Pure S kateboarding !


PUBLISHER Grapevine Zine

jay@grapevinemagazine.com.au

EDITORS Scott Venning scott@grapevinemagazine.com.au

STAFF WORDSMITHS Scott Venning Aaron Smith Jay Channon

Aaron Smith aaron@grapevinemagazine.com.au

CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPERS Trent Mitchell, Scarlet Hill

DESIGN & PHOTOGRAPHY Toby Peet toby@grapevinemagazine.com.au

CONTRIBUTING ARTISTS Aleesha Dibbs, Pat De Teliga

DOCTOR OF MARKETING Jay Channon

WEBSITE www.grapevinemagazine.com.au

THANKS Tristan Parker, Pete Moore, Bruce Channon, Dan Crozier, Phil Harkness, Marcus Kersch, Toby Player, Family, Our bitches, Our homies CONTACT SEND ENQUIRIES, CONTRIBUTIONS, ART, REVIEWS, IDEAS OR ANYTHING YOU THINK MIGHT PUT A BANANA IN OUR POCKET TO: stuff@grapevinemagazine.com.au REPRODUCTION OF THE CONTENTS CONTAINED WINTHIN THIS PUBLICATION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED WITHOUT PRIOR WRITTEN AUTHORISATION FROM THE PUBLISHER. THE VIEWS EXPRESSED IN GRAPEVINE MAGAZINE ARE THOSE OF THE RESPECTIVE CONTRIBUTORS AND ARE NOT NECESSARILY THOSE OF THE MAGAZINE OR ITS STAFF.


Departments.

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20

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Stuff you now know about.

To Smoke or not to Smoke.

A Clockwork Orange.

Her name is Cassie.

Political Party.

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62

Don’t Scratch.


Surfer: Mitch Mckay — Banda Aceh, Indonesia. Photo: Jack Shanahan

DIVISION SURFBOARDS, CUSTOM MADE BY PETER DANIELL SINCE

1970

CORNER OF BUNGAN & WARATAH STREETS MONA VALE NSW 2103 OPEN 7 DAYS PH: 9979 5334 WWW.MYSPACE.COM/DIVISIONSURF


Want to know the best thing about Digital Gravel? Well, it’s the fact that you won’t be able to find the shit they sell on their website anywhere else. Based in the US, DG first hit the web in 1999 as the first site dedicated exclusively to selling gear from underground and independently owned brands. With currently over 5000 items available from over 100 brands, DG carries only the best of the independent and the underground. Their massive range includes clothing, accessories, art, books, music, DVDs, skateboards, bikes and even home goods. The site is independently owned and operated, but unlike most sites DG has not accepted a cent of corporate sponsorship. DG believes that the best gear can only be found beneath the surface… w

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Oi!

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Jeff Buckley is my Elvis; my King. So when I discovered this documentary film will be released on DVD you can imagine my elation. The film explores the extraordinary phenomenon and legacy of Jeff Buckley - the deceased musician of modest commercial success. With only one full-length album to his name, Buckley became inspiration for artists of all kinds throughout the world. Winner of many North American Film Festival Awards, the film primarily delves into the mysterious source of power behind Buckley’s inspirational reach. Interviews include all four of the Jeff Buckley band members, friends, family, colleagues, music critics, DJs, producers and fans. Performances and rare out-takes have been sourced from the warehouse archives of Columbia Records, surely making Amazing Grace: Jeff Buckley a must-see for any fan. From Sydney, New York, London, Memphis, Montpellier and LA, Amazing Grace: Jeff Buckley takes viewers on an expansive yet intimate journey through the world of Jeff Buckley, a musician who still inspires his fans - from classical composers to rock-stars and everyone in between. www.amazinggracejeffbuckley.com

lets dance

After years of experiencing the Sydney drum and bass scene, some serious time spent behind the 1200s, many a dirty look from ‘serious’ club goers, a healthy stint in the UK, countless hours of late night flyering, postering and promoting, plus some culture shock and nudity, the original LIJ crew have morphed into the promotions team known as Oi. Comprised of two dudes (Fat Mike & Two Hands) and one common theme - namely unbridled and unashamed fun - Oi is the new ideal in night dweller activities. Oi directly encourages debauched delights and shit clothing. Oi does not carry a music policy. Oi is what Sydney is lacking. Oi is for the kicks. Oi! Lets dance. www.myspace.com/oiletsdance

There are good websites and then there are fucking good websites. And this particular site, definitely needs a swear word to accurately describe just how good it is. Superfuture aims to become the world’s most comprehensive online directory and resource for urban fashion, urban lifestyles and urban tourism in cities around the world. With roughly 4200 brutally honest reviews of selected shops and establishments in over 150 cities, Superfuture is an unmatched and powerful resource for anyone with intentions to travel. Being an internet based site, Superfuture it is a dynamic project constantly being defined, refined and developed by its ever growing network of correspondents and contributors. Superfuture gets over 250 000 unique visitors per month who collectively view over three million pages of content. w w w . s u p e r f u t u r e . c o m / c i t y / h o m e /

