All posts tagged touring

  • Qweekend story: ‘The Grass Is Greener: Paul Piticco’, July 2014

    A story for the July 19 issue of Qweekend magazine; a profile of Australian music entrepreneur Paul Piticco. The full story appears below.

    The Grass Is Greener

    Paul Piticco struck success while managing Powderfinger and now oversees an empire that stretches beyond music into events and hospitality

    Qweekend story by Andrew McMillen: 'The Grass Is Greener: Paul Piticco', July 2014. Photograph by Russell Shakespeare

    by Andrew McMillen / Portrait photograph by Russell Shakespeare

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    Five of the men who walk out onto Brisbane Riverstage on this warm Saturday night are well-known to the 10,000 fans in attendance, as together they have written some of Australia’s most popular songs. Between encores, though, another bloke in a grey suit with short black hair makes an appearance. Drummer Jon Coghill playfully wipes a towel across the stranger’s forehead. The band’s frontman approaches the microphone. “Ladies and gents, we have to introduce the virtual sixth member of Powderfinger: this is our manager,” says Bernard Fanning, gesturing to the man who is now copping a good-natured head-rub from guitarist Ian Haug. “He’s been our manager for the whole time. His name’s Paul Piticco. Put your hands together.”

    The crowd obliges. After he gives a few quick bows to the hill and to each of the bandmembers, Piticco waves and jogs back to the side of stage, seemingly embarrassed at such public attention.

    It’s 13 November, 2010, the night of Powderfinger’s final performance, a hometown send-off for the Brisbane quintet crowning a 34-date national tour that sold more than 300,000 tickets and grossed $30 million. After a final encore performance of ‘These Days’ and a group bow, Powderfinger ends its career on a high.

    The band’s achievements are remarkable. Among them, more than 2.5 million albums sold in Australia alone, 18 ARIA awards, five consecutive ARIA No 1 album debuts, and twice topping Triple J’s annual Hottest 100 music poll. Behind their artistry was the business brain of Paul “Teaks” Piticco, a self-taught entrepreneur whose beginning as the wet-behind-the-ears manager of a little-known Brisbane rock band expanded into successful stakes in music festivals, touring and publicity, two independent record labels and a recent foray into the restaurant business.

    As he tells it, Piticco’s achievements can be attributed to persistence, enthusiasm and a willingness to have a go. “That philosophy that you’re only as good as the last thing you do is something that I’ve always subscribed to,” he says. “That’s how you do great work: by being really interested, and by giving a shit about the outcome. I certainly don’t want to die wondering.”

    It wasn’t always thus, according to Coghill, the last member to join Powderfinger, completing the quintet’s line-up in late 1991. In the 2011 band biography, Footprints, the drummer recalled his first impressions of the men with whom he’d spend the next two decades: “They were just these potheads who used to sit around the lounge smoking,” he said. “And Teaks was the ringleader … I remember that night [we met] he showed me this massive marijuana plant he had in the back yard. It was four metres high and two metres wide. I think before Teaks was the manager of the band, he was the manager of the lounge room and the bong.”

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    An only child born to Sernando and Carmel at the Royal Brisbane Women’s Hospital on March 7, 1969, Paul Anthony Piticco grew up in the inner-west Brisbane suburb of Paddington and attended Petrie Terrace State School. He loved school because it was his first chance to measure himself against others. “Maybe that was the germination of my competitive streak,” he says with a smile.

    His father had emigrated to Australia from Italy at age 19, carrying only a suitcase and $10. He cut cane in North Queensland, bought a house in Brisbane and started a construction business. Piticco says Sernando advised his son to “figure your own shit out” and learn from his mistakes. Carmel – who worked part-time jobs in nursing and education – encouraged Paul to spring out of bed in the morning, follow his dreams and do what makes him smile.

    His parents’ record collection was “diabolical”, so it wasn’t until he started at Kelvin Grove State High in Brisbane’s inner north-west that Piticco’s musical horizons expanded. When KISS played at Lang Park (now Suncorp Stadium) in 1980, he snuck down Ranley Grove onto Given Terrace and watched them through the fence. It was the first time Piticco made a connection between hearing a song on the radio and tens of thousands of fans going to see a band play live in a stadium. He was enthralled, and started buying cassettes and vinyl – David Bowie, Led Zeppelin, Dire Straits – while learning guitar and saxophone, both of which he failed to practise. At 15, he’d take a square of cardboard to Queen Street Mall and attempt to breakdance while dressed in baggy pants. This phase soon passed – as Piticco puts it, “The world moved on, and I moved with it.”

    It was during his first job, as a paperboy selling the Telegraph, that Piticco established his work ethic. He determined how to achieve the maximum return with the smallest effort by catching customers at the former Arnott’s biscuit factory on Coronation Drive when shifts were crossing over. A regular clientele earned the ten-year-old hefty tips for his value-adding personal touches, such as handing over the paper with the sports page or the horoscopes facing up, ready to read.

