Adventures In Sideburning In Simpleton Eon Pop (A Fan's View)
It all began in 1993, when we tried to sneak into the World Championship Air guitar competition without paying. Upon checking that the coast was of the clear and seaweed-free variety, we attempted to slip in casually.

We had hired the help of "Big Stabber Jaws Delaney" to assist our unlawful entry. "Stabber" rose to prominence in the early 50's after breaking the world record for holding somebody elses breath under water (three days i believe). His vicious reign of terror spanned three decades and he is still wanted in seventeen canteens for unlawful conduct with plastic cutlery. We were well versed in the championship password: "I once challenged a Llama to an arm wrestle but he said to me he didnt wanna be no commemorative stamp for nobody ! I believe they call that Post Trauma." And with a bemused smile, the doorman (now identified as Mr Crouch, the guy from Candle) let us in.

But upon entry, the facts just didnt add up....we hadn't passed any Model T Fords parked outside, we were not greeted at the door with the expected words of "would you like smirking or non smirking, women?"..... the audience wasn't as we had contemplated....Not a single aqua silk shell tracksuit to be seen, number of toupees: 0 definite and 1 suspect, people standing unaided: 40 (most), moshpit loose, but full.....hmmm.

(cue "lightening flash")

Well Claude Van Dammit ! wrong venue. But put those horses on hold, what have we here? On stage, a pair of tracksuits pants fitted nicely on the drummer, jean cuffs tucked firmly into the top of the bass players trusty blundstones.........Yes, the Simpletons are playing tonight (backing Mick Thomas). Please apply major "Yipees", high fives, hats in the air, and "back slapping" to the crowd with care.

At this moment my life was transformed. Though I had had trains of thought in relation to music leaving every few minutes, all this time I had been standing on the wrong platform. Luckily i had attended those "ply your shattered eardrums with cosmic love and instantaneous Shamanic healing" evening classes, so my recovery from the music i'd been exposed to previously was swift. (I was able to excise any residual "Rat Cat" growths).

The Simpletons made us laugh, they made us smile, with guaranteed hip hip hoorays all round. They rejuvenated and re-defined the local band formula, flushed the music scene, provided the bubblebath of tune and created the music elixir that we had been waiting for....the SIMPLETONIC. The bewildering simulcrum. Shall i compare the excited anticipation conjured up by the sound of a warming -up twang of Darren's guitar to the sound of a pre-world cup unzip of a tracksuit in the dressing room? They set the standard of gig at such a dizzy height that good gigs became as hard to come by as a Dodo feather.

Cheynes hair colour changed at an amphetamine rate. .... He was the master of towering lyrical ambition, spokesperson for a generation and all out pop-god. Cheyne would select lyrics like an old Italian woman would choose a tomato, and buoyed by a sense of intellectual engagement, he would jump into theoretical highs, we would lapidate his lyrics in our cerebral washing machines, and global harmony would be restored. And just in the nick of time, just as we'd been teetering on the precipice of a dying music scene, along came the Simpletons with enough studied coolness to knock out the eye of a cyclops. It was the treasure chest of banana paddlepops to a monkey. Having the effect of rendering all other gigs as exciting as a brown paper-bag puppet making workshop.

And then there was Sir Darren Hanlonship, Mr Corderoy Truzzers himself. Who deserves an Academy award for his "shuffle to the mike" expertise. A shuffle that smothered the audience with an unrivalled frenzied hysteria. Yes, it was shuffle mania. Pandamonium barometer reading: very high. Mayhem: in abundance.The modest fellow, played down the impact and crowd pleasure that his "move" created and despite numerous suggestions, refused to patent the "shuffle". After the guys in the lab had spent hours bent over the microscope, determining the extra chromosome responsible for the "shuffle trait", i cut straight to the source, and after making an insubstantial investment in the VB flavoured ilk, bought the Hanlon mother a VB to try to expose the mystique behind such a talent. (For more info see "Hanlon customs" : "Stardom in the Making Publishing House": $15.99).

The bass player with his seductive words: "Hi i'm Brad Cheers, can i help you with my Bombaderry electrical expertise?" often heard lobbed across the Kmart halls, resulted in me possessing enough electrical goods to enable me to hack into the Pentagon defense system.

Drummer, Stephen "no relation to Molly" Meldrum was replaced by Gene Simmons from "Kiss", at least we were sure the new Simpletons drummers hair and tongue had been excised from the guy from Kiss, all under the pseudonym of "excess baggage".

Then the band rode the Billy Bragg wave of socialist advocacy (all in the name of tolerance). Time after time, we were not left disappointed. Religiously we were lifted up telescope to a higher state of consciousness. The comfort of chairs in the "three weeds", the sounds of the sea and revving monaros doing donuts and fishtails in the bondi seagull room, the "welcome to the cheap seats" of the Uni Bars and lawns, the architectual awkwardness and charm of the Sando, the infamous accoustics of the Annandale (akin to The Black Hole gone electric) , and Byron Bay..... ah, Byron Arts and Music fest......awaking in a tent with an unidentifiable mound of stirfry noodles, glued firmly to ones neck. Nasal contents: Low flying, everpresent smell of marijuana, stomach contents: vegie burgers and spearmint leaves, forehead contents : bindi (joke). Sorted for hash for cash. Opening third eye progress was good. High point: Fleavil Knievil on the wall of death in the Byron Mad Alex's Flea circus.

Then the black clouds hovered.....

The announcement of the band break-up. At first we went into denial, blaming it on the great ventriloquist : Tooheys Old (that we had been drinking at the time of the announcement) Then the acceptance of the info brought with it enough angst to butter a depressives toast.

Some predicted that when Cheyne no longer quoted Marx who was quoting Jesus who was quoting Brad Cheers, things would evolve in an anti-Darwinian fashion (the fittest leaving the band) . However, now Cheyne and the new Simpletons have even more treats to offer. Not only a new catchy sound, but the gigs now often come accompanied by a personal Cheyne Gelagin garage sale, at no extra charge (please refer to Annandale gig of September 1998). First item purchased (and looks a treat on the mantle piece): small brown plastic cyclops with fur neatly shaved off.

For more information please see: "The Simpletons: the amazing map of their minds and other parts" now available from all good branches of their imagination.

Sentimental moments at the gigs: classified.
Time to run the credits:
Somewhat short : Me - Everything.

Rinky Tinky Too
Love
ANON