Phantom Blog

Phantom Blog

Martin Phillipps: Chuffed and Chilled Out

The Chills new album Scatterbrain is the band’s third in six years, an unusually productive period for a band who’ve often been famously interrupted by line-up changes. Martin Phillipps spoke to Richard Langston about the new approach to record this album and why he’s excited about the band’s future.

When I saw you had a new album out, I thought: wow, that was fast…

Well yeah, it should be what bands do or what songwriters do at least, get an album out every couple of years. We’re sort of on schedule, two and half years or something since the last one. It’s good,  it’s just unusual for The Chills, there were always a couple of line-up changes in between that delayed things plus in the old days extensive touring got in the way of studio time as well. Three really good albums now, I’m pretty chuffed actually.

Of your three comeback albums Snow Bound (2018) strikes me as the rockiest…this one feels more reflective…how do you see them?

It does take me a while to step back and see what we’ve done, that can take years sometimes especially with lyrics, I don’t realise how revealing  of myself I can be until some years later, it’s like ‘oh my god’ I put that out there. But there’s been a process to these albums. When Fire Records got involved and we did Silver Bullets (2015) I really didn’t want some name producer coming in and taking credit for the revival of The Chills.

We worked with a really great producer-engineer, Brendan Davies, and I was prepared to take responsibility for the success or failure of the album and it was a great way of getting the band some of whom have really not been in an intense studio session like that before. It was a great way of getting the band working together, and then with Snow Bound it was time to step up and actually work with a producer again. I had my own reasons for being nervous about working with producers, it hadn’t always worked for me. Greg Havers was just great. 

He brought the best out of the band and I think he put us through the hoops but at the same time he had enough respect for me to work with me on the overall record. But this time with Scatterbrain it was time for me to step back and let the band’s skills come to the fore. It worked. I was still writing the album as we were recording it so I was able to take off home and keep working on songs and trust what the band was coming up with Tom Healy who was an excellent producer.

I’m really pleased, people are saying it’s probably the most produced record they’ve heard, and I think that’s right. It’s where it needs to be, and people also said the best album since Submarine Bells; people always say that but It’s a nice thing to hear because it’s a recognition of the quality I guess.

I hear more spaces in this record and more orchestration…

Yeah totally, I’ve been learning…because I’m one of those song writers I sit there with my guitar basically and try and do the entire band, rhythm and the chords and all the melodic breaks by myself. It’s been a learned skill for me to then go into the studio and strip away what’s not necessary or assign it to another instrument. There’s been way more of that done on this record than in the past. There’s actually very little of me on it playing guitar.

That’s a big feature of the album…were you worried you would lose that signature Chills sound…the interplay of guitar and keyboards?

Yes, I was concerned and that’s why it’s taken a while I guess to understand what we can do with those melodies, actually chuck around ideas, it’s no longer necessary for me to play relentless guitar which i did for years and years. That’s been great, that little line of guitar can be done by Erica on violin or that one can be done by Oli on keyboards. He added an awful lot to this record. Songs like ‘Scatterbrain’ he basically built that whole sound structure up with Tom Healey and it’s a great bit of work.

The songs were written but the actual approach to how they were going to be realised was different, I was able to step back and acknowledge the expertise of others. Erica was a child prodigy violinist and she plays great guitar now and keyboards. Callum the new guy, I didn’t realise he played horns till he started coming up with these great horn parts and arrangements. Oli is head of the contemporary music school at Massey and has all sorts of experience. That’s an enormous range of talent to be able to draw upon and having me relaxed enough to accept that this is the new Chills and it’s a way into the future. 

You talk about the horn arrangements, ‘You’re Immortal’ has a Morricone-like sweep about it…

(Laughs) It’s so ironic because my briefing to the band was this should sound like Ennio Morricone and while we were recording it a week later he dropped dead so I will not say that again about any living artist! But that was the brief, there were actually three other songs completed that were left off and one of those, ’The Dragon with the Sapphire Eyes’, has even more amazing horns on it, and that’ll come out in some form.

It certainly sounds the most varied album and there’s a lot of reflection going on on your part…

The three songs that I left off were the first ones when I started writing the album and they just became not the right theme. ‘The Dragon with the Sapphire Eyes’ is about consumerism, and here’s me an old guy trying to tell people off and it was just boring and it’s been done much better by the younger generation. It was pointed out to me by a couple of people  independently that the stuff that really registers is when I draw upon my own experience especially as an ageing adult confronting mortality, the death of my mother, that’s what connects with people.

‘Caught in My Eye’ is the rawest most stripped-back song about loss..but it’s strange Martin the one I found most affecting was ‘Destiny’…a bitter-sweet lament on mortality…

Yeah, it’s been quite remarkable seeing how that is connecting with people. One of the few good things about the streaming of music  is you get a good record of where songs are being played around the world and ‘Destiny’ has taken off in Latvia and I’ve had to do an interview with Croatia as well. It really wasn’t one of the crucial songs, it was almost traditional Chills, the kind of stuff we were trying to move away from. The lyrics are very real and somehow it’s connecting.

I always find with Chills’ records person by person they will find a song that’s key for them. I’ve had two people  say already that the best song on the album is obviously ‘The Wall Beyond Abandon’ the closing track and that’s certainly not our view, most of the band feel that ‘Hourglass’ is the most important song on the record.

Just harking back to ‘Destiny’ for a minute it must be the only time the word autarchic has been used in a song…

(Laughs). Yes, it’s sort of a nod and wink to the documentary, me as the dictator. I was looking in the thesaurus for another word for dictator and discovered autarchic which I’d never heard of before. If you’ve seen the cover artwork it’s quietly hidden in the top right corner. The line ‘autarchic on the mend’ means I’ve realised it’s not the be all and end all to be in total control.

With the artwork we were very lucky because the guy who designed it, David Costa, designed Goodbye Yellow Brick Road for Elton John, Night at the Opera for Queen, and he did the recent Beatles ‘Let It Be… Naked’ and all sorts of stuff. The reason that came about is he was in a ‘60s acid folk band called Trees, not a million miles away from Pentangle or Steeleye Span, and because they had the reissue of their albums through Fire Records he offered to do a cover for one of the bands and we got it. We were really fortunate, it’s a really powerful image.

What is it about that image that appeals to you?

I guess Scatterbrain is referring to my state of mind, and the mind of people of my age group that I see daily on Facebook and things. The uncertainty so a powerful image of being stared at by a kind of ominous diving bell but with the bird nest on top indicating a bit of confusion. I was really impressed and he did that from listening initially to old Chills stuff to get an idea of what kind of music I made. When he actually got to hear the album just before the cover was finalised, we all agreed that he’d nailed it.

