Issue 11 - November 2012 - Free
Cover: Claire Duncan of Dear Times Waste Photography by Lia Kent Mackillop Featured artist: Liam Gerrard PRESENCE is a free publication that collaborates with up-and-coming artists. We claim no rights to the photos, artwork and articles given by contributors. ÂŠ 2012 PRESENCE magazine all rights reserved.
DEAR TIMES WASTE 8 Without Veil Or Vanity Article by Olivia Young Photography by Lia Kent Mackillop RANDA 18 Baby Got Beats Article by Georgia Moselen-Sloog Photography by Cleo Barnett PORCELAINTOY 26 In Love With Love Article by Elizabeth Beattie Photography by Megan Dieudonné LIAM gerrard 34 A Necessary Evil Article by Will Pollard Photography by Rabie Alburaiky RACKETS 38 The Men Behind The Music Article by Zac Arnold Photography by Alex Mcvinnie GEORGIA ALICE 44 Dreaming Of Georgia Article by Skye Pathare Photogarphy by Ab Watson Stop Being a Pud 48 Only If You Ask Nicely Article by Josh Ling Photography by Alex Mcvinnie Ellen Moorhead 54 F U World Article by PHF Artwork by Ellen Moorhead
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Thank you for picking up PRESENCE Issue 11. Iâ€™d like to thank the following people for their hard work on this issue: Claire Duncan, Olivia Young, Lia Kent Mackillop, Miranda Larkin, Georgia Moselen-Sloog, Cleo Barnett, Hannah Lee, Elizabeth & Emile Del Ray, Elizabeth Beattie, Megan DieudonnĂŠ, Roc Travers, Will Pollard, Liam Gerrard, Oscar Davies-Kay, Jeremy Potts, Vince Narin, Zac Arnold, Alex McVinnie, Georgia Alice Currie, Skye Pathare, Ab Watson, Sam Wieck, Matt Monk, Josh Ling, PHF and Ellen Moorhead. Behind-the-scenes work: Elise Brinkman, Simon van Praag, Zaid Azeem, Andrew Tidball, Ryan Butler, Kate Paul, Matthew Crawley, Charlotte Ryan, Andrew Armitage, Murray Bevan, Will Edmonds, Luke Seeney, Stuart Broughton and Grant & Tyler Hislop. My parents Gary & Judith Gotlieb, my siblings Lisa and Aaron and my friends for their support. Thank you for reading PRESENCE, Greta Gotlieb presencemagazine.co.nz Presence is self-published and funded by contributions and sponsors. If you would like to be involved with the next issue of Presence with a contribution or sponsorship please email: firstname.lastname@example.org.
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W ith out veil o r vanity DEAR TIMES WASTE Article by Olivia Young Photography by Lia Kent Mackillop Over email before our interview, Claire Duncan told me to look out for a scowling person with unwashed hair. I was mildly disappointed when neither turned up. Duncan was onto her second ramekin of olives for the day by the time we sat down. The woman behind Dear Time’s Waste is a self-prescribed textbook artist, accused of being wanky – she refuses to say by which journo. Her nine-tofive workday is spent at Auckland’s Time Out Bookstore, and despite claiming to be the slowest reader ever, she says she enjoys selling books to the “older, rich, bored people of Mount Eden”. Perhaps she picks up on “top tips and rules for the everyday alternative artist” in between selling yet another copy of waffle-waffle or fluffy marshmallow for the masses. Without veil or vanity, Duncan describes her music as the marriage of free-floating strands, aural and otherwise, which enable the body of her work to function as a whole.
