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FRIDAY 26 SEPTEMBER
How weed is sold defines how weed is used
Editorial By Liam Hansen (they/them) @liamhanse.n
EDITOR
My partner and I have been on a Try Guys kick for about two months now. We’re both brain-rotted zoomers with a need for constant background stimulation, who unfortunately grew up on relatively different sides of the YouTube algorithm. While my partner isn’t particularly keen on watching a four-hour-long video essay about the panning in the 2009 stereo remasters of The Beatles’ studio discography, I’m not keen on watching reruns of ‘Border Security: America’s Front Line’. Naturally, former BuzzFeed staff taking their challenge video series independent and building a successful online media company (who are now known best for the “Wife Guy” of the groups’ affair with a younger employee and subsequent removal) is where we met in the middle.
While it’s partially a nostalgia watch for us, we’ve recently appreciated seeing how the Try Guys have grown past that scandal into a small-scale streaming service model that has been running somewhat well, according to themselves, particularly given how they’ve been able to experiment with riskier content that wouldn’t go down well on YouTube. This includes a cannabis themed talk show aptly titled “Smoke Show”, where founding member Zach Kornfeld and friends legally test out the effects of different weed strains as an educational veil to the stupid and fun concept of a stoned talk show. It’s fitting, given how the first time I saw weed depicted as anything other than “Lettuce That Fucking Kills You” was when they all got baked and drove through an obstacle course under the guise of proving why you probably shouldn’t get baked and drive at all - let alone through an obstacle course!
The first episode of Smoke Show is the only episode of the series where they show us the cannabis straight out of the packaging - and in California, weed is packaged in a cunty little jar that would look right at home in a Farro. I looked upon our shitty bedroom TV screen in awe and envy. Here in Aotearoa, cannabis came decimal points close to being legalised and regulated across the country via a nationwide referendum - but was narrowly outweighed by the ‘no’ vote, leaving those using cannabis recreationally to stick to the black market, and many medical marijuana users still obtaining it illegally due to increasing difficulties in getting a prescription. With all of the horror the United States puts itself through, the cannabis laws of its most progressive states seemed like they were sorely missing in Aotearoa. If nothing else, for the sake of getting weed in a millennial jar that reeks of gentrification.
In the midst of a brief interview with Chlöe Swarbrick reflecting on the 2020 cannabis referendum, I realised that what I had seen on American screens was not only far from the approach she had pitched in her firstterm campaign for the ‘yes’ vote, but would’ve run the risk of creating an entirely new problem. “The Greens were really heavily involved in legislation that was effectively prioritising public health and public good over the potential for corporate profiteering, the likes of the legislation that we saw in frameworks in California, and many other jurisdictions in the States. We didn’t see the influx of money that you see in those jurisdictions when they have their referendums, because people saw the dollar signs. So, ironically, because we had brought forward a harm minimisation proposal, we didn’t see the same influx of money backing a yes campaign.”
roa was centred around harm reduction, I didn’t realise just how much law changes in the United States and Canada weren’t. Which is understandable, given that I’ve only really seen progressive America’s legal cannabis market in its current capitalistic state, and Aotearoa’s weed legislation never got to the point where we would see how the approach differed. A good comparison point for the two approaches to recreational sale of cannabis is two similarly widespread drugs - tobacco and alcohol.
Despite being far more available in dairies than we would’ve ever seen for cannabis, the direction Aotearoa was taking towards tobacco sales and possession before Smokefree 2025 was thrown out by the coalition for a quick buck. “One of the more annoying red herrings or bad faith arguments I hear is: ‘What about Smokefree 2025?’”Swarbrick states. “Back when we were negotiating Smokefree 2025 in Parliament, I actually managed to get a provision in there that protected people who wanted to grow their own tobacco. Tobacco is always going to exist, but if we remove the massive commercial entities from it, then we’re operating in a similar space to what we were proposing for cannabis law reform.”
Many aspects of harm minimisation that have been applied to the sale of tobacco could be applied to the legal sale of cannabis. Since 2018, cigarettes have been sold in intentionally ugly and boring packaging, coloured in garish yellows and olive greens (that I, admittedly, don’t hate). Less appealing are the graphic images of tooth decay, rotted lungs, gangrene-riddled feet, and sad children. While the impact of these regulations has lessened over the years as smokers have gotten used to the packaging, we still saw a rise in consumer awareness, and it’s fair enough to cite the change as one of the reasons cigarette and tobacco sales have remained steadily decreasing in Aotearoa.
While cannabis isn’t harmless, the physical ramifications aren’t as easy to visually depict as they are for tobacco use; maybe one day we’ll see legal cannabis packaged with graphic warnings of lost memory cells, sore throats, or illustrations of couch-ridden stoners unable to do anything as they process the chunky doobies they’ve just inhaled. But there’s still clear value in taking the power of marketing and colourful packaging away from possibly harmful substances, as we can see on the other end of the spectrum in alcohol packaging and marketing. Despite excessive alcohol consumption leading to clear and direct negative consequences for one’s health and wellbeing, colourful craft beer cans still line the walls of Farro supermarkets and liquor is widely advertised across Aotearoa with minimal regulation.
The point I’m making now is essentially the gist of Chlöe Swarbrick’s arguments for the Sale and Supply of Alcohol (Harm Minimisation) Amendment Bill back in 2023. In the dream world of all Young Greens where both bills passed, Swarbrick miraculously became prime minister, and the coalition leaders were made to wear dunce caps and sit in a glass box to be pointed and laughed at in the middle of the newly named Auckland War-Is-Bad-Actually Museum, alcohol and weed would be sold in similarly regulated, health-focused, uncool ways without fun advertising or cool mascots. Swarbrick reckons that the Alcohol (Harm Minimisation) Bill “was very much trying to draw the parallels to how we could completely regulate cannabis to minimise harm, and people were going, “What about alcohol?” And I was like, “Great, so you understand how I feel about alcohol!”
She continued, “You end up with a situation whereby, whether it’s under criminal prohibition - where you have criminal entities - or whether it’s un-
der a completely legal free market - where its commercial entities - both of those extremes are incentivised effectively to shift as much of their product as possible in order to make their quote back, which obviously means that the well-being of communities ends up lower on the pecking order or the priority list, because profit is the major driver.” To be clear: myself, nor the Greens, have advocated for taking away fun beer can designs, but when we’re talking about the possibility of introducing recreational cannabis into Aotearoa, it makes sense to take away the ability for cannabis to be marketed or profited from in any way.
This goes to the core of how the way legal recreational drugs could theoretically be sold in a regulated market, and particularly how it was pitched in the Cannabis Legalisation and Control Bill: “The intention was to make cannabis boring, and to reconcile with its existence as normal.” Minimised marketing and boring packaging of tobacco, alcohol, and cannabis could lead to an even field for substances with risk of community harm, taking away the ability for corporations to profit from drug abuse and addiction in the same way legalising weed can take some of the power away from the illegal drug market.
Of course, these changes aren’t only unlikely to happen anytime soonthey’ve been voted down every time attempts have been made to implement them into the law. We can’t know for sure how Aotearoa would have changed if seventy thousand people had voted differently in 2020, but we do know that the referendum’s failure hasn’t magically eradicated cannabis or the risks it poses to those still acquiring weed, recreational or medical, through the black market. “We’ve spent 40 years trying to eradicate their existence, and those substances have become more prevalent, more harmful - essentially more toxic, and more deadly. We’ve seen them tear families apart, whether it’s through reduction or use of those substances,
let alone interfacing with the criminal justice system.”
As Swarbrick barrelled through her reflections on the referendum, making haste so she could save both our time and get back to the House of Representatives, I realised I had been imagining those same jars of cannabis I had seen in the Try Guys video lining shelves in the alternative universe where the bill passed, rather than packaging aiming to bore you or warn you away from weed. Maybe I’m too much of an illustration nerd to advocate for losing the funky little guys on my beer cans, but I do hope that if/when Aotearoa returns to the recreational cannabis debate, that bland packaging remains on the cards - at least, while the drug is initially rolled out. I’ll miss the allure of switching out sandwich bags for cunty jars, but making weed unmarketable and uncool will cut the ability for major corporations to weaponise cannabis addiction for profit in the same way they have in the past for tobacco and currently for alcohol. If I may squeeze in one more quote:
“So again, if we’re going to be grown-ups about this, we have to say: drugs exist. Do we want to minimise the harm of their existence or not?”
By Stella Roper (they/she) @dodofrenzy ARTS EDITOR
Illustration
OMG, The Pill Causes Cancer?!
Here’s What TikTok Isn’t Telling You.
Written By Mila Van Der Plas (she/her) @mila.vdp
NEWS EDITOR
If your FYP has been serving up videos of creators urgently declaring, "The pill has just been reclassified as a Group 1 carcinogen," then congratulations, you've officially joined the latest cycle of viral health hysteria.
According to these clips, hormonal contraception is now “as dangerous as tobacco, alcohol, and hard drugs,” and users are being told to throw their packs in the bin immediately. The videos are dramatic, persuasive, and let’s be honest: terrifying if you’re someone who takes the pill or has taken it in the past.
Is this claim accurate, though? Did the World Health Organization (WHO) suddenly wake up last week and land this bombshell on us? And, above all, what are the implications for your health?
As ever: breathe, wait, and read the facts.
First, what's a Group 1 Carcinogen?
We need to decode the jargon to understand the TikTok outrage.
The International Agency for Research on Cancer (IARC), a WHO specialised agency for cancer research, categorises substances based on how likely they are to cause cancer. A "Group 1 carcinogen" is a substance for which there is sufficient evidence that it causes cancer in humans. That does not necessarily mean that all people who use it will get cancer. It means that the link has been solidly established in research.
Substances in this category include:
• Tobacco
• Alcohol Processed meat
• Ultraviolet (UV) radiation
• Air pollution
So yes, when people say the pill is now "in the same category" as smoking or drinking, they're not entirely wrong. Bbut here's the part TikTok leaves out: the WHO classified combined oral contraceptives (COCs) as Group 1 carcinogens in 2005. This isn’t breaking news;it’s two decades old.
