Forms of Witness in Light and Sound by Raquel Pinheiro
Elemental Studies is a cycle of twelve short films by TJ Norris that explore the four natural elements through shifting imagery and sound. Filmed in black and white, these studies move between stillness and turbulence, abstraction and form. Each piece was later interpreted by a different composer, whose response became both soundtrack and dialogue.
The resulting body of work, presented as a double album of original and reworked scores, forms a collective meditation on the relationship between human perception and the living world.
TJ Norris’ camera listens as much as it sees, tracing the elemental in its raw and transient states. Across these films, beauty, tension, and uncertainty coexist, suggesting that to witness the Earth is also to encounter ourselves. Our fragility, resilience, and capacity for renewal.
Elemental Studies soundtrack by 25 artist is released by Carpe Sonum Records with liner notes by Massimo Ricci of Touching Extremes.
What first compelled you to translate the elements into film and sound? Was there a moment of recognition, an image, or a feeling that began this cycle of work? I’m pretty passionate about the environment, and aside from man’s imprint on Earth the elements are cause and effect on how our surroundings are shaped. Climate change is a very serious (all hands on deck) situation, a conundrum in our times. Somehow, oddly, it has become an ‘issue’ for political theater as well these days. In relating to all things in nature, and how we interact with our fragile ecosphere, it seemed like a critical time to create work that distinctly responded to this existential crisis, in my own way.
Do you see Elemental Studies as an act of witnessing, a response, or a form of repair in relation to what’s happening on the planet? Yes, and no. It’s more deeply embedded, the relationship we each have with the planet, it’s sacred really. And not in a religious way. Though, not literal, there is this quasi ‘speaking in tongues’ thing between myself and all earthly things, however tiny or huge – it’s that surreal. Though I do consider myself a witness to all this change, we all should.
When you speak of the “changing, sometimes fragile ecosystem,” do you mean the Earth itself, or also the human spirit, the inner climate we inhabit? All of the above, sure. Though, as far as this project is concerned, it extends to creative relationships, collaborations without borders. As you might know there are twenty-six artists involved in Elemental Studies, from eighteen different countries. During the process of developing this work, which still has a big road ahead, there were exciting creative differences that helped fuel the outcome. We are all, in essence, doing our part to better understand how the mighty elements deploy themselves in the twenty-first century.
How do you balance urgency – the need to respond to ecological crisis – with the quiet attention and restraint that your films embody? Exactly. We need voices that speak in tones that both rage and whisper, and the more intimate, in this case, the better. It draws people in and gives them a break from sitting behind a monitor and scrolling endlessly.
What place does intuition hold in your creative process? Is it the first movement, or the current that carries you once the work begins? The process of making the films, and working with sound composers was quite fluid, actually, fluid like a wave, a drift of wind, etc. In this way we mirror our subject matter, however intuitive the working relationships were. And, to be honest, there wasn’t much post-production, just a few tweaks here and there. Making the films, pairing them with scores by a dozen sound artists I trust, and allowing for creative freedom led to their trusting me to pairing their works with a second set of composers who then reshaped the original scores into what we call ‘Reworks’ (disc two of the soundtrack).
When you began filming, were you seeking to reveal the world, or to listen for what the world wanted to reveal through you? That is a lovely question. I’m an empath, so I am always listening, always thinking, always questioning, reasoning, etc…. The films are somewhat layered amalgamations of time and space – kind of like daydreams. Originally I wanted to follow the surrealist ‘exquisite corpse’ technique to piece this altogether by chance, but in the end there were formal considerations I had to make with both the subject and for the audience. These short films are completely non-narrative, so they are meant to evoke a bit of a chance to just ‘breathe’ into what you are seeing.
Does the act of filming the elements feel more like collaboration or surrender, and to whom, or to what, do you surrender? I surrender to, and participate with the elements on a regular basis….though to share this work, again, it was more about collaborative trust than surrender per se.
Did the collaboration with sound artists shift your original motive, did their interpretations reveal something you hadn’t consciously intended? Not necessarily as I was fairly familiar with the work of most of the sound makers involved. Though, after hearing some of their responses to the films, I may have added a cinematic ‘ghost’ in a framed corner or two.
What kind of dialogue did you want between the visual and the sonic? Were they meant to mirror each other, or to reveal what the other could not say? Oh, yes, there is a gratifying sense of audio-visual harmony, for me, for sure. For whatever reason this question had me replaying ‘Look Back In Anger’ by Bowie. I don’t think I could elaborate much on that.
The composers’ interpretations seem to hold both reverence and disquiet. How did their responses change your own understanding of the material? It did not change my understanding, just literally imbued the larger project with a sweet sense of creative camaraderie. The process honors the visual and the auditory, and they can exist without each other, they just have a certain palpable synchronicity when paired.
Do you experience sound as a form of seeing, a way of touching what light can’t reach? You could say that. Sound art has always been my muse, my prima ballerina so to speak.
How do you experience beauty in this context, as solace, as disruption, or as a form of truth-telling? Again, all of the above, and then some. I truly believe that active, deep listening experiences can probably strengthen your psyche.
Was there a personal threshold you crossed in this work? Something that asked you to see or feel differently than before? Thank you for asking. Yes, as I join the sexagenarians this month I realize that while I’ve long embraced collaboration as one of my primary mediums in the studio, I want to branch further from the still image to the cinematic. This work allows me to make considerations for how this is presented. Some of the shorts have been individually included in film festivals, the dozen films were screened as a one-hour piece at Gallery X in Dublin in early Autumn.
So this work has truly allowed me a sense of flexibility and different applications of the same material or portions thereof. However, the quintessential way of presenting this work is in a 4-channel installation format, so that a space can be fully devoted to each individual ‘element’. I’m hoping to work with some savvy curators to see this through into 2026 and beyond.
Do you sense that creating Elemental Studies changed your own internal climate, your way of being in relation to change itself? Other than already accepting that change is a constant, no. Keeps us all guessing.