    In his mid-teens, Piticco worked weekend nights at the 24-hour Windmill Cafe on Petrie Terrace, where he learned how to be patient with intoxicated people, which he notes has “come in handy working in bars, venues and festivals in the years to come”. He completed Year 10 at Kelvin Grove High but dropped out part way into the following year. “My passion for study declined rapidly,” he says, after he discovered smoking and drinking.

    In his late teens, Piticco tried working part-time for his father and uncle’s construction business. It didn’t take. “I didn’t want to work a manual job, grinding it out in the sun like my dad. I knew that I wanted something different; I just didn’t know what it was yet.” It was around this time that he discovered cannabis. “There was a fair degree of overlap between my pot-smoking days and my lost years,” he says. “It just heightened all my senses in terms of listening to music and having a good time. In a stereotypical way, it was a countercultural way to rebel as a late teen.”

    At the time, Piticco worked as a steel sales representative for Boral and lived in a share house in the western suburb of Indooroopilly. One night, he and housemate Ian Haug went for a drive, and the guitarist asked his friend whether he’d be interested in managing Powderfinger as Haug had grown tired of juggling his band’s business interests and writing music.

    “He knew nothing about the music industry; we gave him an opportunity because we could see something in him,” says Haug. “We needed a ‘bad cop’, and he was a good bad cop. We didn’t want to be the ones ringing up bikers saying ‘pay us our money’. He had to be the tough guy. And Piticco’s a pretty tough name.”

    Qweekend story by Andrew McMillen: 'The Grass Is Greener: Paul Piticco', July 2014. Photograph of Powderfinger in 1991; Piticco is third from left.Bassist John Collins saw it another way: “We thought, if he could sell steel, he could sell rock.” With the assistance of a lawyer, the band drew up a management contract which determined that everything outside of the actual music-making would be split six ways. “After that contract lapsed, we worked with him without a contract for most of our career,” says Haug. “Probably in retrospect it wasn’t a wise business decision for the band, but he did a good job for us.”

    It took years before the band started seeing any real money for their efforts. “As a manager, you’re only ever as good as your band,” Piticco says. “Your fates are hitched in a fiscal sense.” As Powderfinger’s star ascended, the six men named on the contract came into good money following years of low-income toil. “Money was always much more important to Paul than the rest of us,” says singer Bernard Fanning. “We were always surprised by the fact that we actually earned a living and made money out of being musicians. Paul has always liked the idea of money, and the potential of it, rather than the actual act of splashing out and buying a fancy bottle of champagne.”

    Haug suggests Piticco didn’t change much throughout the band’s two-decade career. “He’s just loaded now, whereas he used to be flat broke,” he laughs. The entrepreneur reinvested his earnings into the industry, forming an artist management company, Secret Service. His independent record label, Dew Process, was established in 2002 and has released popular albums by international acts such as Mumford & Sons, The Hives and London Grammar as well as Australian artists The Living End, Sarah Blasko and, of course, Bernard Fanning. Album sales still account for the majority of the label’s income. In 2012, Piticco established another record label, Create/Control, which in effect turns the old business model on its head by partnering with acts to distribute and market music they’ve funded and recorded themselves.

    In conjunction with Powderfinger’s longtime booking agent, Jessica Ducrou, he established Splendour In The Grass, an annual multi-day music festival – being staged at North Byron Parklands next weekend – sidestepping the competitive summer circuit. All 27,500 tickets to this year’s event, headlined by Outkast, Lily Allen and Two Door Cinema Club, were sold within hours of going on sale. “Paul and I have done all sorts of glamorous jobs – directing traffic, picking up garbage,” says Ducrou, 44. “He’s really positive, he mucks in. He has no airs and graces. He’ll do whatever is required.” The pair’s Secret Sounds touring company has also invested in The Falls Festival, traditionally a southern (Tasmania and Victoria) camping event which debuted in Byron Bay in late 2013.

    Critics point out that a handful of Piticco’s acts inevitably appear on Splendour’s bill each year, a tradition that stretches back to the first event in 2001, headlined by Powderfinger. “Why wouldn’t you book yourself?” asks Patience Hodgson, singer of Piticco-managed Brisbane pop band The Grates. “Paul doesn’t take any commission when we play Splendour, and that’s to lower his invested interest.”

    If such criticisms are laid at Piticco’s feet, so be it. He’s happy to wear the tar and feathers if it means his artists stay squeaky clean. “If people hate him, but love the band, he totally understands that’s fine,” says Hodgson. “He’s not trying to protect himself; the band always comes first. If he’s offered a gig and thinks we should be paid more money, he asks. I really appreciate that, because I could never do that for myself; I wouldn’t want to seem like a dick or be rude. Paul is happy to ask, and if people say no, he doesn’t feel shame.”