The classification is based on long-term studies showing a small increased risk of certain types of cancer, primarily breast, cervical, and liver cancer, among long-term users. However, the same contraceptives also significantly reduce the risk of two other major cancers: ovarian and endometrial. This is not fearmongering, it's biology. Hormonal fluct uations can have both protective and risk-enhancing properties when it comes to cancer.
Despite the viral scare, the medical consensus remains unequivocally clear: the pill is safe and effective for most users, especially when prescribed and supervised by a physician. Dr. Jennifer Gunter, a Canadian OB-GYN and one of the most respected voices in reproductive health, explains it this way:
"The increased risk of cancer from the pill is small and must be weighed against its benefits - which are regulating the menstrual cycle, reducing menstrual pain, reducing the risk of certain cancers, treating endometriosis and other ailments, and, naturally, preventing unwanted pregnancy.".
That is, hormonal birth control is dangerous but so is any medication, and those dangers don't always outweigh the benefits. And for many people, in many circumstances, the benefits of the pill do outweigh its dangers.
So if this classification has been around since 2005, why is it suddenly blowing up on TikTok?
A few possibilities:
• An re-emerged article or quote out of context went viral
• Content creators are seeking clicks and drama
• There's also a wider boom in online health misinformation, especially targeting women's reproductive health It's worth remembering that TikTok, educational though it is, isn't peer-reviewed science. And though the app hosts a mix of credible sources and medical professionals, it's also a petri dish for alarmist content designed to get views.
If you're on hormonal contraception and this news has left you feeling scared, confused, or conflicted, that's totally reasonable. But the answer isn't to panic-cancel your prescription or take a viral video at face value for medical advice.
So, rather than discuss it with your mates, discuss it with your doctor or local sexual health clinic. Ask questions. Get informed. There are numerous types of contraception hormonal and non-hormonal, and various things work for various individuals based on their age, family history, medical history, and personal choice. For some, the pill is ideal. For others, something different may be better. Either way, the choice ought to be guided by evidence and professional guidance - not by TikTok trends.
Let's Break It Down: What does Fact vs. Fiction look like?
Social media can start helpful conversations about health but also bring conversations that lead to confusion, anxiety, and misinformation. The pill, like every medical treatment, is not without risk. But the risks are small, well-studied, and for many people, outweighed by the benefits. It remains one of the most utilised and studied medications in the world.
The next time your feed attempts to alarm you into indignation? Do what good students do: research, ask questions, and think critically. Your health deserves better than a 15-second hot take.
By
Sophia Lee (she/her) CONTRIBUTING ILLUSTRATOR
Illustration
your wairua needs a little boost, and however you choose to find and experience that is all up to you. I don’t think any of the reo we are learning will be applicable to any form of drug other than the high you get from learning new kupu, so with that said, let’s learn some more phrases, shall we?
We’ve covered sentence structure, explored the depths of pet names, covered how to ask for things and how to describe our feelings. To expand on this a bit further, I want to go into some specific extra verbs and adverbs we can add to the kite.
“Tino”- adjective, very Example: “He tino tino wera au” I am very very hot.
“Haere mai”- adverb, welcome/come here Example: “Kia ora, haere mai e hoa ma!” Hello, welcome my friends!/ Come here my friends!
“Ataahua”- adjective, beautiful Example: “He ataahua koe” You are beautiful!
“Homai koa”- Please give it here
Example: “Homai koa ki te pukapuka” Please give me the book.
We have a few issues left this year to cram in some more reo as exam season closes in and some of you get close to graduating. Make sure you are making time for your hinengaro, your wairua and your overall wellbeing, especially as it gets colder and colder. He tino makariri au!
Until next time whanau, Mā te wa!
Written & Illustrated By Hirimaia Eketone TE AO MĀORI EDITOR
How MDMA Helped Me Unmask
Autism,
masking, and why I’d rather be under a blanket than on the dancefloor
If you’ve ever witnessed people on the empathogen–entactogenic drug known as MDMA, you’ll probably have an idea of what it does to a person.
MDMA, with its plethora of different names (Molly, Ecstasy, E, XTC, etc), produces feelings of euphoria, emotional openness, reduced anxiety, and enhances sensory perception. But I mostly knew it as the thing that made my friends talk about their feelings while chewing their jaws off, and then suddenly developing the inescapable urge to dance.
In my early 20s, I’d witnessed a lot of MDMA-fueled partying without ever having tried it myself. I was a bit of a prissy narc back then (forgive me). But, mostly, I worried about embarrassing myself, considering my history with alcohol had already led to some regrettable behaviour at parties. I feared that if I partook in this drug, I would tear my clothes off, confess my deepest secrets to the wrong person, and grind on the dancefloor until I collapsed. A terrifying thought.
But my friend group at the time was experimenting with recreational drugs, in what I considered a healthy way. So I got curious.
As someone with pretty intense social anxiety, I decided to try MDMA for the first time with my best friend. I didn’t want to risk making a monkey of myself in front of a crowd. We strung up fairy lights, made soup, took magnesium to ward off the muscle cramps MDMA is known for, made a playlist, and settled in.
Curled up under a pile of fluffy blankets on a sofa, I waited for the high to kick in.
The first thing I noticed was how different textures suddenly felt. I found myself absentmindedly rubbing the side of the sofa, then comparing it to the carpet under my feet, fascinated in a way I’m sure only babies experience. Then the euphoria hit. A wave of joy and total absence of fear. It felt like I could finally see my emotional world in three dimensions.
My best friend and I talked for hours. We giggled nonstop, got introspective, and wandered around each other’s subconscious.
And just like that, I got it. I understood why everyone raved about this drug, it was amazing! But one thing still confused me: why didn't I want to dance?
A few more MDMA trips under my belt, and the dance thing wouldn’t leave my mind. Was I just lazy? Why didn’t I want to jump onto the dancefloor and hoon around the moment I started coming up on my trip? All I felt like doing during the euphoric high of class A drugs was wrapping myself in a soft blanket and having a Deep & Meaningful™. I didn’t enjoy strobe lights or loud bass. I wasn’t exactly known for loving crowds or loud music before, but I thought maybe MDMA would fix that. Was I doing E wrong?
While high, I felt the expected surface-level euphoria, pure serotonin
bliss. For my ADHD brain, which already struggles with dopamine regulation, it was a welcome flood of happy chemicals. I craved stimulation, became hyper-aware of boredom, and needed constant engagement. Socially, it was like someone had turned off the fear switch: instead of lurking in a corner waiting to be approached, I found myself confidently starting conversations.
And yet, despite all this, I still didn't want to rave, which was, honestly, a bit disappointing. It’s akin to my dislike of seafood, which I’ve always been a bit miffed about, because people who love seafood seem to really really enjoy it, and I feel like I’m missing out. I wanted to know what it was like to enjoy a rave.
It wasn’t until a year later that it clicked: I’m autistic. Not only that, but MDMA had acted like a temporary balm for the parts of autism I find most challenging. When I looked at the drugs desired effects side by side with common autistic traits, the overlap was glaring.
Before I continue, I want to stress here that I am NOT in any way, shape, or form promoting the use of MDMA as a medication for autism. MDMA is illegal, punishable by fines or up to three months' imprisonment. MDMA is a powerful psychoactive substance with serious risks, especially if used regularly. Frequent use can lead to long-term mood issues, memory problems, and emotional dependence, and may cause lasting changes to the brain’s serotonin system. At high dosages, or when paired with other substances, it can be lethal. It’s not a safe or sustainable tool for managing neurodivergent traits.
Getting that out of the way, I’m not a party pooper (most of the time). If you are interested in experimenting with MDMA, do your research. Weigh your drugs so you know exactly how much you’ve taken. Get your drugs tested! If you go to www.knowyourstuff.nz you can find all
the information you need for getting your drugs tested legally so that you know exactly what you’re putting in your body.
Back to the scheduled programming.
When I made the connection between autism and MDMA, it was a game-changer for my self-perception. Where I previously thought of myself as socially inept and somehow contributing to my own failures by not trying hard enough, it became clear to me that neurotypical people take emotional fluency for granted.
In the months that followed my last trip (several years ago now), I couldn't stop thinking about the version of myself that emerged on MDMA. She was unafraid, emotionally fluent, and felt deeply connected to others, while also being firm with her boundaries. All these things made me realise how much I suppress on a daily basis just to function. When the shackles of social anxiety were lifted from me, it didn’t turn me into someone else. It just made me feel safe enough to just be me.
I wouldn’t, and couldn’t, use MDMA as an antidote to my autistic struggles. This drug can’t make me someone I’m not; it just made it easier to be who I already am: an autistic person who craves connection but dislikes loud music and unpredictable crowds. E didn’t switch off my autism; it simply lowered the barriers that usually make socialising feel like an uphill battle.
So it turns out, even with my serotonin receptors wide open and my heart cracked like a glowstick, I still just want to sit down, cup of tea in hand, and have a fat chat with someone I love.
Written By Tashi Donnelly (she/her) @tashi_rd
Rendered Unaffordable:
Migraine creeps up on me slowly like nightfall, almost imperceptibly at first, an irreversible culmination of factors that fall into place until I am plunged into darkness. I am pinned down by the throes of inconceivable, debilitating pain, nausea, light and sound sensitivity, wondering how I will last through this night.
Struggling through a cascade of migraine attacks led me to investigate if New Zealand’s current regime of funded medicines are sufficient for managing the condition.
Migraine (māhunga ānini) is an incurable, complex neurological disease with a genetic basis. Believed to be the fourth leading cause of disability in Aotearoa, it is most common in working age people and affects women two to three times more than men. In recent years, there have been a number of new medications which have been developed to specifically treat migraine disease. While I was nursing yet another migraine attack, I was disheartened to discover that New Zealand funds very few pharmaceutical options that treat migraine disease more effectively.
According to Migraine Foundation Aotearoa, two of these new medications (Calcitonin Gene-Related Peptide [CGRP] monoclonal antibody preventatives) are available for prescription, but they are not funded by Pharmac. Currently, this means that people have to self-fund these medicines at a prohibitively high cost, rendering them as being largely unaffordable and inaccessible for patients.
