Powderfinger's "All of the Dreamers" or I, for one, welcome our new Giant Rockstar overlords
If you've clicked in looking for a review of Bernard Fanning and co's new song to lifted from be released their seventh albums (SEVEN ALBUMS?!?!), then unfortunately you are to be disappointed. I have no griipes with the song, i actually think it's quite a decent rocking tune.
My problem is with the video for All of the Dreamers. Check it out below:
You see, it starts off all well and good. The five guys are in their hometown, in some unspecific corner, getting ready to busk out a tune. Sure, their amps are plugged into nothing and their backline is probably being mixed by the lord above, but who are we to judge them? It's a freaking free Powderfinger concert in the middle of Brisbane. And in addition, no-one's there to see them (highly unlikely in this day and age of twitter announcements saying "OMG SURPIZE 'FINGER SHOW AT RANDOM CNR COME SEE GUYZ!!!!111!!!11!), so whoever their audience is (the cameraman?) they're in for a treat.
And that's exactly what they get, until 57 seconds in. Then suddenly average-Bernard is now 30-foot-tall Bernard. And the rest of the band joins in as well, somehow gaining the ability to increase the size of their instruments (and if you got another message out of that, you have one dirty, dirty mind) as well. First they have the skill to create enough electricity to power their backline, now they can simply cause inanimate objects and themselves to grow at will? These aren't rockstars; these are freaking 50's horror movie characters!
Further evidence that this is not the same band that made Passenger and My Happiness comes at 1:28, when we clearly see a man looking out his window at the Godzilla like figure outside, moving away from his employed duties, probably to call the cops. That said, Fanning walks along the clearly undersized pedestrian crossing as he ventures Brisneyland in Super Mario mode. So maybe their is some humility in his heart, yet.
From 1:37 to 2:04 we see this conflict exasperated. People in buildings are stopping everything in fear for their sorry lives that Giant Powderfinger may well crush them with their bare hands. Whilst those commuting on the ground continue to commute. What is up, Brisbane? Yes, I know you're a strange place. But surely giant rockstars roaming amongst traffic is not an everyday occurrence? (And this is coming from someone who's city gave birth to the Presets).
This complacency doesn't stop there. By 2:35 the five members of the band collectively take up the entire Brisbane CBD. Surely, by now, things and people are getting destroyed by their sheer presence, creating irreversible damage to the Sunshine State's capital and thousands of casualties. Even if they have been that careful (and that light in terms of weight), the sound generated by the drums alone would be enough to shatter glass for miles, not counting the two guitars, bass and Fanning's unique scream-croon. All that said, why does nobody in this blasted city care that the apocalypse is nigh? Ironically, Powderfinger wrote a song about said situation on their last album.
At 3:06, it gets stranger and scarier. Not only do they grow ever larger, but they now take up the entirety of the Australian mainland. There are so many frightening facets of this: from the ability to breathe in the uppermost regions of our atmosphere to the ability to transport themselves from a coastal city to the middle of our nation in mere seconds.
If this video has taught us anything, it's that Powderfinger are not just one of Australia's biggest bands. No, they're monsters. And powerful ones at that. They can and will destroy us and everything we love and hold dear. There is no hope. All this, in a song that says that we'll be hung with "All of the dreamers".
Beware, Australia.
15/10/2009 My problem is with the video for All of the Dreamers. Check it out below:
You see, it starts off all well and good. The five guys are in their hometown, in some unspecific corner, getting ready to busk out a tune. Sure, their amps are plugged into nothing and their backline is probably being mixed by the lord above, but who are we to judge them? It's a freaking free Powderfinger concert in the middle of Brisbane. And in addition, no-one's there to see them (highly unlikely in this day and age of twitter announcements saying "OMG SURPIZE 'FINGER SHOW AT RANDOM CNR COME SEE GUYZ!!!!111!!!11!), so whoever their audience is (the cameraman?) they're in for a treat.
And that's exactly what they get, until 57 seconds in. Then suddenly average-Bernard is now 30-foot-tall Bernard. And the rest of the band joins in as well, somehow gaining the ability to increase the size of their instruments (and if you got another message out of that, you have one dirty, dirty mind) as well. First they have the skill to create enough electricity to power their backline, now they can simply cause inanimate objects and themselves to grow at will? These aren't rockstars; these are freaking 50's horror movie characters!
Further evidence that this is not the same band that made Passenger and My Happiness comes at 1:28, when we clearly see a man looking out his window at the Godzilla like figure outside, moving away from his employed duties, probably to call the cops. That said, Fanning walks along the clearly undersized pedestrian crossing as he ventures Brisneyland in Super Mario mode. So maybe their is some humility in his heart, yet.
From 1:37 to 2:04 we see this conflict exasperated. People in buildings are stopping everything in fear for their sorry lives that Giant Powderfinger may well crush them with their bare hands. Whilst those commuting on the ground continue to commute. What is up, Brisbane? Yes, I know you're a strange place. But surely giant rockstars roaming amongst traffic is not an everyday occurrence? (And this is coming from someone who's city gave birth to the Presets).
This complacency doesn't stop there. By 2:35 the five members of the band collectively take up the entire Brisbane CBD. Surely, by now, things and people are getting destroyed by their sheer presence, creating irreversible damage to the Sunshine State's capital and thousands of casualties. Even if they have been that careful (and that light in terms of weight), the sound generated by the drums alone would be enough to shatter glass for miles, not counting the two guitars, bass and Fanning's unique scream-croon. All that said, why does nobody in this blasted city care that the apocalypse is nigh? Ironically, Powderfinger wrote a song about said situation on their last album.
At 3:06, it gets stranger and scarier. Not only do they grow ever larger, but they now take up the entirety of the Australian mainland. There are so many frightening facets of this: from the ability to breathe in the uppermost regions of our atmosphere to the ability to transport themselves from a coastal city to the middle of our nation in mere seconds.
If this video has taught us anything, it's that Powderfinger are not just one of Australia's biggest bands. No, they're monsters. And powerful ones at that. They can and will destroy us and everything we love and hold dear. There is no hope. All this, in a song that says that we'll be hung with "All of the dreamers".
Beware, Australia.
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