Hunter S. Thompson was one of the great pioneers of new journalism and his own invention, gonzo journalism. The eccentric author’s singular style challenged and revolutionised writing, and his legacy will not be forgotten anytime soon. The Good Doctor spent his lifetime channelling his energy and insight into landmark works such as Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, and bluntly speaking, we pity those who haven’t been captivated by its pages of drug-fuelled depravity. Now, for first time, Jann Wenner (founder of Rolling Stone and Thompson’s editor for 35 years) and Corey Seymour (writer and editor who worked with Thompson at Rolling Stone) have interviewed Thompson’s friends, family, and colleagues, detailing their memories into a brilliant biography. From Jack Nicholson to Marilyn Manson to Thompson’s two wives and son; more than 100 members of Thompson’s inner circle bring into focus the life of a man who was even more complicated, tormented, and talented than any previous portrait has depicted. It’s all here: the creative frenzies, the love affairs, the drugs and booze, the guns and explosives and, ultimately, the tragic suicide. www.amazon.com


Miss Moneypenny iPhone Seeing on the news all the people in NYC camping out overnight, just to be among the first to get their mittens on the Apple iPhone, made me realise just how huge Apple’s newest godsend was going to be. This revolutionary device is a multimedia and internet enabled mobile phone, which also acts as a camera phone and iPod. In addition to regular functions like text messaging and voicemail, it also offers internet services such as email and web browsing. With its innovative touch screen interface and sleek design, it’s only a matter of time before we’ll all be carrying around one of these fancy little fuckers. Owning one of these guys won’t be cheap, but you’ve got plenty of time to save your pineapples because the iPhone won’t be available in Australia til 2008. The 4GB model will retail for about $600, and the 8GB model for about $750. www.apple.com/iphone

Holga Cameras If, like me, you’re not a fan of modern digital cameras and their increasingly easy-to-use nature then this Holga shit is right up your alley. Originally designed in Hong Kong in the early 80’s as an inexpensive plastic photo-taker for the booming market, the Holga is as individual a camera could ever be. It uses 120 medium format film and can produce unbelievable and amazing pics or the biggest pieces of shit, depending on your luck and skills. That is the whole appeal of the plastic thing – you never really know if what you’re shooting is going to turn out how you intended. There’s a massive cult following behind this form of photography and the cameras related to it so check it all out at: www.holga.net or www.digitalsucks.com

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For four years now, local designers Bellinda & Cassie have been importing the South African fashion label Miss Moneypenny to our shores. The range uses exquisite vintage textiles (chiffons & silks) to create one-off gorgeous feminine frocks. Each and every piece of the collection is individually cut, each with its own unique print. A must-have garment for any girly girl. Stocked in over 25 stores throughout Australia, you can find Miss Moneypenny locally in Aqwa Woman (Narrabeen), That Gorgeous Shop (Avalon), A Touch Too Wild (Mona Vale) and D30 (Manly). Enquiries call: 0419 695 673

Schwipe Melbourne-based streetwear label Schwipe is any new-schoolers paradise. Their offerings feature vivid optical illusions combined with luminous colours, splashed over well-cut pieces you want to wear. The latest gear fresh out of the studio has a vibe and aura you can appreciate because you know they’re shunning the typical fashion world, and are going about things their own way. One of Schwipe’s biggest sellers is their ‘Islam is OK’ tee, which you can find on their online store. www.schwipe.com.au


Mercy Arms Words: Pierre from Paris

We caught up with Mercy Arms bass player, Ash Moss, upon the release of their debut EP Kept Low. Having sold out shows across the country amassing a legion of fans along the way, the band have the songs, live skills and expensive haircuts to back the claims of being touted, “the next big thing�.

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The first time I saw Mercy Arms was as at my mates 21st in the backyard of his house at Mona Vale. Their talent and flair was obvious, though their sound, at this early point in time, was more untried noise than defined melody and driving rhythm. Fast-forward just over a year, and I’m amongst a sold-out Hordern Pavilion show, watching them open for The Strokes on their Australian tour. As I was fighting for my life, hoping not to be crushed to death by the animated, capacity crowd, I thought to myself, ‘Fuck! These guys have come a long way’. Mercy Arms formed in early 2005 after Thom Moore (vocals, guitar), Kirin Callinan (lead guitar) and Julian Sudek (drums), had all met through various music gigs and clubs in Sydney. Shortly after their encounter, Ash Moss (bass) was introduced to the picture through Kirin and Julian – who all knew each other from living on the Northern Beaches – consequently adding the final piece to the puzzle. Soon rhythm and melody developed, and their indie-pop-rock sound naturally evolved. With the wheels now in motion, the four-piece set out performing frequently within Sydney. Their music and enthusiastic live performances impressed just about everyone, and the show offers kept rolling in. It seemed the measured emergence of Mercy Arms coincided with a new direction occurring within the live music scene. Many of the smaller music venues were opening up their doors in an attempt to encourage aspiring bands to diversify and give it a go before a broader audience. ‘It’s great’, reflects Moss sincerely during our conversation from the Grapevine Head Office. ‘The change really helped us. We were really lucky because we always had gigs to play, even when we first started and not many people knew us. It’s all a learning process … how to play live shows and how to react to feedback.’ Yet another transition in the live music scene surfaced. It now seems more and more people are going out to see live music on a regular basis, directly amplifying the interest surrounding emerging bands. ‘Live shows are a huge part of music culture,’ offers Moss, ‘Australia has had so many huge exports to the rest of the world, and I think the best way to nurture that is to keep live music alive.’ Certain features of their sound unequivocally validate the excitement and hype of Mercy Arms. Thom has great vocal range and excellent control, especially when hitting the high notes. Their bold sound is achieved as a result of rhythm and lead guitar functioning collectively like clock-work. And there is an essence of romance to their melodies, though at times their sound transforms to a darker mood. ‘We thrive on, and strive ourselves, not to sound like anyone else. It’s common when people write comments or reviews about us and they can’t decipher our sound, they tend to go for the easy option, which is to refer to us to a punk band or a post-punk band from the Eighties.’ Moss pauses briefly, and then explains ‘Not every up-andcoming band can simply be compared to a particular band, and that’s what we are trying to do – prove that point. Music can be a combination of a few influences, therefore it reverts back to something you think you may have heard, but you’re not exactly sure what. There can be a lot of different elements of different things all blended together.’