You’ve had a lot of marine imagery in your past work…’Submarine Bells ‘being the obvious one…that was the association I made…

It was deliberate to link it back to those kind of nautical themes because as you mention there’s actually quite a  few of them when you start looking at artwork for singles as well and in the cover art for Submarine Bells. There is actually a diving bell helmet in there somewhere, so it’s just appropriate bringing the saga into the now.

It’s interesting Martin that all you people in Dunedin who started out writing songs 40-odd year ago…David Kilgour…Shayne Carter..you’re all dealing with mortality…Shayne’s song about his father…David’s album about his mother and Peter Gutteridge…

I think the best thing about the people you mention is the sheer fact that we’re still going. That’s the most crucial thing. I’ve connected with Shayne probably more than ever before through the Tally Ho concerts initially but we’re just sort of been comparing notes as life goes by more than we ever did in the past. In some ways The Chills/Straitjacket story, I had no idea how many similarities we had in common until I read Shayne’s book. There are few other people that we can share that with when we talk about the highs and the lows. It’s been really good.

I say the albums got those reflective songs but it’s also got rockier stuff…I think ‘Little Alien’ is just a great pop song…

Most of these songs started out with a lot more lyrics and I’ve become aware that I can just be too wordy. I stripped things back with ‘Little Alien’ and ‘Monolith’. There were all sorts of explanations of what I was trying to say but it just became unnecessary. ‘Little Alien’ is basically about refugees and people who are not in their comfort zone and feeling scared,.There were other verses that helped explain that to the listener and they just became unnecessary. I’m trying to make things a bit more open, it’s just better for people to have room to move with their own minds as well and not being preached at

You’ve always been quite purposeful in what you’ve wanted to say in a song…ethical and moral concerns…I’m trying to think how far back they go…maybe ‘Submarine Bells’…

It’s funny you should say Submarine Bells because I was having a conversation the other day about this where did the message songs start. It’s all the way back to The Same with ‘Frantic Drift” which is dealing with religion, all the way through there’s songs about women’s issues, ‘The Male Monster from the Id’, ‘Sanctuary’ about domestic abuse, ‘Tomboy’ about gender identification and stuff. They’ve always been there and it’s an on-going battle to question yourself about your motives but also whether the quality of what you’re trying to say is worth putting out there.

I’ve wondered if that’s the influence of your father…(who was a Methodist Minister)?

My father’s input, he’s very much of a classical bent and has never been able to understand rock music. It’s just not his thing.

I was meaning more that he’s a minister, and you probably heard him speak on moral issues and maybe you sat in church and listened to him …

There’s an assumption that Dad would be speaking about higher and moral things but most of the stuff I’ve seen him talk about is about social issues and people, certainly not about what they should be doing in the eyes of God or anything like this. The short answer is yes, my father’s influence will be there to some extent. He’s always admired my words and suggested I should’ve been a writer which is kind of a back-handed compliment, he doesn’t get the music but ‘you should write books’. But at the same time both parents were proud of what we’d achieved, pretty staggering for them to go to a packed Town Hall for Submarine Bells and years later going to a packed Regent Theatre to see the documentary premiere. It’s quite overwhelming for them sometimes.

On the matter of you being a writer, you wrote that great piece for AudioCulture on your posters, and I thought, Martin you should write a book..your wry take on things…your honesty…

Over the years I have had quite a lot of stuff published in various little publications and things, short stories, poems, tales of my hepatitis C adventures, all sorts of stuff. But frankly now that Shayne’s put out his book and he’s lifted the bar so high I might just not do that! Maybe I could focus on a very different way of telling the story.

You’ve definitely got your own take on things…

Yeah, and I’ve become more confident with it over the last ten years. I think I’m old enough to be eccentric now which is quite a nice free-ing situation to be in, I really don’t care anymore about what people think. It’s been very liberating.

I want to ask you about the re-releases of your albums…I imagine you feel comfortable about Submarine Bells but I wonder how you feel about Soft Bomb…given it caused you and the band so much grief…how you were kicked off Slash at that time…

It was a very fraught album but that’s not unusual in the music business to have something like that happen. I always believed in it because there’s at least seven or eight really good songs on there and I think we put too much on it, the strange choice was made at the time to basically fill the capacity of a CD. That was a mistake and some of the songs went a wee bit awry. It’s very hard to get back to a song you love when it’s been mis-recorded.

One of things that made that record fail was just the times, the era of Nirvana and all sorts of extraordinary stuff happening in hip hop and stuff, so we’d had our run by then the band was more or less fourteen years into its career, and that’s pretty good. I knew that people would eventually discover the good stuff on it and the same with Sunburnt from 1996. People are starting to discover that too, once people got sick of playing Submarine Bells over and over again they started to look further afield.

One of the songs  that’s stuck in my head after listening to the vinyl reissue of ‘Soft Bomb’ is ..the one with the line.. .’never trust a man in camouflage gear’…

‘Strange Case’ yeah, which is obviously about the Aramoana incident, pretty harrowing and very different from the demos I did for it. It’s got that bouncy threatening kind of feel to it, it’s at odds with the message. I don’t know if I’d be brave enough these days to take the point of view of the killer, that was the kind of thing because I’d been listening to Randy Newman songs like  ‘In Germany Before the War’ that I thought was acceptable,  and I think it would not be acceptable now for me to presume to try and and explain some of rationale…certainly not to excuse him. I did have somebody who had a friend killed at Aramoana say that song really helped them and I only needed to hear that once to feel it was justified. Still pretty heavy.

‘Double Summer’ is a terrific pop song…

That’s one that failed, sadly. It was so much bigger in my head. Often it’s those big pop songs that don’t quite work. ‘Molten Gold’ we never quite got that, ‘Party in My Heart’  on the back of ‘House with a Hundred Rooms’, that was giant and majestic and it just didn’t work. Sometimes you get the great riff but you cannot get the great lyrics to sit alongside it.

‘Double Summer’ is one of  the ones most requested to play live but some of these things I used to sing at the top of my vocal range and that meant singing for three minutes on a really high note. It’s bad enough having ‘Heavenly Pop Hit’, we have an obligation to play that but we just can’t do all the old ones that are that strenuous.

You seem in a very creative period and I remember in the documentary you said…’there’s a lot to be accomplished and there’s an uncertain amount of time’…

It comes and goes. The unfortunate part of the creative package is I get periods of not just the blues but the deep blacks as well and I just can’t see my way to doing the next song let alone the next album. But then it happens, just in the last week the pad which sits beside me while I’m watching tv has started filling up with little ideas, quotes, and song titles. It’s an exciting feeling that once again the process is underway. I came out of recording ‘Scatterbrain’ which was quite draining and I was thinking that is going to be the last album. But here we go again.