Dr Fiona Imlach, public health physician and co-founder of Migraine Foundation Aotearoa, says that it is promising to see more research being conducted and new treatments becoming available after many years of limited options.
“It is amazing to finally have some hope for new treatments which we haven’t had for decades. We haven’t had anything since the triptans and that was from the 1990s,” says Dr Imlach.
However, this hope is dampened by frustration at how financially prohibitive the costs of these medications are and the negative effect this has on the quality of life for patients with migraine disease.
“But if they’re not accessible or affordable for you, then it’s a very harsh hope isn’t it?,” says Dr Imlach.
Since 2022, Migraine Foundation Aotearoa have advocated how crucial it is that New Zealand expands our funded migraine treatment options. Dr Imlach highlighted that CGRP monoclonal antibody preventatives are hugely beneficial because they do not have many contraindications and they are tolerated better by patients with fewer side effects. They are suitable for patients with chronic migraine, as they will not induce a medication overuse headache like triptans or analgesics can and these drugs will help to alleviate existing medication overuse headaches, says Dr Imlach. Additionally, CGRP monoclonal antibody preventatives work well for addressing anxiety and depression which
new non-funded migraine medications remain out of reach for patients
are common comorbidities alongside migraine.
The Foundation would also like to see Gepants, a type of calcitonin gene-related peptide inhibitor, to be funded as a different medication option. This is because they have the dual purpose of preventing migraine attacks and they are also a “fantastic” firstline treatment for aborting acute attacks, says Dr Imlach. Gepants are designed to interrupt the migraine process, which reduces the severity and duration of attacks, and also serves as a prophylactic which prevents future attacks. This makes them a suitable alternative for people who cannot take triptans and they are safe for use with chronic migraine.
A study has found that certain gepants can be taken when somebody is experiencing prodrome symptoms and stop the headache phase of their migraine from happening altogether. Dr Imlach says this is “amazing” and it opens up the possibility of having abortive treatments that can effectively stop an attack before it progresses further.
Pharmac’s Therapeutic Group Manager Logan Heyes confirmed that the agency has received eight applications about four medications that treat episodic or chronic migraine which are currently under review. These are Galcanezumab (Emgality), Atogepant (Equipta), Erenumab (Aimovig), and Fremanezumab (Ajovy). However, Pharmac cannot confirm if or when these medicines will be funded, as this is dependent on budget availability, supplier negotiations, available clinical evidence about treatment benefits, and the prioritisation of funding.
Heyes said that in 2023, Pharmac’s Neurological Advisory Committee recognised that people with chronic migraine have a higher health need than those with episodic migraine. They also acknowledged an unmet health need for people with migraines generally, due to a lack of migraine specific treatments and limited access to neurology or migraine specialist care within the publicly funded health system. He said the Committee considered that galcanezumab, atogepant, and erenumab could reduce the number of monthly headache or migraine days. This prompted a recommendation that these medicines be funded with a high priority, says Heyes.
For me personally, the frequency and severity of my migraine disease has increased significantly over a period of less than two years. Completing my Communications degree was challenging, as my brain became more hypersensitive to triggers and debilitating attacks struck me at the most inopportune times.
Living with worsening migraine has cost me opportunities, employment, social connection, or the ability to engage in fulfilling hobbies that bring me joy. My grief is exacerbated by the fact that some of the funded medication options have caused too many side effects or are not suitable for me to trial.
Patients often find themselves limited to trying an off-label medicine in an effort to reduce the number of acute attacks. Dr Imlach says that all of our existing medications for preventing migraine are repurposed
Written By
Melissa Irving (she/her) @the_vintage_journalist CONTRIBUTING WRITER
drugs which have coincidentally been found to have some usefulness in treating or preventing migraine attacks.
“But because they weren’t developed to treat migraine, they have all the issues of side effects and not working one hundred percent because they’re not exactly targeting migraine fully,” says Dr Imlach.
Dr Imlach noted that the side effects from blood pressure hypertensives, antidepressants, or antiepileptics are horrible, which often results in people discontinuing their use because of their “disturbing” effects. Furthermore, these repurposed medicines do not have a particularly high efficacy rate for relieving acute attacks or reducing their frequency in patients.
New Zealand currently has little data on the economic effects from migraine disease, but some Australian research highlights a significant burden. According to a 2018 Deloitte Access Economics white paper, the total economic cost of migraine in Australia is $35.7 billion each year. This total includes $14.3 billion of health system costs, $16.3 billion of productivity costs, and $5.1 billion of other costs - such as carer support.
Dr Imlach says that migraine disease has “huge” and wide-ranging costs on a person’s quality of life, their loved ones, and wider society. It is a painful, chronic disease that you will have throughout your life and if you are unable to work to your full potential, then you are going to be disadvantaged. She noted that the effects from migraine are cumulative, with the potential for them to permeate through a person’s employment, finances, self-worth, family, social life, recreation and community participation.
Therefore, Dr Imlach emphasised the urgency and importance of Pharmac funding a greater range of migraine-specific medications. This would give patients a better toolkit of management options with fewer side effects, which could help to alleviate both their symptoms and emotional distress. She said that it is possible for migraine to be managed well in the community with targeted medications and guidance from primary care doctors. We know that if migraine is treated optimally by effectively relieving acute attacks and taking preventives early, then we reduce the risk of someone progressing into more debilitating chronic migraine, says Dr Imlach.
Weighing up the devastating toll that migraine disease has on my life can be profoundly upsetting. It is gut wrenching knowing that potential relief remains out of reach for many, due to the expenses involved with self-funding these new medicines. Living with migraine is excruciating and the lack of affordable migraine-specific treatments only worsens the suffering.
“Mood disorders are higher in people with migraine and I think that [the lack of affordable migraine-specific medications] will exacerbate it, thinking that I could have a better life but that I can’t afford it. What sort of society do we want to live in that allows that really?,” says Dr Imlach.
Migraine disease is excruciating, it has become one of my most disabling illnesses and it significantly affects my quality of life - Melissa Irving. [Photo: Melissa Irving].
Monthly Emgality injections cost approximately $325.00 per 120mg dose. However, patients will need two injections the first time - which doubles the cost. Meanwhile, Aimovig is even more expensive with a 70 mg injection costing $678.00 or $1356.00 for a 140 mg dose.
Dr Fiona Imlach says that she feels migraine has been given very little priority in New Zealand with regard to funding new treatment options or research. [Photo: Dr Fiona Imlach].
Salvia divinorum — an inconspicuous and seemingly unremarkable little plant — contains one of the most powerful and unique psychoactive compounds that can be found in nature.
This mysterious herb is known by many different names: the diviner’s sage, Mexican tripping weed, yerba de la pastora, but to the indigenous shamans of southwestern Mexico, it is most commonly referred to as simply ‘La Maria’.
With a long history of sacred ritual use by the Mazatec people of Mesoamerica, salvia divinorum was unknown to Western academics until 1939 — when American anthropologist Jean Basset Johnson recorded and documented its use and effects amongst the shamans of the Sierra Mazateca in Oaxaca, Mexico. Salvia is native to the region, where it is used by Mazatec priests in rituals performed for healing and divination purposes. Post-colonisation the herb was religiously associated with the Virgin Mary and is still referred to as ‘La Maria’ by the locals.
The traditional method of ingestion is to chew a quantity of freshly cut leaves until it forms a ‘quid’ — a small lump of chewed plant material that one holds in the mouth for a particular length of time, absorbing the psychoactive compound ‘Salvinoran A’ through the mouth and gums. The effects are apparently quite pleasant and euphoric — usually performed in semi-darkness with accompanying drums and singing. The salvia ceremony is intended to induce a visionary state of altered consciousness during spiritual healing sessions. This ritual has a deep significance to the Mazatec people — with the salvia plant believed to be a literal incarnation of the Virgin Mary and referred to as she/her — La Maria; Lady Salvia.
However, a strange and unfortunate phenomenon began to occur in the United States in the early to mid-2000s. As the popularity of the internet and video-sharing platforms such as YouTube skyrocketed, people began uploading footage of themselves smoking salvia out of bongs with blowtorch lighters — and the resulting chaotic madness that would ensue. Videos with titles like ‘Gardening on Salvia’ and ‘Driving on Salvia’ became extremely popular. This early form of viral video resulted in huge media stories and moral panic in Western countries where this dried, extracted form of high-strength salvia was available for purchase.
These videos would depict salvia smokers burning and inhaling the leaves, and then the subsequent babbling and confusion that would follow; the joke being that the psychoactive effects of salvia are so strong that one is barely able to sit upright for 10 minutes — let alone attempt gardening or drive a car. One popular video featured a couple in their lounge, with the salvia session devolving into the smoker yelling and flailing his arms while his partner panics. The unfortunate salvia user drops the bong and hurls himself at an open window, crashing through the blinds and tumbling out of both the window and camera view. As these alarming salvia videos became widespread, at some point, the knowledge of the phenomenon got back to the Mazatec shamans in southwestern Mexico. The shamans were disgusted and appalled — not only were the Westerners extracting the substance at extremely high doses and selling it as a packaged psychedelic, they were also consuming it in a way that they believed was profoundly disrespectful to the plant itself — burning and smoking the dried leaves in a destructive act that the Mazatec viewed as essentially sacrilegious.
It was this form of salvia divinorum that the writer experimented with circa 2006-2009. At this time, the Psychoactive Substances Act (2013) was not yet in place, and many different varieties of high-strength salvia extracts were available on the NZ market. It was cheap — and boy was it powerful. Many of the salvia extracts were 15x and 20x the strength of the natural leaf, with some brands having extract levels of up to 50x and 80x — a dizzying quantity of the compound that would send even the most experienced drug user into a wildly bizarre and often confused hallucinatory state.
I experienced a handful of these unnerving trips while smoking salvia during my early teenage years. The first time would prove to be the strongest — an experience that transformed my visual field to a skipping, flickering film reel that seemed to be viewed from an impossibly far distance away. The coloured patterns on the carpet of my family home began moving, dancing, marching, in a manner reminiscent of the magically animated broomsticks from Disney’s ‘Fantasia’. I looked up at my friends during this time, and distinctly remember their laughing faces — “How is it? What does it feel like?” — but I could not answer them. There was no ‘I’ present, and the concept of speech was so alien to me in that state that it would take several strange minutes before my ability to speak would return.
