29/08/2014
This is the Eulogy for Bluejuice written for and by Bluejuice.
We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Bluejuice – a band of misfits who played music the same way they walked their dogs: angrily screaming, naked, and smelling very obviously of Jameson’s. Some here will rejoice in their death, (“They were so ANNOYING, why don’t they F**K OFF, such GAY CUNTS”); while other, perhaps more good looking people, will lament this passing as a light snuffed out too soon.
Bluejuice were born in 2001, and let’s face it, they fu***ng sucked. They were an instrumental band at first, but that’s no excuse is it? Once Jake and Stav turned up things didn’t improve very much – but at least the pair gave the audience a focal point at which they could direct their antipathy.
Early Bluejuice were very different to the Bluejuice you know today. They were a hip-hop band, essentially, but were considered by the local hip-hop establishment as too weird and shouty. “Too weird and shouty” – it’s an opinion of the band that has lingered, but it’s an opinion that the band came to embrace and celebrate.
As the years progressed, and the urge to rap about how awesome they were subsided, the band found themselves writing actual songs, with singing in them and everything. Triple J listeners began to take notice and Bluejuice’s star began to rise (slowly). Over the next seven years, the band toured their balls off, fought each other constantly, threatened to break up 487 times, got arrested for various things, found it necessary to wear horrific costumes onstage, and even managed to write a few “hits” – as their manager liked to call them.
They will be remembered, not only as leotard-clad f**kwits, but also as men. Men who stood up and said: “It’s okay! It’s okay to be yourself! It’s okay to have a skin infection while you crowdsurf! It’s okay to autograph somebody’s sc***um! It’s okay to s**t the bed and then write a song about it! These things are all okay, when you do them with sincerity, hard work, and love”.
Vale Bluejuice. May your memory live on, may your Wikipedia page remain unvandalised, and may your yellow jumpsuits forever remain soft and dairy farm-fresh. You will be missed.