2006 proved to be a year of ascendency for Mercy Arms. If they hadn’t already established themselves as a band destined for prominence, then by the end of the year they certainly had. After lengthy negotiations with various record label executives throughout the US and London, the Sydney combo eventually signed a major deal with Capitol Records. During July of that same year, their music caught the attention of Dave Sitek from New York band TV on the Radio. He believed in what he heard to such an extent that he prolonged his time in Australia to produce some songs with the band. ‘He was great to work with. It was an interesting experience, seeing him use his own unique techniques and production style.’ Moss recalls. So the result from their time spent with Sitek in the studio? Two tracks Moss is optimistic will be available for future release. ‘They’re kinda like our two babies we’ve got up our sleeve to bring out at a certain time down the track.’ A further testament to the band’s promise came not long after the studio sessions with the TV on the Radio instrumentalist. New York based band, The Strokes, invited them on their Australian tour. The shows on this tour propelled Mercy Arms before the largest audiences of their short careers, also exposing them to potential criticism from music journos and fans alike. Yet, this seemingly daunting prospect only brought out the best from the band, and Moss regards the Sydney show at the Hordern Pavilion as perhaps one of the best Mercy Arms shows to date. ‘The energy we got off the crowd was unbelievable. We didn’t particularly know anyone in the crowd and they didn’t particularly know us, but the energy and feedback was amazing. We were just really eager to get out there and have fun, and that’s what comes with good shows – energy and excitement.’ During 2007, just as things seemed to be travelling along nicely for the band, EMI revealed they would be restructuring their two labels (Capitol and Virgin), with the two becoming one. As a result many Australian bands were dropped, and forced to find alternative labels for multinational subsidy. In contrast to widespread report, Mercy Arms were not one of the relinquished bands, but rather negotiated their way out of their deal because common ground could no longer be found between the band and label. As a result it has been a long wait for the arrival of their debut EP Kept Low. Released through Levity, the EP comprises a collection of recordings taken at various stages throughout the bands career. Now at the point where they are looking at the bigger picture, Mercy Arms have moved to London. They intend to relocate there, into the New Year, where they will play a stack of gigs and talk to more labels. And although the time lost negotiating their separation with Capitol was a setback of sorts, the combo believes they are significantly better off now. Making the move overseas is a formidable venture for any band to embark upon, but it’s something they need to do in order to take Mercy Arms to the next level. www.myspace.com/mercyarms 19


Smoking

Non - Smoking

Contributes litter that hasn’t much chance of breaking down in your lifetime. Pay ridiculous amounts of money on a weekly (or daily) basis for cancer and shit. Look like a filthy tar-breath kook. Smell like a filthy tar-breath kook. Feel guilty for doing something legal (kinda like having a hot mastie). It makes your fingers yellow (apparently). Every time you carry ciggies you have some shit picture of a dying baby or a gangrene-riddled foot right there in your pocket. It’s hard to enjoy in this current society. You may as well be an ice addict. You’re part of a minority. Smoking is being phased out. Pretty soon you’ll be ‘scoring’ ciggies in some alley in the Cross. It

hinders your dramatically.

breathing

in

the

surf,

fairly

Those anti-smoking ads on TV (especially the stroke one) make you feel shocking. You probably will die as a result of the shit.

Feel like a rocker. You get to roll your ciggies up in your shirtsleeves like a ’50s Greaser.

Be part of a minority (what is it about ethnic minority groups? They mostly smoke, so they’re like a micro-minority). Piss people off just by sitting and indulging in your habit. Be otherwise healthy and confuse those ultra–health kooks who limit themselves in every facet of their lives.

It’s a slap conformists.

in

the

face

of

If you smoke heaps it’s like free hair dye. Have you ever seen those old dudes with nicotine coloured hair? Sick. Have an excuse to leave noisy clubs and mince some hot bird. Look uber cool as you drive. Upset the squares with your post–breakfast cigarette. Be part of the problem, not the solution.

