Mess+Noise story: ‘Covering Brisbane’s Sound’
This story originally appeared on Mess+Noise on 2 March 2010. View it there with a couple of dozen photos by Elleni Toumpas; a selection of her images from the night are embedded throughout this blog post.
Covering Brisbane’s Sound
ANDREW MCMILLEN reviews six Brisbane bands playing six Brisbane covers at the launch of local indie music compilation Brisbane Sounds on Saturday (February 27). Photos by ELLENI TOUMPAS.
For Brisbane indie music fans, few dates on the calendar are more highly regarded than the annual Brisbane Sounds launch. What began as a hobby for 25-year-old founder Blair Hughes in 2007 has since evolved into a full-time passion that’ll take him to international music industry conferences SxSW and The Great Escape in the coming months. Hughes - the recent recipient of a much-needed Brisbane City Council “microgrant” - otherwise self-funds the not-for-profit project, whose dual goals are to highlight the quality of independent music being produced within the “River City”, and to promote it on the world’s stage.
The former schoolteacher [pictured below] has proudly taken on the role of local music ambassador. “People of all ages should be coming out to gigs, purchasing local music and really supporting the artists that are part of their own backyard,” he told me ahead of the launch. “I just feel that in Australia, people view ‘local music’ as being substandard and unprofessional, when in fact our country has thriving local music scenes with artists creating quality music.”
Twenty-four such artists appear on Brisbane Sounds 2010 – a compilation disc sold online - and six of them performed at Saturday’s launch at The Zoo in the Fortitude Valley venue, where Hughes works the door several nights per week. Besides venturing overseas to spruik Brisbane’s diverse range of indie talent, he plans to promote the project throughout the year via a series of spin-off shows, a “pop-up music shop” in conjunction with Brisbane Marketing and a weekly stall at the popular West End markets to foster community awareness.
Between bands, a selection of choice cuts by notable local artists such as Powderfinger, The Go-Betweens, The Grates, An Horse and I Heart Hiroshima were played over the PA, while the hundreds in attendance inspected a portrait series by Brisbane music photography group Underexposed. In the spirit of the event, Hughes asked the bands – whose musical styles range from folk and grunge, to hip-hop and indie-rock - to each cover a song written by a Brisbane act during their set.
‘Birds & Elephants’ by Bigstrongbrute [listen to the original here]
Australian audiences are more receptive to contemporary folk instrumentation than ever, owing to a recent obsession with the likes of Fleet Foxes, The Middle East and Mumford & Sons. As a result, Lion Island are a surefire crowd-pleaser, and one of the brighter hopes of wider industry recognition to appear on the Brisbane Sounds 2010 compilation. Their robust sound encompasses banjo, trumpet, violin and six-strong sing-a-longs atop acoustic guitars and songwriting smarts. The band tip their hats to indie-pop act Bigstrongbrute - formed by Paul Donoughue as a solo project in 2006 - with a cover of ‘Birds & Elephants’. Instrumentally sparse but vocally strong, the band members’ appreciation for their friend’s creation is evident, as they recreate a song whose original recording gradually devolves into a joyous, off-kilter chorus of voices and clinking bottles.
‘Notice’ by Pink Services [listen to the original here]
With an appetite for distortion, grunge and teenage angst, Dirtybird - heir apparents to lauded locals Violent Soho - fulfil the garage rock quotient on tonight’s bill. Bassist/singer Dylan Briscoe’s wails are studious replicas of Bleach-era you-know-who, while guitarist Jordan Mengel exhibits an understanding of the instrument that ventures far beyond the genre’s stylistic simplicities. Dirtybird continue the trend of covering current-era Brisbane acts. In a reference that flies over the heads of most in attendance - myself included - the trio opt to play ‘Notice’ by fellow young-grunge purveyors Pink Services. In a final act of slightly-overdone rebellion, Briscoe rugby-tackles Mengel and drummer Harley Brown to end the set.
‘Know Your Product’ by The Saints [listen to the original here]
The Coalition Crew’s inclusion on the bill is a ballsy move by Hughes, whose diverse tastes are seemingly not shared by the majority of tonight’s crowd. Nevertheless, a vocal minority appreciate the band’s lively take on Aussie hip-hop with live instrumentation. Their cover choice is the most controversial of the night, and the band know it; the six-piece opt to play it straight down the line, with minimal stylistic embellishments. A trumpeter and saxophonist are drafted in to blow the signature melody, though their unfamiliarity with the source material is evident in their silence during the verses. Chris Bailey’s anti-consumerism screed is tonight delivered by bassist Toxic Al, while MC Yuin Huz hesitantly backs up the chorus. They’re out of their comfort zone - this much is clear - but they rise to a Brisbane classic with aplomb and respect. A shame that they’re met with minimal applause, however.
‘Alone’ by Custard [listen to the original here]
It’s telling that tonight’s crowd numbers peak with a performance by Grand Atlantic, the purest rock ‘n’ roll band on the bill. Telling of their influences, too, that they choose to cover ‘Alone’ by Brisbane pop geniuses Custard. Built around a killer vocal hook and a surging chord progression during the chorus, the quartet recreates the 1994 Wahooti Fandango cut with style and integrity. Situated among a selection of the band’s own creations, their uncomplicated approach to the genre suddenly make a whole lot more sense. In the context of Custard - led by David McCormack, who rates among the city’s finest pop songwriters - Grand Atlantic’s vision to follow in the footsteps of the greats (not to be mistaken with The Grates) is admirable.
‘Black Bugs’ by Regurgitator [listen to the original here]
A few shows shy of their 100th performance, The Cairos fly the flag of youthful exuberance alongside Dirtybird (minus the on-stage tackling). Their maturity as performers and songwriters continues to grow, though their songbook is not yet filled with enough reasons to distinguish them from other indie-rock luminaries on the national and world stage. For their cover, they ask a question that’s remained unanswered since it was first posed in 1997: “What’s at the end of Satan’s rainbow?.” The band’s suggestion that the Unit-era, Ben Ely-penned song is close to their hearts hints at a video game fascination, to which most in attendance can relate. Like many of the singles from Regurgitator’s triple-platinum classic, ‘Black Bugs’ is a stylish blend of synthesised pop music and alternative rock. The Cairos’ absence of a keyboardist prompts some amusing synchronised vocals to mimic the song’s final ascending melody.
‘Sich Öffnen’ by Not From There [listen to the original here]
It’s midnight by the time tonight’s headliners appear, and the crowd has thinned considerably - more likely due to their late slot, than any disrespect. It’s well-known that The Gin Club comprise some of the city’s finest current songwriters, including Ben Salter, whose ‘You, Me And The Sea’ was awarded the best folk song/ballad of 2008 at local industry body QMusic’s annual awards. The Club’s numbers vary from show-to-show. Tonight, they consist of five core members who trade instruments and vocal duties throughout the hour onstage.
All but Salter file off for their cover choice. “I don’t usually rely on cheat sheets for lyrics,” he warns, “but you’ll see why in a moment.” Then he launches into Not From There’s ‘Sich Öffnen’, a song written almost entirely in German, but for the bridge (”Watched you laugh/Watched you cry/Watched you fade away”). Once we get past the hilarity, it’s an endearing performance of a local classic by Salter, whose only misstep is a temporary inability to hit the required “awoo-woo-ooo-ooo-oohs” in the chorus. It’s a beautiful moment, and an apt cover with which to close a memorable night whose soundtrack stretches from the 1970s to today.
This story originally appeared on Mess+Noise on 2 March 2010. Photos by Elleni Toumpas.
