Hey Frankie is music for the soul. With eclectic funk overtones and smooth bass lines that stretch out for days, the band melds the rich and sultry vocals of Jess Palmer with an electronic sensibility that just begs you to shuffle your feet. The perfectly metered doses of neo-soul give Hey Frankie a potent identify: you hear the raw, gravely sounds of Amy Winehouse, balanced by a earthy self assuredness of India Arie. Its influences work to create a wide and exciting sonic landscape, and the instrumental mastery exhibited by this bright young group gives a sense of what there is to come.
Hey Frankie reaches into your heart cavity and switches on your life switch – next time they’re playing, be there and see for yourself.
Check out the official Hey Frankie website & facebook pages, as well as their first EP I See You.
Jess Palmer // Vocals
Nick Marks // Keyboards
Matt Hayes // Bass
Daniel Berry // Drums
Ryan Lim // Guitar
Hey Frankie @ Revolver, 2014.
The many facets of the interwebs constantly provide never ending sources of inspiration. But none more so than the glorious, delectable and scrumptious food blog. As an avid baker, my shelves heave and sigh with the weight of the many recipe books I have acquired over the years, each with a number of pages lovingly splattered with some kind of floury residue. But I’m always collecting new culinary ideas, and lately finding the perfect breakfast bowl seems to have surpassed all other quests. And what better place to be inspired but the internet? So without further ado, here is a current list of some of my most favourite foodie blog finds:
The Local Rose
Shiva Rose is beauty personified, and her blog and recipes nimbly harness her brightness and wonder for life. As well as zesty superfood recipes, her website also includes health and home remedies to help balance, heal and harmonise.
Dishing Up the Dirt
Andrea’s genuine love for the food she farms explodes with every gorgeous recipe found on her blog. From dreamy smoothies to mouth watering pizza combinations, you’re sure to find something to get you revved up for your next cooking adventure.
In Sonnet’s Kitchen
Sonnet, a certified holistic health coach, has been food blogging since the golden days of 2010. Her website is a treasure chest of energy concoctions, paleo, gluten-free, vegan and vegetarian gems. I especially appreciate how “Dessert” is strategically (and accurately) listed under “Breakfast”.
Keepin’ It Kind
Vegan partners Kristy and Chris spread their passion for nutritious, healthy living with such zeal that it’s impossible not to get caught up in their contagious energy. Their recipes are simply put- mouthwatering. I mean, vanilla almond fig granola parfaits with blood oranges…. enough said.
Carly was bathed in a thick, warm darkness. It was not an uncomfortable darkness, but one that was vaguely stifling – the air was dry as a bone and there was a deep and persistent reverberation buzzing through the air. Though her eyes were still closed, her thoughts were slowly coming into focus, the heavy fog that had permanently enveloped her over the past few days grudgingly lifting.
As her consciousness slowly surfaced, she gradually became aware of her body. Her limbs ached with a dull, pulsing beat. She could not exactly tell what part of her being was hurt or injured, because everything was reduced to a crude and unforgiving pain that bled into itself at every turn. Despite the physical agony, however, she doubted anything was broken. After last winter, when a specialist team had to be called into the estate to reset her broken tibia and attend to a fractured clavicle, Lawrence became a great deal more strategic in his beatings.
Eyes still closed, she gingerly tried to shift her position. She could tell she was lying down, a heavy blanket covering her body. As she tried to turn to her side, the pain slithering beneath her ribs intensified, a white light of pain burning through her torso. God damn it. Her jaw automatically clenched, and within seconds she tasted the warm, metallic taste of blood seeping from her left cheek.
Lawrence was pacing incessantly up and down the length of the master bedroom, his fingers twisted and gnarly by his side. He felt simultaneously liberated and trapped: the wrath pent up in his system expelled through his two hardened hands, yet the very burden of his actions leaving him empty and numb. His heels continued their mindless clicking on the hard wood floors as he rapidly shot a glance to the unmoving body by the foot of the bed.
Katerina had been more insolent than usual that evening, her fiery retorts catching him off guard and with more to prove. With her voice raised and eyes alight, she had begun packing a suitcase, throwing the items into it at blistering speed.
“And just where do you think you’re going?” he sneered at her when he first walked in, unimpressed by her dramatic performance.
Her eyes averted, she continued to fill her bags. “That’s the single most idiotic question you’ve ever asked me,” her voice dripped with translucent disdain.
He glared at her, the arrogant sneer quickly fading from his face. “What did you say to me, you contemptuous WRETCH” his voice rose several decibels alongside with his blood pressure. She ignored him, busying her hands with the last few pieces of clothing she needed, and then swiftly sidestepped him on her way to the bathroom. “Toiletries,” she muttered under her breath, “medication, toothbrush, mouthwash.”
Starring Isabelle, Neve, Ruby & Bella.
Listening to Tina Arena speak is a paradoxical experience – her spoken voice is velvety deep and her intonations are elegant, casually slipping into alluring French enunciations at every turn. But her words are often far from saccharine, and the fiery songstress is renowned for her unflinching bluntness and down-to-earth attitude.
“At forty-five years of age, the only thing I can do is put my heart and soul in it – it will either connect, or disconnect.” Her words are the perfect preface to RESET- an album that accentuates the frenetic yet rewarding journey the multilingual musician has experienced the past twelve years.
As a connoisseur of the love song genre, Arena’s prolific back catalogue of ballads has firmly entrenched her as one of Australia’s favourite songbirds. But despite her silken vocals and incomparable story-telling ability, she has enjoyed a tempestuous relationship with the Australian music industry.
After the resounding success of two #1 albums, Don’t Ask and In Deep, her follow up album, Just Me, experienced a largely lacklustre reception on the airways. The record labels grew inexplicably aloof, and for a while it appeared the fiery musician had fallen out of favour with the Australian public.
But Arena has rarely faltered when it comes to jumping unexpected hurdles, and embracing the French music scene and culture quickly propelled her to new heights. When Australia turned lukewarm the French became instantly infatuated, and Arena’s resultant rise to fame in Europe was swift and heady.
Charlotte Rampling and Dirk Bogarde.
From The Night Porter (1974).