Nothing says ‘Fuck you body!’ like inhaling lung lollies. Be heaps cooler than non-smokers.

Words: Cutgirl

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Grapevine took local skate punks, Jarred and Wadey, on a mission with the intention of covers! One tank of petty, one carton of Draught, some triple cheeseburgers and a couple of sketchy fence jumps later, we had our photos. Words: Venes Photos:Tp


Originally published in 1962, A Clockwork Orange is a fiction novel written by Anthony Burgess. It is also the source for the 1971 film adaptation by Stanley Kubrick. Set in an imaginary future, the story revolves around 15-year-old Alex, a clever teenage boy who enjoys classical music, particularly Beethoven. Alex and his ‘droogs’ rampage the streets at night, committing brutal crimes and acts of sexual violence for their own terrible thrills. The novel reflects the troubles of future society as perceived by Burgess. It seems there are varying reasons why the novel has achieved cult status, and in particular a cult following. Firstly, there is an obvious level of obscurity to A Clockwork Orange, possibly the reason behind why it only had a small fan base upon its release, and never really achieved mainstream success. The horrific imagery and graphic themes portrayed throughout the novel and film are not for everyone. Secondly, the welldefined, sensational characters and the surreal plot, accompanied with the dystopian setting, are all critical features of A Clockwork Orange. The novel is written in an imaginative slang language invented by Burgess called Nadsat, a mix of modified Slavic words, Cockney rhyming slang, loose Russian, and words invented by Burgess himself. The use of Nadsat adds an element of uniqueness and distinction to the novel and film. Initially understanding Nadsat may be difficult and disorienting, demanding more from the reader than most fiction novels, but soon the exuberance of its inventiveness becomes evident. The dialect is an ingenious aspect of the novel, and is of pivotal importance for further developing the cult status of A Clockwork Orange. Recently nominated by Time as one of the best 100 English language novels written since 1923, it’s well worth your time reading the novel and watching the film.

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OU T

Billy Hyde Music Northern Beaches NOW open

NOW

55 Bassett Street Mona Vale

Ph. 9986 0589


Alone Hungry Locked Cell. ,

and

in a

Our mates honest account of four days he’d rather forget.

In these post-Schapelle Corby times, one thing that (sometimes) weighs on your mind, when hopping a plane to a foreign land, is the scary idea of being busted for drugs or drug trafficking or whatever. Being locked in a Third World prison cell with only AIDS and a wet, piss-soaked blanket as comfort doesn’t really rate that highly on anyone’s to-do list. I feel for those persons currently cuddling up to disease and malnutrition all over the globe. Our mate R.A. is a hard-working, hard-partying dude. He had planned a trip to Japan and China, and worked towards the adventure for a full year, turning down nights out and working weekends so he could snowboard in some of the world’s best conditions. He left for his six-week long holiday as scheduled, wearing his trademark cheeky grin with boards and bags in hand. Four days later he turned up at my pad. He was skinny, pale and had obviously undergone some sort of ordeal. ‘What the shit are you doing here?’ I asked. ‘You’re supposed to be in Asia.’ He looked at me sadly and said; ‘Dude, it’s a long story; sit down and I’ll tell you.’

Words: Venes Photos: Tp


GV: So what were you headed to Japan for? RA: To snowboard for three weeks in the heavenly Japanese snow, to meet up with my family for a white Christmas and then travel on to China with my girl for ten days for her shoe business. Also, to see what Asia had to offer, and to hang out and see the Great Wall and shit. GV: But you ended up seeing the inside of a jail cell instead? RA: Yeah, it all went sour when a suspicious substance that I’d forgotten about was found in my wallet by a Customs Officer once I’d got there. (Japan) GV: Tell the readers about your little misadventure from the start. RA: I had a big farewell party before I left on December 19th of last year. My girly dropped me off at the airport and was going to meet me in Japan in a week’s time. My flight was sweet, and took about eight hours to get to the stopover, which was in Shanghai, China. I got through customs and immigration and everything was sweet, but my flight was leaving the next morning. I had like ten or twelve hours to wait, so I opted to sleep in the airport on one of those four-seater chairs. I locked my shit together and tried to catch some shuteye, but cleaners and randoms kept asking me if I was OK. So I got up and wandered around this massive airport, like you can’t even fucking imagine how big this airport is, and then finally it was morning. My flight to Suporo was leaving at nine. GV: So you got through China sweet? RA: Yeah everything was fine. I didn’t get looked at or sniffed at and I was frothing just to get on this plane and get snowboarding. Eventually I boarded. It was like a three and a half hour flight to where I was going, and we landed at this tiny airstrip and I entered the terminal to wait for my bag. When I was waiting, this cute Labrador came and sat next

