Tasmania, it's where I was born and bred, a place I was keen to get away from but now I'm mostly away it the place I enjoy getting back to the most. It's always a tricky on Hobart, it's the beast I'm yet to tame and one I've been trying for a while, it's become blatantly obvious (like a smack in the face) that it needs to be changed up. We had a great line-up, reputable venue and good promo but somehow only managed 10 payers on the door, brutal! Salamanca Arts were a little stressed to say the least. I've come to the conclusion than unless you're receiving regular local or tripleJ airplay one must initiate some epic marketing strategy. One of the local guys on the night was like 'Fascebook, has let me down....' mistake number 1 I say, I wouldn't trust facebook as far as I could kick it.
None the less the drive to Hobart was interesting and the one home was even more with a little interaction with some bored but friendly Police officers from Oatlands station (the middle of fucking no where in Tasmania) who decided my very marginal amount over the speed limit at 1:30am in the morning warranted me being pulled over and cautioned. My tactics for dealing with the Police, get out of the car and meet them half way, be straight and honest and then ask nicely for them to give you a 'caution' and if all else fail blame the NIN Pretty Hate Machine album that you're cranking in the stereo.
No comments:
Post a Comment