For a trip that only lasted a short duration of 5-10 minutes, smoking salvia was a shockingly powerful experience. I had several other trips on this bewildering drug — in different places and varying quantities — that were similar to this first experience but not quite as strong and jarring. The emotional effect after each trip was always the same: an odd feeling of balanced neutrality, reflecting on the experience as neither positive nor negative, just neutral. This would contrast with later drug trips on other psychedelics — the aftermath of these experiences always reliably glowing with positivity and supposed learning.
Salvia would leave me with no answers — only more questions. Perhaps this was the point, as elaborated by the priests of the Mazatec. Lady Salvia was insulted by arrogant Westerners burning her precious leaves and consequently provided no luminous insight to any would-be salvia-smoking psychonaut. I suspect that the true secrets of salvia divinorum lie in the traditional indigenous method of chewing fresh leaves in semi-darkness. Maybe only then will La Maria reveal herself and the intricacies and spiritual mysteries of her plant to the user…
Written By Stu Paul (he/him) CONTRIBUTING WRITER
By
Smoking Isn’t Sexy
There’s a movement in my group that I hate: Smoking. We were teens during Vaping's rapid expansion of flavours and enough nic to knock you to the ground in one hit, so of course, we all got into it; we were the target audience. But then, most of us grew out of it. Weirdly, it felt like vapes just got lame. But now we’re back with cigarettes, which confuses me greatly because I would have assumed they would be so much more lame? But I guess the aura trumps all? So consider this article your merit-scored year 10 English speech coming back to haunt you, because I really thought we were past this issue, but I guess not, and as a guy in my mid-20s, I’d like to pass on what little unc wisdom I have to anyone who’s considering smoking.
OK, Who put tar in my lungs?
I think what’s so irritating about seeing anyone begin smoking now is that we are well aware of how absolutely unbalanced the risk vs reward is. Like, yeah, of course, meth is bad for you, but at least it feels incredible! Cigarettes, on the other hand, are just Tom Shelby RP for five minutes, for the small price of crippling and deadly health complications.
When you read what's in a cigarette, it’s almost comically evil. It’s as though some scheming man at Big Cigarette™ must have one hand pouring a barrel of tar into a mixer, while twirling his long, curled, evil moustache with the other.
So I’d like to start off with a quick run-down of just a few of the awful things you can find in a cigarette. To figure out if Mr Cigarette just felt like putting evil shit in there.
Insecticides: Caused by agricultural practice, as is the case with all foods we consume. The alarming part is that in tobacco products, we can find traces of the insecticide DDT, a highly toxic organochlorine pesticide, that is banned in most countries. Human use of DDT is a tale as old as time; a chemical we rampantly scaled in use, then realised it was actually creating man-made horrors beyond comprehension… then, decades later, companies finally got forced to look elsewhere.
However, DDT residue can still be found in tobacco products, as DDT can remain in soil and water for decades. It is also used in China and India, where the pesticide is still manufactured. As I said, insecticides are found in most food we consume, but we don’t inhale that food, and tobacco isn’t considered food, so it has looser regulations.
Tar: Fortunately, there is no twirly evil Mr Cigarette with his barrels of road tar, but unfortunately, Tar is unavoidable. Tar, in this context, is simply a condensable residue present in smoke that contains combustion by-products.
Some components of the tobacco plant will turn into tar when smoked, such as the plant fibres, sugars, and proteins. However, many of the ingredients added to a cigarette boost tar output. For example,
Ammonia: A common cleaning product ingredient. When added to cigarettes, it increases tobacco absorption in the lungs, while enhancing the flavour and increasing the smoothing effects of menthol. When burnt, it will turn into formaldehyde, and its properties have been found to increase the addictiveness of the cigarette.
So unfortunately, it seems that you just can’t have cigarettes without carcinogens, though additives definitely make the situation much worse. Tar forms into the sticky residue once in your lungs, which not only contains at least 70 carcinogens, but also just isn’t great for its function. You can probably figure out why, considering your lungs are not the hull of a ship.
And the hull of a ship isn’t sexy.
Wait, am I sucking dih?
Ok, now for the mandatory history lesson: How did cigarettes get sexy in the first place?
The tobacco industry simply is the final boss of public relations, and it always has been. Sigmund Freud’s nephew, Edward Bernays, is known as the pioneer of PR. He exploited Freudian ideas in the 1929 "Torches of Freedom" campaign by framing cigarettes as phallic symbols of male power through its imagery. The campaign used this while piggybacking on first-wave feminism, by gaslighting women into thinking that smoking was an act of emancipation.
But smoking didn’t get outright sexy until the silver screen. In early cinema, smoking became an essential convention. Pacing was abysmal back then, with dramas having painfully long monologues. Poster child of onscreen smoking, Humphrey Bogart, started this all when he reportedly said the only way to make his monologue more interesting would be to place "two camels fucking" in the background. Instead, the director gave him a pack of cigarettes.
Essentially, smoking was the first subway surfers bottom screen gameplay. Humphrey's stoic demeanour in his movies helped tie cigarettes in as an early image of suave dominance and virility for men. However, the imagery created for his femme fatale counterparts played into their gender role in a much more direct way.
A femme fatale is a stock character in film noir, often depicted as a mysterious, beautiful, and seductive woman who manipulates men into dangerous situations. There was some taboo around women smoking in the early 20th century, so cigarettes were the perfect symbol that the character was morally ambiguous. And acts such as having the man light her cigarette - or dare I even say - be given the man's cigarette, were acts that were very horny for 1930s America, and pretty much the only acceptable sexual allegory.
The phallic symbolism was set, and the whole industry held onto the “sex sells” grindset for most of the 20th century. You can find countless examples of vintage cigarette ads framing cigarettes as the gateway to sexual encounters, in the same trad dynamics, or simply with a half-naked woman.
So, unfortunately, when you’re smoking a cigarette, you’re not actually aura farming because it “just has” that energy; you’re actually falling for and perpetuating a century-long psyop of perverted objectification of women and coercion of gender roles to uphold the patriarchy. And the patriarchy isn’t sexy.
(Side note: my favourite example of phallic symbolism is, of course, Joe Camel’s face (you know, the smoking camel), which lowkey looks just like a dick and balls. Not sure if this was intentional, but I found it used as an example in my research, and it really can’t be unseen.)
Aren’t you my friend?
For you, the reader, you probably know everything I’ve already said. You know it’s god awful for you, you know big corporations manipulate people, but why isn’t knowing this enough for people? It’s simple, really. You saw your friend do it; now you do. And here’s where it gets messy.
Nobody today is seeing vintage boobies and running to the nearest dairy; instead, the spread of influence is much more personal. One study showed that just the passive influence of observing a peer smoking is more effective than being directly peer pressured(https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0376871611003863). And it’s obvious why, as a seemingly more insecure generation, people want to feel included. This has also been studied, but I’ll tell you anecdotally, it really does suck to have most of the party go outside, and to say no when they invite you out to join.
But I think the grossest part of this movement is seeing pressure put on others to join in. I wouldn’t accuse my friends of being intentionally malicious. I think it would more likely stem from insecurity. Because there are coexisting perceptions: one is the old, that smoking is sexy aura farming, the other is the new, it’s a stupid, stinky addiction. So when I see my friends try to goad someone new into smoking, I think they’re just wanting more people in the camp of the old, with them, to avoid facing the understanding of the new.
So look, if you do find yourself in a position where a friend is offering a cigarette, just ignore it. You don’t need to lecture them back, create tension, but just take what I’ve said so far as hopefully a slightly deeper understanding that everything is optics bullshit and you don’t need to smoke. Your friendship will prevail over the 10-minute intermissions, but addiction will prevail over decades. And addiction isn’t sexy.
Do you want this when you’re 50?
I was talking to my dad about him smoking the other night. He told me that he was known as “Cigarette Sam” when he was in his 20s, because he smoked everywhere he went; before getting in a car, while getting out of a car, his “wallet, keys, phone” check was “wallet, keys, cigarettes”.
My parents managed to stop when they first had me and my brother, but they started again when I was four, and pretty much smoked my whole life.
I learnt how bad cigarettes are when I was a child, not sure if this was through teachers or the horrific pictures on the packages, but I internalised it as something simple: My parents were killing themselves slowly, by choice.
The anxiety of this got me researching the dangers, trying to lecture my parents, throwing out their packets, and crying when I saw them smoking. How could I not? They were going to die if I didn’t stop them.
The worst part was the lying. My mum used to say some variation of “I’m quitting tomorrow”, “me and your dad agreed we’re quitting soon”, “This is my last packet”. Understanding at such a young age how easily my mum could blatantly lie to my face has probably caused issues I need to go to therapy about.
My dad finally stopped in 2021, because he ended up smoking with covid. He said it felt like drinking petrol, and that experience was bad enough to finally put an end to it. He still wants to smoke all the time, but he’s more terrified of starting it up again, knowing how lucky he was to have that experience put him off.
Mum still smokes. I gave up trying.
But I can only be so disappointed. My parents started in an age with disinformation and no social stigma to warn them of the decades-long battle they had signed up for.
Conclusion?
There will come a day when
the parties stop, when you all get too busy. When that day comes, you won’t be aura farming; you’ll just be harming yourself and those closest to you. It will get in the way of life in ways you never could have expected. It’s so damn easy to start, but do you really know how easy it will be to stop?
Being old with a hoarse throat, making your kids cry, that’s not sexy.
Struggling with nicotine addiction? Call Quitline on 0800 778 778, or visit quit.org.nz for free support.