to me and I patted it, didn’t think anything about it, and then grabbed my bag when it appeared. Next thing I’m waiting to go through customs behind a bunch of people where they only had a couple of booths open. They opened another booth and this young customs guy motioned for me to come through. I was like ‘Sweet, I’m cruising through past this line of people.’ GV: Didn’t that raise any suspicions after a dog had sat next to you, and then your own booth was opened in this airport? RA: At the time I didn’t have a clue about the dog thing, the guy was just doing his rounds and then this dog sat next to me for like 20 seconds. You know, the guy didn’t really look at me weird or anything, and when they opened the booth I knew there was a line of people behind me, I just thought I was lucky skipping the rest of the line. So I got through this booth and when the guy was going through my shit he pulls out my rollies, tobacco and tally-hoes and says, ‘What’s this?’ I said to him ‘Tobacco. I roll my own, you know cigarettes?’ I was pointing at the words that said ‘cigarette’ on the pack and he’s like ‘No cigarette!’ and I’m like ‘Yeah tobacco. Cigarettes.’ Then he pulls out this massive book, flicks to a page with a picture of a big bud of weed and says ‘Marijuana, marijuana!’ I was like, ‘Whoa, hold on. It’s rollie tobacco mate, I roll my own ciggies. I’ve got no marijuana. Test it.’ Then he calls over another Customs Officer and they talk in Japanese. I can’t speak Japanese so I’m just standing there and then he says ‘We going search you.’ I thought, ‘Well, I’m here to snowboard and then see China so whatever, I don’t have anything to hide.’ They led me into this white room and started going through my stuff, starting with my backpack where he’d found the rollies. I was co-operating, wasn’t worried at all and then he pulls out my wallet and starts going through that. The next thing I know the dude that had found my tobacco pulls out this little plastic sattie.

GV: How big was this sattie? RA: Maybe two centimetres wide by three centimetres high, like a clear plastic sattie. It was obviously something that only had one use. He shows it to me and asks ‘What’s this?’ When I saw it my legs started to shake. I’ve never fainted before but when I saw it I was shaking and felt like I could’ve fainted. They must have noticed how shocked I was because they grabbed a chair and sat me down, asking me if I was ok. I said ‘Yeah, yeah I’m sweet.’ Then the guy asks again, ‘What is this?’ holding up the sattie. I didn’t know how to answer them or what to say so I’m like ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what that is!’ They’re asking me ‘How you not know what it is? It’s in your wallet.’ I just sat there kind of in disbelief, not knowing what to do or say. I started thinking ‘Fuck – what if I just grabbed it and swallowed it, or just licked everything out of it?’ But I pussied out. They gave me a glass of water and I was shitting myself, no idea what to do. Then he asks again, angrier and more demanding ‘What is this?’ After a pause I ended up saying to him, ‘I think its cocaine.’ He looked at me weird and asked ‘Cocaine?’ and I said ‘Yeah, I think its cocaine left over from Australia.’ That’s when things sort of stopped, and the room that they had me in filled up with about six Customs Officers including one like main dude who had come to see what was going on. Then they asked me all these questions like ‘Where you get this from? Why is it in your wallet? Who does it belong to?’ and all that shit. I told them ‘I’ve got no idea why it’s in my wallet. Honestly, like I’ve got no idea why it’s in my wallet. It’s in there but I shouldn’t have it.’


GV: How many photos did they take of you? RA: The cops took a few. They were only there for like 15 minutes, probably because there was nothing really in it (the sattie) but the customs guys took heaps. By this stage I started freaking out, wondering what was going to happen to me. I told them ‘I’ve never been charged in Australia, I’m not a criminal – what’s going to happen?’ GV: How long were you in the interrogation room for? RA: Easily like seven or eight hours of talking, fingerprinting and signing various bits of paper. GV: You signed stuff that was written in Japanese, and had no idea what it meant? RA: Yeah, well I had the translator there and I was asking him about everything they put in front of me. GV: Fuck that. RA: Nah, I made it clear through everything that I‘d just bought it from someone in Australia for myself, that I didn’t deal drugs, that it was left over from a party I’d had in October, and that I’d just left it in my wallet not thinking about it. You know, I was telling the truth the entire time, I didn’t have anything to hide. GV: After they interrogated you what happened?

GV: What was it doing in there in the first place? RA: I’m a carpenter and earlier that year I dropped a grinder on my leg whilst I was at work, and ended up being off work and on compo for four months. While I wasn’t working I experimented a bit you know, and I think it was left over from a party I had in October. I’d just put it in one of those little compartments at the back of my wallet and had totally forgotten about it. GV: So it was yours, and was obviously for personal use? RA: Yeah, for my personal use and I felt like the biggest idiot when they pulled it out, because I had even fucking cleaned out my wallet of all these cards and shit. I didn’t want a chunky wallet when I was travelling. I didn’t even think to check those back bits. (RA lights a ciggie and takes a drag.) So they told me to wait, that they were going to search through my entire luggage. My mind was racing, thinking all these things like ‘What if they find something else? What if someone’s planted something in my shit? I was saying to them, ‘It’s from Australia from me – I’m not

trying to bring drugs into this country.’ They told me to wait, and all the dudes in the room went through my stuff, pulling socks inside out, looking in everything that I had. I was being as friendly and nice as I could. When they didn’t find anything else they brought in a translator and started interrogating me. They bombarded me with all these questions and forms, like form after form after form. Even the translator couldn’t really speak fuck-all English, so it was hard. But I answered all the questions honestly, and it went on and on, and then these cops came in. GV: Cops? RA: There were three of them – two uniformed cops and a photographer. When the customs dudes showed the main cop the sattie he laughed. Probably because it was basically empty. I thought, ‘Holy shit’. They took photos of the sattie, photos of me pointing at it … GV: Did you smile for the camera? RA: No way. They were like, ‘You point, you point’. They made me hold my wallet with the sattie half hanging out and all this shit.