Did this project shift your relationship with the world itself, with weather, air, silence, or time? Time, yes. I did not expect how much time it would actually take to get this project out to the world as an independent artist. There’s a lot that goes into building trust with such a vast cast of artists, a record label and the ongoing reach to curatorial experts and institutions. Sometimes I wish there were infinite amounts of time, and, in between, I love taking a daily siesta to shut down.
How do you keep your creative process free from cynicism or despair, especially when addressing something as immense as planetary change? This is so personal, and I’m a ‘glass half full’ kind of guy. In the past my work has taken me to rough neighborhoods, trainyards, industrial spaces, in other words – broken landscapes. I kind of covered some of that in my previous work and book ‘Shooting Blanks’ (2018). This project is far more elusive and ∞.
There is a bit of ‘calm before the storm’ that went on while approaching this work, in that I feel an interactive, and almost electric connection with the elements. At times it was like staring at a blank canvas, and suddenly some of that negative energy actually fueled the creative process in a disarming and ecstatic way.
Sometimes that is when I feel like a conductor, and a good example was making the short Ventilate with Guido (Das Synthetische Mischgewebe). Knowing some about his physical process for making soundscapes likely inspired me to use some footage from a trip to Spain where I came across lots of agitated street graffiti, in particular the use of the phrase ‘L’artista Vandalo’ which has a certain creative license.
Is there a spiritual dimension to your process, not in a religious sense, but as a kind of devotion or communion? It’s a very private thing.
When you look at the state of the world through the lens of Elemental Studies, do you feel hope, or simply clarity? Hmmmm. I wouldn’t make that comparison honestly. Instead I can only hope that this project will find its audience, like an individual finds his/her/their own tribe. Yes, that would be a cyclical and satisfying outcome.
If the Earth could respond to this project – if she could answer – what do you imagine she would say? Repeat, Renew, Reuse.
Do you think art can still heal, or does it simply reveal what has already begun to heal itself? Of course it can, there are so many beholders out there, so many compassionate thinkers, so many willing to allow for a creative experience. So, yes, art is quite powerful, and I recommend losing yourself within this sphere.
You can read more about Elemental Studies on TJ Norris site and listen to its soundtrack on Carpe Sonum Records Bandcamp.
Elemental Studies Soundtrack:
Jos Smolders – Airborn
Darren McClure – Flow
Das Synthetische Mischgewebe – Ventilate
Vitor Joaquim – Dust (a reinterpretation of “Lascia Chio Pianga” from GF Handel)
We spoke with painter and artist Juliana Ferreira about her exhibition S03Ep02 series and her work.
Juliana generously revealed the thoughts, impulses, and intentions behind her work. Alongside her responses, we are also gifted with her reflections. Intimate insights into the processes, emotions, and moments that gave rise to the S03Ep02 series. These reflections illuminate not only the making of the paintings but the personal and artistic journey that informs them.
S03Ep02 is currently on display at Auditório Municipal Carlos Paredes in Vila Nova de Paiva, where it will remain throughout October. In November, the exhibition will travel to Viseu, followed by Régua in 2026, and other locations – see calendar at the end.
The first thing that drew my attention were the slogans/phrases and the canvases colour backgrounds. If any, what was your intention for the use of the slogans/phrases?
The texts appeared very organically. I didn’t start the canvases thinking about slogans; they emerged like breaths or thoughts spoken aloud. Some phrases are quotations – Adília Lopes, Sartre, Leminski, Saint-Exupéry* – and others were born in the very moment of painting.
They function as anchors, summarising emotions, states, or memories underlying the image. The saturated colours create an emotional field for each piece; they are atmospheres. It’s almost as if each canvas were a cinema screen with a line at the beginning of the scene.
gone by Juliana Ferreira
All the paintings are large format, 120 x 160cm, from July/August 2025. SO3Ep opened late August. How was the process of creating the 8 paintings in such a short time? Did the the paintings or the exhibition name?l came first?
It was a very intense, almost physical process. I wasn’t producing for an exhibition; I was painting to understand myself. Each canvas was an emotional catharsis. Before I realised it, I had nine canvases – unplanned, but inevitable. Only afterwards did I see that they formed a series. The name S03Ep02 came at the end.
It is a title born from within, slightly ironic and intimate — a kind of code illustrating my current phase. It evokes the pop culture of TV series and suggests an episode in a larger journey. The paintings came first; the title is a meta-commentary on the fact that it is an episode, not a destination.
The promotional photos have the paintings mounted in wheeled scaffolding. What was the intention behind that idea?
I wanted to emphasise the idea of process, of something in construction. The canvases are not fixed to the wall, but on a support that resembles a workshop, a place of mutation. It was important to break the solemnity of the hanging painting and create a living exhibition that could be rearranged.
It also underlines the performative side: these are large works, created in a short period, like pieces in progress. It is a way of telling the audience: this is not definitive; it is a passage.
yourself by Juliana Ferreira
Five of the painting have words, slogans, phrases. Some like Love Your Self easily recognisable. Others are your making, and O Inferno São os Outros (Hell is Other People) a Jean-Paul Sartre quote. The two last words of Love Your Self have masked tape on it, as if bandaid, bandages, fissures. What is the meaning of the masked tape? Are other people really hell?
The tape is a literal gesture of mending. I wanted it to be visible that self-love is neither clean nor perfect. There are fissures, scars, patches. It is a process of piecing oneself together, rebuilding. Regarding Sartre: I did not use the phrase as an absolute statement. For me, “others” are also mirrors, challenges.
The phrase is there to provoke reflection on the relationship between the self and the collective. I do not believe that people are necessarily hell; I believe that encounters with others are always transformative, and sometimes painful.
inside by Juliana Ferreira
The head and upper neck in inside with it’s plants motifs and the way they give texture to the portrait remind me the paintings of Giuseppe Arcimbold. Was he an inspiration for the painting? Do you like and connect with his art works?