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    Piticco has one favourite album – DeadSexy by little-known Rhode Island (US) alternative rock band Scarce – and two favourite songs: ‘Heroes’ by David Bowie and ‘The Funeral’ by Seattle rock act Band of Horses, who he has booked to play Splendour twice. His favourite Powderfinger album is 1998’s Internationalist. When asked to name a favourite song, he deliberates for two minutes. “The one that makes me feel and think most positively about the band is ‘Sunsets’,” he replies, referring to a single from 2003’s Vulture Street album. “Amongst all those anthems that they wrote, that one, to me, sounds and feels like Australian music at that time. It definitely pulls at my heartstrings.”

    Qweekend story by Andrew McMillen: 'The Grass Is Greener: Paul Piticco', July 2014. Photograph by Russell ShakespeareAt 45, Piticco is showing no signs of slowing down. In 2014, he seems to have his fingers in more pies than ever before. “There’s a good balance between Paul being a serious, effective entrepreneur and knowing how to switch off and have fun, and not take things too seriously,” says Ducrou. For his 40th birthday, Piticco booked an AC/DC tribute band to play at the property near Mount Warning in northern NSW where he lives with his partner of 15 years, Lisa Wickbold, and their children Phoebe, 7, Ivy, 5, and Darby, 3.

    It takes considerable drive and intensity to create record labels, music festivals, national tours and artistic careers out of thin air, especially when based outside of the traditional Australian music business seats of power in Sydney and Melbourne. For Piticco and Powderfinger, moving south never appealed. “We were regularly encouraged to leave by labels, agents, promoters and other bands; ‘Come down here, it’ll be better, there are more opportunities!’” he says. “Brisbane had value to us. It wasn’t just more affordable, it provided a framework and an emotional base. Our social networks were here. It’s something we’ve always been proud of, this city. There was never any doubt. I’m glad we stayed.”

    The sun sets over the Brisbane skyline on a recent cool evening as we sit at a table in South Bank restaurant Popolo, which Piticco co-founded in late 2011 with restaurateur Andrew Baturo and Denis Sheahan, Powderfinger’s former tour manager. Its name is Italian for people, in reference to the menu’s inclination towards shared dishes. While we talk, plates are laid out in quick succession. It’s far too much food for two men; Piticco jokes that his children will have some interesting leftovers for tomorrow’s lunch.

    In addition to Popolo, Piticco co-owns a stake in CBD venue The Gresham Bar, which opened late last year. This left turn into the hospitality industry has been on the cards for years. “The chef is the artist, the restaurateur is the producer,” Piticco says. “The chef serves up his works; the producer critiques them, works out which ones are going to be the hits, which ones will pad out the menu. Instead of listening, you taste. The ambience is the marketing and packaging – the visual representation – but the real thing that makes a successful restaurant is the food. It’s just as it is in the music industry: a lot of bad bands have an image, but the songs are really the meat of the proposition.”

    Observing the detritus of a fine meal, Piticco sums up his life so far in simple terms. “I’ve always had this theory that stems from my mum,” he says. “Whether you’re a chimney sweep, a brain surgeon or a band manager, if you’re good at what you do, the rest takes care of itself. I just like having the opportunity to make a living out of music, for myself and others, and along the way make a whole bunch of people happy by enriching their lives in some way. And to get paid for it? That’s fucking awesome!

    Splendour In The Grass, July 25-27, North Byron Parklands, Byron Bay. splendourinthegrass.com 

  • The Vine interview: ‘Fat As Butter festival promoter on Flo Rida cancellation’, January 2012

    An interview for The Vine. Excerpt below.

    Interview: Fat As Butter on Flo Rida cancellation: “Some hip-hop artists tend to disrespect Australia.”

    An eleventh hour cancellation is every live music promoter’s worst nightmare. Last week, we published an interview with Mos Def’s 2011 Australian tour promoter, who also revealed – in graphic detail – the financial burdens attached to such outcomes.

    Another prime example of this type of behaviour on the Australian touring circuit occurred at the 2011 Fat As Butter festival at Newcastle’s Foreshore Park, on 22 October. Headlined by Empire Of The Sun, The Living End and Illy among a line-up of 38 Australian and international acts, event promoters Mothership Music had also booked the American rapper Flo Rida (pictured, with orange) – known for such modern classics as ‘Low (feat. T-Pain)’‘Good Feeling’ and ‘Right Round’ – to play the main (‘Fat’) stage at 5.10pm, after The Jezabels and before Naughty By Nature. Twenty minutes before he was due, organisers received a phone call from his tour manager: Flo Rida wouldn’t be able to make it to the show. Uh oh.

