Thursday Night Jam: Courtney Barnett, “Elevator Operator”
I love Courtney Barnett, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. She makes hard-rockin’ music with a great sense of humor, and that’s the way to my heart.
Taken from the LP: “Sometimes I Sit And Think, And Sometimes I Just Sit” - out through Milk! Records, House Anxiety/Marathon Artists and Mom+Pop
Order “Sometimes I Sit And Think, And Sometimes I Just Sit”: http://courtneybarnett.com.au/buy/
Join the Milk! Records mailing list for all the latest on Courtney Barnett http://www.milkrecords.com.au
Follow:
http://po.st/FacebookCB
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http://po.st/InstagramCBStarring (in order of appearance)
Sleater-Kinney
Glory! Bangs
Courtney Barnett
Bones Sloane & Dave Mudie
Magda Szubanski
Tim Rogers
The Finks
Tweedy
The Drones
Garret and Will Huxley, Gabi Barton
Sunny Leunig
Vincent Juggernaut
Tain Stangret
Izzi Goldman and John
Nicholas & Thea Jones
Batpiss
Loose Tooth
Camp Cope
Jo Syme (Big Scary)
East Brunswick All Girls Choir
Paul Kelly
Michael Leunig
Meaghan Weiley, Jess Tyler, Thommy Taranto (Milk! Records)
Jen Cloher
Fraser A. Gorman
Ouch My Face
Marni Kornhauser & Radar RadDIRECTOR: Sunny Leunig
DOP: Matt Wood
PRODUCER: Emma Haarburger
ASSOCIATE PRODUCER: Danielle Thiris
ASSIST CAMERA: Anthony Rilocapro
ART DIRECTOR: Marni Kornhauser
ART DEPT: Josephine Wagstaff, Sarah Hopper
GAFFER: Thommi Hacker
BEST GIRL: Hannah Palmer
GRIP: Fraser Lever
COLOURIST: Matt Wood
VFX: Tristan Mclachlan
EDITOR: Sunny Leunig
MAKEUP/COSTUME Selena Pretzel, Lou Mclaren
DRONE OP: Christopher Lansell
SOUND: Sunny Leunig, Mark Mitchell, Jack Pender
STILLS: Helga LeunigThanks to: John and Izzi at the Nicholas Building, Joel Barnett, Brad @ Phoenix Post, Katie Saava, Pippa Martino
LYRICS
Oliver Paul, twenty years old, thick head of hair worries he’s going bald. Wakes up at a quarter past nine, fare evades his way down the 96 tram line. Breakfast on the run again, he’s well aware he’s dropping soy linseed Vegemite crumbs everywhere.Feeling sick at the sight of his computer he dodges his way through the Swanston commuters. Rips off his tie, hands it to a homeless man, sleeping in the corner of a Metro bus stand. He screams “I’m not going to work today! Gonna count the minutes that the trains run late. Sit on the grass building pyramids out of Coke cans.”
Headphone wielding to the Nicholas Building, he trips on a pothole that’s not been filled in. He waits for an elevator, 1 to 9, a lady walks in and waits by his side. Her heels are high and her bag is snakeskin. Hair pulled so tight you can see her skeleton. Vickers perfume on her breath, a tortoise-shell necklace between her breasts. She looks him up and down with a Botox frown, he’s well used to that look by now.
The elevator dings, and they awkwardly step in, their fingers touch on the rooftop button…
“Don’t jump little boy, don’t jump off that roof, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you you’re still in your youth, I’d give anything to have skin like you!”
He said, “I think you’re projecting, the way that you’re feeling, I’m not suicidal just idling insignificantly. I come up here, for perception and clarity, I like to imagine I’m playing Sim City. All the people look like ants from up here, and the wind’s the only traffic you can hear” He said, “All I ever wanted to be was an Elevator Operator can you help me please?!”
“Don’t jump little boy, don’t jump off that roof, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you you’re still in your youth, I’d give anything to have skin like you!”