I didn’t think directly of Arcimboldo while painting, but I understand the association. He constructs faces from natural elements — fruits, flowers, objects — and in my case, the head filled with floral elements also speaks to that fusion of interior and exterior. I like the idea that we are made of layers and of nature, of chaos and order.
I also see echoes of contemporary artists such as Tracey Emin, Jenny Holzer, or Kara Walker, through the use of words, silhouettes, and vulnerability. This mixture is very important to me.
You said “Pintei para libertar — mesmo quando não sabia de quê.” (“I painted to to release – even when I didn’t knew from what”). What lead you to that release urgency? How did it transmuted into the paintings?
The painting emerged without plan or strategy. I believed I was going to do another type of work, but the body brought this. It is the result of past experiences and a process of personal evolution. Painting became the most direct way to record that inner movement.
Each canvas was a space where I could release excess, confusion, memories, desires. When I finished, I realised it was an organised emotional catharsis in nine windows. Today, looking at the series, I see a journey – an echo of my interior at that moment.
never alone by Juliana Ferreira
* Phrases on the Paintings in Juliana’s own Words:
In the S03Ep02 series there are nine paintings. Five of them contain words or phrases; some are my own creations, others come from authors I admire.
“LOVE YOURSELF” – my own creation; the masking tape on the last words reinforces the idea of fissures, scars, and reconstruction.
“My story is different and begins now. I am always beginning” – by the Portuguese writer Adília Lopes.
“BREATH” – created by me, in a work that addresses overload, exhaustion, and the need to breathe.
“EVERYTHING” -repetition created by me, associated with the idea of fullness, intensity, and childhood.
“Hell is other people” – by Jean-Paul Sartre, from the play No Exit (Huis Clos).
“They leave a little of themselves, they take a little of us” – by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, from The Little Prince.
“Were it not for this it would be less, were it not for so much it would be almost” – by Paulo Leminski.
breath by Juliana Ferreira
Juliana Ferreira Reflections on S03Ep02 and Her Work.
The large-format canvases (120×160 cm) emerged because I feel that each painting is a space one can enter. By working on an almost bodily scale, I create a physical relationship with the work — it’s a size that compels me to paint with my whole body, not just my hand. This physicality is part of the cathartic process that gave rise to the series.
In S03Ep02, the phrases are not captions for the image. They are part of it. Sometimes the word came first, sometimes later; but they have always functioned as an echo of what was happening within me. I like to create tension between text and image — a practice that dialogues both with conceptual art and with pop culture.
When I named the series, I realised it resembled the code of a TV series episode. That fits because each painting is an episode within the same emotional arc. It is also a way to avoid dramatic titles and allow viewers to project their own narratives. It is a title born from within, slightly ironic and intimate — a kind of code illustrating my current phase.
Although I paint physical canvases, pop culture is present: in the saturated colours, the short phrases, the graphic elements. It is a contemporary language that engages with social media, advertising slogans, and pop music. By bringing it into a large-scale painting, I also question the boundaries between high art and popular culture.
I feel an affinity with artists who use text or the body as material — Tracey Emin and Jenny Holzer for their confessional or incisive use of words, Basquiat for the graphic rhythm and intensity of colour. In two paintings, the filling of the head with natural elements inevitably recalls Arcimboldo, but this reference arises more as a coincidence of language than as an explicit homage.
I do not expect viewers to find answers. I hope they recognise themselves in the fissures, the colours, the phrases. That they take away the sense that they, too, can repair themselves, piece themselves together, breathe. S03Ep02 is a series about what remains after the storm — and perhaps it can serve as a mirror or a refuge.
pause by Juliana Ferreira
The series was born from an intense personal process. It was not conceived as an exhibition. I painted to release — even without knowing precisely what. Today I realise that each painting is a window into that journey and, at the same time, a space for others to project their own stories.
This series closed one cycle and opened another. I am exploring new supports and processes, while maintaining the idea of word and image as a single gesture. I like to think of each series as a season: I do not know what the next will be, but I know it will emerge from the same sincere place.
S03Ep02 exhibition calendar:
2025: Sep – Oct: Centro de Artes, Vila Nova de Paiva
03 Nov – 31 Dez: Biblioteca Municipal, Viseu
2026: 09 Jan – 27 Fev: TBA, Régua
06 Mar – 30 Apr: Museu Municipal, Oliveira de Frades
We spoke with Australia musician and composer Peter Knight about Hand to Earth, and his solo and other collaborative work.Hand to Earth have released a new album Ŋurru Wäŋa, co-produced by Peter Knight and Lawrence English.
Hand to Earth are coming to Europe from September 12. Peter Knight has an upcoming album For A Moment The Sky Knew My Name, will be released on 21 November, with the first single out 11 September.Hand to Earth are a unique ensemble carrying the living Wägilak songlines through Daniel and David Wilfred, preserving one of the world’s oldest continuously practised music traditions. Hand to Earth music bridges cultures, combining tradition with contemporary exploration, honouring Wägilak oral tradition.
Hand to Earth carries living Wägilak songlines through Daniel and David Wilfred, connecting directly to the world’s oldest continuously practised music tradition. How do you, as collaborators, approach supporting and honouring that lineage while also creating something new together?
We try to bring what we each have to contribute to the creative table and make sure that all voices have a space to be heard. Daniel said something very instructive once as a reply to a question posed in a masterclass: ‘I sing my song to them and they sing their songs to me.’ It made me realise that for him we each have a song, just as he has his song, and that all of our voices are important in this relationship and this musical setting.
I personally also try to help in practical ways and two years ago started a fundraising project with Jerry Remkes who I worked with at the Australian Art Orchestra. We raised money to buy a vehicle for Daniel so that he can travel to remote places to conduct cultural business, and teach the young kids about culture. This is something Daniel asked us to do to help keep his culture and song strong in the future. Everybody in Hand to Earth has played a role in this campaign, which has now successfully delivered a vehicle called the Ngukurr Culture Car.
