I was elated to be asked to participate in the Words On A Wire series being held at the Ainslie & Gorman House Arts Centres. The event involves pairing a writer and a musician to create a twenty minute collaborative work, to be performed live at the Ralph Wilson theatre. It’s inspired by the rise of storytelling podcasts and other mixed-medium formats.
I’ve been paired with musician Digby Tomes. We had not met until onstage last week, where we (and the four other participants in this series) shared a short example of our work. I read a short story I wrote while in Edinburgh, heavily inspired by Lorrie Moore and Richard Brautigan.
The program director also provided each coupling with an image from the Ainslie & Gorman House Arts Centres’ archives, a ‘provocation’ to use as a starting point for the piece. Ours is a still from a 1988 production of The Emperor’s New Clothes, by the Canberra Youth Theatre.
I’ve begun work on an exciting idea, and I’m especially keen to see how it works with Digby’s music.
Oh, and this is the photo I sent them for my writer’s bio…
Behold – Faux Faux Amis’s video for our cover of Stenxh’s You Know.
The track was intended as part of a compilation of acts on Early Music covering each other. That album never eventuated, but we pushed ahead and finished our version earlier this year. Catherine suggested You Know and I loved the idea because it’s so far removed from our typical sound. We take several liberties with the arrangement – in particular, returning to our straight-ahead punk leanings on the coda. Catherine delivers a towering performance on lead vocals; however the true MVP is our multi-talented drummer Darren Atkinson. Not only is this the first recorded piece we have with Darren on the skins, but he also produced the track, arranging and performing most of the instrumentation in the blissed-out second section (and contributing some killer vocals at the end). Plus, he let me loose on the melodica – something few producers have been game to do before! I love the texture the melodica brings, lending an ethereal atmosphere to the song.
A track with such an otherworldly vibe required a matching video. There are very few ways to up your production values without spending any money, but one is to make use of any exotic locales you might come across. So far, I’ve filmed an episode of One Pot Punk Rock in New Zealand, and the Faux Faux Amis’ video Holiday Inn in Brooklyn. For this clip, I took my camera out on our first night in Marrakech, exploring Jemaa el-Fnaa square.
The square is surreal, a swirling carnival of snake-charmers, games of chance, musicians, monkeys, colourful characters, eateries and throngs upon throngs of revellers. Anywhere else would hold an event like this as a yearly festival, but here it happens every day. The camera was a magnet for hustlers and touts, but I just pinballed around all night, swept up in the dazzling and disorienting sights we witnessed. I double-downed on the kaleidoscopic feel by mirroring the footage (also effective at obscuring my shaky camerawork). Between the track and the video, I feel it’s the most psychedelic thing we have done yet.
As I write this it’s a cool sunny day in Zemun. I’m sitting by the water eating one more heavy Balkan lunch, and I’ve never felt more exhausted in my life. 11 wrestling sessions in 15 days, topped off by a raucous gig at KC Grad last night. Not exactly trench warfare but I’ve felt like I was operating at my limits for the whole time.
I know I’ve been circumspect about the nature of my project, if you’re wondering exactly WHY I felt the need to come here and do this then trust me, your polite bemusement has been shared by my gracious hosts. All I can say at this point is that I came here still not sure if there was really an effective piece of theatre to be made by me about wrestling, and now I’m positive that there is.
I couldn’t have done it without my endlessly generous hosts, both at the wrestling club and at KC Grad, without a doubt the most inspiring arts venue I’ve ever seen.
Speaking of KC Grad, my set there last night was an absolute highlight of my performing life and that was largely thanks to my new friend llija Ludvig. llija is a Belgrade local and a singer/songwriter of rare vitality and talent. He’s also a huge presence on stage and off. Our collaboration was brokered by Ljudmila at KC Grad llija agreed to help me put a set together without meeting me first, and with one rehearsal he was playing my songs better than I do. I was lucky enough to see him play his own set twice while I was here, and I can’t wait to track his output in the future. As for the wrestling, I don’t know how to encapsulate the experience of training the sport of I love, in a language I don’t know, to a level of intensity I’ve never experienced (but which I run-of-the-mill for my hosts). Luckily my whole project hangs on me eventually working out how to do so. Here is a photo of me with my main training partner Miljane at the end of my final session, my bedragglement probably speaks for itself.