In hindsight, less wine and more philosophy probably would have been a better option before meeting Duncan. Drawn to things she can’t figure out, we spend the next ninety minutes defining unfathomable ideas, and how it really is possible to convey abstract concepts in a concrete and somewhat structured way. She’s adamant that her album, Some Kind of Eden, seeks to capture such wisdom and question reality. I can’t argue with that. Duncan says she has no real interest in playing the tall poppy trick in the industry arena and maintains the market is far too small for the snobbery and one-upmanship that readily occurs. Her drive lies in a long-term music career that is sustainable, both mentally and emotionally, which she somewhat fondly describes as “playing the Me game”. Her lyrics soak up her spoken intellect seamlessly and it’s easy to get selfish, as the tracks come across as though they’ve been written just for you. For those unfamiliar or obsessed with 9
pigeonholing into genres, her music is a blend of folk and alternative rock, which she masters delightfully with a touch of honey and chalk. Overall, the 10 tracks on Some Kind of Eden are short in length, yet appropriately so. The Eden Terrace artist sings with eloquence and depth on ‘Heavy/High’. Mulling over notable experiences, the listener is led down the garden path and into Duncan’s world. The electronic beats create a healthy contrast to the vocals and pull you out of your daydream. Bruised heart aside, ‘Fortune’ just makes you swoon for the sake of swooning. With buttery goodness, you melt into Duncan’s superbly hollow, somewhat haunting vocals that linger on all the right notes. This music lends itself to a very mellow live performance, but nonetheless delightful and welcoming of a heavy-lidded sway. I could write on and on about Some Kind of Eden. Bugger it: just buy the album and support the artist. It’s brilliant. Duncan spent last summer holed up in a makeshift studio on Queen Street producing Some Kind of Eden. While she says little about the actual recording and her process, she theatrically describes the old caretaker in the building who kept mistaking her for a squatter. A warm soul, Duncan enjoys sharing her stories – both on and off the record. 12
Literature plays a significant role in Duncan’s musical journey, and her website quotes the following: The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become. Conversely, the absolute absence of burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into heights, take leave of the earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant. - Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being The future is often unknown, but some things are certain – yes, music will be the main driver in Claire Duncan’s life. But in the meantime, Ponsonby Food Court is beckoning.
B aby g ot beats RANDA Article by Georgia Moselen-Sloog Photography by Cleo Barnett Styling by Hannah Lee
Randa wants you to listen to her beats. After six months of bedroom-closeted creativity, Auckland-based rapper and beat-maker Randa feels like she’s ready to rock the boat. “I think you have to be a little crazy to believe that you can make waves,” she says. And although there have been times when she questioned herself, she says she knew it was all for the right reasons. As somebody who has always felt “pretty out of place”, 19-year-old Randa (a shortening of her birth name, Miranda) feels that with rap it all makes sense. “I actually think I’m more me when I perform,” she says. Rap gives her what she describes as a platform, which allows her to be more “out there” in speaking and projecting her ideas. “I feel really lucky that I’ve found rap. I think it can totally change your perspective.”
Randa speaks passionately about performing, and counts vibing with a crowd as the best experience of her budding musical career. Early on, she was told not to worry if people stood still during her performances – but she feels they’re usually pretty engaged and responsive. “Performing live, there’s this weird thing that happens,” she says, gesturing with her hands as she searches for the right words. “It’s like… you’re communicating with people and they’re communicating with you too, ‘cause the way they respond affects the way you perform.” The rapper’s tastes and influences are diverse - from naming Pearl Jam’s Ten as her favourite album of all time, to Lady Gaga as a favourite concert. But she says Odd Future are her biggest musical influences, with a production style that struck her with its difference from everything else she’d heard in rap. She even takes inspiration from American skateboarder Mark Gonzales’ openminded, relentless approach. 19
“I just think, what if I approached making music the way he approaches skateboarding?” Raps riddled with references to Americana seem an unlikely output for Randa, who was born and raised on Auckland’s North Shore. However, she says her upbringing has influenced her music. “If you’re far away from what you dream about it kind of inspires you more… I think it makes you more curious about what’s out there.” Randa uses her music as an escape – and to touch on subjects she normally wouldn’t in her everyday life. Her initial foray into rap was spurred on by the monotony of a painfully boring data entry job. She hopes her tunes can create an escape for her listeners as well, with pop culture references building a strong sense of nostalgia. With a keen interest in graphic design, Randa creates images with familiar motifs of the ‘90s and American consumerism, complementing the common themes of her verses. She says her desire to create album artwork gave her an incentive to make music, only later realising she’d have to make a track to go with the art. The upcoming EP Summer Camp will feature album art by local artist Braden Gordon, who creates under the moniker Yesterday’s Tomorrow. 20
Her latest single, ‘Las Vegas Sunset’, is the track Randa says she’s most proud of. At just over a minute long, it tells the brief, chilling tale of a 36-year-old who ventures out from his mother’s basement and kidnaps a young woman. Though upon first listen the situation seems morally clear cut, Randa feels that whether he’s evil or not is her listener’s call. “He doesn’t wanna hurt her… he just wants to be around her, but he knows that it can’t happen.” Budding film production outfit Candlelit Pictures made the video, which Randa says makes the song’s closing a little less ambiguous. If the pace of Randa’s rise so far is anything to go by, she’ll be occupying the airwaves even more in the future. She says she feels she’s entered the scene at an opportune time, when the horizons of rap are being broadened. “I think there are more alternative artists becoming more prominent… also the more women that realise it’s possible can inspire others to do the same,” she says. “I kind of feel like the sky’s the limit as long as you believe,” she says, a slight smirk forming. “That sounds kind of Disney film-ish, but it’s true, right?” presencemagazine.co.nz/randasclothes.html Thank you to the Santa Parade and the Cuda Sisters
I n Love W ith Love PORCELAINTOY Article by Elizabeth Beattie Photography by Megan DieudonnĂŠ Styling by Roc Travers
Created by husband and wife Elizabeth and Emile De la Ray, Porcelaintoy is a band that dabble in myriad genres and float from style to style. Porcelaintoy encompasses both Elizabeth’s talent to write soulful songs and Emile’s ability to produce and compose rhythms digitally.