Daniel Wilfred and members of the Ngukurr Language Centre Board of Directors with the Ngukurr Culture Car
Daniel has described being a song keeper as both a responsibility and a joy. Could you share how this role is understood in your ensemble, and what it means for listeners encountering these songs for the first time?
I don’t want to presume too much or to be speaking for Daniel, but my impression is that navigating between the Yolngu world and the non-Aboriginal world is challenging at times for him. The context he works in Hand to Earth is so different to what he is doing as a song-keeper when he works in his community, running funerals, circumcisions, and other cultural business. It’s ritual rather than ‘performance’.
When people going to a concert hear Hand to Earth for the first time and hear the songs Daniel is singing in his Wägilak language, I think they are moved because even though they can’t really understand the import or all the meaning of those songs, they know there’s something very deep happening. I think they are also moved by witnessing people working together across the cultural borders and barriers that normally divide us to create music that speaks to human commonality.
Collaboration & Context
Hand to Earth new album Ŋurru Wäŋa expands the ensemble with additional voices and textures. How did these collaborations shape the music, and what guided the balance between tradition and experiment?
Lawrence English had a big hand in helping to shape the sound of this latest album and also our last album, MOKUY. He is an incredibly perceptive person and often notices things or possibilities that we have not thought of. It’s really special to have somebody outside of the dynamic of our ensemble who we really trust and who can see it all from a slightly different perspective.
We were also lucky to do some touring with the violinist Amalia Umeda from Warsaw. This was part of a project instigated by Piotr Turkiewicz from Jazztopad Festival (Poland) and the Melbourne International Jazz Festival. We played in Europe, the US, Canada and in Australia together with Amalia. When we were in New York, we had the chance to do some recording and recorded a piece called The Crow which is on this new album.
The percussionist on the album on the title track is actually my son Quinn Knight, who is an amazing drummer. I roped him into recording on Ŋurru Wäŋa one afternoon and he made a beautiful contribution. It was all quite spontaneous.
You are about to perform in prestigious venues such as the Barbican and Pierre Boulez Saal, and collaborate with Shabaka. What shifts when these songs and improvisations are carried into such international contexts?
We have done quite a lot of collaborating as a band and so it feels quite natural, as long as people bring a good spirit and openness to the musical meeting. We find a way to make something interesting happen. Shabaka is an incredibly open spirit, as well as a brilliant musician, and we are very much looking forward to playing with him. We are also collaborating in Belgium with the incredible Sami artist, Ánnámáret and I’m looking forward to that too.
It’s worth noting that Hand to Earth actually began at a residency run by the Australian art Orchestra called the Creative Music Intensive in the Southern Highlands of Tasmania. I was the Artistic Director of the Australian Art Orchestra at the time and had invited both Daniel and Sunny Kim to be part of the faculty for the residency.
Hand to Earth began as an informal jam between Sunny, Daniel, and I, and the moment that Sunny and Daniel met there was an instant rapport. During those residencies Daniel and David and the rest of us also regularly collaborated with all the young artists attending and so this musical conversation – this spontaneity – is very much part of the DNA of Hand to Earth.
Ŋurru Wäŋa involves field recordings and atmospheres from Lawrence English. How does place and environment feed into Hand to Earth’s music?
This album is all about place. All about the sense of belonging and a sense of what ‘home’ means. This notion of home and belonging is related to place – to physical place – but is also a kind of meta concept. I think that for Daniel and David place is at the heart of everything. The connection to land, and the connection of land to the stories that relate to particular places are central. But the notion of place also exists as a kind of dreaming. I don’t fully understand all of this, but it is an amazing thing to be around.
Lawrence is very tapped into this notion and is one of the sound artists who has really influenced how field recording and a sense of place exists in contemporary music. He also has a very deep and sensitive relationship with David and Daniel and he listens intently to what they have to say. You can hear the seriousness of his engagement in the work he produces, not just in Hand to earth, but in many other contexts as well.
Ŋurru Wäŋa was co-produced by you and Lawrence English, with Lawrence also handling the mix and mastering. How was the experience of shaping the album together, and what did Lawrence brought into the sound and spirit of Hand to Earth?
I love working with Lawrence. We have really developed a flow between the two of us and we seem to work at a similar pace. When things are moving then they move quickly. I think Lawrence as a producer works like an improviser (which really suits me as that’s my main training). He is flexible and likes things to flow with spontaneity and ease. At the same time there’s a deep rigor in the way he works, and hopefully in the way I work as well.
I have also collaborated with Lawrence on my two recent solo projects, the second of which, For a Moment the Sky Knew My Name, is about to be released on ROOM40 We also producedThe Prey and the Ruler together with Senyawa, and there’s another one of those in process at the moment.
What have you personally learned from working so closely with the Wilfred brothers and the Yolŋu tradition?
I have learnt so much that I honestly barely know where to begin. I think a lot of the learning is about my sense of self and my identity in this place we call Australia.
My family arrived in Australia only in the last 150 years from England and Europe.I’m living in a land that was inhabited and that had so much rich cultural life for 60,000 years previous to that.
The history of invasion and colonialism and everything that followed is a burden we all carry whether we realise it or not, whether we articulate or not. I grew up in an Australia, which had perfected the practice of forgetting and historical erasure.
Witness the nomenclature: Terra nullius. We pretended nobody was here, or that the people who were here had no ownership of, or connection to, the land. This is the very definition of wilful ignorance.
As a nation [Australia], we are all grappling with this legacy, and it will take a long time for that process to play out. One of the amazing things about Hand to Earth is that I feel in music and art we can address this legacy in some way.
The music we make is not didactic though – we’re not trying to directly answer issues or questions. Rather, we are just trying to be together in this moment, and be real about this moment while expressing our relationships and the legacies of our combined histories.
Music is often described as a bridge. How do you understand the act of listening across different worlds – cultural, musical, spiritual?