The songs on Scatterbrain all feel like new songs, they don’t feel like songs that you’ve finally got around to recording…

That’s true. Most Chills albums have had riffs that date back sometimes to the very early ‘80s. I can’t think of any on Scatterbrain. We recorded the album at what used to be Chicks Hotel but is now called Port Chalmers Recording Services run by Tom Bell.  We were four days from finishing when covid hit, Tom Healy the producer just made it back to Auckland otherwise he would’ve been trapped here. But it gave us extra months to send sound files around and really fine tune it, that ultimately really paid off. We pulled it in so there’s a uniformity to it which wasn’t there in the early mixes, it sounded like a jumble of different songs. Now it has a flow and a feel to it.

I notice that you did record an old song, ‘Lost in Space’ that goes back to your early days on that cassette Fire Records issued in 2016, Single-Burger

Yeah, there’s a live version on Secret Box (Three CD package of rarities). Essentially because we didn’t get to record our first album for seven years there are at least two albums of Chills stuff that never got recorded. We’ve been talking seriously about making use of this downtime while we can’t tour overseas, and just nail those old songs one at a time and basically record what we’ve been the ’82 Chills album and the ’84 one.

I’m hoping that happens, there’s a lot of really good material. There are other things like ‘I Saw Your Silhouette’ and ‘Frozen Fountain’ and ‘Juicy Creaming Soda’, ’Steinlager’ crappy title but I have a different set of lyrics for it and it’s called ‘Stay Longer’. I reckon getting members of the old bands and the new bands together in a good relaxed environment, listen to the tape a few times, learn the songs and bash them out with as much of the old equipment we can find, not dwell on it too much, that would be a dream to finally record those.

The Chills – Scatterbrain Album Release Tour

April 16 – Oamaru Club, Oamaru
April 17 – Larnach Castle, Dunedin Arts Festival SOLD OUT
April 18 – Festival of Colour, Wanaka
April 30 – Cassels Blue Smoke, Christchurch
May 1 – Wakatu Hotel, Nelson
May 6 – St. Peter’s Hall, Paekākāriki.

May 7 – Meow, Wellington
May 8 – The Cabana, Napier
May 9 – The Dome, Gisborne
May 13 – Totara St, Mount Maunganui
May 14 – Powerstation, Auckland
May 15 – Town Hall, Raglan

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Alec Bathgate: The Quiet Punk (Who Could Be Loud)

Alec Bathgate, the quiet guy who made all that guitar noise with The Enemy, Toy Love and Tall Dwarfs, has released his third solo album, Phantom Dots. He talked to Richard Langston about belatedly taking guitar lessons,  playing a session at Sun Studios, posting his archive of photos on Instagram, and why he started making music again.

Alec, I have a memory of you saying when Chris Knox had his stroke in 2009 that you might not make any more music…

I did feel like that, Chris having a stroke was a massive shock, and it did knock me back for a long time. It’s only now ten years later that I can look back and see how affecting that was. I felt like I didn’t want to play music if I couldn’t play with Chris. But he kept playing music (laughs) despite his disability, and if I’d said to him I wasn’t going to play any more I think that would’ve pissed him off.

We also had the earthquakes in Canterbury a year after, and Georgina and I lost our house, we had to go through a rebuild. It was a difficult few years and I didn’t feel like playing music much. But then I felt quite sad and it frightened me to think that it was gone. Three or four years ago I really felt like I wanted to make music again.

Photo: Christabel Wylie – Auckland Airport, 1980

Phantom Dots is all instrumentals…was that the plan when you set out to make it?

I had this thing of playing the guitar again and I had guitar lessons.

Eh?!

Yeah (laughs), people are often surprised. I thought it would be an interesting thing to do because I always felt like I was faking it a bit, I hadn’t learnt properly and I just thought it would be interesting, and I found a really great guitar teacher, Ben Eldridge who’d been in the Reduction Agents with James Milne (Lawrence Arabia). I was shocked to discover some fundamental things that you need to know as a musician (laughs). I immersed myself in guitar playing, got a bit obsessed, getting up at 6 am to play for an hour before I went to work. I’m still on this roll and I’m really glad it’s come back. This is what I’m going to do for the rest of my life now, play. I’m also in a band called The Sundae Painters which just came out of the blue. I’m really enjoying that.

How did that band come about?

Hamish Kilgour is living in CHCH at the moment, and Paul Kean (Toy Love, The Bats) mentioned he’d been doing some recording with Hamish and I said I’d be happy to help out. Kaye Woodward (The Bats, Minisnap) is also in the band and we’ve put two songs on Bandcamp – Paul’s also made a couple of videos that are on YouTube – and suddenly we’re playing a gig. Not sure where it will go but I like how we sound, it’s a good sound, it’s quite a heavy psychedelic type of thing.

I want to make another solo album of songs which will take a long time. I think with Phantom Dots I wanted the challenge of making it all instrumentals. I’d been listening to a lot of instrumental music, I wanted every track to be different, quite short, jumping through all these different things. I wanted it to be engaging and not something that people would just play once.

I listen to a lot of instrumental music when I’m working  (he has his own design company) such as Fripp and Eno ‘No Pussyfooting’ which I found in a bargain bin way back in Dunedin when I was 16. I like Ravi Shankar, someone I also discovered early on. The first album I bought was the ‘Concert for Bangladesh’ box set and there’s a whole side of Ravi Shankar and I think that was an influence on my guitar playing especially with the drone thing.

Your Instagram posts – all those personal and band photos you’ve put out there …it’s like a potted history of your life …

I’ve kept stuff from when I first started playing music in The Enemy and in Toy Love. I kept all our posters, any articles, a list of all our gigs. I don’t know why, I think I’m just an obsessive list-maker and collector. I’ve got boxes of this stuff in my attic. 

I‘d been recording Phantom Dots and decided to put that up on Bandcamp and realised that no-one would have a clue that it even existed. I thought maybe I’ll put some stuff up on Instagram and that might draw a bit of attention. It’s a bit weird because there’s stuff going right back to childhood so it’s like seeing my life flash before my eyes (laughs).

Photo: Anthony Phelps – Auckland, 1979

There’s some great photos that you’ve taken… one of Hamish Kilgour with a guitar in Christchurch in 1983 and a memorable shot of The Chills…

Yeah, I like that one with the leather jacket. I got into photography in the early ‘80s at the same time as  Flying Nun was emerging so I photographed a lot of the bands. 