Elizabeth’s influences include her mother who wrote music secretively (“she kept it all to herself”) and Bjork. “Bjork’s probably quite a big influence on me because she’s so free. I think what I love about her is her freedom to express herself.” Emile agrees.
“I guess I’m always trying to make the electronic passionate and find the passion in it,” says Emile of his approach to digital music. “[Elizabeth] writes the songs and it all gets wrapped around that. The songs carry it – I’m just trying to compliment it.” Emile had an eclectic history of musical education before discovering electronic music, starting out with classical piano and violin when he was young. “I started doing electronic music since I bought a keyboard in 1998. It’s just evolved I guess, I’ve learnt things from looking at what other people do.” Elizabeth meanwhile, has been creating music since childhood. “I’ve been writing music since I was a little kid so it’s always been a part of the way I think. For me it’s always something that’s come naturally. Emile’s always played piano, classical stuff, but I’ve always been a writer.”
“We’re both drawn to musicians that feel free to really express themselves.” Porcelaintoy express both shy modesty and bold honesty. Elizabeth and Emile have musically collaborated since they met as teenagers and their personal relationship and musical collaboration have always been intertwined. “We met through music and love,” says Emile with a laugh. “[Elizabeth] had a CD she had recorded with a friend’s brother in a studio. I heard that and I wanted to make music with her, so we tried and we made a track together the day after we met.” Being married has been a defining aspect of Porcelaintoy because, as Elizabeth says, “I think that is our dynamic – because we met through music.” Both Emile and Elizabeth’s intent is to honestly express and share the passion they both have for music. 27
“I think passion is the main one, we want it to sound passionate. We’re a little bit eccentric and quite serious sometimes so that elements probably in there a little bit.” Elizabeth says.
“It was really free, we weren’t thinking at all about trying to fit in with any culture or trying to sell ourselves. All we were thinking of was purely making the music,” says Emile thoughtfully.
Little about this band is premeditated, with music style, visual dynamic and musical partnerships all part of a natural evolution. Even Elizabeth’s songwriting process is spur of the moment.
“And I guess I’m feeling a bit more like doing that again.”
“I don’t really ponder over what I’m trying to do, it just kinda happens. I’ll sit down when I feel like playing the piano, I’m not really thinking about anything, then I’ll just start singing. Then the song just happens. [When] we’re both jamming then that’s when we decide where the song’s going.”
The new album Emile and Elizabeth are currently working on will explore that feeling. Titled Freedom of the Underground, this release will highlight another facet of their dynamic. “A bit more edgy and a bit more gritty, ‘cause there’s a strong side to me,” says Elizabeth.
Emile agrees the process is fairly organic.
“I feel like what was expressed a lot has been just that shy, softer side, but there is a real strength there that we have there.”
“She’ll sing a whole song. A brand new whole song comes out of nowhere. That might not be the final version. Maybe later on parts of that song will make it into other songs.”
Recently, the couple have recruited musical accompanist and cellist Charlie Davenport to collaborate on the live performance aspect. But recorded music is still very personal to Emile and Elizabeth.
Although electronic soundscapes and Elizabeth’s songwriting have always been at the core of their work, Porcelaintoy has experimented with a variety of different sounds and styles. Emile describes their earlier music recordings as busy and intense.