I guess this question relates to my previous answer quite directly. Music is a bridge because it can express things that we can’t put into words. It can express things that we need to express when language fails.
It can also take us deeper – below intellectual conceits to something more primal, more emotional, more physical.It’s not a direct or simple path though and I wouldn’t want to be thought of as too grandiose in my ambitions for this band.
For me, it’s both deep and profound, and also quite simple: we are five friends, with different backgrounds, we like to hang out and play music together. Sometimes we push the record button as well!
What are your hopes for Hand to Earth in the coming years, and how do you see the ensemble evolving?
My hope for Hand to Earth is that the trust we have for each other continues to deepen and grow. This is the basis of everything in this group.
We’ve done a lot of traveling now – we’ve traveled across North America, Asia, Europe, and we’ve also been to some pretty remote places in northern Australia.
It hasn’t always been easy. Sometimes it’s been unbelievably fun and sometimes it’s been really quite difficult. But these experiences are all valuable in terms of building trust and it is from trust that the music flows.
In terms of my ambition for the band, I think the bigger the better. For David and Daniel playing at places like the Barbican Center in London, Pierre Boulez Saal in Berlin, and the Lincoln Center in New York, represents something really really special. These venues have a powerful cultural imprimatur in Western culture but they also have power in remote Aboriginal communities like the Wilfreds’ home in Ngukurr.
When we played at the Lincoln Center they were sending home so many videos showing where they were and there was a real excitement in their community. It makes the young people excited and it makes the young people want to sing the songs because they see what Daniel has been able to do – what he’s been able to achieve singing the songs. It makes them want to play the didgeridoo because they see David playing the didgeridoo in these amazing places all around the world.
So, I would like to do more of this. I would like to play beautiful festivals and create spaces where this culture can connect, and where this idea of what contemporary Australia can be heard by as many people as possible
Beyond this ensemble, you have your own concerts and projects — do they feed back into Hand to Earth, or does your own work stand in a different space for you?
I do have quite a few other projects, in particular my new solo album – For A Moment The Sky Knew My Name coming out on ROOM40.
I also have a quartet with my son Quinn, the incredible Australian bassist, Helen Svoboda, and brilliant young guitarist, Theo Carbo. It’s called TL;DR and it’s a band I really love playing in. We just released our debut record and we did a large Australian tour.
I’m hoping to take this one to Europe and beyond as well. All these other projects do feed into Hand to Earth because I continue to develop an idiosyncratic language on my instrument with electronics, and in Hand to Earth I have the space to bring that to bear. It’s a similar thing with Aviva and Sunny.
As I said, at the beginning of this interview, we sing our songs to one another and bring our musical and personal perspectives into this musical conversation we call Hand to Earth.
Hand to Earth are:
Daniel Wilfred – voice, bilma David Wilfred – yidaki, voice Sunny Kim – voice, percussion Peter Knight – trumpet, electronics, synthesisers, bass guitar Aviva Endean – clarinets, winds, electronics
Hand to Earth in concert:
September: 12th (Friday): Shabaka and Hand to Earth, Barbican Centre, London, England
17th (Wednesday): Ánnámáret and Hand to Earth, De Singel, Antwerp, Belgium
20th (Saturday): Shabaka and Hand to Earth, Pierre Boulez Saal, Berlin Germany
Peter Knight in concert and at the Europe Jazz Conference
September: 18th (Thursday): Knight & Buck – Peter Knight (trumpet, delays, laptop), Tony Buck (percussion), Sowieso, Berlin, Germany
21st (Sunday): Knight & Piotrowicz – Peter Knight (trumpet, delays, laptop), Kamil Piotrowicz (piano), Hala Koszyki, Warsaw, Poland
25th-28th: Europe Jazz Conference Bari, Italy
October: 06 th (Monday): Kight & Anastasakis – Peter Knight (trumpet, delays, laptop), Jannis Anastasakis (guitar), TV Control Centre (KTE), Athens, Greece
22nd (Monday): Raki + Infinity – Earshift Music label showcase Raki (Daniel Wilfred, Paul Grabowsky, Peter Knight) + Infinity (Jeremy Rose, Novak Manojlovic, Ben Carey, Alexander Flood), Melbourne Jazz Festival, Melbourne, Australia
interview: Raquel Pinheiro; photos: Matthew Ellery; Ayahuasca stills: Cornelius Delaney
In these five questions Australian guitarist, musician and songwriter Ed Clayton-Jones and I speak about his new solo album Interloper and The Wreckery that released their first album in thirty years, in 2024. We also spoke about the differences of creating as a band and solo, changes in songwriter over the years, the physically of playing guitar, and differences in approach the guitar and the bass.
Ed Clayton-Jones has a career spanning several decades. Other than The Wreckery he have been part of Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, The Fabulous Marquises, Plays with Marionetter, Noah Taylor and the Sloppy Boys. Ed’s first album, Jackdaw, was released in 2021.
Ed is playing a show on Valentine’s Day, February 14th, at Darling Nikki’s, St Peters, Sydney. The evening comprises songs from the last 30 years of his career. Ed is accompanied by old friends James McNabb too (bass) and Barton Price (drums), and special guests Justine Wahlin and Last Motel. add on: Valentine’s Day concert was cancelled due to venue roof issues
01 – How does your creative process differ if composing for a solo album or for a The Wreckery one?
The answer is that it’s a lot easier composing for solo projects than for the Wreckery. There were two other writers to work with which is cool, I enjoy collaborating with Hugo Race and Nick Barker but one often has to compromise.
I rarely get to sit down and work on songs with other writers. It’s not like I don’t want to, It just doesn’t happen. I have enormous respect for Hugo Race and Nick Barker as songwriters so one has to respect their decisions relative to their own work. When you have to work something up from the beginning with a collaborator it requires resisting the urge to take control and steer the composition -conscious listening and discussion. The co-write I did with Barker, Alpha Ray was done on the fly in the studio, Nick wrote the chorus. In the past I would write music and leave Hugo to write the lyrics and I gave him a few ideas towards that idea. I was a little disappointed that he didn’t rise to that invitation.