Filed under Published Writing | Tags: blair-hughes, Brisbane, brisbane-sounds, dirtybird, elleni-toumpas, feature, grand-atlantic, lion-island, mess-and-noise, Music, Music writing, Published Writing, Review, the-cairos, the-coalition-crew, the-gin-club, the-zoo, Writing | Comment (0)Mess+Noise review: No Anchor, ‘Wolves Bite And Disappear’
No Anchor
Track: Wolves Bite And Disappear
1 Track (2009, Independent) [listen here]
An introductory cymbal roll heralds the lupine chase, while a lazy beat’s pace is quickened by the crashing of Alex Gillies’ cymbals. The protagonist’s tale of woe - “He runs through the forest, blood on his hands/Blood on his face/Blood on his clothes” - is sighed by Ian Rogers, before he erupts with four desperate, distorted repetitions of the song’s title.
Brisbane’s No Anchor affect a foreboding atmosphere of tension and release, compacted into barely two-and-a-half minutes. Released as a free download on the ‘They Don’t Know Unless You Tell Them’ compilation, ‘Wolves’ is the product of the band’s last recording sessions as a duo (as of late 2009, they’re operating as a dual-bass trio). With that in mind, Rogers’ double-tracked wattage during the song’s climax is a fearsome indicator of what’s to come. Two high-gain bass guitars playing the same part in unison is appealing enough on paper, but the resultant cacophony stuns the ears into paying attention.
This, I’m sure, is the intended response. Perhaps Rogers has always envisaged No Anchor’s bass parts mimicked by another; his fondness for double-tracking is evident throughout the band’s short recorded history. Now that it’s a thunderous, improbably beautiful reality - and content in the knowledge that this final outtake remains thrilling after 50 listens - I look to their future output with excitement, and some degree of fear for my ears. Which again, I’m sure, is the intended response.
[Published on Mess+Noise, 18 January 2010]
Filed under Published Writing | Tags: alex-gillies, Brisbane, ian-rogers, Music, no-anchor, Review, Writing | Comment (0)A Conversation Between Robert Forster and John Willsteed
This is a conversation between Robert Forster, co-founder of Australian pop band The Go-Betweens, and John Willsteed, formerly of The Go-Betweens. It took place in Brisbane’s Avid Reader bookstore on November 9, 2009 to promote Forster’s first book, The 10 Rules Of Rock And Roll, which is a collection of his music writing for The Monthly magazine between 2005 and 2009.
John: Hello there, I’m John Willsteed. Robert would like to do a song. [Forster plays 'Pandanus' from his 2008 album 'The Evangelist'; audio embedded below]
I met Robert a little over 30 years ago. This is the first time we’ve been on the stage, I think, in 22 years. It’s not a stage. It’s a book shop. It’s very interesting. I think it’s intriguing that there is music; I like music in a book shop like this; it’s fantastic. It’s the meeting of these two things, music and writing, that we’re here for, because we’re talking about the release of Robert’s book. Why don’t you tell us what these 10 rules are?
Robert: Alright, the 10 rules of rock and roll, which is the first section of the book and what the book is obviously named after, I’ll tell you them now.
- Never follow an artist who describes his or her work as dark.
- The second to last song on every album is the weakest.
- Great bands tend to look alike.
- Being a rock star is a 24-hour a day job.
- The band with the most tattoos has the worst songs.
- No band does anything new on stage after the first 20 minutes.
- The guitarist who changes guitars on stage after every third number is showing you his guitar collection.
- Every great artist hides behind their manager.
- Great bands do not have members making solo albums.
- The three-piece band is the purest form of rock and roll expression.
That’s the ten rules.
I think they’re contentious rules.
You can take umbrage with any you wish to do.
Rock and roll needs rules, and I’m glad that you’ve finally laid them down.
I like the idea of the two things coming together because rock and roll, theoretically, it’s supposed to have no rules. That’s what it is founded on, to an extent, or the myth is that it has no rules. Obviously, the point of the rules and the point of the book being named that is to bring these two things that normally don’t go together, rules and rock and roll, together.
Is it true that in writing about music, which is what you now do, that’s not saying you don’t continue to make music; you obviously do, but in writing about music, do you apply rules? Are they similar?
Yeah, one of them is I try not to put myself too much in each piece, or go to ‘I’, which is a great, great temptation. I pull myself out, because sometimes I have connections. In one of the pieces in the book, which is on Delta Goodrem, I review her last album Delta, and it’s her third album. I reviewed the album. I did that about two years.
What I don’t put in the article is that when The Go-Betweens were doing their second to last album, Bright Yellow, Bright Orange in 2004 in Melbourne in studio, she was in the studio. I didn’t know who she was because I’d lived over in Germany for a number of years.
You didn’t know who she was?
No. I’d lived over in Germany for a number of years, and she’d sort of come through Neighbours and things like that. I think she’d had one or two hits at this stage. It was a studio complex and we were in the main studio and she was in a room mixing a single with an engineer. When we were taking breaks from recording, we’d been out playing ping pong and she was sitting over on the piano. There was an old upright, a bit out of tune, and she’d sit and sing; not in any sort of flashy way, but a really nice way. She could play piano. She had a really good voice. It sounded really good.
I only found out who she was later, but she would sit there and play, not try and impress, just because she felt like she could do it for hours. I only discovered who she was at that moment and I only heard her records later, but a couple of years later when I came to hear her record and it seemed like an odd choice to review a Delta Goodrem album, I remembered that I’d had that experience. I didn’t put it into the review because I didn’t think it was needed. One rule is when to put myself in and out of the reviews.
I suppose an earlier rule, in a sense, then, is what to choose to review. How do you get to a point of choosing what you want to write about?
Perversely enough, it seems to be the ones that I think I know something about, or that I have personal experience with. A band like Franz Ferdinand, who I really liked, like right from the first album. They’re a Glasgow band. The Go-Betweens, in the very early ‘80s, were on a label called Postcard in Glasgow. We were around Glaswegian musicians like Orange Juice, Josef K, Aztec Camera; we knew these people.
And so when Franz Ferdinand, these sort of four Glaswegian arty, hipsters came along in 2005 with the great first album, I loved the album and I would have loved it if I hadn’t have known that they were from Glasgow, but the fact that they were just brought it a little bit closer. When I was thinking of an album to review, I reviewed their second one. I put that in a review and there is a paragraph about Glasgow. It’s just from personal experience. That is part of the thing; that I have a connection, that I think I know something about the record, or the concert, helps.
It doesn’t explain Delta Goodrem [pictured left] yet, though.
I always end up talking a lot about Delta.
We can let it go.
No, I’ll add to what I was saying. My niece had some of her records in the time between I’d seen her in the studio. She’d become a big star so I was aware of her and I actually quite liked a single of hers called “Born to Fly”, which I think is on her first or second album. If I had to choose ten great Australian songs over the last decade, I’d put Delta Goodrem’s “Born To Fly” in there. It’s a great MOR, big ballad. It’s a fantastic song, which she co-wrote, to her credit.
It seems like there would be a danger in reviewing when there was no connection, and that would be the point where there would be a danger of bringing yourself into what you’re writing, or purely being about the technicalities of what you’re listening to if there is no connection. I would imagine the connections go way back with you into your past. That’s the reason why you choose Nana Mouskouri, to not only to see but to write about, and Glen Campbell, to listen to and write about. Is that a fair thing?
It is, but at the same time, my ear and my eye goes to new things as well. Even something like Vampire Weekend, who I really like and I reviewed their debut album, and Vampire Weekend are 22 years old. I hear Talking Heads. It’s a New York band and I’ve loved New York bands since the Lovin’ Spoonful, the Velvet Underground, or New York Dolls, or Television. Vampire Weekend, although they’re 22 year olds and doing something really fresh, they go back. There is a myth about a New York band so that sort of plays in as well. I do try and have a sense of adventure in what I choose. I do try and not be predictable, which again plays to Delta, I guess.