RA: They unlocked this cupboard and pulled out the full testing kit that had a test tube full of purple liquid and a book and shit and asked me, ‘Is it cocaine?’ and I said ‘Yes, it’s cocaine, I promise you it’s cocaine.’ I was thinking ‘Shit – what if it’s got speed in it or heroin or something?’ But I was pretty sure that nothing else would turn up in it. So the guy tried to get a sample of the powdery residue that was left in the sattie for testing, but because there was such a small amount of powder left in it, when he dunked the sample in the test tube nothing happened. Like, it was supposed to change from purple to aqua to indicate cocaine – I saw it in the book they had – and nothing happened. I’m thinking ‘Shit, this might be my lucky break.’ But then one of the dudes said something in Japanese and the guy tried again, scraping every millimetre of the tiny sattie with this little metal scraper and then dunked it in the test tube, and there it was – this big swirl of aqua shit. And they were stoked, like they’d found a fucking pot of gold. They did some more photos, this time I had to point at the test tube with the aqua solution, and they kept asking me dumb questions to finalise everything and I waited while they stamped all the statements and shit that I’d signed and fingerprinted. So I asked my translator, ‘What was going to happen to me? Am I going to be charged?’ He told me ‘No, the police came and went – you should be OK. Don’t worry.’ The customs dudes left for a bit and spoke to immigration and when they came back they said ‘You going to be deported.’ I couldn’t believe what I was saying but I said ‘No! You can’t do this to me.’ I was totally devastated, and the immigration guy says ‘You can’t argue with this.’ I was so pissed off, thinking about all the money I’d spent getting there, and the fact that I was supposed to be meeting my family for Christmas. I felt like I’d ruined everything. I was almost begging the customs dudes saying, ‘Why? I’ve told you the truth. I’ve co- operated. It’s not narcotics, its just remnants in a sattie; I’m not a drug dealer. I’m not trying to traffic drugs into your country. Please! I’ve spent all this money coming here. I’m supposed to see my sister who lives here. You can’t deport me.’ When I mentioned my sister worked and lived in Japan they questioned me about her, where she lived, what she did. Then they left the room and I waited for an hour or so. They came back with fucking copies of her passport, fucking copies of her work visa and all this shit. I was stressing, wondering if I’d put her in jeopardy just by mentioning her, you know? But everything checked out, and after a while customs was done with me. An immigration officer came and took me upstairs to their office. They called up my sister and explained what had happened. I was fully in tears, just so tired and over it and feeling like shit. I told her everything, told her that I was being deported and she just said, ‘Leave it with me, I’ll try and do whatever I can, OK?’

Will R.A. return home safely or suffer a fate worse than diarrhoe?!? Find out in the second installment of Alone, Hungry and Locked in a Cell


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Meet Cassie. socks, living Snuggle Pot & and wide open

She likes in Avalon, Cuddle Pie spaces.


Avalon’s Toby Player has been amongst the forefront of Australia’s new gen. bodyboarders for most of his life. When he isn’t in the water ripping undies or meeting the demands of running his own booger website, Toby releases his inner creative through spinning records in his top-floor harbour view apartment or shooting photos of the world he has travelled more times than one can fathom. The following pages offer you an exclusive insight into the world of Toby and his amazing personal photography (except the shot of him at the Island - that’s by Trent Mitchell). Enjoy.

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I had a love/hate relationship with my iPod. At first it provided me with hours of aural pleasures. Sweet, soothing sounds would spew forth from its metallic, moving-part free body, travelling through my oversized (and sometimes embarrassing) earphones, straight into my listening pits for days at a time. Then it would refuse, rather arrogantly I might add, to work. There was no explanation for its sudden decision to deprive me of tunes. The only indications of its ability to continue working were exclamation points and black screen flashes, appearing as if to say, ‘I still work motherfucker. It’s just that I choose not to and there ain’t a damn thing you can do about it ’cause I’m an inanimate object. Moohoohahaa.’ Not a damn thing I could do about it? I assembled an arsenal of weapons to aid me in my sweet revenge, and got to work. Words: Venes Photos: Tp


Weapon One: The Pushbike.

Weapon Two: The Club Lock.

Weapon Three: The Knife.

Weapon Four: Fire.

This was the hardest weapon to use effectively against the naughty iPod. Standing the little silver bitch on its end, I lined it up and raised the bike high over my head, chucking it seat first onto the pod as hard as I could. Although throwing a bike accurately proved quite difficult, I was still satisfied to see the bouncing iPod slide to a stop like a fallen motorbike rider. And it was a plus I didn’t kill Tp or his camera with the wayward bike. Apart from a few scratches and dents, the iPizzle still looked OK, and I’ll admit I was surprised. And infuriated.