There’s a few photos of you growing up in Tapanui in rural Otago in the 1960s…one imagines that could’ve been a fairly ideal childhood…

My parents had a farm. I had three older sisters and we caught the school bus so we had a typical farming childhood. One of the things growing up on a farm you get put to work (laughs). A lot of childhood was working in the woolshed, bailing hay, harvesting wheat. In winter you’d be pulling sheep from snowdrifts. It was a good childhood but I didn’t have any desire to be a farmer and there was a lot of pressure cos I was the only son. But I wasn’t cut out for that.

As I got older and once I started getting interested in music we would go to town – Gore was quite close – I would do the rounds of record shops, even before I could afford to buy anything. I used to listen to the radio, on Thursday nights Peter Sinclair would to do a Top 20 countdown. The Monkees on TV was a really big thing when I was about 7 or 8, that created an impression of being in a band, have a Monkee mobile, and all living together, that looked like great fun. Later I started reading  about music and discovered the NME and Melody Maker.

When did your Beatles thing start?

That was much later. The first thing that really connected was heavy metal (laughs) hearing Black Sabbath or Hendrix. My sister bought a couple of Hendrix albums and I listened to those a lot. Heavy metal was big down south in Gore, there’d be bogans driving around in V8s with Deep Purple and Black Sabbath blasting. I loved those big distorted riffs.

Glam rock was the first thing I connected with in a big way, I was just at the right age 14 or 15, things like Slade, Alice Cooper, Mott the Hoople, T-Rex, David Bowie. That was around the time I started to play as well.

Photo: Bev Bathgate – Duan, Pam and Alec, Crookston, 1974

There’s a picture of you in 1974 with a bass, was that your first instrument?

Yes. I played with a friend Jeff Rae who went on to be a country musician. We were school friends and he’d been playing guitar since he was really young and he was much better than me. I took up the bass and it was my instrument for quite a long time but I realised I wanted to play guitar. I wasn’t very skilled at it but fortunately for me that coincided with punk rock which was very forgiving (laughs). It was all about attitude and sound rather than technique. 

The Enemy had plenty of both. Chris has called the band’s version of ‘Pull Down the Shades’ a lost classic….to me it’s the best NZ punk song…simple, direct, powerful.

It was written really early on, in the front room of Chris’s flat, the Fileul St house where we practiced. We might have even done it the first time we played. We went from meeting each other to practising and playing live in a very short time span. ‘Pull Down the Shades’ is three chords and you play them as fast as you can (laughs). It got faster and faster and shorter, I think it originally had 7 or 8 verses. 

The way you meet Chris has almost become mythical, the meeting in the record shop In Dunedin when you were looking for the Damned single…

It was the ‘Neat Neat Neat’ single and it was in Jeff Ruston’s record shop in Princess St. Mike Dooley (who’d become The Enemy’s dummer) and I were in the same class at Polytech, and most lunchtimes we’d go to Roy Colbert’s record shop and then to Jeff’s. Chris was behind the counter minding the shop – he’d probably worked the morning as a postie, I’m pretty sure he still had his postie gear on. 

Mike and I knew that the Damned single was about to be released, that was the first punk release in NZ. Chris, Mike and I just hit off, he was being typical Chris, very engaging. He was curious about these two young guys – Mike and I had been playing a bit together – and Chris had a band with some friends. Obviously he had a desire to be fronting a band and he’d been writing songs for quite a long time. When we first started playing together he had a book full of  stuff he’d written. He played me songs he’d written on the piano.

You’re such different characters, Chris out-there, assertive and confrontational and you’ve always appeared the quiet shy one…

Definitely shy. I might not have played in a band if I hadn’t met Chris, he gave me the confidence to do it and he deflected attention because he was such a great front person. In that sense, polar opposites. Chris always shocked me by being so extroverted, that’s alien to my character.

Here you are this shy farm boy and suddenly you’re in the maelstrom of punk …which could be violent…in photos from the time you look fresh-faced…you weren’t trying to be something you were not…

I didn’t relate to the aggression of punk rock, to me it was just the sound of distorted fast guitars, that was really exciting. To me as an 18 year old it was just so wow and primal. I got around my shyness and fear of being on stage because I was just loving playing in a band, it had been my dream all through my teenage years.

I remember Toy Love at The Cook in Dunedin…just so fierce…what was it like for you?

I loved it. 1979 was a fantastic year. We ascended pretty quickly. When The Enemy went to Auckland we weren’t that well received, the punks were suspicious, they didn’t like these out-of-towners from down south. Chris had a mohawk and we had this aggressive name so no-one wanted to book us. We were kinda stranded in Auckland. When Toy Love started playing a couple of months later suddenly people were coming along and were a lot more accepting and it just kept growing and as we went out into the provinces we got bigger and bigger crowds. It was just thrilling playing.

We had The Enemy songs and Toy Love were writing really good songs. Usually I’d come up with some chords or a riff and Chris had such a great sense of melody he’d sing something over the top and we’d have a new song. Some things would be written out of the band practising but after a while it was just Chris and I. I’d play him something and he’d do all the hard work of coming up with the tune and writing lyrics.

You had similiar taste in music?

When I first met him I was into The Velvet Underground. I had a compilation in high school and I loved that and tried to play like them. Also Ravi Shankar as I mentioned. Chris was a big Beatles fan which I was kinda suspicious of. Chris was a bit older than me and he’d lived through all that.

I see on your Instagram feed you’ve been reading a book on Plastic Ono band and George Harrison …so something changed…

I think in that couple of  months between The Enemy and Toy Love Chris had brought some Beatles’ albums to Auckland. Revolver is the big one for me. I love that  album and the guitar sounds and they’re playing as a band so you get all those tracks like ‘She Said She Said’ and ‘And Your Bird Can Sing’, ‘Doctor Robert’. It sounds like they’re playing together as a band and the guitars sound amazing. There was also a Beatles’ songbook lying around and I tried  to learn songs from it and that fed into Toy Love.

The song ‘Rebel’ came from ‘You’ve Really Got a Hold On Me’, a Smokey Robinson song The Beatles covered. The chords in that song are lifted directly from that. Compared to Enemy stuff that’s quite a complex song,  there’s a lot of chord changes in it. We were chuffed to have written it and that night Toy Love was playing The Windsor and because the band hadn’t learned it Chris and I got up and did it before our set got underway proper.

I realised reading Shayne Carter’s book how important guitars can be to guitarists, I remember you owned a white Ibanez that you later sold to David Kilgour. Was that your first guitar?