The Wreckery of the 21st Century is not the same band, not having Robin Casinader was a blow. Robin had a profound influence on the performance of the band, he was often the musical director and arranger, he’s a very talented and disciplined musician and the contribution he made to Fake is Forever although done after the session supplied the X factor for the songs. I should say that Frank Trobbiani was incredible in his role, Frank played with Hugo, Robin and I in Plays with Marionettes and would have been the Wreckery’s first drummer had he not been embracing his career in commercial art. I love Frank!
The harsh truth for me is that bands are just as much about the players as the songs. There’s a tendency for people to get on nostalgia trips and there’ll be one surviving member of the original
02 – After a 35 years hiatus was it difficult to restart writing songs with The Wreckery? How has songwriting with The Wreckery changed between then and now?
35 years is a lifetime in any business. Things changed dramatically in this long hiatus. In the early 80’s we were doing things in a more organic way. Songs arrived in the rehearsal studio and arrangements were bashed out over time.
The Wreckery of 2023 was a different kind of band using more advanced technology. I live in a different city and didn’t do any rehearsals until the day before the sessions started. Hugo had done demo recordings of the six songs he co-wrote with his partner Allanah Hill. So we all knew what we were shooting for relative to those tunes.
The original brief I discussed with Hugo Race was that the record would lean back toward bands like the Gun Club so I was a bit surprised at what we got. It’s not a bad thing at all just a different direction. In the old days it was pretty difficult to get my songs into the set as Hugo and Robin tended to dominate the songwriting.
03 – Your new solo album was delayed because of The Wreckery’s album and tour. Meanwhile you changed some of the songs on Interloper. Why?
I had been writing and recording for Interloper throughout 2022 when the Wreckery thing came along. I felt to gain any traction for Interloper I needed to let The Wreckery take precedence because it was a budgeted project that would hopefully get more attention.
I was also doing the We Mainline Dreamers album with Garry Gray from the Sacred Cowboys. I wrote quite a lot of new material and I felt my newer songs were more interesting than those I had already set aside. As it turned out Interloper is quite a long record, 14 songs but there’s another albums worth of material that I have archived from the original project.
04 – Your friend Cornelius Delaney – Ó DubhTV – did the video for Ayahuasca, one of the songs on Interloper, and a short film based on the album. Cornelius aesthetics is very steampunk, very Mad Max. Do you identify with that sort of hopeless, media within media, apocalyptical vision? Does it reflect your songs?
Cornelius is a very close friend. We have a lot of similar views and come from the same scene so we do share aesthetic sensibility as well. I was blown out of the water by what he did for the Ayahuasca clip.
I had no input into the visual. Cornelius has been working on digital animations for years and he has incorporated his artwork into the overall aesthetic of his short films.
I do tend to lean into the darker side, one can’t say we don’t live in an Orwellian society, we’re under constant surveillance, we are witnessing the rise of fascism world wide, a genocide playing out on live broadcasts, I don’t think we’re too far from Mad Max! Lexi my wife is a makeup artist and she worked on Mad Max Furiosa, so, very close !
05 – Of late, I’ve been very interested on the physicality of the electric guitar. Having the electric bass as my main instrument I was under the impression the guitar was far less physically demanding. No so. You play both instruments. What can you tells about the physical demands and the physicality and the playability of each of them? Did getting older influenced how you approach each instrument?
This is a great question. It’s easy to think that playing music isn’t a physical thing, more an intellectual pursuit but it’s very physically demanding. Particularly over time.
Guitars can be very heavy, Bass even more so. If you’re under lights on a stage for 90 minutes with a heavy guitar it’s pretty taxing once you’re over 50! I am infinitely better on the guitar than I was in my 20’s. I love playing and I love getting better at it, even now I feel I am getting better.
My approach to the bass is very different from when I was sharing bass duty with Barry Adamson in the Bad Seeds. I try to be a bit more melodic and more fluid than in the old days of pumping along with the kick drum. I always try to honour the song first and foremost. It’s always about reading the feeling and conveying the emotion.
Now, at 63 years old, I have arthritis in my hands and my spine, standing up playing has become a fairly painful experience so I am definitely changing my approach. I will be quite happy to have a bar stool to sit on when I play live. I’m amazed by how many of my peers are able to push through and perform but playing live can give you a bit of a dopamine boost!
interview by Raquel Pinheiro; photos: courtesy of Repercussion Drums (RD)
Andrew Johnson and I met through an interview I conducted with Simon Gilbert (of Suede). There were certain specifications regarding Simon’s 5000 years bog oak snare drum I needed to be certain of. As these things go, Andrew’s snares, drum kits, the wood he sources, how he crafts the drums marveled me and I have been wanting to interview him ever since. Andrew has had a few jobs, from city trader to freelance photographer, and has been drumming for the last 25 years. Andrew, for whom music has always held a strong interest, set up Repercussion Drums in 2017.
Repercurssion Drums specializes in making hand made snare drums and drum kits, in a workshop that sits in the shadow of the magical Glastonbury Tor. Andrew’s snares and kits have a unique look and the sound of the ancient landscape that sorrounds his worshop can almost be heard in the instruments he makes.
There is a lot to cover with Andrew. Here, we talk about thousands of years old wood, stave construction, colours, snare drums and other mystic, magical places.
01 – “We are on a mission to find wood that can tell its own story..” How does this sentence from your website translates into the drum? What story do the drums tell after being made and played?
I’m fascinated, and always have been, by the ‘sense of place’ that an object holds within it and its connection with the environment that it was surrounded by. An old bottle that you might find in an old house or in the ground, has a story within it, so in one sense it has ‘witnessed’ many things, however mundane they might be.