A more hands-on approach was called for, and what better handson tool of torture than the chunky and unforgiving club lock? Again I stood the pod on its end so I could connect directly with its ugly, smooth head. Remembering all the lost music on my once faithful Mp3, I clubbed the shit out of it repeatedly; bringing the club lock down with hate-fuelled menace til it skidded away, apparently having had enough. Now I know what those people mean when they bludgeon a person to death and say something along the lines of, ‘I went somewhere else in my head and when I came to, he was dead and there was blood all over me’.

By this stage the iPod looked more like a submissive and beaten shell of its former self, and I was pleased. Time to break out the knife then. If you’re going to try this at home, I’d recommend a large and serrated blade like I went with, rather then a parring knife or whatever, ’cause you don’t want the blade to snap and stab you in the face giving the iPod the last laugh. So anyway, I went to work with the knife. One silver object destroying the other in an orgy of inanimate death, until the knife and I came out laughing, and the iPod came out maimed and distorted. Show me a black screen will you? I’ll show you a fucking black screen!

Effectiveness: 7/10 knives.

Effectiveness: 9/10 knives

I was excited about the idea of setting fire to the pizzle because if I’ve learnt anything from my 23 years on the Earth, it’s that fire burns stuff. I couldn’t even stand the pod up as the earlier attacks had left it smashed, bent and even fraying - who would’ve thought iPods contained ribbon? So I lay it down like a body ready for cremation and doused the balls out of it in Zippo fluid. (Kids note: deodorant, methylated spirits or a pile of matches could work the same.) Taking my time to savour my undoubted victory over the defeated pod, I lit my cigarette and then lit the pool of fluid. It caught fire but didn’t explode in a catastrophic fireball like I half expected. Though it did smoulder and crackle a bit. We stood watching it burn until Tp urged, ‘Stab it while it’s burning!’ So I stabbed it with the trusty knife and the thing jumped up and flared, the knife still stuck in its cold heart!

Effectiveness: 2/10 knives.

Finally the deed was done. I poured a large pitcher of water over the unrecognisable lump, and giggled. I have to say the whole thing was a joyous and cathartic experience. Go get some sweet revenge on an inanimate object today, it could prove to be the highlight of your Tuesday.

Effectiveness: 10/10 Knives. .

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Choosing the cover for our first issue wasn’t easy. We had so many different ideas and concepts running wild inside our brains. At the end of the day, after much heated deliberation, we still felt we had nothing that sufficiently fulfilled our expectations. That was until the work of a talented young artist from Curl Curl caught our eye, capturing exactly what we had in mind. Allow us to formally introduce…

Phil

Harkness “My work is a pretty mixed bag of ideas, drawing heavily from pop culture, and has graphic design influences in both composition and colour selection. I’m currently pretty stoked on Ed Woodley’s work, James Jirat Patradoon’s pop art screens, and the textured tyographic work of Robert Moore. Locally, there are always the cool little art shows in Sydney with great work by heaps of random artists that get my ideas pumping. My stuff ranges from pencil sketches, to watercolours and vector art, but generally I like to work across a variety of different media. I’m right into the pencil sketches of girl’s faces at the moment, trying to get the shading right, and proportions of the face down-pat.” To high-five Phil for his amazing work, or to get him to do some shit for you … www.philharkdesign.com

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NEW iPods!

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O Kai

tton

In conjunction with our ‘first time’ whoring together Grapevine, we asked rookie WCT surfer and recent Manly inhabitant Kai Otton some questions about his ‘first time’…

First time you won a surf comp? Mid ’90s at the Coogee Classic Memorial, Tathra. First time you went overseas surfing? Bali ’93. First time you got drunk? Age 12. First time you experimented with a member of the opposite sex? Primary School in Year 6, age 11. First time you went to a gentlemen’s club? Age 22. First time you saw a live band? Mental As Anything, Tathra Pub. First time you purchased a car? A Toyota Corolla in 1998, for $250 and a pair of sunnies. First time you got in a fight? Never. First time you feared for your life? In my old man’s rally car. First time you had a run in with the law? Smoking billies at the beach in Tathra – we ran from the law. First time you fell in love? 2003. First time you contracted a yeast infection? Clean, my dear friend. First time you realised surfing was your destiny? On mushrooms at the Tanja Hall Dance Party in 1985.

All photos: insight51.com

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As far as mens streetwear goes, Kornerd has it dialled. The collection characteristically blends bold imagery with a strong use of colour and this seasons range is no exception. With typically over-sized, loose fitting tees and hoodies featuring a sharp graphic style combined with a series of high quality skinny and crumpled jeans; it is crystal clear why Kornerd is soaring to the top of the Australian urban fashion ranks. Kornerd is the concept of designer Marcus Kersch. After dropping out of his degree at Uni, Marcus began designing t-shirts and selling them at local markets. It wasn’t until he received an order from a store in the city that he ever seriously considered a career in fashion design. Currently based in Manly, Kornerd is taking a fresh, slightly off centre approach to mens fashion with its distinct attentiveness to detail, limited releases and hand-finishings.