Nick here, saluting you from Sunnyish Serbia! I’m here for a 3 weeks as artist-in-residence for KC Grad, a simply delightful multi-arts venue who are acting as my patron and guide to the wonders of my grandfathers’ culture.
So this is the first time I’ve had to resort to taking my own photos on an arts trip, and my shortcomings have swiftly become apparent, as this poorly framed shot of Tvoje Lice Mi Je Pozano, the currant KC Grad installation work, attests:
I’m here to train with a Serbian wrestling club, write about the experience and interview the wrestlers, as research for a multi-year theatre project. I know that may sound like I’ve used my status as a theatre-maker to wrangle a cheap wrestling camp for myself, but I assure you that that’s only part of what’s going on here. This will likely be the most personal project I’ve ever done, and considering how self-indulgent my art usually is that’s saying something.
The indie-arts scene here is vibrant and unique, and I’m trying to see as many gigs and events as my post-training fatigue will allow for. So far my hot music tips are an electro act called Lira Vega and a wonderful experimental noise artist called Svetlana Maras. I’ll do another update toward the end of my trip, providing I survive training!
Cell Block 69 are an entertainment tsunami that cut an unforgiving swathe of glam brilliantness across Canberra and Sydney every Christmas. Their frontlord Duanne LeCorey Michaels was the actual writer of every truly great song of the 80s, and he peppers their breathtaking live gigs with the heartwrenching backstory of how each song was systematically stolen from him. The magnitude of their fantastitude is such that the world only deserves to witness it once a year, but this year the magnanimous 9-piece have devised a whole new format to gift to their obsessive fans.
The first-ever Cell Block 69 Dance-off took place a few weeks ago, and competitive dance-fighters from all over the ACT fronted up in an attempt to win the hearts of the judges and the crowd.
Off course my dance-rogue-from-the-wrong-side-of-the-tracks alter-ego Nicholas Dare received a special invitation to compete, despite his history of insanely risky stage behavior and general reputation for hard-living. His crowd-entrancing performnace was captured in the above video. Dare fell short of the championship trophy but he went the distance, surviving a routine that threatened to end both his dance-off career and his life. Follow the youtube links to see the other, equally dazzling routines that made up the night.
The audio version of my latest #epinaday session has dropped, under the name Swim Out, Swim Out. I was invited to put a couple of sets together for the ACT Poetry Slam finals and I thought it would be a good opportunity to do a low-key launch for the record. I ended up doing a two-night engagement that also included a show at Transit Bar alongside my fellow Cracked Actors Seb and Matt, who did a lovely duo set, and The Blade Winner, Canberra’s King of the support-act-who-outshines-the-headliners.
My ‘band’ consisted of Merloc Studios power couple Sam King and Emma Kelly. It’s actually been a long-held dream to play with those guys as a three piece, and the reality was even better. But don’t tell them I said that.
Coolio Desgracias is the rap alter-ego of Simon Milman, known for playing with nearly every band in Canberra from Julia & The Deep Sea Sirens and The Ellis Collective to Los Chavos and Fats Homicide. As Coolio Desgracias, he adopts an outsized cartoon persona, a mix of smart-alecs like Humpty Hump and Flava Flav, with the free-associative funky lyricism of a Kool Keith or Ghostface Killah.
For his latest release – Bulk TV and Heartbreak– he asked if I would shoot a video of his work process. Bulk TV and Heartbreak is a series of instrumentals, recorded and mixed between his home studio and Merloc Studios. I felt it was an opportunity to showcase Coolio the hip-hop scholar and producer, rather than Coolio the lovable rappin’-ass clown. To make this clear, we even included a shot of Simon hanging up his gold chains and dollar-sign ring before getting down to the serious business of beatmaking.
Bulk TV and Heartbreak is chocked with evocative, cinematic music – I was spoilt in having so many great tunes to lay under the video (I made the most of it and used five separate tracks). I also went with a dry, earnest tone, most apparent in the educational lilt of the intertitles. Our next collaboration – a riff on MTV’s Cribs – is in the planning stages and won’t take itself so seriously!
I threatened to do this a couple of months ago, so here it is – the script for my shelved meta-murder-mystery play L’Assassiner De Faux Faux Amis. It’s my favourite thing I’ve written so far.
The soundtrack is a portion of Good Night, time-stretched to 12% of its original speed.