“We’re creating the music for each other,” says Emile.
“We even had babies crying on one of them,” Elizabeth laughs. 30
Both Emile and Elizabeth agree that approach to music is: “an indulgence, but it’s an indulgence we want to share.” Freedom of the Underground is due to be released in 2013. Porcelaintoy will commence a European tour next year.
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A necessary evil LIAM gerrard Article by Will Pollard Photography by Rabie Alburaiky “Listen up! This is Reverend Bizarre with ‘They Used Dark Forces/Teutonic Witch’, and it’ll be taking care of you for the next 29 minutes.” It’s nearly midnight on a Wednesday and Liam Gerrard is hosting Necessary Evil – his weekly metal radio show on 95bFM. “‘Excoriating Abdominal Emanation’ by Carcass,” he says. “They pioneered grindcore in the early ‘90s. All vegetarians.” Gerrard, 28, has just finished an unlikely collaboration with chef Mark Southon – a very non-vegetarian wallto-table project called Art Dego. “I made a pig-fish,” he says, referring to his new drawing of a pig’s head atop a fish skeleton. “[Southon] had seen one of my previous pig’s heads, and we did a pig-fish course – fish with cured pig’s cheek.” Gerrard likes heads. “I don’t like much other art. I prefer a big head that looks like it’s supposed to look like.”
He has been drawing portraits, on a large scale and almost exclusively with charcoal, since art school. “I was in the print-making department and my enthusiasm was waning. They gave everyone a big roll of newsprint and some charcoal. I tried a big Keith Richards... and that was that.” He spent three years after Elam touring and recording as keyboardist for The Veils, but after making what he describes as “an amicable departure”, he returned to his big heads. At the moment, the art’s not paying the bills completely, but regular commissions are keeping Gerrard holed up in his Devonport studio – a room in his father’s house. “It’s fucking filthy,” he says. Does his father mind? “He may do, but he hasn’t raised any objections. I do feel slightly sorry for him – there are footprints leading from the studio to everywhere else.” For part of his week at least, you can still 35
find him writing ads in the corner of the bFM office. But after four years of struggling along as a semi full-time artist, the goal of making a living off art alone now seems within reach.
The drawing became the focus of some media attention, although he says the phone calls soon stopped after journalists realised he wasn’t “a Clayton Weatherston fan”.
“Basically I haven’t been forced to go, ‘Oh well, this isn’t working’,” he says.
“It did just kind of highlight the small town-ness of New Zealand, which is a shame because it was an image that had been on every newspaper and on every TV screen in every household in the country. But stick it in an art gallery and – Whoa!”
It takes him around a week to finish one of his impressively detailed drawings, and he says it’s generally people with a bit of money that end up buying them. He has no qualms about courting commercial success.
His drawings are regularly on show at the Sanderson Gallery in Parnell. And, after one exhibition in Sydney, more international shows loom.
The Weatherston portrait may be Gerrard’s most infamous, but is by no means remarkable among his other works. Skulls appear frequently in his drawings, and a design he submitted for a Mint Chicks t-shirt competition featured Helen Clark encircled by hairy breasts, the flesh on her cheeks torn out.
Some of the early attention he attracted, however, was not exactly what he’d hoped for.
“I definitely have a dark sense of humour and a lot of gruesome stuff appeals, gruesome imagery,” he says.
“I was alerted to the New Zealand Portrait Awards, the Adam Awards, and I thought drawing Clayton Weatherston would be a good idea and would have a good chance of winning. It’s a $15,000 prize,” he says.
“I guess there is that aspect to the metal culture – but metal is a lot more of a sonic thing for me.”
“I’m trying to sell my work,” he says.
It was early 2010, and Weatherston had been convicted just months before of the murder of his girlfriend, Sophie Elliot. 36
Along with building on his modest success with his charcoal drawings, he says he’s toyed with the idea of a graphic novel. “And I would like to write,” he says. “There are a couple of film ideas. The gritty sports movie about darts is probably top of the list.”