I came across Robert’s writings by just subscribing to The Monthly when it started, just because it was a great magazine. It not only had good cultural reviews, but it had good political stuff in it. I was really pleased; there are some choices that I was really pleased with the way you wrote. It was very familiar to me, for some reason. Maybe there is a familiarity that comes from you as a lyric writer, and you as a critic. There is something in your language which resonates between those things.
There is a lot of me in what I write. I have a romantic view of rock and roll. I also have a sense of cynicism, perhaps. I know those two things don’t normally go together, but that helps me with my writing.
I think they’re very common bedfellows, romanticism, and cynicism.
I think people are passionate. I think people project fantasies onto bands and fantasies onto songs, and they always have. I think a lot of – and I’m not trying to do a critique of critics - but I think sometimes it can be quite dry. I think my feelings towards music are quite passionate, and I think people have records and songs that are all about a place, a time, and I think people are quite perceptive about music in terms of the structure of songs or choruses, or people just have a great knowledge about music and I think often reviewers don’t acknowledge that. I think also that there is a huge fantasy level. I think people do think about what it would have been like. When they hear a Velvet Underground record, they throw themselves into it in some bizarre way, or they hear a U2 record or whatever. I think people place themselves in those records.
When music arrives, there’s something about context. There is something about what you feel when you hear something. There are historical points that I can follow back in time. This music comes from these places. Do you think it’s your role to point some of that stuff out, as a critic?
I can’t help myself. Without sort of having a tone in what I’m write as though I’m lecturing, but when I hear a record, it does set off a sense of associations. Normally, even if I don’t put them down on paper, I follow those associations to see where they’re going to take me.
The beautiful associations, they kind of put music in a history of songwriting and music-making. I suppose it becomes more like the folk music that it is, rather than the pop music that it seems to be.
Exactly.
I am fantastic.
That was brilliant, John.
I’ve been bullshitting at the university now for a number of years.
It’s being taped by the way. You can try it in your lectures.
I found a typo on page 249, would you like me to –
Tell me later.
I wrote here, “There are things with which I concur.” Nash Chambers did a great job on that album [Rattlin' Bones, by Kasey Chambers and Shane Nicholson]. I’m really glad that you point things out like that sometimes, that people who were listening to something might not necessarily think in that way, and they might not necessarily look to a producer and think this person is intrinsic to this process. The reason I love listening to this thing is it’s not just about the song or the singer, but it’s about the way things sound, as well.
I think with Nash Chambers, who is Kasey Chambers’ brother and he’s a record producer in Australia, where I think there is a lack of great record producers. When I hear one and I think he does good work, it’s like fairly country/alternative country field, but he makes really good records as a producer. When something like that happens, I like to mention it and he’s just done the new Angie Hart album, the former Frente singer, so he’s sort moving more now into pop, in a way. People are starting to see that can produce records, because his records are so well put together in a country context, that they could work in a pop context.
[More “things with which I concur”] The Monkees are up there with the Velvets and the Beach Boys. Rick Rubin could be that caretaker at the caravan park. I think he probably is the caretaker at the caravan park.
I have an observation. I’m full of observations. I’m really pleased that you wrote specifically about a song and specifically about “Have You Ever Seen the Rain?” which I really love. It reminds me that you have a song called “Clouds” that I played guitar on. We both played guitars together. That song was in my mind as always being about the same sort of rhythm as what is in “Have You Seen the Rain”. I just really love the fact that you can pick a little thing like that and say this thing here is embedded, this rhythm can move from song to song, and generation to generation. Would you like to play another song?
I will. I just want to say something about Creedence Clearwater Revival. There is a bit in the book, one page, where I wrote I was asked by The Sunday Times in London to write about song. I wrote about “Have You Ever Seen the Rain” by Creedence Clearwater Revival. Creedence, to me, have always been a touchstone for what I’ve done, as you pointed out, because to me they’ve always been a little bit like a Brisbane band.
There is something about their rhythm and hearing Creedence in Brisbane; Creedence sounds different in Brisbane than it does in Sydney or Melbourne. Driving around in the car in Brisbane and hearing Creedence, to me they sound like a local band. I think it’s just that rhythm, the easiness of the music, the realness, the funkiness of it just… they always sound like they come from, like Toombul, or Nundah, to me.
What’s wrong with that?
Nothing, it’s a compliment! I sort of see them down by the canal there.
On the way to the airport, hanging out under the railway line. It’s a good point. Creedence are at home in Brisbane. Are there other bands that are at home in Brisbane, do you think?
Not so much as Creedence. A famous band – my other theory is that Brisbane reminds me a lot, now, of LA in the ‘60s; the climate and the layout of the city. Especially when I’m at The Gap, where we live, I half-expect to go down to the shopping center and see The Byrds.
Not that Hitchcock sort of thing.
No! There’s actually a photo in the latest edition of Mojo that has just come out. There is this big photo, double-page photo of Brian Wilson in 1965 or 1966. I pointed it out to Karin, my wife, last night. He’s got a baseball bat and he’s on a concrete front drive, and behind it is just a really dry hill. There are these funky sort of ‘60s low-set houses and cars on the street, and you would swear it was on the back streets of Brookfield, or The Gap. It’s amazing. I’ve often thought The Gap is like L.A. in 1965, and then I see Topanga Canyon and the whole thing. This is the fantasy we live out there!
You’ve gotta have something!
I know, and I saw this photo and it was like: evidence, there it is. Anyway, I’ll play a song. [Forster plays 'He Lives My Life' from The Go-Betweens' 2000 album, The Friends Of Rachel Worth. It's embedded below, but note this is not his performance from the bookstore.]
I love Fiona’s shop [Avid Reader] and always have. You talked before about how there are connections between writing songs and writing words. My memory of you is that you were always a letter writer, as well. I don’t know whether that’s true or not. I just have an abiding memory of you writing letters home at a time when there was no email, and phone calls were expensive when we were traveling. Is there a progression? Do you feel that writing in this way isn’t something you would have done 20 years ago, but at this point in your life this is the right time for this? If so, is there a place with writing where you’re heading? Is this part of your journey now?
Very good question.
Thank you.
I’m happy to do reviewing at my age. I think I’d have been unbearable if I’d have had this power and this access when I was 28. I think I would have been unbearable and I would have shot myself in the foot and I would have been going all over the place. I’m pretty happy that it’s come. I started reviewing when I was 48. It’s actually a good time for me to be doing this.
It was a leap. I keep a diary and I keep books that last about a year and a half, filled with everything, like poems, what I did that day. I don’t write in it every day, but it’s a real mish mash that I keep, that I have these books. There are a lot of starts over the years, like a fantasy, it was a novel – or short story. I’d read it the next day and put it away. There are all those starts, and in a way, when I started to write for The Monthly it was great because it was nonfiction.
I found I could write these paragraphs for these reviews. Right from the first review, when I sat down and wrote the very first review on Antony and the Johnsons album, I found that I could write paragraphs and live with them the next day, and keep on writing, and then live with what I wrote the next day, which is something I could never do with anything else I ever wrote in terms of fiction and short stories.
So there is a real freedom in that, then?
There is, and amazingly enough, I’ve always been – I was blind to it, but I’ve always been a non-fiction reader. Whenever I come to a book shop, it’s biography, history; I’ll read anything. Some of my favorite books are just off-beat; Sammy Davis Jr.’s first autobiography, Gloria Swanson’s autobiography, Swanson on Swanson. This sort of stuff, I’ll read. I lent you a book on Willem de Kooning, which you gave back to me…
I didn’t read it.
You looked at the pictures.
I didn’t even look at the pictures. It was a door stop.
You sat on it maybe as a cushion? [laughs] I’ll read a really thick book on Willem de Kooning, that’s got really good reviews. I’ll read that, and I have a passing interest in his art, but I love the story and things will come out to me that will be a lot like de Kooning, one of the great 20th Century artists; he didn’t have his first solo show until he was 45. I found that amazing. I found that enriching, and a great fact to know. I’ve always been a biography reader so it’s really no surprise that I enjoy dealing in facts with a little bit of imagination as opposed to, you know, “Cecilia Page lived down at Redcliffe Pier and had 15 children…”. I don’t just leap off into a story. It seems beyond me.
