ZE BAREBACK DJ'S WELL-SPOKEN YOUNG MEN, ON THEIR MUSIC, & FINALLY, HOW THEY GOT THEIR NAME...


AH YES...
THE BAREBACK DJs
(Also known as Cut Snake)
Two years ago, Paul Fisher and Leigh Sedley, were just two Australian pro surfers, livin' the dream,surfing great waves around the world, and all this while constantly being surrounded by gorgeous Reef girls. What more could a guy possibly want?
Well all of this was soon to change, one fateful eve when their team manager, for no good reason at all, left them in charge of the Reef house in Hawaii... 
Paul and Leigh explain their road from early mornings on the beach in Hawaii & South Africa to late nights in dingy nightclubs in an interview that will give you the perfect introduction to these little late night music-rompers.
If you cant sit through it THE WHOLE THING (WHICH YOU SHOULD IF YOU HAVE TIME BECAUSE ITS HILARIOUS), MAKE SURE YOU WATCH Fisher's story at
7 minutes 31 seconds.....
THESE BOYS CURSE MORE THAN THIS GIRL SAYS "LIKE", & SOMEHOW,  ITS ENTIRELY ENDEARING.
such a great interview WITH THE  GOTTA DANCE DIRTY BOYS...I'm CRYING FROM LAUGHING.........
 AWESOME. 
You can download a lil' mixtape for the ol' powerwheels below...

BAREBACK DJ's/Cut Snake MIXTAPE:

Mmm Hmm by Bareback /Cut Snake






COACHELLA LINEUP!

Yeeeeeeeehaw! 
This year I am bringing ear plugs & a darling eye mask a-la Breakfast @ Tiffany's; I am determined to hit REM cycles at least twice this weekend!

TEXT-fall-io

oh this is just FANTASTIC:
"so then, I was like: "NO, Charlotte Russe is NOT like Gucci, hahaha!! What, have you like never looked around you or been to a MAHLLL-LLL-AH!" *splash*

the TWITTERING machine

I have been revisiting some OLD memories tonight from a girlhood spent painting lines in colors and spinning shapes on a wheel in a damp basement studio in Buffalo New York with tangelo orange shag rug & cold cement walls.
Summers whendayyyys werespent museum-hoPping with my beautifulartist mother.  I was remembering thestark white walls of the Albrite Knox museum where she would walk with the purpose and certainty of a womanwho could educate theworld about anypainting orsculpture you so much glanced at, and I wandered with lighttoes and a deep curiosity while I tried to absorb herknowledge via some form of art osmosis. As she clickady clacked down the halls of whatevermuseum we were in, in whatever awesome sparkly shoes she was rocking at the time, my eyes never stopped bouncing from one painting to another. a Victor Vasarely that made me dizzy,an elegant Degas in the center of an otherwise emptyroom, to the high strung female guard combing the shuffling room with nervous eyes darting from one dormant camera bag to the next.

I fell in love with a few little masterpieces during those years, and  I was trying to remember the name of an old favourite of mine, and, when it dawned on me a minute ago, it gave me a niiiiiice littlebelly giggle...

The Twittering Machine . Paul KleeOil transfer drawing, watercolor and ink on paper with gouache and ink borders on board

Gnashing on: My cheeks
Sippin' on: Apple juice
Listening to: the overflow of sounds from Leigh's rusty Seinnheisers next to me in bed-he must be making a new song. .  .  .    .     .

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the TWITTERING machine

I have been revisiting some OLD memories tonight from a girlhood spent paintings and spinning on a wheel in adamp basement studio in Buffalo New York with atangelo orange shag rug & cold cement walls.
Summers whendayyyys werespent museum-hoPping with my beautifulartist mother.  I was remembering thestark white walls of the Albrite Knox museum where she would walk with the purpose and certainty of a womanwho could educate theworld about anypainting orsculpture you so much glanced at, and I wandered with lighttoes and a deep curiosity while I tried to absorb herknowledge via some form of art osmosis. As she clickady clacked down the halls of whatevermuseum we were in, in whatever awesome sparkly shoes she was rocking at the time, my eyes never stopped bouncing from one painting to another. a Victor Vasarely that made me dizzy,an elegant Degas in the center of an otherwise emptyroom, to the high strung female guard combing the shuffling room with nervous eyes darting from one dormant camera bag to the next.

I fell in love with a few little masterpieces during those years, and  I was trying to remember the name of an old favourite of mine, and, when it dawned on me a minute ago, it gave me a niiiiiice littlebelly giggle...

The Twittering Machine . Paul KleeOil transfer drawing, watercolor and ink on paper with gouache and ink borders on board

Gnashing on: My cheeks
Sippin' on: Apple juice
Listening to: the overflow of sounds from Leigh's rusty Seinnheisers next to me in bed-he must be making a new song. .  .  .    .     .

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