Kornerd

Having taken part in Australian Fashion Week earlier this year, Kornerd’s Spring/Summer 2007/2008 collection will be stocking in about 45 boutiques throughout Australia, as well as a couple in New Zealand, Japan and Europe. Kornerd can be found at Mint, Tuchuzy, Purdy Klampet, Peel, House of Capulet, Ramjet, Nami and Milla & Jack.

the

Dark Sideof

Man

www.kornerd.com Marcus Kersch Email: marcus@kornerd.com Phone: 0405 171 444 Words: Pierre From Paris Photos: Tp

Vintage Black Ribbing Jeans: $220 Rifle-wash Loud Silence Tee: $88 Black Muscle Hood: $160


White Adam Tee: $88

Black Denim Brace Shorts: $150


Mozart Tee: $109

Acid-wash Ramone Jeans: $220


Black Button Shorts: $140

Vintage Black Muff Singlet: $70


White Gateway Tee: $88

Black Gathered Jeans: $220


IS MONA VALE THE CENTRE OF BOARDMAKING IN AUSTRALIA? WE THINK SO! 30 Years and thousands of PU blanks in experience. Now operating out of a state of the art factory. 15 engineered moulds on-line,including longboards,mini mals and the new fish and paddleboard (10’ - 12’) models. 4 weight categories of PU foam blanks, including our ultra tight cell, light weight performance shortboard. Custom nose/tail curves for any size blanks. CNC pre-machining (3DM M/C). 2 BY THE SEA RD, MONA VALE NSW 2103 ph: (02) 9979 5666 or 0409 200 677 web: www.pacificsurfoam.com email: pacificsurfoam@aol.com


Politcal Party Y o u are cordially invited to attend the party of John Winston Howard. With the Federal Election preceding him, Howard decided to throw a soirée for his political associates, past and present. Being an avid Grapevine reader, he left the honour of organising the party’s entertainment to us. The following account is an insight into the debauchery that unfolded. By 10am guests of all shapes and sizes began to fill the back lawn of Kirribilli. Accompanying them was a stench of uneasiness, floating in the air like a child overboard in the ocean. This vibe was quickly doused when former PM Bob Hawke magically produced a yard glass, topped full with beer. He was quick to the bottom of the brew, but was unable to break his record of 12 seconds, set in 1956. Nonetheless,

the

party

was

Words: Jc circle until the music came to a halt. With each stop the ecstatic prizewinners peeled off a sheet of the prior day’s newspaper, to discover an insignificant amount of cash. When everyone in the circle had received a payment, only one layer remained between the crowd and the grand prize. Fortunately, the grand prize was to be shared literally with all of the Australian public. As the music came to a stop for the last time the prize was revealed- inflation and a rise in interest rates. Lunch was served. Howard opted to stand for the oysters, lobster mornay, and Balmain bugs, whilst others enjoyed the cushioning of their undisturbed backsides. Fine wine of the red and white variety accompanied the decadent meal. Howard boasting he had spent $110,000 (of taxpayer’s money) updating his cellar over the four years gone.

underway.

First up on the schedule was morning tea. A lavish spread of exotic fruits and cheeses, served alongside premium bottles of French champagne, decorated the menu. All provided, of course, by honest taxpayers. Next on the agenda was the first game of the day: a real life interpretation of ‘Pin the Tail on the Donkey’. Each guest was given an imitation donkey tail, with pin intact. In recognition of his credentials, Howard was more than willing to play the role of ‘Donkey’. The prize, given to the entrant who caused him to squeal the loudest, was awarded to Peter Costello. He knew exactly where Howard’s asshole was. The next game to be played saw all the guests arranged in a large circle, ready for ‘Pass the Budget’. As the music was cued in the background, a layered parcel was handed around t h e

After lunch it was time for one last game: Piñata. The papier-mâché figure, to Howard’s disapproval, was a life-size replica of George Bush. Howard refused to participate but allowed the game to continue, so as not to upset the exhausting crowd. One after another people prodded and clobbered Bush, until finally he was bought down. To the guest’s bewilderment, a thick cascade of oil rained down upon the lingering mob. The day finished with Julie Andrews giving her rendition of our National Anthem. But Bob Hawke was to steal the show. He stormed the stage, drunker than Boris Yeltsen, snatching the microphone. He then proceeded to slur the Anthem in a disturbingly seductive manner, and slowly but surely remove each piece of clothing covering his weathered body. Finally he was contained by security. And with that the party had officially come to an end.

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60


Words: Pierre From Paris

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photo: bosko

michael spencer

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haydenshapes surfboards unit 31/14 polo ave, mona vale, p: 99976698 showroom open mon-fri 9-5 sat 9-12 also available at Aloha Manly, Surf Culture Bondi


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Grapevine is dedicated to the memory of our friend, Alex Jarvis, who entertained us from the 1st May, 1983, to the 25th February, 2007. This is for you, Al.



Grapevine Magazine Issue 001