The biography thing, one thing I particularly like in the book is the Normie Rowe piece, which is one of two pieces of fiction in the book. The other piece of fiction is quite light, and almost a little folly, or something. I feel like the Normie Rowe thing I really quite substantial in some ways, yet at the same time, it’s almost a mock-autobiography or something. Is that something that you think you would pursue more?
I do, I can imagine writing an ‘I’ - first person biography - that you would think would be my life, but would be entirely someone else’s life. I like playing with that idea. I’ve got another one that is similar to “The Coronation of Normie Rowe”, which is in the book, called “Art World”, which places me as an artist in New York. And I know Robert Hughes, and I’m painting people up on the Upper West Side, and I have nothing to do with the downtown art scene. I started [writing] this, and it has nothing to do with my life, but I do all of this and I’m hanging out with people, and they’re real names, so that it feels real and that it’s historically correct, but the whole thing is a pretense. And I like that.
I like that too. I’d read that, unlike that Willem de Kooning book! That’s great. There was something else I was thinking. It’s a bit like a song, in a way.
It is. With my songwriting, it stays quite close to what I do. I don’t have any songs like ‘Eleanor Rigby‘. There isn’t anything like that in anything other than my back catalogue. There is nothing. I have to be careful with this because I’m scared that I’m just throwing my life at people all the time, so I try and disguise it and play with a little bit so it’s not just one long 30-year confessional. I try to play with it. I don’t really do leaps off into characters.
One of the pieces that was in The Monthly, reasonably recently, was a review of the two David McComb books. Would you like to talk about him, and those for a minute? That was a beautiful piece. I really liked that.
David McComb from The Triffids [pictured right]. Amazingly enough, they were one band that Grant and I, in the late ‘70s, we didn’t feel like there was any other band in Australia that was really close. We read about in Ram Magazine or something – this is 1979 or 1980 - about this band over in Perth who were into The Velvet Underground and Dylan, and also Talking Heads and Television, and Grant and I went “okay!” This is years before we met them. We had a feeling about the band before we starting playing shows with them.
We played a lot of shows in Australia with The Triffids when they lived in Sydney in the early ‘80s. I wasn’t really all that close to David. I played tennis with his brother Robert, and that’s a strange way. I guess it’s history now, but you play tennis with Robert McComb, the brother, and I was a lot closer to him than I was to David, although David was the other songwriter in a band like myself.
Yeah, not particularly easy to know, either. He was a little aloof.
Yeah, he was, but I liked David a great deal. There’s a book about David McComb called Vagabond Holes, and I write a remembrance of it. It’s based on three songs. I once ran into David on the streets of Darlinghurst in 1983, ’84. The Triffids had just put out a record, I think it was an EP, and it had a song called “Red Pony” on it, which I loved. When I ran into David, it was very early in Darlinghurst Streets. I’ll play “Darlinghurst Nights” next.
I ran into David on the street at about 8:00 in the morning and I said to him how much I liked “Red Pony”, if he’d show it to me on guitar. I was at a house about two days later and he knocked on the door and he had a guitar. He played me the song and it was a beautiful moment that he just remembered, and he came around, and he found out where I was, and he played me this song.
There was a drunken party about three years later in London. It was a drunken party and I was drunk, and I went up to David and they’d just put out ‘Born Sandy Devotional‘ and I said, “I really love ‘Wide Open Road’. Would you play it to me sometime? He said, “Now!”. We walked into a bedroom, this crazy ‘Australians in London’ party, and he just sat on the bed and I sort of crouched down and he played me ‘Wide Open Road’ on a guitar. Then it was like, “Okay, we can go back to the party.”
I was just watching his hands. I can’t play it now, but it was these big strummy chords. And the third song is in 1995 or 1996 I was playing down in the Continental Café, which is a venue down in Melbourne. He was DJing that night and I was playing acoustically by myself. I knew David was DJing on that night, and just before I went on he played this song called “Mississippi” which is off an album and he and I both loved. It’s by John Phillips from the Mamas & The Papas, who put out a great solo album called “Wolf King of L.A.”, which he wrote a biography many years later which he devoted half a page to this record. It’s a fantastic solo record. I love the record and so does David. We used to talk about it. He played a song from it just before I went on stage, which was a really lovely “hello”.
That night, after the end of that show, ’95-’96, I was staying at a hotel in town and he and his girlfriend drove me into town because I was going to get a taxi and he and his girlfriend said, “No, we’ll drive you into town.” We went into the city and I got out of the car to say goodbye and said I’d take my bags, thanks for driving me into town. I walked around the back of the car, and I got my guitar – this guitar, actually – and my bag out, and David was standing there. I said, “Thank you for dropping me off, thanks for DJing, thanks for playing ‘Mississippi’” and he got in the car, and that was the last time I ever saw him. He died about three years later, but he was great.
I’ll play ‘Darlinghurst Nights’, dedicated to David McComb. [From the 2005 album'Oceans Apart'. I couldn't find a video of the song, unfortunately.]
John: Maybe I should open it up a bit and invite questions. I’ve talked enough. Would anybody like to ask Robert a question?
Audience: My name is Jenny Watson, and I did the album art for [The Go-Betweens album] ‘Send Me A Lullaby’ [pictured left]. Robert, I want to ask a question about when you walked into my flat and saw those small canvas paintings, and I’d only had five exhibitions and you said, “You’re doing our next album cover”. Are you usually that decisive in your business dealings? Because you were more decisive than any top-notch art dealer, I can tell you!
Thank you, Jenny. I try and follow my instincts. That has got me into trouble at times.
John: Are you impetuous?
Not impetuous, but it’s like the idea of Brisbane is LA 1965, 1966; how far do you take that?
John: All the way, baby!
Oh well, it can get you into trouble and you can find that you’re trying to do something that the rest of the world doesn’t understand, which could be difficult. No, I try and – also the other thing is when I see great work before me, I always hope that I recognise it. I did on that circumstance, and I try and do that whenever I can.
John: It’s a big thing, isn’t it, Jenny, having some of your work put on somebody’s album cover and spread around the world.
Jenny: It was fantastic. It was in a book called ‘The Best 500 Record Covers in Rock and Roll’. Thanks for the publicity!
John: Anybody else have a comment, statement, or a question?
Audience: I’m really interested in the fact that the writing in this book is so beautiful. Just if you pick it up and read the first essay, you’ll realise that you’re in the hands of a master writer here. Stuart Glover, who is head of creating writing at the University of Queensland, said exactly the same thing. I wonder when you said that you will read any non-fiction; do you have non-fiction work that you won’t read? Do you have a filter where you say the writing has to be of great quality, or is it just the subject for you?
No, there has to be quality with it. A great biography writer is someone like Richard Elman, who wrote a very good book on Oscar Wilde, and James Joyce. He’s one of the masters. John Richardson, at the moment, is writing a great biography. It’s his third volume on the life of Picasso. They’re fantastic books. There has to be a certain standard to keep me there, but I think it can also go – and something that I’ve always been interested in, is going-high brow and low-brow. It’s not indiscriminate taste, but I see value broadly, but there is a limit. I do have an autobiography of Shaun Cassidy, which I bought at an art shop, which I refuse to read. This was published in the mid ‘70s. I don’t touch it.
Knowing you have it is enough.
It is.
No Alain de Botton, any of that sort of stuff?
No, no.
What about the Dylan book? That’s an interesting autobiography, isn’t it?
‘Chronicles‘? Yeah, I leapt on that, and that is a great book. In a rough way, I template if and when I write something that’s biographical about myself; that would be a book that I would always have in mind. I think Dylan’s done an astounding job on that book.