    The aftermath was covered in detail by FasterLouder, and event organiser Brent Lean posted the following message on the festival’s Facebook a couple of hours after the cancellation: “We’re as upset as you are. We paid Flo to appear months ago and since he’s been on his Australian tour, he’s been an absolute Tonk. He’s been in Sydney today, and he’s had a hissy fit. We did everything we absolutely could to get him here, but he wouldn’t come. We’re absolutely devastated he decided not to be a part of Fat As Butter.”

    What happens next, though? What recourse does a burned Australian festival promoter have in terms of recouping the artist fee they’d paid to Flo Rida and his entourage months in advance? I connected with Mothership Music managing director – and Fat As Butter promoter – Brent Lean back in November 2011 to find out.

    TheVine: It’s been a couple of weeks since the Flo Rida incident went down, Brent. How are you feeling about it all now?

    BL: Look, we’re OK about it. We’re going about the correct processes to find out exactly what happened. We know the circumstance of what happened, but now we’re in the process of seeking the return of the [performance] fee. That’s with the agent and record company over in America. Overall it’s disappointing he didn’t appear, but we’re happy that we got the message out there so that the fans know exactly what the circumstance was. We’re just being truthful in the process.

    At any point during the negotiation process did you have an inkling that this might happen?

    No, not at all. We bought the show from another company that was touring him in the country. We were tracking his movements at other shows, leading in [to the festival]. We were aware of certain incidents and bits and pieces that made us wary, but they were more about when he was at the event, as opposed to whether he’d turn up. At no point did we think that he’d cancel, and not show. That was never on our radar.

    You always expect that something may go wrong, and you work every contingency you can to avoid that, but at the end of the day, when the news came through that he was cancelling, that was an absolute shock. We had to go into damage control straight away, because it’s a large festival – with 38 acts appearing – so we had to work out how to fill the spot and advise the punters. We understood that they’d be very frustrated and disappointed by the announcement. We had to go into contingency plans as to how to handle that.

    Will you be hesitant to book hip-hop acts in future, having had this experience with Flo Rida?

    Not really. You pick and choose where they’re at. Last year we had Ice Cube headline Fat As Butter, and he was an absolute joy to deal with. Very professional; met all of his contractual obligations, we met all of ours; a hug at the end of the night and ‘great job’.

    What we do find with some hip-hop artists is that they tend to disrespect Australia, I think. They tend to disrespect the audience and promoters, because effectively – and it happens quite often – they don’t stick to the terms of their contracts. They arrive here, then they’re seeking additional things on top of the contract; left, right and centre. And in some cases, strong-arming promoters into paying for additional things outside of the contract.

    Now, in comparison to Australian artists? That would never happen. In the 20 years I’ve been doing [event organisation and promotion], I’ve never had a contract dispute with an Australian artist. Everyone’s up front; everyone signs a contract, everyone knows what the terms are, and each party meets those terms. I find it very disappointing that, for whatever reason, some of the American hip-hop artists can come out here and think that they can disrespect promoters, events, and the audience by, clearly, wanting additional conditions – or money, whatever it may be – outside of the signed contract. And as I said, and I don’t mind saying it: strong-arming promoters into doing that. It’s disappointing.

    So without a doubt, buyer beware. All you can do is make sure your contract is watertight, and then you need the strength of your convictions to say, “Well, I’m not going to give you anything outside of that contract.” I think in the past, perhaps, [Australian] promoters have given in to the additional considerations, or whatever they’re trying to put on you, and there seems to be a threat, at times. For us personally, we just don’t stand for any of those sorts of things. If we’ve got indications through the negotiating process that anything like that is going to happen, then we’d rather not have them appear on any of our shows.

    For the full interview, visit The Vine.

  • The Vine story: Interview with Sam Speaight, Mos Def’s Australian tour promoter, January 2012

    An interview for The Vine. Excerpt below.

    Interview: Mos Def tour promoter Sam Speaight: “I literally broke down and cried.”

    One year ago, acclaimed American hip-hop artist Dante Smith – stage name Mos Def (pictured right) – was set to tour Australia for the first time. Eleven shows were booked, including headline festival appearances at Soundscape in Hobart and The Hot Barbeque in Melbourne. After failing to appear at his first scheduled performance in Adelaide, he went on to randomly skip four shows of the itinerary. Such was the ensuing confusion, that following the postponements, cancellations and sternly-worded press releases from the promoter, Peace Music, became something of a sport here at TheVine. For background, revisit our news story ‘Mos Def gone missing on Australian tour’.  (I’m pleased to note that he made it to Brisbane for his Australia Day show, which was actually pretty great.)

    What did those four cancellations mean for Peace Music, though? The promoters were awfully quiet for the remainder of the year, which posed the question: “Did the Mos Def debacle put an end to their live music interests?”. In late 2011, I contacted the company’s managing director, Sam Speaight, requesting an interview about the logistics of touring American hip-hop artists in Australia. “I’d love to do this,” he replied via email. “So often promoters are dragged into the street and shot (proverbially speaking) by the ticket-buying public over hip-hop artists’ cancellations and their childlike antics. Few people understand that, in many cases, the promoters have driven themselves to the brink of sanity and financial ruin to avoid an artist cancelling.”