With the tone wood that I try to find, I am looking for a piece of wood that (if it could talk) has a story to tell. The wood from San Quentin prison that I bought from a lumber yard in California, was in place when Johnny Cash played a concert in the prison… hidden inside that wood is the story of that concert.
As humans we can perhaps feel that connection on some sort of level, I believe. It has no discernable and measurable effect on the drum sound itself, but it connects the player with the instrument on a fundamental level as she/he channel their musical idols in the pursuit of a perfect and heartfelt musical performance.
02 – What took you to search wood in both unusual as well as iconic places such as The Hollywood Bowl, San Quentin Prison Hospital, etc? You’ve incorporated the numbers of the Hollywood Bowl seats on snare drums. Why and what other delightful surprises do you incorporate on the drums?
Most of this is answered above but in the case of the Hollywood Bowl Series; this venue has played host to all the big stars of opera, swing, jazz and rock and in a sense, the seating at the venue has witnessed ALL of these performances – this fascinates me.
03 – What is stave construction, how does it differ from other construction methods and how it impacts the sound of the drums? Why did you choose this construction method?
Stave drums are built like a cooper makes a barrel. The drum consists of 20 staves, each one cut at a precise angle so that when they are all put together, they form a circle. Each stave is glued to the one beside it. Once the glue has set they are put on a ‘jig’ that removes the wood from the outside and inside (two separate processes), forming a perfect cylinder. There are several more processes before you have a working instrument.
The other method, and the one that is used by all the mass producers, is a wrapped ply method. Several layers of very thin plywood are formed around a metal cyliner and all glued together, producing a perfect cylinder.I chose the stave method because it accentuates the character of the wood in a way that is impossible for the wrapped ply method.Stave construction is not an option for mass production – too much waste, too many man hours, too many processes.
04 – You use 5000 years old English bog oak wood for some of the snare drums and kits you build. Are there differences, in technique and feeling, between working with thousands of years old wood and much more recent wood? Why and when did you start using 5000 years old English bog oak wood?
I love to work with the bog oak. It has a beautiful feel to it and every moment that i’m working with it i’m wondering what the treee that this piece of wood came from has witnessed. Given that it is over 5000 years old, did it ever see a human?, did a early ancestor touch this tree? Were it’s neighbours cut down to produce houses and boats? What was it like as sea levels rose and it was consumed by the bog which eventually claimed it etc., etc.
To work, it is similar to other oak but is a bit harder and more brittle which brings its own challenges! It is black due to the chemical reaction between the tannin in the wood and the qcidid conditions in the bog in which it has been sat. The longer in those conditions, the deeper the black of the wood.I’ve been using the wood for about ten years. I met a local wood worker who gave me a bit to work with and I was hooked – primarily to the history of this amazing resource.
05 – One thing that stands out on Repercussion Drums kits are the colours. Liike the yellow, my favourite colour, on the Val di Fiemme kit. But there is a very special colour for you, Klein Blue.Why is it so, where do you source the pigment, what draws you to Klein blue?
As a part time painter, I have always loved colour. I remember going to an Yves Klein exhibition in London some time ago and being totally transfixed by his own colour, Klein Blue. It was as if you could dive into the painting… such depth of colour!! Many people have tried to recreate that blue – they get close but when you view it up against the real Klein blue you realise what an incredible colour Klein Blue is.
We have a new space Five Questions. Five Questions is not dependable of a record release, tour or otherwise, although it may coincide with those. As is the case here. Five Questions is also not limited to music. What is the criteria? A very easy one. Something I like, and, or feel is relevant.
We start with Pierre Omer. Pierre Omer’s Swing Revue’s Tropical Breakdown is out on Voodoo Rhythm and currently touring Europe.
by Raquel Pinheiro
01 – What is your earliest musical memory?
My early life was between two countries and two languages, so the memories are mixed up… I have lullabies coming to my mind. Harry Belafonte in English and some bizarre French nursery rhyme out of the Middle Ages, hahaha!
02 – When did you start to be interested in Swing and why?
Somewhere in my teens. I heard old shellac records of obscure swing artists. I was fascinated by the evocation of another world, another time. At the same period, I started listening to Django Reinhardt. His guitar just rocks! So much energy and joy!
03 – Fado is one of your influences. How did it come into your life, and how does Fado present itself in your music?
I’m not a specialist in Fado at all, and one can’t hear any trace of it in my music. But yes, I am very touched by Fado, the same way Tango or Flamenco touches me. I feel something essential about this music, but I know I need to include a big part, not understanding how the words are used.
04 – How important is it to you on Pierre Omer’s Swing Review that the clothes, the visual and scenographic aspect of things fits into, translates, and, or give a sense of the Music?
I like to think of our tuxedos not only as a visual element for the audience but also as a way for us in the band to be focused and tight. I like to think of the Ramones and their strict outfits and disciplined attitude towards their music. I also like the idea that the tuxedo is a working outfit. Our work is to entertain. Then, the “artistic” aspect might appear or not.
05 – Which more contemporary elements do you incorporate in the Swing tradition, and how important it to you, despite the Revival of the title, to have a fresh approach to Swing?
The only fact that we have been exposed to all the music that has happened since the 1930s gives our interpretation of this music a different twist. It is also important that we are not jazz players. We have to struggle a little bit with this music, which gives us a different attitude. As much as I love this music, I have to play it in an iconoclastic way to pay my respects. I’m really not at ease with revival bands who play swing religiously!
We interviewed Simon Gilbert, Suede’s drummer, whose book So Young: Suede 1991-1993 is a journal and photographic document of the band’s early years that will be published October 8th.
So Young has foreword by journalist Stuart Maconie and a vibrant, lively text by Simon himself, documenting his move from Stratford-on-Avon, his hometown, to London, the audition with Suede, life in the van, the early success years and the many amusing things that come with it. It is one of those rare books that make an outsider feel like they were there, in the van. Or in absurd mansions in L.A. belonging to industry types. Or was it record producer(s)?…
The conversation extended to Coming Up, Suede’s third album that turned 25 this year and drumming. Simon’s witty, often, one-liners contrast with my more elaborate questions, proving an interesting insight into our way of writing/replying.
by Raquel Pinheiro
So Young: Suede 1991-1993
What made you want to realease So Young?
