Set list: "Louis Burdett," "Time," "Laugh in Their Faces," "I Get High," "Charlie #2," "Charlie #3," "Coming Up For Air," "Life's a Beach," "I Make Hamburgers," "Met My Match," "No Aphro," "Gough," "Melbourne," and "Following My Own Tracks."

There are quite a few Aussies in the audience this time, which again seems to raise the energy level. I notice that I'm singing along to every song while many of them aren't. Could it be that I listen to too much Whitlams? Nah! The guy next to me receives a reprimand from a publicist in a fabulous op-art dress for taking flash photos. Am thankful for high-speed film. Tim dedicates "Gough" to all the expats.

Notable quotes from Tim include an expression of relief at not having to try to speak French anymore. On his schoolboy French: "There's nothing sexy about trying and failing, is there?" I don't know about this. It depends upon what you're failing at. If I'd been a jeune fille québecoise and he tried to speak French with me, I'd have thought it pretty darned cute. Maybe I'm just biased. At another point he shares a rather backhanded compliment that they'd received and says in response, "It's nice to know we're fucking good for our price range!"

At some point Bill cracks a drumstick and throws it up to the front of the stage. Jude grabs it and waves it in a salute to him. He smiles. It's stamped "The Whitlams." Cool souvenir.

The show ends and we all cheer and clap, hoping to get them on for an encore. No dice--they have to clear the stage to make way for Big Rude Jake. We head toward the bar and merchandise table. Notice that several more people have signed the FOW book. We schmooze a bit with Alex and Ben by the bar.

Tim stands by the table and autographs CDs. I stand around for a few moments, waiting until he's taken care of the other folks before dumping my CD collection on him.

Me: Hi! Would it be obnoxious of me to ask you to sign all my CDs? Tim: (in 'oh, sure' tone) Yeah. (then in more of a teasing tone) Yeah, it would. (grins) Me: But the question is, will you do it anyway? Tim: (takes CD stack, looks through them) You don't have "Melbourne." Me: Actually, I do. And Stupor Ego, but I forgot them at home. But that's okay, I'll get you next time. (pause) I mean that in the nicest possible way, of course.

Tim graciously signs them all for me. I thank him and roam off to see if I can get Ben and Bill to do the same. Catch Ben over by the bar, lead him over to the table to sign them. He boggles at my stack of discs, swears that this is the largest number of CDs he's ever signed at once. Hope that's a good thing. Get club patron to take a picture of me, Jude, and Derek with Ben, who marvels a bit at my teeny Olympus camera. Let him go and go off to capture Bill for similar purposes.

Find Bill over in another corner, ask him if he'll autograph my albums as well. He obliges me, notes as he signs Undeniably that it's his favorite. Mine, too. I know that Bill and Ben aren't on most of the albums they've signed, but I don't care. Get a cute woman from Indian Motorcycle who's been chatting with Clayton to take a picture of the three of us with Bill and Clayton. Later take a picture of her with Clayton and promise to mail her a copy after processing.

Jude and I notice Tim nearby. Jude, half-joking, asks for a kiss. He won't kiss her, though he refuses nicely. He does agree to take a photo with us and unbuttons his black shirt to reveal a FOW t-shirt underneath. Derek and Jude and I line up with him, and Tim puts his arms around my shoulders and Jude's. Mmm. I certainly don't object to that. Picture taken, we thank him and the others for being good sports and start thinking about going home. They've been really nice to us the last three days, and we've taken up enough of their time, I think. Also, it's late and we have a long drive back to Boston.

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All text, photos, and illustrations by Laurie Brunner © 1999, EXCEPT the FOW T-shirt gif and FOW logo, linked from the Whitlams home page.