My sister Pam had an acoustic that was in the house, then I got the bass. The funny thing is I sold that to Peter Gutteridge so early on in The Clean Peter was playing my bass and David was playing my guitar (laughs). I bought the Ibanez when I shifted to Dunedin on hire purchase from Beggs. I finished the sixth form and I was just desperate to get away from the farm and to get to a city. Throughout my childhood and teenage years I drew a lot – that was my thing– and going to Art School was kind of a logical step. It also seemed like a breeding ground for bands. I thought it was a good place to meet people who were into the same sort of stuff.

People often ask why did so many good bands come out of Dunedin at that time, and I think one of the main reasons was  as simple as Chris Knox moving from Invercargill to  live in Dunedin…

Chris was a real impetus and encouraged people to do stuff. I remember being slightly terrified because we started playing together in August ‘77 and we didn’t have many songs and the next thing we knew we had our first gig in November. We didn’t have a bass player and Chris was going yeah we can do it. If it had been down to me I would never have left the practice room. Mick Dawson joined us a week before the gig and he didn’t play bass, he was a guitar player, but Chris said you can do it. He enjoyed it so much he stayed on. Eventually we had a pretty strong set.

And then like-minded people were inspired by each other…David Kilgour says he picked up from you the technique of playing with the top string open to create the drone…

That’s what I got from trying to figure out how to play Velvet Underground songs. I don’t know if that’s what they did. You just hit one string and then you can play notes on the string below it. That’s my, if you can call it, my trick. I still play that way, that’s what I based my style around.

David says he decided to add to it by leaving two strings open and playing a melody underneath…

I love David’s guitar playing and I think he’s incredible. The Clean have always been one of my favourite bands and I feel very lucky to have seen them play many times and in different incarnations over the years. He made good use of the technique and I stole it anyway (laughs). The Clean did their first gig supporting The Enemy and we played with them a lot.

Back when we started The Enemy our self-belief was such that we believed that people would want to know about us 20 or 30 years. It was a feeling that we wanted to leave an impression, and it comes from being fans of records, you’re so passionate about it, you care about every second of the record and you want to try and do something yourself that people feel that way about. In that sense we were ambitious.  Even though with Tall Dwarfs we thought not many people are going to hear these records but we still believed in them.

You probably won’t hear people making music that sounds like the Tall Dwarfs because the technology has changed, and that very spare method of recording because of the limitations of the tape machine, I don’t think people will have that sort of restraint. If you’re using computer software you can put a thousand things on there. In that sense what we did is arcane.

I think of something like Elvis recording at Sun Studios, there’s just the three of them. They don’t have a drummer and it’s just going straight to tape. That’s the way they had to record and it becomes this unique little moment in time.

Photo: Georgina Bathgate – Sun Studio, Memphis, Tennessee, July 2019

I notice on your Instagram feed there’s a photo of the gravestone of Elvis’s guitar player, Scotty Moore…

For my 60th birthday last year Georgina and I did a road trip through Mississippi, Tennessee and Alabama. We found Scotty’s resting place on July the 5th …65 years to the day since they recorded ‘That’s Alright Mama’ during their very first session at Sun Studios. That night I did a session at Sun.

Did you?!

Yeah, cos it still operates as a studio. During the day they had tourists going through and at night you can record there. I did two songs ‘Jane’ and ‘John’. It was amazing to record there, I did a six hour session, and it was just Georgina and I and the engineer. He  was great, he just let us wander around, and gave me a whole lot of free stuff including an original  Jerry Lee Lewis Sun single, a cover of ‘Cold Cold Heart’.

It happened by coincidence. Before that trip I had read Scotty Moore’s biography and when I saw the date they recorded ‘That’s Alright Mama’ I thought, I’ll book a session for the same day. I love Scotty Moore’s guitar playing and it was a real treat to go there.

We also went to the RCA studio in Nashville where Elvis did a heap of stuff and David Bowie mixed ‘Gene Genie’ there, and I found the studio where  Blonde on Blonde was recorded and found Ardent Studio in Memphis where Big Star recorded, and went down to Muscle Shoals  to a couple of studios where a lot of early Soul was done. I’m a fan, I like all that stuff. 

Jessel Street, Auckland, 1981

When you started recording the first Tall Dwarfs EP on the TEAC four-track Chris Knox said he had a grin from ear to ear…the realisation that you could record your own music…

Yeah, it was a revelation, our only experience with Toy Love had been recording in studios at the mercy of other people because we didn’t understand the equipment. The four track just sounded really good. It was spontaneous. ‘Nothing’s Going to Happen’ had been something we’d come up with when Toy Love were in Australia, we’d done it at sound checks but it hadn’t really evolved into anything, and the two other songs Chris wrote.

In later years most of the Tall Dwarfs stuff was just making something up on the spot, recording it, layering stuff up. It would evolve, it was a really good way to make music. Because we didn’t have a drummer we could make our own rhythm loops.  On Canned Music was the first time we started using them, and I just loved the repetition and how it never wavers. We had to find creative ways to make the loops. On ‘Turning Brown and Torn in Two’ the rhythm is just Chris making a sound into a mic then slowing the tape right down. I remember you could get a nice thud if you hit a sofa or something. We’d be recording in a bedroom or a lounge or whatever and just use what was at hand. We’d rejected that idea of commercial success so it didn’t matter what we sounded like, we weren’t trying to cater to a mass audience, it was very niche. It was just Chris and I hanging out and doing what we liked doing. Luckily for us Flying Nun were very supportive and let us do what we wanted. We just handed it over and they put it out. At that time there was no recognition of FN outside of NZ so there was no expectation, we thought a few hundred people might hear it.

That first EP was such an influential one, and set many musicians who would make records for Flying Nun on the path of making their own music…

I guess it showed a different way of doing things, a more accessible way of doing things. It was a very different time. If you go back to 1980 you couldn’t make a record unless you got signed by a label who financed it. Independent labels were just starting.

I remember listening to your first  solo album Gold Lame (1994) and thinking how it gave fans of your work an insight into your contribution to the Tall Dwarfs…in that you could hear your musical style and voice in isolation…

I got a four track cassette deck, it was pretty basic, and I had a casio keyboard, a 12-string acoustic and an electric guitar and recorded in  a corner in the garage. It was very much like early Tall Dwarfs. I really enjoyed making it and it forced me to write songs which I’ve always found hard. People don’t know the second album Indifferent Velvet Void so well which is a shame because I’m really proud of it, the songwriting is better, and I used ProTools so I could layer it up more. 
I’ve just been through the process of remastering it, and I still like it. Those two albums and Phantom Dots have been remastered for vinyl and I’m hoping they’ll be released. I’ve had interest from 3 labels in the States. I would love to have them on vinyl. Now that I’ve done my solo stuff I want to get Tall Dwarfs stuff re-issued. For a long time I was feeling like it was a bit of burden, y’know musical history. It’s only a notion at the moment so I’m not sure how that’s going to pan out.