    A couple of days later, we connected via Skype. “The total chaos that seems to govern most of all the management side of these artists’ careers is just dumbfounding,” Sam told me from his new pad in London. “If people knew what went on behind the scenes, if nothing else, it would be a spectacle worth reading about.” He’s not wrong.

    AM: Tell me about the Mos Def tour, Sam. Was this your worst experience with touring hip-hop artists in Australia?

    SS: Oh, yeah. That was definitely the worst example of madness and insanity from an international artist that I’ve ever seen, or heard of. Utter madness permeated everything that happened, in terms of the artist’s management, the delivery and management of the artist’s live engagement. He’s since pulled similar things at the Montreaux Jazz Festival. They’ve just gone through a similar experience to what I did, but fortunately, they only had one show to deal with, whereas I had an entire headlining tour.

    Let’s go back to the start. When you first confirmed the booking, was there a point at which you realised that things might not go to plan? Were alarm bells ringing at any point during the lead-up to his arrival in Australia?

    Good Lord, yes. Even before I signed the contract with his “management”, in inverted commas, I was aware that this was a difficult, tricky, potentially trouble-fraught artist to deal with. I structured as best I could my strategy for dealing with this artist to minimise the potentiality for misadventure in the establishment phase of that project. But all the pre-planning in the world couldn’t have prepared me for the living nightmare that was the reality of doing that tour and dealing with Mos Def. [Laughs] I literally broke down and cried partway through the tour.

    You need to set the scene. Where were you when you broke down and cried?

    [Laughs] I was at home. It was a Sunday afternoon, if I recall correctly, at my house in Redfern – which I’ve now sold, by the way. I’ve moved to the other side of the world to try and forget all about this experience! [laughs].

    I was at home, hanging out with my lovely girlfriend, Gillian. Earlier in the day, Mos’ tour manager had called to advise that the rescheduled make-up show, which had been put in place in connection with one of the shows that he’d cancelled on his tour – the Tasmanian show. He advised that the make-up show would not be going ahead, and they would be unable to play it. Which was a disaster. One of a string of disasters that occurred on that tour. I was in an awful state of mind as a result of that, because it meant yet more massive financial losses, and yet more damage to my company’s name and reputation insofar as I was delivering the show to a promoter in Tasmania, I wasn’t promoting it myself. So there was a third party affected by this madness.

    A few hours after I dealt with that disaster, I got a call from my tour manager, to say that he’d been asked a question via [Mos Def’s] managers, the question being: “Are there any other shows that we can play on this tour? Can you please investigate booking us some more shows? We would like to try and play some more shows.”

    This is three or four days before the end of the tour. I remember reaching this psychological breaking point, where I’d been assaulted by this emotional nightmare every day for a month, in the lead-up to the rescheduling of, then delivery of this project. I said to my tour manager, “I can’t believe you’ve just asked me that question. You know how much money I’ve lost here. You know that the tour’s four days from completion. Are you totally insane? Who in the southern hemisphere is ever going to book this artist ever again? After what’s gone down here, for a start. And further to that, how on earth would I be able to organise any new shows within the space of four days given the fact that I’m staring down the barrel of financial ruination?”

    That was basically just what tipped me over the edge. I just remember being in my living room, just losing the plot. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back! [laughs]

    But it gives you an insight into just how warped and twisted, and how absolutely separated from reality the awareness of management – within the scope of that being a professional function – is, in the minds of these artists. They seem to live in such a bizarre, self-constructed reality that is so far away from what you might describe as career management, business, or just basic logic. [Laughs] Their worldview and outlook… it’s difficult for people like me — and I assume like you, too — to understand people who have to justify their existence by earning a dollar, which is then pursuant to them doing a good job of things, and being a professional. This is just a world that a lot of these people seem to be able to avoid living in.

    And Mos Def’s a great example. If you Google, you’ll see that in the last 12 months there’s been a spate of these absolute last-minute cancellations. If the cancellation or postponement is done in a way that allows the promoter some opportunity to minimise their losses and to at least deal with the ticket buying public in a professional fashion, so that it doesn’t damage that artist’s fanbase and the promoter’s business, then cancellations are unfortunately sometimes a part of doing business in the music industry. But that’s not the approach that’s usually taken in these situations by these American hip-hop artists. More often than not, there’s very little justification if any given for it. It’s oftentimes just a childish whim, whereby they’ve decided that something about the project isn’t to their liking, or they’ve got something better to do that day, or they don’t feel like getting out of bed that morning.

    As a result of that, they’re perfectly happy to – in some promoters’ cases – turn people’s lives upside down, and send peoples’ whole businesses spiralling toward the ground without any thought for basic humanity.