Written By Anonymous
CONTRIBUTING
Illustration By Scarlett Kean
ILLUSTRATOR
Five Excitements for Whānau MāramaThe New Zealand International Film Festival
The festival line-up is a box of candy this year, so take your pick. Just as I was ready to merely settle for catching Tobe Hooper’s ‘The Texas Chain Saw Massacre’ (1974) on the big screen yet again, the motherload came in: Cannes competition titles (‘The Secret Agent’, ‘Sentimental Value’), re-screenings of classics (‘Angel’s Egg’, ‘Hard Boiled’), home-grown eccentricities (‘Went Up a Hill’, ‘The Weed Eaters’) and music docs for Lennon & Ono, McGlashan, Malmus… where even to begin?! While everybody’s interests disperse in different ways, I can only truly draw from my own instincts and tastes, so here are five films in the Auckland circuit that I think will be worth remembering.
It Was Just An Accident (dir. Jafar Panahi)
Indeed, backstory is an attractive catalyst for deciding ahead of time what’ll be championed as ‘important’ years from now. Unfortunately, in the midst of several house moves, I lost my crystal ball, and can no longer predict for you whether ‘It Was Just An Accident’, this year’s victor of the Palme d’Or at Cannes, will be recalled in the collective memory after the endless scrolls of critical discourse inevitably bubble and spit following its award sweep. (To ponder as an example: does anybody even still think about ‘Triangle of Sadness’?) I do not mean to downplay the vitality of Jafar Panahi’s circumstances themselves, nor his defiance in continuing to direct and release films illegally under the Iranian government, in between imprisonments and bypassing political censorship of authority critique. Indeed, this has become a progressively more urgent theme in his work since 2011’s ‘This Is Not a Film’, merely the first out of seven stunning films. I just mean to shave down any suspicion that, in the wake of current events, a political dissident could’ve only been awarded prestigious validation via the sympathy card. Panahi’s films, layered with fascinating weaves of conversation and teetering tensely along country borders, can be thickly atmospheric, unifying, and extremely funny. The masterstrokes of his oeuvre – stretching as far back as ‘The White Balloon’ (1995) and ‘Offside’ (2006) – show that the sword was sharpened not because of his dissidence but due to the unique command of his form. Go see this!
Resurrection (dir. Bi Gan)
I still haven’t seen ‘Megalopolis’ – not even the bonafide charisma of Aubrey Plaza nor the rich collapse of the Osvaldo Golijov score have tempted me yet to the poisoned feast – but precisely its diagnosis as a cumbersome, fraught, pretentious, surrealist art-house epic with deliquisicing brushstrokes tinted with the shades and tones of cinema’s past, is what I really expect from ‘Resurrection’, the latest overarm bowl from Chinese auteur Bi Gan (2015’s ‘Kaili Blues’; 2018’s ‘Long Day’s Journey Into Night’). I expect a totally opaque narrative, perhaps nothing I can decode without research afterwards – not everybody’s idea of fun, and completely fair enough – but at the end of the day, I just hope for beautiful images to wash over me. I ask for nothing more. Voices from in between the cracks in my basement walls are whispering to me that this major work, at 160 minutes, draws from the German expressionists and American film noir. Okay, sure – I’m in!
Misericordia (dir. Alain Guiraudie)
For this one, I can be completely sure of my endorsement – I’ve seen it already, and can’t wait to see it again. The bucolic libido of the French lends itself to a treacly slow-burn of equal parts rural pleasure, encroaching creepiness, and wicked humour. It’s an inky-black comedy about a young, pansexual man named Jérémie – who looks like a permanently unsure Kyle MacLachlan – returning to his home village to comfort the widow of his boss, and finds out very quickly that the son of this lady is extremely unhappy about his presence, for more reasons than one. Feast your eyes on ravishing wide shots of the Aveyron countryside, a nightmarish punchline that involves mushroom foraging, and the most confusingly large penis on film since Willem Dafoe in ‘Antichrist’.
Sound of Falling (dir. Mascha Schilinski)
Of my five recommendations, this is the film I know the least about and am therefore the most tentative towards. But I am a sucker for an epic that spans across multiple decades, like Jia Zhangke’s ‘Platform’ (2000), the Wachowskis’ ‘Cloud Atlas’ (2012), and Bertrand Bonello’s ‘The Beast’ (2023), to name a few. With that in mind, I suspect that ‘Sound of Falling’, about the same farmstead in Altmark, Germany, shared by four girls of different historical periods, aims to totally bowl its audience over by its sheer scope and ambition. I simply hope it delivers.
The Mastermind (dir. Kelly Reichardt)
The rural shiver and lonely pauses of Kelly Reichardt have made her one of my utmost favourite directors, but even moreso for how she nails the quiet awkwardness of everyday interaction, even when the situation calls for a more urgent response. I think about highlights like in ‘Night Moves’ (2013), where three environmental activists nervously bicker outside a warehouse about what might be the least suspicious way to buy a shit-ton of fertiliser (it’s for a bomb, y’see), or in ‘First Cow’ (2019) where the wealthy English factor is left with his jaw wide open in shock after realising the two travellers that he’s just pardoned have been trying to steal milk from his cow. These moments make me very excited for ‘The Mastermind’, which returns to Reichardt’s familiar state of Oregon for a story about an art thief played by former ‘challenger’ Josh O’Connor, plus Alana Haim, Gaby Hoffman, and John Magaro – the latter of whom stole the show in the director’s last film, ‘Showing Up’ (2022).
Q: 18 she/her
I started dating this guy over summer, we met at a party in Auckland and spent basically the whole summer together. I really like him, and we had that intense, movie-montage kind of romance. It was so great, but he had to move to Wellington because he’s going to Vic, while I’m stuck here at AUT. We said we’d try to make long-distance work, but it already feels like we’re living completely separate lives. We barely have time to call, and I don’t even know when we’ll see each other next. Flights are so expensive, neither of us have cars. I feel guilty for thinking about ending it because it’s not like he did anything wrong, but I feel so stuck. How do you know when to try harder or when to just call it quits?
A:
There are two aspects to your question that jump out at me. One is that you’ve made it this far through the year in a long-term relationship. Congratulations! Not everyone can boast that amount of commitment. The second is that you said, “It already feels like we’re living completely separate lives”.
On this occasion, I have no advice for you to take immediate action on. I’m not going to tell you to dump your Summertime Boy, and I’m not going to tell you to stick by the FaceTime version of him propped up against your pillow every night. I’m going to ask you some questions.
But let me explain myself. The fact you’ve lasted five months since summer means this is a fairly long-term relationship you’ve got going, considering (I assume) you’re both fresh out of high school. If you’ve stuck with it this long, I’m guessing you have a pretty strong attachment.
What I picked up from your question, especially, was that “separate lives” comment. If proximity wasn’t important to you, would you have mentioned it? You say you barely have time to call each other, so it sounds like you’re living a pretty full life. Sometimes scheduling really does make or break a relationship.
So my main question to you is, do the pros outweigh the cons? It might seem like a simple task: get a notebook and some sparkly gel pens, make a graph and fill in the blanks (at least that’s how I did it, circa 2013). But I want you to really think about these questions.
Does this relationship still bring me more joy than stress?
This is the first year in your relationship. Ideally, this is the “honeymoon period”. Having difficulties this early on could be a bad sign, or it could be a testament to your devotion to one another. Ask yourself if the joy you get from this relationship, including your amazing summer months, is worth the stress of not being close to each other daily.
If nothing changed, if the distance stayed hard, and the calls stayed sparse, would I still want to be in it?
If the infrequent calls are because you’re both living busy lives, that's one thing. But if the calls are lagging on one end more than the other, it's probably cause for concern. In my opinion, if you’re both just caught up in living busy lives, it’s all the sweeter when you get some precious moments together. But if you’re scheduling times that he doesn't show up to, or he’s waiting for you to call, but you get caught up with other things, it might be worth asking yourself if that truly is fulfilling.
Am I staying because I’m genuinely fulfilled, or because it feels easier than the disruption of leaving?
One of the worst places you can find yourself is in the ambiguity of a relationship that is just good enough. Of course, they can’t ever be perfect; there will always be road bumps. But when a relationship is not bad enough for you to feel the urge to leave, but not good enough to feel the pull to stay, it can be really tricky to figure out what you want. Now that you’re already in a relationship, leaving it feels very dramatic in comparison to just soldiering through. The latter is also accentuated by the long distance.
I’ll leave you with one other point. Something I think we’re missing in today's social climate. In our TikTok-advice-fuelled world, it’s easy to absorb pseudo-therapy slogans like “if it doesn’t serve you, let it go” and take that as gospel. But that kind of thinking can flatten the messy, complicated reality of human relationships. Real relationships aren’t vending machines that either “serve you” or don’t. They’re living, shifting things that you co-create with someone else. They require effort, care, and communication. They can be hard. They should take work. But that work should feel meaningful and reciprocal, not like a constant uphill battle. If you’re feeling depleted more than you’re feeling connected, it’s worth asking why.
Answered By
Tashi Donnelly (she/her) FEATURES EDITOR
A Q&A with the Student Who Turned Drug Use Into Protest
In your view, what does real harm reduction look like, and how is it currently falling short in New Zealand?
Drug education in Aotearoa is flawed. Anyone who has tried cannabis even once has probably realised that their experience bears little resemblance to the propagandised messaging we were fed in school. I think real harm reduction entails destigmatisation and an unbiased pedagogical approach.
People will use Illicit substances. Simple as that. Prohibition and an abstinence agenda do not work. Harmreduction.org calls it “meeting people who use drugs where they’re at,” which I think is the first crucial step if we ever want to reduce drug-related harms. Real harm reduction starts by acknowledging that not all drug users are junkies or people who’ve “chosen to throw their life away”, but also used by your teachers, neighbours, or parents.
Secondly, we need an honest education and messaging that doesn’t moralise or fearmonger.
“If youngsters are told things about drugs which they know perfectly well are not entirely accurate, it may lead to them dismissing the entire message.”
—UK Home Affairs Committee (2002)
As cynical as I often am, I’d argue that our starting point in New Zealand is stronger than in many countries. And while I have my reservations about Christopher Luxon, it’s genuinely reassuring to see even a conservative government protect pill-testing services. Unfortunately though, we remain too reliant on criminalisation, which disproportionately affects Māori. In addition, we desperately need legal supervised consumption sites. In 2024, The Lancet published a 9 page study in relation to the Toronto based sites, and findings showed that “fatal overdoses declined by 67 percent within 500 metres of locations offering this kind of harm reduction program.” The evidence is clear: taking a harm reduction approach saves lives.
