The Cynic 40 Bandage

Bunch of plebs.

What Do You Do for Work?

Words Jay Houhlias Photo Ben Jones

I’m told that the transition into adulthood is marred with arduous change. I initially refused to believe this. I thought you should just be chill and life’s good, and any act of adhering to a somewhat normal 9-5 work schedule was a quashing of individuality and a blatant selling of the soul.

But alas, I evolved, a little bit. Due to things like the housing market, geopolitics, climate change, existential crises, feeling like a bum, and the contemporary off-putting marketing of ‘entrepreneurialism’ and ‘being your own boss’ (actually, this was probably the main thing), I ended up conforming, a little bit.

This conforming happened slowly. But then suddenly it climaxed, with one terrible moment, and we all had it. The defining moment of our maturation came when we realised that all we seem to be capable of speaking about are our jobs.

Normally, it’s nice to have conversations with people about what they do for the dollar. It’s also nice when someone has a job doing something really cool like being a CEO of a billion-dollar company, or maybe having a column in The Beast (both equally difficult and skill demanding jobs in my opinion).

The problem is when people use their jobs as a baton, a big old verbal baton, feeling they need to impress, intimidate and beat down everyone who is unfortunate enough to stumble into a conversation with them. These conversations infiltrate house parties, morning coffees, casual walkchats, drunken small talk and of course the actual workplace. However, I can see why talking about work stuff at your job might be important.

What these people get paid to do and who they actually are becomes conflated, and they mistakenly start to judge people accordingly. My job versus your job, rather than me versus you (although we really shouldn’t be versing anyone, it’s unbecoming).

I have found that this affliction is particularly potent in young people. These young people are keen to debate, disagree, criticise, and bring down the establishment and status quo in their chosen field. They maintain that the capitalist pigs at the top of their workplace have it all wrong.

It also seems to manifest acutely in casual professionals. You know the casual professionals I’m talking about - the young gelled up fellows who are different to all the other geeks they work with because they are cool and personable. They get messy on the weekends and talk about edgy things during work hours. When they’re asked how in the hell they landed their very high paying job, it doesn’t matter the industry, they shrug casually and say, ‘I’m just good with people.’

It’s not that a job isn’t a good indicator of competence and usefulness, because it is. It’s just that there are so many other great metrics you can use to measure the worth of a person. Do they bag on people behind their backs? Do they get annoyed when something good happens to one of their friends? Do they secretly hate their friends? Do they have friends? Do they start fights in nightclubs? I would take any of these measurements of a person over what they do for work. The question, ‘What do you do for work?’ should only ever be used as a qualifier if you’re trying to work out if your date is a serial killer or if you’re after an unhappy marriage followed by a divorce and drinking expensive wine alone in your cold, high ceilinged palace.

Now, I’m not pessimistic, in that I don’t believe these verbal baton beaters can be Earth shattering. Maybe they are super important and maybe their opinion on a Saturday night about coal or whatever else is indeed justified. But do we really need to hear it, us, of all people, the degenerates who don’t have professional jobs? It does kind of leave us shit out of luck. Don’t talk down on us because we can sit and drink a latté without getting up mid sentence to secure a million dollar deal over the phone.

Think of the children, people!

Aussie rock royalty.

Phil Jamieson Still 'Enjoying the Process'

Words Alasdair McClintock @aldothewriter Photo Tim Rogers

Only a handful of post-2000 Aussie muso’s can genuinely be called icons or national treasures, but Phil Jamieson is certainly one of them. Best known as the lead singer for the wonderfully enduring Grinspoon, he has finally taken the plunge and released his first solo full-length album, Somebody Else.

Now an ex-local, Phil caught up for a brief yarn with The Beast, to chat about the album and his upcoming solo tour with band mates Davey Lane, Sam Raines and Rob Muiños. Unfortunately his Sydney show will have passed by the time this goes to print, but you will still be able to catch him at The Big Bonanza in Coffs Harbour on November 4 (which actually has a pretty decent line up).

“I wrote a song about toast this morning,” Phil confessed, when asked whether he had found finally releasing these songs cathartic. “I can’t help but write songs in my head the whole time, often just to annoy my kids. So, while I’m elated and excited to get the record out there, I would have also been happy having them for myself, putting them on after a few wines at dinner and having my friends tell me they’re either shit or that they love them.”

Phil has dabbled with a solo career for years, with some of the ‘new’ material on Somebody Else predating his foray into musical theatre in the Australian stage production of American Idiot. It has just taken a while to build up enough steam to put out an album. “The collective fear and loathing which has gone into releasing this has sometimes seemed insurmountable,” Phil said.

The result is a delicate balance of rock and pop, with a short serve of eight songs that get under your skin with their catchiness and stay in your head for days. While there are many of the familiar hallmarks that make Grinspoon’s catalogue so great, there is also a clear point of difference and joie de vivre that ensures they are uniquely Phil Jamieson.

Jamieson sounds like he is having fun, but he bristled ever so slightly at the suggestion. “It sounds like something you’d say to a kid after their school play,” he laughed, but he did admit he enjoyed the process and is looking forward to taking it on the road, as a more mature and professional version of the artist he once was.

“Having been a young man in a rock band where, let’s face it, it was all about myself, I have learned to be immensely grateful for the people who have gone and paid fifty dollars to see me perform … Thanks for listening regardless, I hope you get a kick out of it.”

You can listen to Somebody Else now on all the usual suspects and keep up to date on gigs via Instagram @philjamieson.