There is something surprising about it, in that style.
It is.
Would you like to be that unpredictable, I suppose, or it’s not impetuous.
No, I think if I did write – I wouldn’t write my autobiography, I don’t think, but if I wrote something biographical I think I would have to, in a way, break the mold or play with the form the same way I have done with The Monthly, the same way I have with that song I just played, “Darlinghurst Nights”, which doesn’t really conform to many rules as a song. It’s melodic and has a sense of poetry and information giving about it, which are all important to me, but if I did write something like that, then I would like to certainly play with the form. It’s not going to start, “It was a blue day in Brisbane in the 29th of June, 1957 when Robert Forster came into the world.” I can’t do that.
I’d buy that. Do you ever feel like you have nothing to say? Sometimes, do you ever feel, “I have nothing to say”?
No, unfortunately I don’t find myself in that position.
John: That was very quick. [laughs] Anybody else out there have a question?
Audience: On ‘Darlinghurst Nights’, I want to thank you, because that’s such an evocative song. Thank you for playing it. As a long-term resident of Darlinghurst in those years, I saw the Go-Betweens play their first show there in 1980, at the Paris Theatre, where Grant played with his back to the audience most of the night.
Really? See, this was the first show that the Go-Betweens ever played in Sydney at the Paris Theatre in 1980. The Paris Theatre has now been demolished. The bill for this night was The Go-Betweens on first, the Laughing Clowns on second, and The Birthday Party on third. It was a great bill. We’d actually headed down by train – Lindy [Morrison], Grant [McLennan], myself - and we went to the back of the Paris Theatre. We didn’t know anyone and we sat in the stalls in the darkness and watched the Birthday Party and the Laughing Clowns [half of the band pictured right] sound check.
We were completely spooked. We just wanted to crawl out of that theatre and get back on the train and come back to Brisbane. We stayed and played, but I did a signing yesterday in Newtown and I met someone else – the first time, in almost 30 years, I met someone that was at that show. That’s the first time in 30 years, and now you’re the second. That’s amazing.
John: I’m surprised you remembered.
Was there a question? I’m sorry, I’ve just taken off.
Audience: I’m glad to hear that. I’ve just wondered if you’d been to Darlinghurst in recent years, and what it evokes today when you go there?
I have been. It’s quite different because in the early ‘80s, the roads coming up on the hill, like Taylor Square, a street going down to Williams Street. Crown Street had one-way traffic that was like a blitz going through all hours of the day. There is a lot more traffic, life, and noise in Darlinghurst. I’ve been there 5 years ago and it was very quiet. Is it better or worse? I don’t know, but it was the early ‘80s when we were there. It was very active, and there were a lot of people that I knew living around that area.
Audience:Two weeks ago I walked from Central up through to Taylor Square, through all these old streets and lanes that I used to walk through. It’s very quiet now. It’s quite dull, really.
It is. There used to be “No-Names”, the restaurant, but it used to be the place outside The Cross in Sydney where you could get a coffee. Reggio…?
Audience:Reggio is still there, I think.
They used to sell very, very strong coffee there that would keep you up for about three days. A lot of people create a lot of work on this; it was high-octane coffee. It was like one or two cups of this stuff and you’d honestly be chain smoking ten cigarettes and you’d be up for about three days.
John: Babbling in Italian.
Ed Kuepper used to drink a lot of those! A lot of Laughing Clowns material was written on this coffee that Ed was drinking down there.
John:I gave up alcohol and drugs at one point, and the thing that I survived on for the next few years was ‘duplos’, like double, short, blacks from Darlinghurst. I didn’t mean to say that thing about the, you know, with the ‘D’… Has anybody else got any questions they might like to ask?
We’ll make this the last question.
Audience:It’s kind of two questions. Is there something you won’t review, and also how did you make the selection for what when into this book?
There are things I won’t review. I was very wary of Australian artists for the first two or three years when I was reviewing for The Monthly. I was almost scared. If you look at the reviews that I did in The Monthly for the first couple of years, a lot of it is overseas. It’s almost like I was careful and as I said before, I didn’t want to come in with this ‘boots ‘n’ all’ attitude.
I feel a lot more comfortable with it now, like this year I wrote a big review on Paul Kelly’s double CD about his career, which I would have never done the first two years. I wouldn’t have had the confidence. It was quite natural. I saw the record in Rockinghorse, on the wall, and I went, “I can do that,” which I wouldn’t have been able to do before. There are certain areas I don’t go within Australian music because I know the people and I don’t really want to go there. What’s the second part of the question?
Audience:How did you make the decision for what when into the book?
Some of the things I left out were the reviews I wrote in the first year. I re-read them and I think I started settling into a rhythm about eight months in, where I thought I was writing well. I started to keep them. There is not much from the first eight months. I dropped quite a few things. I think also, at that stage, when I started writing for The Monthly in April 2005, The Go-Betweens were just putting out ‘Oceans Apart‘ which would be the last album. The Franz Ferdinand piece, I remember I wrote a lot of it in a hotel in Madrid, a day off. I had to send it back to Melbourne.
I dropped the Bill Callahan one, which is all over the place. It’s about a Smog album. Right now, it takes me two weeks to write them. I don’t know how I did this, but I wrote the complete Smog review in a hotel in Canberra, and we were playing that night. I wrote the whole thing; woke up, knew I had to do it, spent the whole day in a motor inn, in Canberra in my pajamas, and just had people delivering coffee. I knew I had to be at the sound check at 4:30pm. I got out of bed around 9am. I listened to the record quite a few times and I just wrote the whole day.
I think William Holden could play you in a movie!
There’d have to be a couple of whiskey bottles then, I think. But no, I left that out [of the book]. To me, when I read it again, it read like it was written in pajamas on a lot of coffee, in a Canberra motor inn, in one day. I just thought “no, that can’t go in”. I think after the first 8 months, I think I’m a lot more consistent. There are a couple of pieces that I left out after, where I just failed.
The other thing that I have to admit is I started this at 48. I wrote a piece on Lucinda Williams’ ‘West’ album about two years ago. I just didn’t get it. It was messy when I handed it in, and I just failed. That happened one other time as well. I’m not a journalist that’s had 15 years experience, done university, worked at The Courier-Mail, worked at Sydney Morning Herald, done stuff overseas. I’m not that journalist. I’m still failing. I’m still messy, and I still miss what I’m trying to get at, every now and again.
You’re getting better.
I am getting better, but it’s still scary. Month by month.
Thank you very much, Robert Forster.
Thank you. Thank you for coming along. I appreciate it. John Wilsteed, everyone!
Fiona: Robert, Avid Reader would really like to thank you because you had a sell-out session last week, and because of the sell-out you agreed to a second session. You’ve had 200 people in Avid Reader listen to you, which has never happened in the history of Avid before. Thank you so much for your generosity.
Thank you for coming along!
More on Avid Reader at their website; more on Robert Forster at his.
Filed under Conversations | Tags: avid-reader, book, Brisbane, conversation, david-mccomb, Interview, john-wilsteed, Journalism, music critic, Music writing, music-criticism, reviews, robert-forster, rock-and-roll, songwriting, ten-rules, the-go-betweens, the-monthly, the-triffids, Writing | Comments (3)The Music Network story: ‘Viral Video Epidemic’
Here’s an article on viral videos I wrote for The Music Network in late August 2009.
Viral Video Epidemic
Music videos that achieve so-called ‘viral’ spread via word-of-mouth referrals are one of the biggest components of the social web - over half of the most-viewed YouTube videos of all time are music-related. In recent weeks, the ‘JK Wedding Video‘ showed that the inclusion of a particular song can boost sales significantly, as in the case of Chris Brown’s ‘Forever’. Years ago, Australian band The Sick Puppies found the same thing when their song was included in Juan Mann’s 2006 clip ‘Free Hugs Campaign‘, which is still the #1 viewed video of all time.