T he men behind the music RACKETS Article by Zac Arnold Photography by Alex Mcvinnie Is it delusion to want your band to be considered the next Beatles? For Oscar Davies-Kay, Jeremy Potts and Vince Narin, aka Rackets, reality is centred in their delusion and they are intent on becoming their idols even if they have to make their way through sweat, shit and Riverton to get there. Having released five records in two years, as well as completing two tours of our nation’s back-country watering holes, the group are starting to make quite a splash. Mainstream media are finally starting to take notice and have adopted misprinting their name with a “the”, as if they can’t comprehend a band having a one-word moniker. The band find themselves in increasingly obtuse situations. Oscar seemed conflicted about their attendance at the 2012 Vodafone New Music Awards. But despite being unnerved by the fake tan and the $250 ticket price, he still has a desire to be included. “We’d still kind of want to win awards.
We’d like to get an award, but I don’t know if the VNZMAs are the be all and end all, I’d prefer to get a Grammy.” It’s interesting to note who is a part of the musical community that orbits Rackets. Critics’ Choice nominees Beach Pigs will be forever linked with Rackets, opening for them on the Full Mango tour, and Davies-Kays’ Crown Records for releasing their debut EP. Rackets’ recent vinyl releases and relationship with Toy Love is down to matchmaker John Baker. The group’s extensive back catalogue wouldn’t be half as long if it weren’t for the work of Bob Frisbee, whose commitment to the recording process endears the three musicians to and take on board his criticisms. The band says they feel they have becoming better songwriters with his guidance. Frisbee invests his time and resources into the group for no reparations because he believes these three young men from Auckland have the ability to write a million-dollar smash hit. 39
Elvis and the Beatles creep in again to influence the way Rackets create their videos. You get a sense the group could happily reenact the phone booth shot at the beginning of A Hard Day’s Night or spend their days wearing Hawaiian shirts like Presley in Blue Hawaii just to pass the time. The members of Rackets love these movies because they reveal the men behind the music, showcasing their personalities and, more importantly, their sense of humour. Rackets have a string of hilarious music videos spanning from the humble VHS video of ‘Hello Homophobe’ through to the shiny polished collaborations with Levi Beamish and Chrysalis Films. Word on the street is they are going to have a television show. “Something is in the works,” says Oscar, “but we need to get our acting up to speed.” Claiming that “all our best songs we write in 10 minutes”, Rackets are on the hunt for songs that have “a certain energy and fully sick groove that makes you want to rock the fuck out”. There are two distinct sounds emerging from the band, comprising either Potts or Davies-Kay singing over crunchy guitar chords and their rumbling rhythm section. Their lyrics are unabashed and brazen, with such romantic phrases as “I want to fuck you til’ you die of starvation”. Bloody brilliant. Rackets have gotten where they are now 42
through their willingness to put in the extra hours, play the shitty shows and practice three times a week. It seems they might not be happy until they are on par with their icons. “‘I don’t think we are working as hard as we should be, it’s fucking pissing me off,” grumbles Oscar – not with the usual wide grin, but with the frustrated slump of a musician hungry to live up to his idols. “The Beatles had already done so much by the time they were our age.” One thing’s for sure: even if they don’t reach the heights of Lennon and McCartney, with a little help from their friends the Auckland trio will keep making rock music from the heart.
D R E A M I NG OF G E O R GI A GEORGIA ALICE Article by Skye Pathare Photogarphy by Ab Watson
Georgia Currie has come a country mile since making the move from Christchurch to Auckland.
kneepad that looks cool and protects your patella. How convenient.
Named the 2011 winner of the Westpac Young Fashion Designer Competition and the Telstra Clear Design Excellence Award, Georgia is about to launch her debut line – 2013’s autumn/winter collection of her womenswear label, GEORGIA ALICE.
Imperial materialised from Georgia’s affection for Greek mythology, minimalist architecture and the Arctic. This is evident in the collection’s neutral colour palette, interesting mix of cuts and choice of fabrics – lots of foreverlasting silk and leather. Every garment is a true investment piece. Georgia works with her customers in mind.
She describes this, the Imperial collection, as “simple, luxurious and readyto-wear with very crisp silhouettes”. She describes the wearer as that beautiful, immaculately put-together girl at the party – you just know she was born in placenta by Phoebe Philo and remembers to floss every morning.
“You must respect the women you design for. Quality of construction and flexibility are both key, so the clothing is trans-seasonal and open to interpretation. I can’t wait to see the way people wear it.”