Photo: Emma Bathgate – Christchurch, November 2020

New poems hit the streets of Aotearoa

As 2020 enters its final phase, Phantom has curated a selection of original works by Becky Woodall, Eamonn Tee, Simon Sweetman, Ruby Porter, Steve Thomas and David Eggleton. Diverse in their form and inspiration, these poems continue the Phantom tradition of giving street denizens some nourishing food for thought.

Poet and editor David Eggleton has no doubt poetry belongs on posters – in fact, he thinks it’s the perfect antidote for 2020’s woes:

“Why does poetry belong on posters? Because it’s about keeping calm and carrying on, with a song in your heart and a smile on your face, while sliding on someone’s dropped banana skin towards that promised land of milk and honey where Covid-19 has no dominion.”

With their stark black and white typography, Phantom’s latest poem posters are sure to stand out. Keep an eye out for them on a street near you.

There’s no money in it, so why does Phantom Billstickers print poems?

Putting up posters every week is a business model. But the pioneers of professional street poster campaigns, Phantom Billstickers have been providing free space in their poster frames for New Zealand poets for over 15 years. What gives?

Phantom’s CEO, Robin McDonnell, says the company feels a responsibility to think bigger than next week’s marketing budget.

“We started out with posters to promote acts like Dave Dobbyn and the NZ Ballet. We wanted to create an audience for their creativity, so we took to the streets and let people know. It’s the same with poetry,” McDonnell said.

There’s also the desire to show the world what New Zealanders are capable of.

Today Palmerston North, tomorrow Paris.

As well as posting poems in Auckland, Wellington, Christchurch and other locations around Aotearoa, Phantom Billstickers have been taking Kiwi creativity to a worldwide audience.

A network of sympathisers and enthusiasts around the world have taken to the streets to share the works of our poets. The words of Janet Frame, James K. Baxter and many others have appeared in St. Petersburg, Paris, London, Baltimore, Las Vegas, Tokyo, Honolulu, Rarotonga and Melbourne over the last few years.

As a result, Phantom’s poem posters regularly attract likes and feedback from people in locations far from these islands. Nothing is being sold – but something is being gained.

It’s all ‘flora for the concrete jungle’ as the Phantom mantra has it.

The Zen of Noise

By Richard Langston

The formidable and internationally-appreciated noise trio, Dead C, is releasing its 34th album, Unknowns. Bruce Russell spoke to Richard Langston about his on-going excitment making spontaneous noise with fellow band members Micheal Morley and Robbie Yeats – and digging for old 45s.

A new album Bruce  – how did that come about?

It’s quite a story. Last October on Labour weekend I went down to Dunedin, Robbie has the use of a cottage at Aramoana, right out on the spit, and he said come down, we’ll fire up the bbq for two or three days and do a bunch of recording. We did and that was great, the place has a walk in chiller for the beer so it was very nicely set up. We recorded a lot of stuff, a couple of albums worth, but most of it was on a digital multi-track recorder and when Michael transfered the files there was one of those problems that happens. We lost everything.

Photo: Hans van der Lingen

But in the room we also had a couple of those hand-held zoom stereo recorders and we still had those. They had really weird bounces of sound because of where they were in the room and there were large amounts of stuff we couldn’t use. The record’s a collage of the bits we managed to salvage from the zoom recordings. Michael’s added vocals to most of the tracks and we’ve created our first ever 12” EP, 15 minutes a side. We’ve never done one and it’s the classic ‘80s NZ format. I’m pretty excited about that and the material sounds a bit different because of the way it was put together, there’s a bit more post-production.

Ironically, there’s two records coming out as we had some money from previous royalties to fund a European tour that was not possible and we’re using that to do a 7” 33, the other classic 80s format, and it’s got five things we’re calling songs. Michael’s edited them togther into two side-long chunks one of which is called two songs and the other’s called three songs. None of it kinda makes sense until you hear it (laughs).

Three songs…the first time I’ve heard that title since the Tall Dwarfs…

Yes, that’s the other reference. Nicely spotted. We’re doing about 300 to sell as merchandise for if and when we do any other shows, and we’ll make it available on Bandcamp. I’m quite excited about having something that’s easier to transport than a 12” record. One thing that’s killing touring for us is taking these fricken huge boxes of LPs, ah do we have to take them?, yes we do! (laughs).

Do you have any idea of what you were going to do when you started recording at Aramoana?

No, we never do.

One of your many collaborators, Alastair Galbraith, describes the moment you switch on the machine and start recording as being in the moment and like  jumping off into the sea…

That’s probably fair. I resolutely refuse to prepare anything or rehearse. When I collaborate with new people – I did that record with Delaney Davidson for instance – he realised that’s the experience that I would give him, that I would just turn up on the day and then we see what happens. I find it a really productive way to work and it saves so much time.

I think that’s a great record, and gives even the casual listener a good introduction to what you do…you’ve got the reference of a traditional songwriter like Charlie Feathers who provided the starting point  and you just make a mess of him in a good way…

Fucking everything up is pretty much my strong suit! Actually the most listenable record I’ve ever made is probably the Visceral Realists record I did with Luke Wood. It’s the most musical sounding and it was done the same way as the Delaney Davidson one on a Teac four-track. It’s got some keyboard stuff on it and a more subdued vibe and for whatever reason it came across as really nice.

All the rhythm tracks are constructed from the run-off grooves of old ‘60s  45s. I chose records from my collection that had interesting rhythms when the needle gets to the end …chick ah dah bok …chick ah dah bok…chick ah dah bok…I’d have a DJ set up where I’d have two run off grooves playing similtaneously and slightly manipulate them till they got into a good groove and recorded those and made three minute segments and then we overdubbed over the top of those.

We were trying to produce something in short order. When I start playing and I think I’ve got half an hour it can take ten or fifteen minutes to really turn into something but if you’ve only got three minutes you’re really on your game. It does produce a different result even though the method is the same.

Are they almost songs Bruce?

Sort of…

Which brings to mind something you’ve said in a previous interview which I think is another clue to what you’ve been doing these past 30 years …you said, ‘too many people think of sound as a way to present songs, I think sound is fundamental and songs are not…’

That’s what I think, yes. You’ve got to remember that when we started back in the mid-80s that was the heyday of the songs and you had bands like The Verlaines – and one third of our band was The Verlaines (drummer Robbie Yeats) – and The Verlaines were all about the song. We were pushing against something that was the prevalent approach. We decided early on we were going to do everything the opposite way. We just wanted to see what would happen and that was playing to our strengths. Why would we just be incompetent at something everyone else was doing when we could be spectacular at doing something nobody else was doing.