Andrew McMillen investigates two tales of recent Australian viral video success: one a signed act, one unsigned.
Abbey Road, London, early one February morning. Dozens of vehicles are bound for dozens of destinations, but not before the daily crowd of tourists continually hold up traffic to re-enact that famous image from The Beatles’ final studio album. Footage is alternately fast-forwarded and slowed to normal speed as group after group step over the crossing’s well-trodden white lines, while Blame Ringo’s wistful indie pop provides the soundtrack to a mesmerising display of human imitation and reminiscence.
Released in February 2009, Brisbane’s Blame Ringo [pictured right] found a worldwide audience with their hastily-filmed video for ‘Garble Arch’; subtitled ‘A Day In The Life Of Abbey Road’. Though starring none of the band members and - aside from the name - thematically distant from The Beatles’ work, nearly 400,000 pairs of eyes and ears across the world have absorbed the band’s creation. At what cost?
“The budget was $100, which covered the express post and mates-rates wages,” reveals Blame Ringo singer/guitarist Pete Kilroy. “A mate of ours was staying near Abbey Road, so I asked him to record people crossing for a couple of hours. He express posted the tapes, and since I’m a film editor by trade, I just edited it myself.”
When asked why he thinks the video became such a hit, Kilroy explains that they tapped into an indelible element of The Beatles’ folklore. “The love for The Beatles can’t be matched, and on a world scale, probably will never be matched. Besides that, when you watch the video, you think, “Look at all these tools. Who do they think they are?”, but your next thought is, “Man, I wish I was there doing that!” It sort of shows human nature.”
Six months on, are the Brisbane four-piece still feeling the effects of the video? Kilroy is optimistic: “The video really opened some doors, as it got us album distribution. It made people interested, whereas with any kind of traditional advertising, it’s hard to get people to buy your record, to see your show; to give you their time. Creating something that people can identify with - while acting as an advertisement for our music - fast-forwarded our career around 6-12 months. But there’s no point dwelling in the past. The video will sit on YouTube and keep ticking over for years and years. We get fan mail from across the world, and that’s really cool because you’d never reach those people otherwise.”
What advice would Kilroy give other bands attempting to follow that kind of viral video trajectory? “I was a film student and all they ever told us was that it’s the idea that counts. Look at ‘Garble Arch’; we’re not even in the film clip. It’s not about us. To release a good clip, it’s about the quality of the idea and creating a concept that people will want to see. It’s important to simply offer something different and unique.”
Filed under Published Writing | Tags: article, blame-ringo, bluejuice, Brisbane, dew-process, graham-ashton, Interview, Marketing, pete-kilroy, pr, promotion, sam-bennetts, stav-yiannoukas, the-music-network, Videos, viral, youtube | Comment (0)
From a story of serendipitous viral success to an adventurous, label-funded production: Dew Process signees Bluejuice [pictured left] released their ‘Broken Leg’ video on July 16. The six-minute extended version of the clip finds the band’s two vocalists portraying embittered former jump-rope champions in a mockumentary format, before the parody gives way to a choreographed World Skipping Championship Final battle between the five band members (’Team Bluejuice’) and a children’s dance troupe (’Shimmer Extreme’).
Though the viewer is led to believe that the performance took place before thousands of screaming skipping fans, vocalist Stav Yiannoukas - who plays the fictional character, Spiridon ‘Mr Invisible’ Savvas - reveals that it was filmed at Sydney’s Metro Theatre. Post-production wizardry blended the empty theatre with stock footage of a stadium crowd.
“The actual day of shooting was reasonably torturous, having trained for six weeks. Being filmed for 12 hours while skipping constantly is incredibly exhausting.”
Hang on - six weeks’ skipping training? That’s dedication to a music video!
Yiannoukas confirms: “Three hours a day, three days a week. It was absolutely necessary; we had to commit to the idea. And we also had to get an understanding of how good - or ultimately, how bad - we were going to be at skipping.”
The band’s dedication has paid off: besides creating a clip that’s both hilarious and memorable, the band have since amassed a combined 55,000 views for the video and its bonus mockumentary off-shoots, in addition to a mid-August triple j award nomination for Australian Music Video Of The Year. Dew Process’ Marketing Manager, Graham Ashton, elaborates on the success.
“‘Broken Leg’ was different from a lot of our other projects. While we normally work on finessing longer campaigns, we decided to go all-out for a big hit single, and that’s certainly looking like it’s going to happen. So far, it’s sold around 5,000 copies without traditional marketing. It’s all been based on a word-of-mouth online campaign in the lead-up to the song’s release. I won’t disclose the campaign budget, but you’d be surprised at how little it was.”
Ashton admits that it’s difficult to measure the returns on online marketing campaigns. “Its success can be put down to word-of-mouth, more than anything. Both externally, within the punters’ world, but internally within the music industry. We did a tastemaker mail-out at the time of launch, and the response was fantastic. Another way of measuring its effect is the email database the band has since built, based on the opportunities surrounding this video and the campaign website.”
Based on the strong responses to the band’s three Sam Bennetts-directed clips - 2007’s ‘Vitriol’ (150,000 views), 2008’s ‘The Reductionist’ (38,000 views) and ‘Broken Leg’ (55,000 combined views) - it’s fair to state that the band are adept at combining an excellent sense of self-deprecating humour with a penchant for creating memorable music videos. When asked how the band plan to top their finest visual achievement thus far, Yiannoukas is cautious: “It’s a difficult task. I think we’ll rip it away from the mockumentary format, as it’s important for us to keep challenging ourselves, and to reinforce that we’re more than that one-dimensional approach. The idea itself is ‘to be confirmed!’”
Andrew McMillen is an Australian freelance music writer.
A Conversation With Reggie Watts, American musician and comedian
I spoke with musician/comedian Reggie Watts the week before his Brisbane Powerhouse show on May 23. For FourThousand, where a condensed version of this interview appeared, I wrote that “you should expect elements of beatboxing, poetry, live vocal looping and physical theatre among a highly improvised show that’s won Watts fans across the world.”
In my review for Rave Magazine, I wrote that “Watts’ absurd humour is most potent when operating on a seeming stream-of-consciousness: his finely-tuned comedic mind happily deadpans rapidly-fired high-brow concepts and phrases, much to our amusement.”
To get an idea of what Watts is all about, watch this video. Note that our conversation is directly transcribed, with little editing. Let me know how that works out. It’s also my first attempt at aping Wooooo Magazine’s interview style.
R: Check 1-2! Hi!
A: Hello!
R: Hey, whasuuuup?
A: Hey Reggie, this is Andrew!
R: [robot voice] How are you doing, Andrew?
A: I’m good dude, how are you?
R: [normal voice] I’m doing alright.
A: What kind of mood are you in?
R: Well, I don’t know. I was just showing my friend some things on the computer, and some effects pedals. So I guess I’m in a good mood.
A: I’ve got two sets of questions for you, so it’s up to you to choose which one you want.
R: Okay.
A: I’ve got the serious, or the stupid questions.
R: Serious or stupid questions. Hmm. That’s a hard one. I guess, maybe.. the stupid ones?
A: Okay, we can try that.
R: Depends on what ’stupid’ means.
A: Well, these are just random questions that I’m going to throw at you, to see how you respond.
R: Okay, let’s do that. Sounds like fun.
A: Do you have a power animal?
R: Do I have a power animal?
A: Yeah. An animal you think of in tough times, to get you through.
R: I usually think of… wolves.
A: A wolf?
R: Yeah. My power wolf.
A: That’s cool. Mine’s a dolphin.
R: Oh, really? Dolphins are awesome!
A: Yeah! They remind me of freedom, and I can just escape to that world and pretend I’m swimming in the ocean with my dolphin-friends.
R: And they’re intelligent.