    This is probably a long bow to draw, but I see a lot of this same attitude toward happily disregarding other people within the scope of business, and totally ignoring the massive financial ramifications of doing something like cancelling a show 24 hours out, to the problems we’re seeing across the entire global financial system at the moment. You’re basically talking about an approach to doing business that is morally bankrupt. It’s the exact same underpinning ideology that I see caught up in the actions of Goldman Sachs, and Bank of America, whereby these people are perfectly happy, without a single qualm in the world, to destroy peoples’ lives, trash peoples’ businesses, send people broke, without even a second thought. Just as long as – whatever they decided to do that day, gets done. I think that’s what really drives at this. The financial system that these people are participating in, and their actions, by association and as a function of that system, are absolutely and utterly morally bankrupt. But that’s a very long view, I guess. [Laughs]

    For the full interview, visit The Vine.

  • A Conversation With Reggie Watts, American musician and comedian

    Reggie's hair causing storms to brewI 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.
    Reggie in wolf form, howling his ass offA: 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.
    Baked beans: not just for poor peopleR: 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”.
    Mass Effect. Watts is a fan.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?
    Tasmanian Devil: not schizophrenicR: 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.
    Windswept Watts, Dungeon Master.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)
    Reggie on live loopA: 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.
    Yeo Choong: Fresh, good.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.

  • A Conversation With Snob Scrilla, Sydney hip-hop artist and producer

    snob_scrilla1Former Californian hip-hop artist Snob Scrilla – also known as Sean Ray – is now based in Sydney, Australia, where he will release his debut album Day One through Ivy League Records in April 2009. Two singles from his first EP, There You Go Again and Chasing Ghosts, have already garnered radio airplay and critical acclaim, while Houston and next single Heartbreak Scorsese are set to continue the trend. Snob kindly shares his thoughts on the state of the music industry and describes life as a full-time musician in 2009.

    Hey Snob! Elevator pitch: give us an overview of your work and your musical career thus far!

    My background in music is almost is as varied as it could possibly be. I’ve done everything: from club nights, to writing pop songs for other artists, to hosting nationally-syndicated radio shows.

    With this project specifically, Snob Scrilla, it’s a bit of a confused child musically. When creating music as Snob, I set out to create music that’s not limited by a marketing scheme or hindered by a target market.

    I want Snob Scrilla to represent all of the random and eclectic musical tastes that I have, and that’s what makes it a bit of a unique thing in this day and age of assembly-line production in the industry.

    It’s 2009. Music is a commodity that we’re often unwilling to pay for. The modern musician’s dilemma: how do you get heard? How do you convince the audience that you’re worth the time?

    You’re not going to convince anybody of anything when it comes to music. That’s not the point of the art. The way you get people onside – though that shouldn’t be the goal either – is by making relevant artistic expressions that people will see a value in listening to.

    I’m not a fan of all of his antics, but one thing Kanye said with regards to his last album has really stuck with me: “art wins in the end.”

    I really believe that. I think that artistic integrity and genuine intentions will always succeed in the end, and that’s where we see the most valuable contributions on the part of the artistic community. Not the convoluted messages that we receive in the formulaic, cookie-cutter albums that are increasingly pumped out these days.

    I think that in order for musicians to get heard, they have to embrace the free music model.

    Artists and labels need to understand that there is no point trying to protect their music from downloads and torrents, because we live in an age where everything will be available for download for free, no matter how much they try to stop it.

    People are only going to buy my album or pay to download my single is if there is a perceived value. And as far as I’m concerned, that’s how it should be.

    snob_scrilla3Labels won’t get away with screwing over consumers anymore, by pumping cash into one single and neglecting the rest of a project only to release a sub-par product. It’s time for everybody to step their game up!

    Your recorded work is a promotional tool to get people through the door at your shows. Agree or disagree?

    I can understand how you could see it like that, but I’d have to disagree.

    While my recorded material is obviously going to be key to getting people to shows, I don’t think that it should be the goal.

    Okay, so what is the goal of your recorded material?

    Well there’s different goals for different art. For my new album specifically, my goal was to create an honest and accurate reflection of where I was at in my life.

    That sounds like a simple – and probably common – goal, but realistically, it encompasses a lot of things; from my personal life, to my beliefs and standpoints.

    Wrapping that all into one cohesive project was difficult, but that was the goal for the album!

    As a music fan, I’ve picked up the notion somewhere along my travels that most albums are released at a loss, and that tickets and merchandise are where the initial outlay is recouped. True or false?

    Yeah that is very true. Most of the time, albums are released at a loss. If they’re not released at a loss, then there’s still a huge recoupment for marketing and production expenditures that were incurred during the creative process.

    This is especially true for debut albums, because there’s generally not a huge fanbase already established and waiting for your project to drop so they can buy it.