What’s your method when approaching a new substance? Do you see it more as a ritual, an experiment, or something else entirely?
On every occasion that I found myself about to self-administer a new compound, whether for journalistic output, recreation or otherwise, my methodology boils down to the famous “10 Commandments Of Safer Drug Use” (Drug Users Bible, DMT). This list can be found online, but the key ones are as follows. I always start with research. It bears repeating, but holy shit, research! I quote the above book: “There is no imperative to rush, but there is an imperative to get it right”. I know it’s preachy but you risk your life every time you take a drug, whether it be alcohol or amphetamines. Having an understanding of duration, dosage, onset and combinations can make all the difference between a good time and a destructive one.
Next, it blows my tiny mind every time I hear of people who don’t test their drugs. We have all likely heard horror stories, or possibly know a victim of laced drugs. This isn’t something to take lightly. Know what you are taking. Reagent kits are cheap and legal, but better yet, companies such as The Level and Knowyourstuff provide incredible non-judgmental, free drug testing services in your neighbourhood. It’s fast and reliable. Don’t be a fool.
Weigh your dosages. It’s almost frightening how many people are content with eyeballing drugs. Take it from me (the guy who had a very frightening 2C-B experience this way), there are no tips or tricks that work. Cheap and reliable milligram scales can be sourced in essentially any Shosha. If you can afford $100 worth of gear before Laneway, you can afford $30 scales.
In order to keep safety as a top priority, I always ensure I keep a journal with all the dates and dosages of the drugs I have taken. That way, I can keep track of resistance and any potential negative combinations or cross tolerance. For example, if I were to have done MDMA this month, it would be imperative I wait at least 3 weeks (but preferably longer) before I can touch Dextromethorphan (DXM). The app I use is called “PsychonautWiki Journal”.
What have been your best and worst experiences with substances, and what did they teach you?
It’s certainly hard to boil down a best experience, but I know the answer will be found within the realm of psychedelics. A likely contender would be my first mescaline trip. A deeply pulchritudinous and eye-widening experience. Although not unique by any means, I think it helped me have a greater appreciation of the world around me.
As for bad, I think the immense bodily discomfort and full-scale vascular constrictions I experienced whilst under the influence of Sinicuichi (an Aztecian ethnobotanical) could be a contender. A very uncomfortable trip that really taught me not to underestimate the warnings of those who have gone before me.
Is there a particular substance you feel has been especially misunderstood, either demonised or overhyped?
Written By Anonymous
Demonised? Nangs or Nitrous Oxide, 100%. This could be an essay in itself, but the abridged version: responsible adult use of nitrous rarely causes harm when proper precautions are taken. If you’re avoiding oxygen deprivation, not asphyxiating yourself with repeated rebreathes from balloons, using quality food-grade cartridges, dosing appropriately and taking B12 supplementation, occasional use is low risk. I say this not as a means of encouragement, but as a means to help destigmatise and change the perception of responsible users. Shockingly, we do exist.
Nangs are often misunderstood and unfairly vilified. So much so, I’ve likely lost some readers who haven’t even heard me out yet. While not harmless, its risks are frequently exaggerated, especially in the media, due to cherry picking the worst of the worst cases. I believe this is rooted in classist attitudes. The same substance used safely in medical and dental settings is suddenly treated as dangerous when used recreation ally by young or poor users. Much of the panic around nangs isn’t about the drug, but about the users who are seen using it.
I’ve seen several calls for criminalisation. Prohibition only worsens out comes and would make supply unregulated and education scarce. Countries that have restricted nitrous access have seen black markets emerge and health risks increase.
Ultimately, criminalising nitrous doesn’t protect anyone. It just endan gers users, especially youth and marginalised communities, while ignor ing the fact that nitrous is demonstrably less harmful than legal sub stances like alcohol or tobacco. Harm reduction, not punishment. Being honest about the risks, but not fear-mongering with misinformation. See below “The New Zealand drug harms ranking study: A multi decision analysis”, published in the Journal of Psychopharmacology in September 2023, in which Nitrous Oxide sits right next to abstinence.
Sources:
Drug User's Bible. (n.d.). The relative harm. https://drugusersbible.org/ content/worldscape/the_relative_harm/index.html
National Harm Reduction Coalition. (n.d.). Principles of harm reduction. https://harmreduction.org/about-us/principles-of-harm-reduction/ CP24. (2024, February 21). Drug overdose deaths lower in Toronto neighbourhoods with supervised consumption sites: Study. https://
Illustration By Hirimaia Eketone
EDITOR
Pick Your Poison: Doping in sport used to be cool
There’s a fine line between what is and isn’t considered doping in sport. In 1991, footballing great Diego Maradona was handed a 15-month suspension when he tested positive for cocaine after a match. And yet when I chug a V and take a 30 minute power nap before dropping an unprecedented 7.3/10 performance on a cold Wednesday night in Forrest Hill I get off scot-free.
Sport has always been about getting that extra edge over your competitors. By all means necessary. Athletes dating back to the beginning of organised competition have known this and have since tested those waters in ways that have been both spectacular, mediocre, and sometimes deadly. The word ‘doping’ dates back to the late 1800s, when people were whipping up opioid cocktails for their horses. Fast-forward, and the past several decades have shown there are no limits to what humans will put in their bodies to win a race — or finish an essay.
The 2025 World Anti-Doping Agency’s blacklist covers hundreds of unique substances and variants. There is a never-ending arms race between those who manufacture performance-enhancing drugs (PEDs) to be effective and untraceable, and those who seek to regulate and control them. Researching this article made me somewhat happy about my lacklustre athletic ability and dawdling competitive spirit because… well, you’ll see. Let’s just say I’m grateful the only thing I’m forced to do against my will is pay registration fees.
Ancient Greece and the Liver King
It doesn’t take a genius to realise the Greeks were majorly juiced up. If you want a demonstration of the negative side effects of steroid use, just look at one of their male statues. Hypocritical dong jokes aside, the Greeks actually got pretty freaky with their performance enhancement techniques. Just check out this quote from ancient Greek physician Aretaeus of Cappadocia:
“For it is the semen, when possessed of vitality, which makes us to be men, hot, well braced in limbs, well voiced, spirited, strong to think and act…But if any man be continent in the emission of semen, he is bold, daring, and strong as wild beasts as is proved from such of the athlete as are continent…Vital semen, then, contributes to health, strength, courage, and generation.”
The hormone testosterone wasn't formally identified until the 20th century, but they were on the right track. They linked the consumption of certain foods with strength, potency and virility. But instead of the needles and syringes used today, the Greeks initially settled for animal hearts and testicles, which we now know have at best a minimal effect on athletic performance. Unfortunately, this memo never got through to Liver King.
With the common aim of Olympic glory, they also tried dried figs, herbal medications, hallucinogens, and “the rear hooves of an Abyssinian ass, ground up, boiled in oil, and flavoured with rose hips and rose petals”. However, even back in the earliest Olympic Games, athletes caught cheating were banned from competing, and their names carved in stone to be shamed by the public.
Pick your poison
This PED has more of a scientific basis, but is equally loopy. Strychnine is a chemical compound that, when consumed, stimulates the central nervous system, leading to increased muscular contractions and improved endurance. It was also a common ingredient for rat poison over the 19th and 20th centuries. The first recorded instance of strychnine use was during the 1904 Olympic Marathon, the most absurd race in the history of the games.
It took place in 33 degree heat, and featured athletes coughing up blood and one being chased off the course by a stray dog. Maybe the best story from that race was Andarín Carvajal’s. The Cuban mailman gambled away all the money he’d raised to compete in the event in New Orleans, had to hitchhike over a thousand kilometres to St Louis, arriving just before the race started. He was still in formal attire and had not eaten for around 40 hours. Fast forward to the middle of the race, and in desperate need of some fuel, he raided an apple orchard. Unfortunately, the apples he ate were a bit dodgy and gave him a stomachache, so he had a power-nap under one of the trees. And after all that, in one of the greatest athletic performances of all time, he still managed to finish fourth.
But, back to the rat poison. The rodent, in this case, was American athlete Thomas Hicks. With 10km to go in the race, Hicks was really struggling. The water supply he’d been drinking from was likely contaminated, the heat was stifling, and stomach cramps were killing him. Since the invention of Powerade was still 84 years away, his handlers decided to give him the next best thing: strychnine, washed down with some egg whites. This got him back up and running for a little while, but he soon began to flounder again. The handlers briefly tried to motivate him with the news of the guy in front of him being disqualified for taking a car ride to the finish line, but verbal encouragement was no match for rat poison. This time, instead of just the egg white chaser, he followed everything down with a big old swig of brandy. This vile concoction kept him going all the way, and although he began hallucinating 2km away from the finish line, he eventually won. He had to be carried over the finish line by his support crew, legs still running in mid-air, presumably on a planet far, far away from ours.
The decidedly boring modern day
When we make the jump to the modern day, doping just isn’t as cool. Don’t get me wrong, it became far more widespread. But it stopped being rad. It is no longer about ingesting the raging spirit of a majestic beast via its cojones, or seeing how much rat poison the human body can truly handle. Rather, it is about which scientist can make the most discreet little injection, so the athlete - despite the shrinkage - can attack their urine test with confidence. This cringe-worthy quote from American weightlifter Ken Patera speaking about competing against Russian world champion Vasily Alekseyev shows how ubiquitous doping became in the latter stages of the 20th century:
“Last year the only difference between me and him was that I couldn't afford his drug bill. Now I can. When I hit Munich next year, I'll weigh in at about 340, maybe 350. Then we'll see which are better—his steroids or mine.”
Nice one bro.
And if you thought it couldn’t get any worse, politics got involved. From 1968 to 1980, thousands of athletes from communist East Germany were forced into doping, with some being told they were taking vitamin pills. A secret government law specified that performance-enhancing drugs had to be a part of every training regime. One East German swimmer said, “The training motto at the pool was, ‘You eat the pills, or you die.’ It was forbidden to refuse.” All that to prove to the world that communism was the way to go. And while they were eventually caught out, it happened again with Russia in the Olympics from 2014 to 2018.