A: Yeah, exactly! And I’ve heard they really like sex.
R: They do like sex. They’re totally.. they’re awesome. They’re the closest to ‘us’ in the sea.
A: Okay. How do you feel about baked beans?
R: When I grew up, baked beans were essentially something you associate with poor families. You know, if you were poor, you got baked beans. So when I went to London for the first time and had the proper English breakfast, which includes baked beans, and I was like “whaaat? Why am I eating poor people food?” Which is a horrible thing to think, but that was just my programming. Now I really like them! It totally makes sense to me. I actually enjoy baked beans. It’s really weird.
A: It’s a bit of a staple here in Australia as well. It’s not really associated with poor people, it’s just like a breakfast snack.
R: Yeah, exactly! It’s not a poor people food at all here. It’s normal people food.
A: What is your ideal breakfast?
R: My ideal breakfast is probably the Swedish breakfast. It has sour milk, which you can’t really find anywhere except Scandinavia. And muesli. And toast, with fish. And you pull herbs right off of a little bush and have that with the fish.
A: Whoa.
R: Yeah, it’s pretty weird. But it’s a great breakfast and I always feel really good after eating it.
A: You seem to prefer the cold breakfast over the hot breakfast.
R: It depends. Sometimes I feel like eggy-weggs. But for me, cold breakfasts are a little more efficient than a hot breakfast. Those are more involved. The hot breakfast is something you sit down with and really HAVE the breakfast. Whereas if it’s muesli and soy milk, or yoghurt, you can just take it with you and eat it. You don’t feel like an asshole.
A: Yeah, you can eat it in front of the computer, or whatever you want to do.
R: Exactly!
A: Whereas the hot breakfast, I associate that with, say, reading a newspaper.
R: Yeah, you take your time. When you have time for breakfast - have a hot breakfast!
A: Do you read newspapers?
R: I don’t. I read all my news online.
A: Me too. Did you ever read newspapers?
R: I never did. I tried to, but I couldn’t get into it. I know people who just love to crack open that newspaper and smell the ink, but I just found it unruly. Every time I open up a newspaper, I just feel like doing a bit with it, like a gag. The sound of rustling paper - I just want to keep doing that perpetually, and never find whatever I’m looking for, and keep folding it endlessly. To me, the newspaper is more of a ploy than an actual informational tool.
A: Would you ever date a blind girl?
R: I would date a blind girl. Yeah. Why not?
A: If she was a total babe.
R: Absolutely. Yeah!
A: What about a deaf girl?
R: A deaf girl would be great, too!
A: Do you think you could accurately portray your personality to a deaf girl?
R: Absolutely, because a deaf girl can see. If she was deaf AND blind, then you’d have a little bit of a problem. But I’d probably hug her a lot, and she’d probably really respond to that.
A: Yeah, she’d be really into touching. The tactile.
R: Yeah. I guess I’d just have to find a new way to relate to someone. But human beings are pretty adaptable.
A: Right on. If you knew you were going to die tomorrow, what would you do today?
R: If I knew I was going to die tomorrow.. (speaks slowly) I would probably get.. like, a bunch of heroin, and do that, and then just talk to people on beaches, and have girls come over. Or something like that. (laughs) And have someone record it all, and then have someone remix it later.
A: I took a look at your Vimeo page, and I saw that you’re getting into uploading videos on there.
R: Yeah.
A: Are you recording anything while you’re here in Australia?
R: I might. Sometimes when I travel I feel like recording a lot. But so far I haven’t really felt compelled. I’ve taken some little videos with my phone that I might upload at some point. Sometimes I get really addicted to uploading. But I’m better at uploading photos, I definitely put photos up all the time. Videos are a little bit more involved. They take longer, it’s not as fun. Whereas a photo I can take it and upload immediately. And a video is just like (groans) “ughhhh”.
A: Do you play video games?
R: I do like video games. But I don’t have a lot of time to play them. What usually ends up happening is that I find a video game and I just play it straight, for like a week, and then I’m good for a year. The last game I played - which they’re making another version of, I can’t believe it - it was an amazing, amazing game called Mass Effect, for the Xbox. If you like science fiction, especially 70s-style science fiction.. it’s futuristic, but it has a kind of Eno-vangelist sci-fi soundtrack. The plot is heavy, and deep, and the characters are amazing. It’s a really incredible game.
A: So you prefer sitting in front of a TV to play games, rather than handhelds?
R: Handheld’s alright. I have a DS. It’s good for travelling, but I would prefer to be immersed in a projected game. I’m going to get some HD head-mounted display goggles, and hook the video game console up to that so I can be really immersed. Just lay back on the bed and go for it!
A: God damn, they make those?
R: Yeah, they’re actually pretty cheap! You can get some high-def ones for $800 American dollars. Pretty fuckin’ cheap.
A: So you’ve tried it out?
R: Yeah. They’re great, they’re really light-weight. You wear them, and you have the stereo vision because there’s a separate monitor for each eye. It’s great.
A: That’s awesome. Do you play poker?
R: I don’t. I don’t like poker.
A: You’ve tried to play?
R: I’ve tried to, but it’s not fun. When everyone’s betting, it just seems overly, unnecessarily complicated. I would play poker just as long as I could make fun of poker the whole time. If I was allowed to, if people weren’t taking it too seriously. It’s such a silly game. Everyone’s monitoring each other. I understand that people are into the strategy of it, but at the same time, it’s just ridiculous.
A: Yeah. It seems a pretty funny thing to devote your life to, being a professional poker player and learning how to watch other people play.
R: Yeah. There’s an art to anything, but when I look at poker, I just think (groans) “Oh god.”
A: “You guys are lame.”
R: Yeah! “You guys suck!” (laughs) I don’t think that, it’s just funny to think about what people take seriously.
A: Do you think people take you seriously?
R: Probably not! I think they take me seriously in that they believe that I exist. But.. some people do. It depends on the context. When I have a conversation with someone, it’s pretty real, but when I give interviews and I’m in a weird mood, I might just fabricate a lot of things. But let the interviewers in on it. Just because I find that amusing.
A: If you couldn’t rock an afro, which hairstyle would you have?
R: I would probably do a mohawk. Some kind of weird, shaved-on-one side, spiky-on-the-other future punk-rock look.
A: A giant mohawk? Like three feet high?
R: Not quite a straight mohawk. It’d have to be something a little weird.
A: Is there such thing as a free lunch?
R: Absolutely. I have them all the time! (laughs)
A: Who is your favourite Looney Tunes character?
R: That’s a hard one. I don’t know if I’d want to be him, but the Tasmanian Devil is pretty hilarious. I guess the most.. intellectual of the characters would be Bugs Bunny, so I’m gonna say that even though it’s pretty generic. He was the most balanced, and in control. He tricked people. I like that about him.
A: Do you think that the bunny or the devil could potentially be your back-up power animals?
R: I think that the devil could definitely be a back-up animal (laughs) He’s kind of like Animal from The Muppets. Basically, when he stops, he’s Animal, and then he just turns back into a brown tornado.
A: Do you think he’s schizophrenic?
R: I don’t think he’s schizophrenic. He’s just got a lot of energy. And he’s got a caveman mentality.
A: How’s your hotel?
R: It’s an awesome hotel! It’s very civilised. It has a laundry machine, and a dryer, a microwave, a little kitchen, and a nice shower.
A: Is Trent [Barton, Zero Hour Collective] taking care of you?
R: Oh yes. He’s a professional.
A: So he’s not letting you wander out of his sight, so you can go and explore Sydney’s slums?
R: No, not yet. I’m sure that will come in the future. As they all get more successful, I’ll get worse living conditions.
A: You’re here for six weeks, aren’t you?
R: Yeah, I leave on the 11th or 12th of June.
A: You’re involved in the Sydney Festival, right?