I understand that fashion is often a referent and serves a socio-cultural function that transcends merely covering up our junk. But too often, designer clothing is neither use nor ornament. Georgia’s creations are both – they look lovely, and you can imagine picnicking in them or coupling them with that pair of jeans/nana sweater/dress that has been sitting in your wardrobe forever. It’s rare to find those timeless-yettimely garments that fit seamlessly into your life. Notable pieces are the Pallas blazer (think functional adult who’s still down with the kids), the Hercules crop (for some strategic skin-baring) and the Prince Denim pants, with a studded
Georgia is unabashedly passionate about the New Zealand fashion industry and her ever-burgeoning role within it. Her emails feature plenty of exclamation marks, ALL CAPS and crossed kisses, and our mutual friends tell me she is a delight to know. Her sunny disposition and pretty face complement a diploma in fashion design and technology from CPIT. Georgia says she valued the technical focus and networking opportunities offered by her formal education, but she stresses the importance of young designers gaining work experience. “Launching a label is difficult and quite broad in scope, it’s nothing like I 45
imagined. I’ve learnt more in the last six months than I ever did at school.” The week I interview her, Georgia is sorting production for her winter line (which will be available in early March of next year at Black Box Boutique) and designing her 2013 spring/summer collection. She clearly has a tactical, business-minded approach to her work, yet admits the marriage of commerce and art can be tricky. “It’s a really tough balancing act. If things are stressful on the business side it’s almost impossible to think creatively.” Luckily, her prize pack from the Westpac Young Fashion Designer Competition included professional mentorship from successful entrepreneur-turned-designer Angela Lewis. She has heaps of semi-professional help available too, in the form of advice and support given by the many friends she’s made. “There is a real fashion community in Auckland, and people are very nurturing. Murray Bevan from Showroom 22 has been an absolute rock for me. There’s always somebody to turn to when things get crazy or scary.” Georgia’s studio is located inside the Gloria Knight Gallery in Wynyard Quarter, which hosts a range of brilliant shows by young artists, both local and international. “I like not being surrounded by just 46
fashion. Art has taken a more important role in my life over the last four years as I’ve been dating an artist and attending lots of openings and exhibitions. I love music too – hip-hop and r’n’b dominate the majority of my playlists. Both [music and art] are so important for being a wellrounded designer.” Everybody knows that all work and no play makes you dull and murderous. Georgia’s been too busy to explore most parts of our fine city, but admits to setting leisure time aside for eating delicious food. She excitedly tells me about her eclectic purchases at the Matakana Markets (a cauliflower, potato gratin, pastry and a mallowpuff) and her favourite menu items from Satya Indian Restaurant. “I’ve also started going to pilates and yoga,” Georgia adds. “It’s the first exercise I’ve done in four years!” Georgia thrives on being active and says she never wants to retire – even if every single one of her long-term goals comes to fruition. These include showing at New York Fashion Week, being reviewed on style.com and having stockists in over fifteen countries. “But I think most importantly, I want girls and women to wear my clothing and want my clothing and to have a strong brand image – something I can be amazed at to have started and to continue.”
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Only I f You A sk N icely Stop Being a Pud Article by Josh Ling Photography by Alex Mcvinnie Design by Sam Wieck Matt and Sam are a crime-fighting wizard duo, armed with one-liners and zingers that make ‘90s sitcoms blush. Okay, so maybe the first part isn’t true, but I’ll be damned if they don’t at least fit the bill as wacky and outright humorous. Stopbeingapud.com is where they put their adventures, quips and musings to the pen. My dictaphone lays eagerly on the table as I pick out a seat. Scanning the room, I notice various recording paraphernalia littering the Pud boys’ selffashioned recording studio where the latest episode of Dick Long: Time Detective was just recorded.
“But not like a willy,” clarifies Matt. “More like an idiot, or a fool. It’s like us.” He chuckles to himself, pleased at what would be the first of his many jibes throughout the afternoon. Word from the lads is that it all started at an old apartment where they left the dictaphone in the lounge, shouted in their rooms for half an hour and called it a podcast. “We never really did anything with it. It was more like glorified audio porn that we could listen to by ourselves.” Figuring I’d ease them in, I ask the boys to describe themselves. “Sam and I are entrepreneurs,” starts Matt.
So let’s start easy. What exactly is a Pud? “You hate this already,” Matt says, peering over at his comedic other half. Ignoring the comment, Sam responds to the question at hand.
“Don’t say that,” Sam remonstrates with ardour. “Heaps of our mates want to do something creative – whether it’s sing or paint or write, and nobody ever fucking does it.
“Short answer is it’s another word for dick,” he says.