Doping opens up a wider conversation about the sports-industrial complex. In most places around the world now, professional sport is more than just a form of entertainment. It involves huge sums of money and is deeply intertwined with politics. A moment comes to mind from FIFA President Gianni Infantino in a 2022 press conference where he was attempting to defend the selection of Qatar as host city for the Football World Cup. The selection process was riddled with corruption, and the deaths of migrant workers shipped in to build the stadiums numbered in the thousands.
“Today I have very strong feelings,” he said. “Today I feel Qatari. Today I feel Arab. Today I feel African. Today I feel gay. Today I feel disabled. Today I feel [like] a migrant worker.”
Professional sport should be about glory. Connection. The underdog story. The indomitable human spirit. But as the influence of money and out-of-touch billionaires like Infantino grows — and science and technology continue to undermine the humanity that makes sport great — we are at risk of losing sight of these things. Professional competition should be about the athletes and the fans. When those two are brushed to the side, well … the game is well and truly gone.
Written By Luke Fisher (he/him) CONTRIBUTING WRITER
Asking a doctor about magic mushrooms: Are they the miracle cure, or just another way to get high?
Picture this:
You’re at a party, and find yourself cornered by some guy who is telling you about how tripping on acid was a transformative experience. He says, with complete seriousness, “It changed my life, man. I’m a whole new person.”
Sounds familiar, right? I’m sure many of us have experienced something similar, and disregarded it.
But what if these guys are on to something? With worldwide interest about psychedelics in a clinical setting growing, and researchers taking steps forward both here in Aotearoa and across the ditch, maybe it’s time to take a closer look at what these drugs can do.
In 2023, Australia legalised the use of psilocybin, the key psychedelic component in mushrooms, for treatment-resistant depression (a form of major depressive disorder that does not respond to standard therapies or medications). In June, associate Health Minister David Seymour announced that the first use of psilocybin in Aotearoa outside of clinical trials has been approved.
I sat down with Dr Paul Vroegop (aka my dad), a child and adolescent psychiatrist and chronic pain specialist who has worked in Aotearoa New Zealand for over twenty years, to chat about the use of psychedelic drugs as a treatment for serious mental health conditions.
Give us a little bit of background. Who are you?
I’m a psychiatrist, mostly working with young people and adults with chronic pain. As far as psilocybin goes, I’ve had a longstanding interest in using it in the treatment of mental illnesses, like depression or PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder), because the ways that we have of treating these conditions are not particularly effective for most people who suffer with them.
How so?
Take depression, which is relatively common. Most things that we know help with depression are not biological medicines. Our social connections and relationships with people, and also things like exercise, are proven ways to manage it. We have psychotherapy, so talking therapies, which can be really helpful for some, but the problem is that they’re not as accessible in many parts of Aotearoa. Then we’ve got drugs. Medications for mental health issues can be really useful, but not for everyone, which is why alternatives such as psilocybin are being explored. Roughly 10% of people with depression, for any one medication, will have a fantastic response. Another 20 to 30% will have minor improvements, and the rest will not get any real benefit. If you add that up, only about 50% of people benefit from some type of medication. That’s a broad ballpark figure, but it tracks with what I’ve dealt with as a psychiatrist. So for everyone who hasn’t improved with medications or therapy, where do we turn
next? That’s where psychedelics come in.
So that was my next question actually! Could you explain, for those who aren’t aware, what exactly is psilocybin?
Psilocybin is the major psychoactive ingredient in magic mushrooms. In this context, it’s a psychedelic medication. Essentially, they’re chemicals that create an altered state of mind.
How do they work?
That’s a really interesting question because nobody has figured that out yet! There’s some pretty solid theories, at least about how they produce some of their effects. But they’re still just theories.
Because the brain is so complicated.
The brain is so complicated. You know the world’s most commonly prescribed and used medication on earth, paracetamol? We have no clue how that works, it just does. Psychedelics are the same. Psilocybin seems to affect the serotonin and serotonergic neural pathways in our brain, and it may create floods of serotonin in particular areas. How does that have the effects we see on the brain? We don’t know.
So what are these effects?
Most commonly, it gives you visual hallucinations, so you see things that aren’t there. These perceptual changes can include visual distortions, like things being much bigger or much smaller than they really are, or seeing things being twisted or turned. The other aspect of psilocybin is distortion of your sense of time. People describe a minute as lasting for hours, or an eight hour trip as having gone past in a few minutes. Another core experience often mentioned is a dissolution of your sense of self, described in psychology as a loss of ego boundaries. So a sense that you are not just you, but you’re merging into the rest of the universe around you. Some people in some circumstances will describe an “ego death”, which is where they feel that they cease to exist completely.
Intense! But why is this useful in a clinical setting for treating mental health problems?
This is where the really interesting parts come in. When you take psilocybin, there’s good evidence that it increases our brain’s neuroplasticity, which means the ability to form and make new connections. Brains work in a way that the neurons (brain cells) that fire together, wire together. Which is just a way of saying that when one neuron is triggered, it connects another neuron, which connects another, and then that pathway of messaging is much more likely to be activated the next time. It takes slightly less power for that same pathway to switch on.
Because the links are already there?
Pretty much. The links in our brain grow stronger with use. An analogy might be water dropping on the very top of a mountain. Randomly, the first time it drips, it goes a certain way. The next time it drips, statistically,
it’s slightly more likely to go that same way because it’s just worn away a tiny bit more. It takes the path of least resistance. Then in 10 years’ time, you have an actual stream running down the mountain. The initial state of it was random, but now it’s much more likely to go a certain way. Using that analogy, what psychedelics can do is flatten and smooth out that probability path and allow new connections to be made.
So would this be something you would recommend that they put into law? That more psychiatrists can prescribe in New Zealand?
Yes, I think we should be following in Australia’s footsteps. I think these are potential new treatment paradigms that could make a significant difference to a number of people. However, the requirements are intense, and the evidence says you need quite a lot of psychotherapy in order to make the most of the change that the psychedelics provide. We’re still going to be very resource constrained because although te drug is cheap to make, providing psychotherapy with experienced therapists is expensive. I think we should think very carefully about how we can ensure equity of access to these treatments, to people who need them most, rather than, as we’re starting to see in Australia, people who can pay exorbitant sums of money to private providers for it.
So there are definitely still issues with it.
To my mind, one of the problems is that there’s a lot of hype about psychedelics, right? It’s often pushed by this idea that you can have a pill, you take it, and it’s going to cure everything. That’s not what the research suggests. What it shows instead is that psychotherapy is the core part of it. For many people, having a single dose of a psychedelic as part of a psychotherapeutic process is the thing that allows a significant change to occur. It’s not just giving you a drug and going, “I’m feeling better now.” We know that as part of a psychotheraputic approach, it has had significant success in people with the hardest mental health conditions to treat, but I encourage people to be a little bit cynical. If anyone says, “This is the way, the truth and the light,” it’s not. That’s bullshit. Psychedelics are an aid, increasing our ability to learn and change. It’s a tool, and like any tool, you need to put in effort for it to be useful.
The legalisation of psilocybin in clinical settings is a huge step forward. Treatment-resistant depression is on the rise, and with Aotearoa’s health system being gutted by budget cuts and medical benefits quickly disappearing, it could provide a small ray of hope as a cheap and accessible treatment.
However, we should always tread with caution when it comes to new medicines. Though it seems promising so far, there is no such thing as a “quick fix” when it comes to complex mental health problems. Tripping on acid in someone’s basement is more likely to cause issues than solve them. If you’re someone who is looking into psychedelic treatment, take it from the professionals: It won’t work unless you do too.
Links to a couple of sources: New-zealand-psychiatrist-granted-approval-to-prescribe-psilocybin Medsafe-approves-sale-of-melatonin-and-prescribing-magic-mushrooms
Take this incredibly accurate quiz to find out what very real condition you have!
Disclaimer: DodoFrenzy is an alien, not an Earth-certified doctor. If you are an earthling, this is purely for entertainment purposes (However, if this does assist you, you’re welcome.)
1. I prefer to do things on my own, rather than with others.
A: Agree
B: Slightly agree
C: Disagree
2. I prefer doing things the same way - for instance, my morning sun and scream routine.
A: What is a “routine”?
B: Mayhaps
C: Agree
3. I find myself becoming strongly absorbed in something - even obsessional.
A: Yes.
B: Perhaps
C: Not at all, no, why would you say that
4. I notice details that most people wouldn’ t notice.
A: Definitely
B: Negative
C: Only Sightly
5. Out of the three animals listed below, I would gravitate towards…
A: Sloth
B: Dog
C: Possum
6. Which word best connects to how you see yourself?
A: Hyperfixated
B: Insouciant
C: Frenzied
7. What is your opinion on “star signs”?
A: No opinion
B: They ’re cool!
C: It is my religion
DOCTOR DODOFRENZ DOCTOR DODOFRENZ
ZY DIAGNOSES YOU! ZY DIAGNOSES YOU!
8. How many times a week do you wreak havoc on civilisations of alternate dimensions?
A: Between 5-15 times (hybrid part-time #WFH lifestyle)
B: As many times as everyone else!
C: 43.
9. Who would you most like to sit with for lunch?
A: GlūūTubar ™ sensation, MārlizPliRar
B: Jack Black
C: Supreme Overlord of Xlàrn Dlog, Grålhg Zlarbêb
10: Which condiment is your preference on top of the Earth-based circular dough meal: Pizza?
A: Lard
B: Pineapple
C: High fructose corn syrup soaked polyurethane foam
11: When operating a UFO, does your eyesight ever become “ foggy ”?
A: I don’ t drive.
B: Maybe!
C: I have no need for a UFO. I simply scurry across mass terrain.
12: How many hours a day do you spend on a digital device?
A: Over 5 hours
B: Under 5 hours
C: I am off the grid.
13. How would you describe the condition of your hair?
A: Greasy
B: Healthy
C: Louse-ridden
14: Do you believe in concepts which others call “conspiracy theories”?
A: Absolutely.
B: Of course not.
C: Squeak!
15: How much time do you spend outside a day?