R: Yeah, Vivid Sydney. It’s kind of confusing, because there’s three things going on: Vivid Sydney, Smart Light Festival, and Luminous, the Eno festival. It’s a little confusing. I think next year, they’re gonna have to work on their branding. I get what they’re doing artistically, because I spoke to the directors recently, but I shouldn’t have to think about it. But whatever, it’s going to be a great festival. Their intentions are pretty humanitarian.
A: Sweet. Do you Google yourself?
R: I do, all the time. I use Google Alerts.
A: Oh really? That was my next question. So you’re down with the technology.
R: Yeah, man.
A: You know what’s being said about you.
R: Yeah. I’ve always loved communications technology. I’ve been rocking smart-phones since the first smart-phone. I’ve been using organisers since the concept of organisers came out. Commodore 64s, scientific calculators.. I’ve always had some kind of a computer or storage device, and once networking became online, then I was totally down with that.
A: So when this interview is published online, you’ll be the first to know about it through Google Alerts.
R: Yes! It’s fascinating. It’s a good thing, because there’s so much stuff out there. I think everyone should put an alert out for their name.
A: When was the last time you cut yourself while shaving?
R: Man, the last time I shaved was a long time ago! I would say, maybe, seven or eight months ago.
A: Did it hurt?
R: Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it doesn’t, you know? (puts on British accent) If it’s a light graze, then it doesn’t hurt as much. (laughs) I don’t know. Probably not. No. I’m going to say no - okay, yes, it does, it hurts. Sorry. (laughs)
A: Do you believe masturbation is a sin?
R: Well, I grew up Catholic, so probably at first, I did. But not for long, it didn’t really stop me as a kid. I was pretty.. haywire, as they say. But I don’t think so. I think it’s necessary! (laughs)
A: I just can’t get how those devoutly religious people do it. Or don’t do it, in this case.
R: It’s just about self-control. That’s all. Why else would someone deny something that happens naturally? It’s like if you wanted to start a religion and make up arbitrary things that people can’t do. Like, “you can’t pick up coins from the ground”, or “you have to avoid low-hanging branches”. Things of that nature, and then people accept it - “yes, of course!” - and then you give these stupid reasons for why you shouldn’t. And some people might start to believe that. It’s just the power of belief that gives the strength to limitations.
A: Alright, I’m done with the stupid questions, so I might move onto some more serious ones now.
R: Alright.
A: Is that okay?
R: Yup.
A: Okay. At what time of day are you most productive?
R: Sometimes it’s late afternoon, sometimes it’s late at night. So if I had to give you an hour, it’d be 9pm.
A: Do you stay up late?
R: Yeah, I usually go to bed at around 3am.
A: Cool. Me too.
R: Yeah. It’s the best time.
A: Are you a procrastinator?
R: Definitely.
A: How do you deal with it?
R: I hate it, sometimes. I just end up getting in trouble, being late, or not completing something.
A: Have you gotten better?
R: Yeah. It’s an ongoing battle with myself. The best way to deal with it is to just be on time. Keeping a timely manner is the best way to avoid it, but it’s hard for me, because I like waiting until the last minute. It’s just my personality.
A: Did you go to university?
R: I went to Cornish College Of The Arts in Seattle, Washington, for about two and a half years. I studied Jazz Voice.
A: Did you leave your assignments until the last day?
R: Of course. Always. Sometimes I didn’t even do ‘em.
A: You procrastinated so hard that you didn’t hand it in.
R: Exactly. Which then moves beyond procrastination..
A: Into, what would you call it.. failure?
R: Yes, failure. (laughs)
A: When someone meets you for the first time, how do you describe yourself?
R: (pauses)
A: Or do you just assume that everyone knows who you are, instantly, because you’re a mega-celebrity?
R: No, no! That would be horrible to constantly assume that. “Don’t you know who I am?!” I don’t know, I guess I call myself an abstract musical comedian.
A: So when you tell people you’re a comedian, do they ask you to tell them a joke?
R: Sometimes, yeah.
A: Does it shit you to tears?
R: Not really. I either tell them that I don’t do jokes, or I just make up a really stupid joke that doesn’t make any sense. And they’ll be like “wow, I shouldn’t have asked that.”
A: “This guy’s not funny at all!”
R: “I don’t get it, how does he make a living?”
A: I was watching the promo video on the Zero Hour site, where you explain that you investigate the absurd side of comedy. Does that come easily to you?
R: I think so. It’s the way I’ve always seen life. I’ve always seen things as silly. Goofy. Even death, at times, can be goofy.
A: I watched that CollegeHumor video of yours, which deals with a pretty humorous topic in a pretty serious way. Or at least it appears to be serious. Would you consider that video to be absurdist humour too, because it takes a non-serious topic into a serious context?
R: Absolutely, yeah. It’s all about context and contrast. You take something serious and you expose how it’s actually absurd if you look at it through a different lens.
A: From what I’ve seen, your act uses a lot of swearing. Does that come easily, too?
R: I like swearing, but I like using it because it really gets the idea across. Or if you overuse it, then it becomes ridiculous. The audience wonders when it’s going to stop. It’s a fun thing to disarm people with, or to shock them into understanding that it’s not shocking. It’s just stupid.
A: People get offended by certain words, and then if you overuse them to the point of absurdity, that says to people, “well, they’re just words, why are you getting so pissed off?”
R: Yeah, you take the power away from it. And then sometimes people get angry because of that! “Oh, now we can’t complain about it, because it doesn’t mean anything!” Well, I’m sorry!
A: “I’m sorry for being so clever!”
R: Yeah. “You should have thought of it first!”
A: How did the CollegeHumor ["What About Blowjobs?"] collaboration come about?
R: CollegeHumor was co-founded by my former roommate, Jacob Lodwick. I met those guys through him. They’d come to my shows, and we’d explore the idea of doing something together. “What About Blowjobs” came about as a result of that. It was good!
A: It was good. Do you ever experience gear failure on stage?
R: Sometimes, yeah. But it’s just an opportunity to do something different, until it’s resolved.
A: Because you’re all about spontaneous performance: “no two shows are the same”.
R: Absolutely.
A: Do you ever sabotage your own gear to put yourself at a disadvantage?
R: (laughs) It’s kind of hard to do that. “Oh, I know who did that. I know what the problem is!” But no, it happens on occasion. It’s fine, I like it.
A: When you go and see a show, what do you like to see?
R: I like to see anything that’s really good. It can be serious, humorous, weird; dance, poetry, anything really, as long as it’s coming from a place of mastery. Of clear vision, or clear voice. That’s all that matters to me. Sometimes an idea isn’t fully developed, but it’s still great.
A: Is your show an attempt to capture that clear voice?
R: Kind of. The clear voice is the unclear voice in my show, but it’s a form of that, for sure. In my own way.
A: What’s awesome about touring the world?
R: Getting to know the world better.
A: What sucks about touring the world?
R: Not being able to stay healthy on the road, because you’re not living a consistent lifestyle.
A: How do you deal with that?
R: You don’t, you just try to do the best you can.
A: Suck it up!
R: Yeah, try to take a long vacation.
A: Okay, last question. What do you fear?
R: What do I feel?
A: Fear.
R: I guess I fear irrelevance, and dying from some stupid health condition.
A: In what kind of way do you want to die?
R: I don’t want to die at all, but I don’t know if that’s possible yet. (laughs) But along the way, I want to do the best to treat myself well, and limit the possibilities of death happening early.
A: Awesome, great outlook.
R: Thank you.
A: You’re up in Brisbane this week. The band supporting you are pretty kickass, you should check them out. They’re called Yeo & The Fresh Goods.
R: Oh, cool man. I’m definitely looking forward to it.
A: Thanks for your time, Reggie.
R: Thank you! Goodbye, sir.
Well, I hope that was mildly amusing. It was fun to do something different, right? More about Reggie at his site. He’s on Twitter, too.
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