Originally published by Two Thousand in 2014
The year is 2003. I’m 18 and trying to see as many gigs as possible because I wasn’t able to see them before I turned 18 and maybe this privilege will be taken away from me at some point because the government or something. It’s a Friday night, my 5th gig for that week and I’m about a month away from getting glandular fever from going out too much.
I’m at the Hopetoun and watching a man in a pink shirt jump around on stage as he sings along to a backing track on his discman, yelling about nerds and sex parties. Two dancers accompany him, moving in unison and staring blankly while the pink shirted man hugs members of the audience, handing out roses and throwing glitter everywhere. His name is Spod, and I will watch him play about 50 times in the next year.
Spod’s debut album ‘Taste the Radness’ came out 11 years ago. After a month of it being out, I was banned from playing it on my radio show because apparently playing a song called Totally Rad three times a show was too much. Spod filled the gaps between the weirdo rock I loved growing up and the party rap I was falling in love with. It was like Ween writing songs for 2 Live Crew.
The year is 2014. I’m 29 and I go out of my way to not go to gigs. I just got a job that threatens my privilege of not going out all the time. The Hopetoun is long closed and Spod wears black now, rarely performing on any stage. His new album is called ‘Taste the Sadness’ and is a hilariously mopey reflection on his life’s slow decline after the sex party that was 2003.
Gone are the synths and drum machines, replaced with moody piano and slow acoustics. Totally Rad has become Totally Sad and Let’z Dance is now Last Dance. It’s still fucking hilarious, especially if you’re familiar with ‘Taste the Radness’, and even more especially if you too have swapped your pinks for blacks.