Kev has a rotating disco light he sometimes takes to gigs – when I asked him to bring it to the shoot, he went all-out and borrowed an additional two multi-colour scanner units. We ran all three concurrently while dancing to the Chemical Brothers . Layering the film and dissolving between takes adds to the Exploding Plastic Inevitable feel, psychedelic and unsettling. I also drew Ruffmercy-style onto some of the footage. The result is relentless, patterns and faces and colours in a constant neon swirl, a nightclub from a Winding Refn flick.
When I played Worked Up for our producer Paul Heslin, he laughed and commented that all my songs now seemed to be about sex. This was somewhat true of Cool Weapon’s oeuvre, but I’d never written this explicitly about the act itself. The lyrics are pure id, a catalogue of the feelings and desires generated simply by gazing at the object of my lust. Live, Nick delivers a preamble telling the audience that I actually wrote the song about him, which segues into an exhibition of our most suggestive dance moves.
The song’s odd arrangement – a stuttering, cavernous beat and a three-note bassline – sounds like a punk rocker’s first stab at drum’n’bass (which, ahem, it is). When we perform it, I dial the reverb up to cathedral levels, and the whole thing writhes and flails like a speared wildebeest, threatening to topple over at any second. Proof of this fragility revealed itself when we recorded it for the EP – our first stab was missing something, and the more we tried to fix it by tweaking the arrangement or adding elements, the further it slipped from us. A week before the release of the EP, Paul boldly suggested we scuttle the current version and re-record the basic tracks and vocals. It was the right call. The new version is what you hear on the EP – I can’t pinpoint why it now works, but it does. After its difficult birth, it’s been gratifying to hear so many people express their love for it.
Nick remembered On My Own from a demo I played him years ago and pushed for us to record it for this release. Musically, I was going for an LCD Soundsystem-style vamp. Lyrically, it’s a departure for me – I normally start with a strong title or opening line and branch out from there. I free-associated the lyrics for On My Own – the verses are flashes from a night out clubbing, and the chorus… well, even I don’t know how the chorus fits, it’s kind of the self-doubting yin in the midst of all the trash-talking yang (speaking of hubris, my favourite line is, ‘I get babes / Like you get beatings‘).
Tying the two tracks together is the incredible Matt Lustri, in his guise as Housemouse. Matt is one of Canberra’s most gifted musicians, a phenomenal (and versatile) guitarist who also happens to be a world-class emcee. His lyrical dexterity and serpentine flow is the first voice we hear on the EP, an arrangement choice we made afterhe dropped that verse. It was so fucking hot there was no place else to put it! He brings a different energy to the Babyfreeze universe and I would love to have him spit on everything we do.
Next up, Nick has a raft of video ideas which are going to push us past our limits. Stay tuned!
NICK: Paul H has been in the picture from the start, he produced the very first Babyfreeze demos. He’s not an invisible producer, to work with him is to stamp your record with his style and we chose him very deliberately on that basis. His cold post-industrial vibe wrestles nicely with the lurid sugary nature of the songs, and his approach to the mix really made the most out of our other sensational guest musicians.
Fossil Rabbit is my favorite guitarist on Earth, no poker face. I’ve played with him for years in Prom and he’s proven incapable of writing a part that I don’t love. He really sank his teeth into the dance-y brief and added a nice layer of tweaked-out paranoia. We approached Marc Robertson in the capacity of ‘Keyboard player’ but he quickly trashed that quaint notion and instead gave us goody bag of fucked-up sounds for Paul to paint with as he saw fit. Cathy Petocz is Canberra’s most consistently impressive artist of any kind and the Soulbot 9000 persona she busts out here is only a tiny hint of her skill and range as a singer.
Single Sex Couples is the first Babyfreeze song I wrote and I was kind of hoping it would be an anachronistic relic by now. The lyrics blow right past Gay Rights to a platform of Gay Superiority, posited in simple aesthetic terms and sung by a cringing-ly dorky straight character (not much of a stretch for me). Defenceless wasn’t an obvious choice for a Babyfreeze song but it’s become something of a showstopper live. It was written in a moment of very real romantic despair but in the context of a BFreeze set it’s become something more defiant. That said, I wanted the recorded version to be super-vunerable, hence me asking Paul to let my slightly pitch-y vocal ride with no effects. If that choice stops the song from being as as palatable as it otherwise could be then that’s very much in the Babyfreeze spirit.
Lick Nuke 