    So, for new artists especially, shows and merch is definitely the thing that will get you through the period between releasing and the time it will take you to recoup the money you owe before you get to see any profit.

    Now that we’ve established your viewpoints on the distribution of your art, tell us about your latest album, and your plans for its release.

    Day One is the title of my new project. It’s my debut album as Snob Scrilla and it’s coming out April 24th 2009. It’s the follow-up to last year’s EP, and it’s been the culmination of a lot of growth for me as an artist. The last two singles – There You Go Again and Chasing Ghosts – both had a really hype vibe, and I think a lot of people expected that to be the sound of the entire album, but since I recorded those tracks I’ve grown a lot as an artist and that’s not really the case.

    The latest single Heartbreak Scorsese has been doing pretty well after being added to Triple J, as well as getting some spins on Nova as well. Next I’ll be shooting a video for that track and releasing some cool remixes.

    So yeah, it’s been a very long time coming and I’m very hyped about it man. I can’t wait for everyone to get the chance to finally hear what I’ve been working on!

    Hell, it’s a smooth album man, so you’ve got every reason to be excited. Anyway, you’re signed to Ivy League Records. How’d that relationship begin? I’m intrigued as to how artists get signed; it’s a story that’s not often told. Approached in a smoky bar after a killer show, or something more clean-cut?

    Ha the story of how I got signed is much more clean-cut actually. Basically, when Triple J started playing my first single There You Go Again, Pete Lusty from Ivy League heard the track and dug it enough to get in contact with me. We met a couple times, got along really well, and the entire thing was done in a couple weeks.

    Kickass story, but we’re missing a slice: how did you start getting played on Triple J?

    When I first moved to Australia in 2002 fresh out of  high school, I immediately got busy in the music industry doing any and every job, feature, appearance, or opportunity I could find with one goal: making connections.

    I spent about four years doing that before I even started the Snob Scrilla project. One of the connections that I made was Maya Jupiter, who was doing the hip-hop show on the Jays at the time. She kicked the track to Richard Kingsmill (Triple J’s music director), and the same week he added it to his 2008 new music show.

    Wsnob_scrilla4hat advice do you have for Australian artists who think they’ve got the talent to be heard?

    I think the main thing is getting your music out there any way that you can! You have to be focused on the long-term, not the short-term gain. Like I said, I was grinding for four years before I even started recording.

    Now, I’m not saying that everybody else should wait as long as did, I just mean people need to look at the end goal more than getting an immediate return. This game is a marathon, not a sprint, so take steps now to set yourself up later, and not the other way around!

    Excellent advice. It reminds me of wine businessman Gary Vaynerchuk, who states that legacy is more important than currency. Take the longview, instead of the possibility of immediate financial gain, because thanks to the internet, everything about your actions throughout your life will be easily visible to anyone. I think you’d dig his stuff.

    Alright, so why Ivy League? How much creative control are you allowed? I notice you’re slipping a few free tracks out to your Twitter friends…

    I decided to run with Ivy League because they were the label that really understood what I was trying to do with the project, and so they give me a lot of creative control.

    I’m not the type of artist that likes to have someone basically craft the entire project, or get other people to, and then just put me on to execute. I don’t see the merit in that approach, and that’s the main reason I stayed away from some of the other offers that we had for the Snob Scrilla project. Ivy was the best home for making Day One happen the way I had envisioned it from the beginning.

    As far as leaking tracks.. yeah I tend to do that from time to time. As I always say, I’m a huge advocate of free music. I think it’s something that we as artists need to increasingly embrace, and I do it wherever I can.

    As far as Twitter, it’s kind of ideal for leaking stuff because only the kids that are really paying attention are gonna catch what you’re even doing. It’s cool, ’cause that way I know the ones who are getting the free music are the ones who are gonna appreciate it the most.

    So kids, if you want to hear new stuff for free before anybody else gets it, follow me on Twitter and I’ll look after you! Haha.

    That’s awesome that Ivy League are big on allowing you creative control. Do they provide promotion and booking services too, or are these aspects handled by another agency? Do you think it’s best for one company to direct all of your interests – management, production, promotion, booking – or do you believe in spreading the love between several organisations?

    Initially, I was very much for trying to do everything myself. But I think that’s a very cliche, egotistical artist thing to do, to feel like nobody can look after your art the way you can. This is true in some regards, but once you really start to make any head way with your career you are going to want to have good people looking after your respective areas. And when you get to that point it’s best not to have those people in the same building.

    It’s good to keep some checks and balances to make sure that everyone is doing what they need to be doing to keep you moving forward. If you have everything under the one roof, you put too much control in the one place. It works best when it’s spread out using specialised groups rather than a localised body and spread too thin.