I remember when Graeme Hill introduced you for your first television appearance. He had this gleeful look of someone who can hardly believe he’s got you on the tele…

It’s the look of a 12 year old letting off fire crackers in church.

I remember thinking at the time something like, ‘Bruce is just winding everybody up, he loves to provoke people’, but I watch it now and I think it’s really good…intense, wild, good…

Thank you. The thing about that, and it took a lot of people a long time to believe this, we are actually really good at doing what we do because we’ve been doing it for 30 years, just the three of us. Whether you like what we do or not, after a period of time we are actually going to develop an ability to do the thing. I’m really proud of the fact that we are exceedingly professional. We’re a band who can get on a plane and fly for 30 hours, drive for six hours, and go on stage with no sound check and deliver a killer show.

When you’re playing with Robbie and Micheal, what is going on in your mind?

“The first year of playing with the Dead C I was convinced we were going to get bottled, someone would stand up and say, ‘You people! This is Bullshit! ‘You (pointing at me) you can’t play that thing what the fuck are you doing?!

The difficult part of what I do is learning not to over-think it. I’ve always been not able to play the guitar, I was born not being able to play the guitar! What was difficult was retaining the clarity, the simplicity of vision of I’m going to play the guitar but I’m not going to worry about playing it. I’m just going to use it, I’m going to see what happens when I do things with it. As soon as I start to worry about how I was playing I became very self-conscious and that made it very difficult.

The first year of playing with the Dead C I was convinced we were going to get bottled, someone would stand up and say, ‘You people! This is Bullshit! ‘You (pointing at me) you can’t play that thing what the fuck are you doing?!’ And what surprised me was that never happened, but I was always ready for it to happen.

It took a lot of psychic training to get myself to the point where I didn’t think about that, and then I had to train myself when not to listen to the others because if you listen to them too much when you’re playing then you lose track. Now I only listen to myself, I just point at the nearest foldback and say I just want my guitar through that so loudly that it will feed back when I’m standing over here. I’ll hear the drums but I don’t need to hear Michael cos it works when we don’t listen to each other. My best current description of my guitar playing is a mix of Tai Chi and carpentry.

That’s a great description, and you’ve made a hell of a lot of noise over the years…

Yes, we’ve been running for 34 years and we’ve been doing an album a year on average. To be honest when I tell people how many records I’ve made I don’t know if they believe me (laughs). Personally I’ve made 75 albums, not just albums that I appear on but where I’m playing on the whole thing. If you include where I’ve made appearances on other peoples’ records it’s probably 80 or 90. That’s the virtue of not preparing.

But you’re committed Bruce and I think it takes committment to listen to your records, by that I mean they aren’t to be taken or listened to casually…

(Laughs) yeah, I get that. On all levels it takes committment (laughs). Listening to any records I’ve made, particularly the Dead C ones, it does take committment but the joy of the Dead C is it’s the unstable combination of three different things. If the stuff I do on my own has a weakness it’s that there’s too much of me and some days you don’t want to listen to just me, but with a Dead C record there are moments where Robbie does something, oh that almost sounded like music! And Michael will moan narcoleptically, oh that could be singing-ish! (laughs).

On the subject of committment, I have a memory of someone calling you an  enabler – someone who gets things done and who helps others get things done – and I remember back in the mid-80s in Dunedin you not only wrote for my fanzine Garage, and enlightened me about bands I wasn’t so aware of,  you  also came around and stapled it together, a small thing, but I’ve always remembered that…

Ah yes, the stapling party! I do remember doing that.

Was it a party, I just remember the two of us grovelling on the floor with this large stapler

That’s what I call a stapling party (laughs). There was a lot of stapling!

There was, it was Garage 5 i think and we were doing something like 1200 copies by then…

I like doing things with my hands, I’m an inveterate DIYer. I’m doing a rainwater irrigation system at the moment for relaxation. But running a record label was about making things, Xpressway and Corpus Hermeticum, I spent incredible numbers of hours folding covers, putting things together. Honestly, Corpus Hermeticum I folded something like 20,000 CD covers.

You’ve always had intent Bruce, you have very particular tastes and there’s band you’ve always advocated for, and I was astonished to see that intent once when I went record hunting with you…you were digging in old dusty singles bins where most people fear to go…

That’s an interesting point. Last week I went to Penny Lane records cos I was feeling stressed, and looking at shitty old 45s relaxes me. Almost immediately I found Surfin Bird by The Trashmen, and I thought this is why I do this, this is so exciting. For the last couple of years I’ve become quite obsessive about finding these old 45s. What attracted me to it was it was an affordable way to buy old records cos second hand LPs are now all 20 to 30 bucks.

You can pick up 45s for next to nothing.

It casts a light on one of my other obsessions which is recorded sound. Going right back to hearing Tally Ho by The Clean, that’s a funny sounding record and I’m not sure I like that but why I didn’t like Tally Ho when I first heard it was because it didn’t sound like records on the radio. And that’s because it was ‘poorly recorded’.

But I’ve really developed an interest in understanding how recorded sound mediates our relationship with music cos rock music is really about records. There’s a really interesting book by a guy called Theodore Gracyk – Rhythm and Noise: An Aesthetic of Rock – where he argues that rock music is about records, it’s not about songs, it’s not about performances, it’s about recordings and that’s a position I’m in sympathy with.

A big part of the Dead C’s career has been fucking with fidelity, and our records have a particular sound and it’s very carefully chosen, it’s what we like but it’s not what people are expecting. What I realised about 45s is, and this is the joy of them, we’ve all heard Surfin Bird on numerous compilations but the rock archeologist in me wants to know, what did Surfin Bird sound like when it was made in 1963?

Surfin Bird was pressed in NZ but the plates, the metal parts that were used to press the records, they were shipped from America to here and they were cut at the time from the master. The record I got for nothing the other day is literally no-steps removed from that process, it’s a record that was pressed in NZ in 1963 from a plate made from the master tape in Amercia, so suddenly there’s nothing between you and what it should sound like other than a bit of surface noise, and I’m good with that.

An illustration of the value of this is I’ve got two copies of Friday on My Mind by The Easybeats, one was the 1965 NZ pressing and one’s a 1973 reissue. They sound completely different because in the ‘70s they recut the thing and they put a bit of reverb on it and tried to make it sound like a 1970s record should sound, and it’s fucked up. That example alone confirms to me why I’m interested in hearing the originals.