“So we had the idea that if we actually started something, then people will 49
want to join in eventually. Most of the early stuff was just carbon copies of emails we used to send to each other... about girls we couldn’t date.” The hipster poetry series The Many Kinds of Girls You’ll Never Date and the eerily relatable soliloquies lamenting nights on the town all grew from there. To make it interesting, I ask them to try describing each other. Sam leans back and starts up. “Matt’s really good with pop culture references, and being critical of it – but they’re not really criticisms.” Matt takes over. “With Sam, it’s like... let’s say the suicide note is on the last page of the diary,” he muses, while Sam almost splits his sides with laughter.
“He’s always teetering on that tenth-tolast page... in a good way. ‘Cause I keep putting in more pages.” The duo exchange opinions, with the back-and-forth banter frequently erupting into laughing fits shared by the room. “Yeah, I love this thing Sam wrote about when he was on a date. It’s not that he doesn’t say much, it’s just that all the stuff is in his head. Then when he does try and vocalise it, it sounds really weird,” says Matt. Putting on Sam’s voice, he mimics, “Hey do you reckon a guitar string could hold my weight?” Flicking through my list of questions, I bring up one about the more “interesting”
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ways people have reacted to their work. Sam moves forward and keenly starts a story. “It was our first time trying to do something with other people involved and we wanted to do vox pops at D.O.C. We spent the night before coming up with questions that were just taking the piss.” Matt takes over. “So basically, this one girl called us on our shit. Somehow she ended up saying that all any man wants to do is go down the back alley and finger a girl, and Sam just lost his shit at her.” Glancing back at the recording gear, I decide to bring up the star of their radio show: Dick Long, Time Detective. I ask how the character come along... and is the pun really that obvious?
“It’s terrible music that you have to like if you want to be cool.” Kreayshawn? “She’s got a decent bukkake face, but the music’s shit.” We trawl through a list of bands and Sam takes the wheel. “It reminds me so much of Krautrock without the weird oppressive conditions. It’s people finding a new democratic technology and doing something which I think will be culturally quite important with it.” Matt bursts into laughter, nearly spilling his drink. “See! That’s the difference! I don’t like it because I think it’s dumb. And then Sam pulls this intellectual shit out.”
After writing a couple of pages in his living room, Matt had the content but lacked the title. Dick’s a fairly straightforward detective name, and it stuck.
Matt’s tirade builds up steam.
“It’s a personal joke that he’s Richard Long from the news,” he explains.
Sam nods his head at Matt in fervent approval.
When I asked what they thought about having Dick Long on bFM, the response was “Hoshit, we’re rockstars!”
The thought runs through my head that the crux of this whole Pud jam could just be the tragic remnants of teenage rebellion latently manifesting itself in print. Ah fuck, at least they’re funny.
Next up comes a lengthy rant about their favourite elements of pop culture. Thoughts on tumblr wave? Matt almost waves the question away.
“Yeah, I didn’t get to watch cartoons as a kid. Does this all make sense now?”
“And now I’ve got tattoos of cartoons... take that mom!” 51
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PUDDIGANS SCOTCH WHISKY
F U WO R LD Ellen Moorhead Article by PHF Artwork by Ellen Moorhead
talent” Moorhead goes straight for the knee-slaps. And when pen hits paper, there ain’t a dry eye in the house. There better not be. Fists clenched at all times, pens or just her shredded palms, bone-breaker/heart-acher Moorhead takes no prisoners. She’s cooler than James Dean flipping the bird and kickflipping his way to freedom – artistic freedom. Ellen Moorhead is a straight shootin’, straight talkin’, hair straightenin’ straightA+ student who only cares about one thing: vandalising on private property.
In the words of Mama Moorhead herself, “You’re a dick, Ellen.” But what do parents know, other than how to break bedroom locks and buy crisp white socks?
Her own private property. Zilch, that’s what. Paper ain’t cheap anymore, but don’t worry about it, dude. The heir of a billion-dollar paper fortune, it might as well be free. Going through page after page, drawing all day, every day, in a constant battle with her series, Woman’s Monthly, which will soon be out as a complete issue, “no brains and all
Catch all the action in Woman’s Monthly, out soon. Until then, you better just keep your eyeballs fixed on the tube or bone-breaker/heart-acher Moorhead will bust your chops like she’s a butcher with a vengeance. 55