A: -15 minutes
B: Depends what my friends are up to!
C: All day.
Aseurai: Phoebe Rings’ First Date
Hot off of the release of their debut album ‘Aseurai’ via Carpark Records, Auckland indie-pop quartet Phoebe Rings are currently bubbling under the surface of international recognition. This year alone, they’ve opened for Japanese Breakfast at the Auckland Town Hall, toured through Asia, and kept their friends and fans back home in Aotearoa well fed with frequent gigs and presence across the scene. I spoke to band members Crystal Choi (Skogkatt), Simeon Kavanagh-Vincent (Lucky Boy, Princess Chelsea), and Alex Freer (A.C Freazy, Tiny Ruins) at Whammy Public Bar, the successor to the old stomping grounds of The Wine Cellar about their debut album, their international shows, how they work together collaboratively, and more.
(Note: Bassist Benjamin Locke was off in the UK at the time of this interview, but I’d like to note that his track “Get Up” on the album is one of my favourites, and not a ‘leaden moment’ as the otherwise lovely Pitchfork review states.)
Liam:
I think most people within the Auckland scene became aware of you guys around 2022 after the EP came out. How long had the group existed before that point?
Crystal:
We had our debut show February of 2020 - Right before the lockdown, of course.
Liam:
Was Phoebe Rings your first main project? Or did you have other various things before?
Crystal:
Oh, I had a jazz 10 piece project called Skogkatt, and that was more chambery.
Liam:
Were the others in that band, or was it just generally around Auckland music scenes that everyone met?
Crystal:
Yeah, we're such a small scene that we kept bumping into each other at gigs and watching each other play. Simeon and I had very briefly both been in Princess Chelsea, and Simeon still is. I was also in Alex's band, A.C. Freazy.
Liam:
I think that the first EP immediately did well within Aotearoa, simply because you are all talented, long-performing musicians who have the skills to be able to put together an EP that's immediately quite good without having to find the sound too much. Did you go into writing the EP with a particular goal in mind, or was it basically just like "These are the songs I've written. Phoebe Rings will be the name for how I release them."
Alex:
[To Crystal] Yeah, you had a couple of songs you played with Skogkkat, with the 10 piece jazz ensemble. Why did you want to change it to a more indie pop sound?
Liam:
You're taking my job!
Crystal:
[Laughs] Well, there actually was a song that I had as a demo, but I had never released it because it was too in the Skogkkat world - a bit more chambery. I mean. There always were songs that I'd written that didn't really fit into that genre. And I thought, "Ah, this does much better in a more indie rock/pop world", which I became a bit more drawn to after I'd been on some tours with other artists. When we formed the band of Phoebe Rings, I wrote some more, thinking of you all in mind. So it was a mix of pre-written songs and songs that I'd written when I called the band.
Liam:
So then, would the album have been all songs that were written with the band in mind?
Crystal:
There was one, 'Playground Song', that was written around the EP time. But other than that, everything was written, not just since the band was formed, but it was actually co-written by all four of us.
Liam:
Yeah, I was re-listening to the album on the way in, and it's paramount how much the full band's influence grew from the EP. Maybe that's just because there were more voices on it than just Crystal, but even then, I think there are maybe one or two that you're the only vocalist on, and then everything else has at least one of your voices in the background.
Alex:
[To Crystal] You did all the BVs for the EP - did you originally do all the BVs for the album, and then we added our own ones?
Crystal:
I think I did guide vocals, but the idea was to have all of us.
Alex:
It was a conscious decision to be like, "We don't have to have a chorus of Crystals now, we can put ourselves in."
Simeon:
I definitely brought it up, to not make it a Fleetwood Mac situation where everyone sings lead. We knew Crystal was gonna sing lead, and then Ben had his song, obviously. But other than that, you two [Crystal and Alex] share vox on ‘Mandarin Tree’, and we [Crystal and Simeon] share on ‘Drifting’. So there's some heavy backing vocals that we do, but we don't take
any lead in the album.
Crystal:
I do like how there are some duet moments.
Liam:
It's mixed in a very full band way, where a lot of the vocals don't feel like backing vocals. Everything feels very balanced out, and it's so much more of a collaborative work between the four of you - which is actually something I'm curious about, Crystal, if it felt weird to hand over parts of the project?
Crystal:
It was the most liberating thing ever [All laugh]. Honestly, it was the best decision I've ever made. Everyone has such amazing, slightly different to each other tastes. It's so fun to witness their skills coming into the Phoebe Rings world. Seeing other people write other tracks of the album in their own way, and layering things on top of that was so fun.
Liam:
Did you give any guidance of what a Phoebe Rings song should be?
Crystal:
I don't think I've ever told the band exactly what sound I wanted. But I do remember Simeon and Alex talking about how writing songs for Lucky Boy or A.C. Freazy would have been a bit different, like they did have Phoebe Rings in mind, maybe having the EP as a bit of a sound template. But I definitely didn't want to specify what that was going to be, because that's gonna kill the creativity.
Liam:
What was the approach on both your ends for the tracks you wrote, Alex and
Simeon? Did they start immediately as Phoebe Rings songs?
Simeon:
I have a folder in my Dropbox for Phoebe Rings demos with a really, really bad filing system that's like, "idea one, idea two, idea three". There ended up being ten ideas which, as I felt things were progressing with other people's songs, I went in a specific direction of what ideas I wanted to look at. My personal philosophy for the album was writing songs that didn't exist on the album, if that makes any sense - like, I really wanted to write the last song. I felt like I had gained a lot more of an appreciation of pop music in the years we were recording, and I thought it'd be nice to write a sparkly pop tune. So I was deliberately looking at what the others were doing, and not trying to leave that world, but fill it in a little bit more.
Liam:
Did that pop understanding come from the time that you've spent in Princess Chelsea?
Simeon:
I mean, that definitely is a big help, because she is such an amazing example of writing a really fucking good pop song that, when you just break it down, have such an interesting arrangement and stylistic sound. So that has been more of an inspiration than an influence, because I don't think I could ever do what she does, but it's nice to look at examples of people writing really good pop music.
Alex:
I think I find it easier to write for Phoebe Rings than I do to write songs myself. I get really sick of hearing my own voice, saying my own thoughts. And I think it's really nice thinking about things that sound good in Crystal's voice.
Liam:
Have you gotten to a point now where there's much difficulty in coming up with parts for Phoebe Rings, or figuring out how to kind of approach songs individually, as a group?
Simeon:
There's certainly no throwing chairs across the room.
Alex: There probably could be more throwing chairs across the room.
Crystal:
I think all four of us are very polite. And sometimes that can make you feel a bit like "are they really digging my idea?" But for myself, a lot of the ideas that all of us come up with are very tasteful. So I can pick, if they have options, which one is more to my taste. But yeah, in our arrangement sessions were a bit long - spanning four months, which I would say, is a very thorough and long process, but it paid off.
Alex:
Normally, whoever's song it was would lead the production of the song, if they had ideas or something sorted already, and everyone else would kind of chip in, but it would be up to that person to ultimately make the call.
Liam:
Each of you, particularly Simeon, seem to have hubs of so much different gear that's on stage as you're doing Phoebe Rings shows.
Simeon:
Yeah, there's been some fun things that have come and gone that we'd
love to bring back. I’ve played an omnichord, I played lap steel for some shows, I played pedal steel for the Live Music Bar- it is just striking the balance of another suitcase being $400 each way. And like, we all had the time of our lives on the Asia tour we just did. We got our statement back of what we made on that tour, and it wouldn't cover an extra bag going to Japan, from Japan.
Alex:
You'll know we've made it when we have one extra instrument on stage.
Liam:
That was the Asia tour, yeah? How was it in general?
Simeon:
I don't believe that it happened still. I was over there, and I was calling my boyfriend, and I was like "I'm looking at it right now, and I don't believe that it's real."
Liam:
Is that the first time that any of you have played there?
Crystal:
I have played in Korea once with Princess Chelsea and Jonathan Bree. That was really fun, but it definitely is a different feeling when you are there with your band. Especially for me, because I come from Korea, to be able to speak in your own language, your mother tongue, to a Korean audience is very special. And I think there is a very special connection when you say "I am from Korea, I live in New Zealand, but I'm speaking to you in Korean right now!"
Liam:
Did Korean audiences take those shows well?
Crystal:
Yes! They're so respectful and lovely. They kind of respond like kindergarten kids speaking to their tutor, because they go, "Awww.." when I say it's the last song, and then I'll say, "This is Ben who's gonna sing to you the next song. They're like "Wooo!!!"
Alex:
People were really invested in the music. They're quite quiet in between songs, but they will show their appreciation.
Simeon:
There's a lack of ego and amount of sincerity that just doesn't exist as much in Western culture. Crystal was translating for us as people were coming up after the shows in Asia, and it's literally just, like, "Your music makes me happy." Just the most base level, heartwarming praise -There's no need to put on a front.
Crystal:
"Your music suits the season."
Liam:
Have you put much thought towards what's next, music wise?
Crystal:
Yeah, we've had meetings and get-togethers to try and talk about that, and we are very excited for album number two. We have had some little demos, tons of writing, and some playthroughs, but we're trying to just think about it a little bit harder. Album number one was quite organic, in a way - we didn't think about the album progression, start to finish, too hard - except for Simeon, who had gone. "I love the last song, I'm gonna write the last song." For album number two, we're thinking about it a little bit harder.
Liam:
Not necessarily in a way that you didn't think about album one?
Alex:
No no no, It's just that since we recorded all that, we've played so many more shows, we've gotten to know each other more. I think there's more trust, and there's more openness, and this idea of four people collaborating on songs is like, such a limitless possibility.
Simeon:
Really, the first album felt like a first date. It's a little bit tentative and you're not fully yourself, not for any particular reason.
Alex:
That's a great first date!
Liam:
From the outside, it sounds very sure of itself. It's the first date of a happy marriage.
Crystal: Yeah, we all know that we like convenience store food!
Simeon: We can bond over missing Korea.
‘Aseurai’ is out now via Carpark Records in all good music stores. You can keep up to date with the band at @phoeberings.
Hansen (they/them)
Frances Carter