What I’m  also really really listening to is the quality of the sound, and so you hear something like Let’s Dance by Chris Montez or Tallahassee Lassie by Freddie Canon and you hear the bass drum and that was the first time a big drum sound had been used in a pop record and then two years later you hear Have I the Right by the Honeycombs as recorded by Joe Meek, and again the rhythm is people stamping on a wooden stair case, and when you know that and listen to the record you can really hear it and I just find that really exciting cos I’m interested in sound.

This is why you have earned a doctorate in sound… drilling right down into it…

“My advice to someone seeking to understand the recorded works of the Dead C is they should track down the original 45 of Let’s Dance from 1961 and play it at brain-melting volume, and then they’ll understand much better.”

Absolutely. There are remarkably few people apart from studio technicians and backroom boffins who are interested in these things, and there are remarkabley few artists who really seem preoccupied or knowledgable about these things and I want to caste a light on that.

In a weird way the career of the Dead C is the practical experience for me that came out of that process that’s led me to a philosophical position on sound and that philosophical position is producing new knowledge, and as an academic new knowledge is what we’re all about. I’m trying  despertately to  find the time to write the book that will come out of the doctorate  to share the ideas cos I want other people to build on them. It’s hard to find the time even though I don’t spend any time rehearsing (laughs).

My advice to someone seeking to understand the recorded works of the Dead C is they should track down the original 45 of Let’s Dance from 1961 and play it at brain-melting volume, and then they’ll understand much better.

On the subject of sound, when Lou Reed died you wrote a piece for Wire magazine in which you said, the guitar solo in ‘I Heard Her Call My Name’ gave you persmission to do what you do…can you expand on that?

Yeah, again this is sort of about sonic archeology. The career that the Velvet Underground had when they existed was almost insignificant but their subsequent career since about 1974 when their legacy began to be rethought, it’s been a really interesting process of uncovering what they really did because we only knew what they did in the studio as there were so few workable bootlegs, but gradually more and more live recordings have become available.

I used to read a lot of American fanzines and I recall one based in Ohio called Black to Comm  in the late 80s reprinted an interview with Lou Reed where he talked about guitar playing. It was only a couple of paragraphs but it stuck with me because Lou was trying to do stuff with the guitar that he thought was important and that involved taking guitar playing away from widdly-diddly tricky changes and finger picking expertise. He was trying to do with the guitar what Cecil Taylor had done playing the piano with his elbows, and all the free-jazz guys like Albert Ayler had done to break down technique, Ornette Coleman, y’know the harmolodic theory where he basically takes music and just chucks it out and says I’m going to play the saxophone and let’s see what happens, and Lou Reed had tried to do that with the guitar but on record there’s almost none of it.

But the break in ‘I Heard Her Call My Name’ is a really good example, I don’t know if it’s got any notes, it’s just a blurt. It doesn’t go for very long but it makes no i sense at all but it’s incredibly exciting. It takes the song into an entirely different dimension.

Then that guy finds the acetate of the Banana album sessions in a flea market in New York and it’s the first sessions and the album as it was originally conceived by Warhol and the Velvet Underground before record labels were involved.

It’s got a version of European Son which has an extra 1 minute 40 seconds at the beginning and this was actually edited out. You can tell when you listen to the released version and the acetate version, you can hear where they did a razor cut on the master and they just chopped it out. It’s another bit of this guitar playing, just this mad screaming blurt, it’s incredibly exciting but it’s been cut out of history. Lou felt by the time he got to the end of the Velvet Underground he didn’t want to play guitar any more. ln the early 70s, particularly around the time of Sally Can’t Dance, he wasn’t playing guitar live, he would just sing because he said no-one wants to hear me play guitar cos I tried doing that and they shat on me so I’m not going to do it anymore, fuck you.

The Lou Reed that fascinates me is the one the wanted to do with the guitar what Cecil Taylor did with the piano. It did inspire me, that and hearing Rudolph Grey playing on a 45 that was sent for review to Alley Oop (Dunedin-based faznine). Rudolph Grey on this record which is called Implosion 73 is playing with Rashid Ali the drummer who played with Coltrane on Interstellar Space, and when I heard that I thought Rashid Ali is playing drums with a maniac who is just making this noise with a guitar. This was in about 1991 when I was already finding my way towards this and when I heard that that was the other part of it. I’m going to do that. It was not something that anyone in Dunedin really wanted to hear.

I just want to change tack slightly and talk about the aesthetics of packaging. The Dead C records and the other records, cassettes, and CDs you’ve been associated with they’re always artfully done and are nice things to hold and look at … such as the Le Jazz Non compilation…the quality of the cardboard and printing…it’s a thing…even though it’s on a format many regard as disposable…the CD…

Interestingly I’m waiting Richard, for the CD to come back, I reckon it’s got to be another year or two before CDs suddenly develop the cache that cassettes got five years ago. I never thought the casette would come back, I was naive, now I know better. I have hundreds of CDs from the 90s cos CDs was my business and it is a great format. I was on a crusade – and it’s nice of you to notice – it was an effort to make the CD a more aesthetically pleasing format, there’s no reason it shouldn’t be. It’s a bit small let’s face it, but leaving that aside there is plenty you can do with the CD.

On another tangent, I always think you come up with great titles for the Dead C records, my favourite is Vain, Erudite and Stupid for the CD of the band’s selected works…

Yeah (laughs) that’s a goody. Those words in the Max Harris song lyrics are actually from a poem by Ern Malley who was really a couple of traditional poets who hated modern poetry and did a prank on Max Harris (then co-editor of the Australian literary journal Angry Penguins) by writing all this shit and calling it the poems of Ern Malley. When we were going through the process of compiling the 20th anniversary selected works of the Dead C there was no other title that it could be given.

When we listen to humans making sounds we generally look to them to tell us a story, to produce melody, or evoke feeling. Is what you do purely intellectual?

No, absolutely not.

It has an emotional quotient then?

Yes, to me it’s very visceral. I’ve certainly heard many sound compositions that read well on paper, oh conceptually I see what they did there, that’s a really good idea but fuck it’s boring to listen to. There’s a lots of people working in this area in an intellectual sense but they seem not to have any understanding of the drama and emotion involved. My point is that sound outside of music can also stimulate emotions and I’m interested in assembling sounds that are interesting and make you feel something.

When I’m playing the guitar and it’s going well – it doesn’t always go well – I get excited, I’m pretty juiced up about it. The first time the Dead C ever played together it was so exciting we were all absolutely ecstatically excited by what we were doing. I can distinctly remember literally dropping my guitar and running around inside Chippendale House running in circles kinda squawking, it was just that great. Excitment is just another emotion.