    Beyond Ivy League, can you give us an idea of some of the other groups you work with, and how you made those connections? Your music videos are pretty sweet; who takes care of those? Tie-in question: since you’re clearly still a big proponent of the music video, do you think that the videos hold the same value or importance in this era of broadband and streaming media, as they did a couple decades ago, when the format was first introduced as a promotional tool?

    The Harbour Agency handle my bookings, and that connection came about after having them come to a few shows, being impressed with the show, and approaching me. I’m also working with a group called The Chosen Few who now look after all of my artwork and print image [note: including the images throughout this article]. They’re so mad underground that they don’t have a website!

    As far as the videos I’ve had a variety of people that I worked with, in fact each video has been a different director. But I’ve been taking an increasingly active role with each vid. In fact with Houston I actually wrote the treatment and co-directed the clip.

    I do think that videos still play a big role. Not in the same way that they did before in the promotional sense, but I’m a very visual writer so getting to have a video that compliments the message being conveyed in a song can complete the whole picture sometimes, in a way that you couldn’t get from just listening to the song. It adds more to what can be perceived and inferred and therefore increases the impact of a message.

    At what point did it become too time-consuming to manage yourself? Or, considering your recent growth in popularity due to Triple J exposure, do you think it’d still be feasible to handle management, booking and promotion yourself, in addition to writing words and music?

    As soon as we started taking the project to labels, I had management on board. Depending on who you approach, it’s important to have someone who can put the right foot forward for you.

    As far as having management now, I think if you’re doing things right, you never really stop managing your art to some degree. It’s important to stay active in your own career and interests, otherwise things can slip away from you really quickly.

    Obviously this isn’t always easy to do as things get busier and busier for an artist, but relinquishing complete control can be dangerous as well. You need to find a balance; having another person (or persons) on board just allows you to focus on both aspects of your career: the management and the artistry.

    You’ve recently launched a redesigned MySpace, which I must say looks pretty badass, and I’m not usually one to pay much attention to artists’ MySpace designs. As you’ve mentioned, you’re also pretty prolific on Twitter, so you’re a clear fan of the fan engagement factor. How do you manage to juggle these communication channels, and how do you choose which of these web apps to pay attention to?

    Thanks heaps man! My boy Sam Webster redid the MySpace for me.

    I am a big fan of engaging with people as much as possible and sometimes it does get a bit much to handle everything, but I’m able to find time at the moment ’cause I’m not super busy. It’s actually been an ideal time to build everything up, especially Twitter, because my album is done and I’m basically just waiting until it drops to start doing promo and touring.

    But even when I’m on the road, I have everything linked to my Blackberry, so people on Facebook, MySpace or even Twitter can be in contact with me, no matter where I’m at.

    snob_scrilla2By ‘building everything up’, you mean your web-engaged fanbase? You think that fans actually want to connect with artists? Are you insane?

    Actually, I’m full of shit: the only reason I landed this interview was because you popped up in my Twitter stream, and I’d already witnessed you live on the 2008 Faker/Sparkadia tour, so I had a decent idea of which planet you were from.

    But seriously, where do you draw the line within the ‘always on’ reality that you’ve embraced as an easily-accessible online figure?

    Ha, I don’t know, I guess that line remains to be seen yet. I just feel like the very least I can do for people is reciprocate the energy that they give me when they write or chat or tweet or whatever. I do get some people that add me and IM almost every night with hardcore questions that I would think they would get tired of asking. But everybody is different and I try to have time and patience for everyone.

    I think at some point it will become physically impossible to stay on top of it all – and at that point I’ll have to put a limit on it – but until then I’m pretty committed to the all access all the time attitude and I’m always trying to think of better ways to make myself more accessible, so it looks like it will be this way for a while at least! :)

    Finally, what are your thoughts on those “360 deals” that’re becoming more common? Have any of your musician friends been approached?

    360 deals are becoming more common, and I think they are a joke. They’re a sign of the decline of major labels and their need to find new and different ways to generate revenue and keep afloat.

    At the end of the day, I think they are a bad move for most artists. It all comes back to control. If a label owns everything that you do, then they own you. Everything that you do will be tied into paying back any recoupment you might owe. Your income may be tied up in budgeting and marketing for other projects on a label’s agenda not even related to you, before you may see a single dollar.

    I have had friends approached with 360 deals, and my advice, every time, is to stay away. It might be a harder and longer grind, but the best thing to do is try and find another way to get your music released. If you can, you’ll be much happier for it in the end!

    Thanks very much for your time Snob. What are your plans for the rest of 2009? Any closing thoughts or plugs you’d like to throw in?

    No worries man! Thanks for taking the time yourself!

    The rest of the year is going to just be touring after the release of the album. Day One is the title and it drops April 24th.

    Oh and of course, follow me on Twitter kids, @snobscrilla! Peace for now man!

    Snob Scrilla’s debut album Day One will be released April 24, 2009 through Ivy League Records. Catch up with him on Twitter, MySpace or YouTube.