I was searching through my archives when researching for the insatiable ones movies and found lots of old negatives and my diaries. They had to be seen.
When and why did you start your Suede archives?
As you can see from the book, it stared from the very first audition day.
From the concept idea to publishing how long did it took you to put So Young together?
30 years … I’ve always wanted to make a book since I was first in a band.
What was your selection process for which items – diary entries, photos, etc.- would be part of the book?
I wanted to form a story visually with a few bits of info thrown in here and there, also most of the photos tie in with pages from the diaries.
Which methods, storage, preservation, maintenance, if at all, do you employ to keep the various materials in your archives in good shape?
Boxes in an attic … one thing about getting the book out is that I don’t have to worry about the photos getting lost forever. It’s out there in a book!
Other than medium what differences existed between selecting material for The Insatiable Ones documentary and for So Young?
Video and photos … photos don’t translate well on a TV screen.
Do you prefer still or motion pictures and why?
I prefer photos … they capture a particular moment in time … as video does, but there’s a unique atmosphere with a photo.
So Young’s cover photo has a very Caravaggio and ballet feeling to it. Its chiaroscuro also contrasts with the images inside. Why did you choose it for the cover?
It was a striking shot and I wanted the book to be black and dark …it fitted perfectly.
How many of the photos on So Young were taken by you?
Probably about 3/4 my 3 school friends who were there with me at the beginning Iain, Kathy and Phillip took a load of us onstage, backstage, after the gig, etc., photos I couldn’t take myself.
So Young can be placed alongside books like Henry Rollins’ Get in The Van and Michael Azerrad’s Our Band Could Be Your Life, that not only chronicle and show the less glamorous, more mundane side of being in a band, but also totally immerse the reader so deep in it that we are there, feeling and going through the same things. Was your selection of materials meant to convey that “band being your(our) life” sensation?
Yes, exactly that. I was fascinated by photos of bands, not on the front cover of a magazine or on TV. The other bits of being in a band are far more interesting.
In the foreword, Stuart Maconie mentions the brevity of your diary entries which, as someone who keeps diaries, I immediately noticed. Do you prefer to tell and record a story and events with images?
I haven’t kept a diary since the end of 1993 … looking back on them they can be a bit cringeful … So, yes, I prefer images.
Contrasting with the diary entries brevity your text that accompanies So Young is lively, witty, detailed and a good description of the struggles of a coming of age, heading towards success, band. Do you think the text and images reveal too much into what it really is like being in a band, destroying the myth a bit?
I think the myth of being in a band is long gone … Reality is the new myth…
In So Young you write that when you first heard Never Mind The Bollocks by The Sex Pistols music was to be your “future dream”. How has the dream been so far?
Still dreaming … lose your dreams and you will lose your mind … like Jagger said.
Is there a reason why So Young only runs from 1991 to 1993?
Yes, I bought a video camera in 1993. It was so much easier filming everything rather than take a photo, wait 3 weeks to get it developed and find out it was blurred.
So Young has a limited deluxe numbered and signed edition already sold out. The non deluxe edition also seems to be heading the same way. How important is it for you to keep a close relationship with the fans?
So important. I love interacting with the fans and is so easy these days … I had to write replies by hand and post them out in 1993…
Playing Live Again & Coming Up
Before Suede’s concert at Qstock Festival in Oulu, Finland on 31.07.2021 you wrote on your social media “cant fucking wait dosnt come close!!!!!” and Mat [Osman, Suede’s bassist] on his “An honest-to-goodness rehearsal for an honest-to-goodness show. Finally”. How did it feel like going back to play live?
It was great. Heathrow was empty which was amazing. A bit strange to play for the first time after 2 years …., but great to get out again.
Coming Up was released 25 years ago. How does the record sound and seems to you now compared with by then?
I haven’t listened to it for a long time actually … love playing that album live … some great drumming.
Before the release of Coming Up fans and the press were wondering if Suede would be able to pull it off. What was your reaction when you first heard the new songs and realize the album was going in quite a different direction than Dog Man Star?
Far too long ago to remember.
Coming Up become a classic album. It even has its own Classical Albums documentary. Could you see the album becoming a classic by then?
I think so yes .. there was always something to me very special about that album.
Is it different to play Coming Up songs after Suede’s return? Is there a special approach to concerts in which a single album is played?
No … didn’t even need to listen to the songs before we first rehearsed … They’re lodged in my brain.
Which is your Coming Up era favourite song as a listener and which one do you prefer as a drummer?
The Chemistry Between Us.
Will the Coming Up shows consist only of the album or will B-sides be played as well?
Definitely some B-sides and some other stuff too.
Simon & Drumming
If you weren’t a drummer how would your version of “being the bloke singing at the front” be like?
Damned awful … I auditioned as a singer once, before I started drumming … It was awful!
In his book Stephen Morris says that all it takes to be a drummer is a flat surface and know how to count. Do you agree?
No.
Then, what makes a good drummer?
Being in the right band.
Topper Headon of the Clash is one of your role models. Who are the others?
He is, yes … fantastic drummer.
Charlie Watts is the other great …and Rat Scabies … superb.
She opens with drums so does Introducing the band. Your drumming gives the band a distinctive sound. How integral to Suede’s sound are the drums?
Well, what can I say … VERY!
Do you prefer songs that are driven by the drums or songs in which the drums are more in the background?
Bit of both actually … I love in your face stuff like She, Filmstar …, but ikewise, playing softer stuff is very satisfying too.
You’re not a songwriter. How much freedom and input do you have regarding drum parts?
If the songs needs it, I’ll change it.
Do you prefer blankets, towels or a pillow inside the bass drum?
Pillows.
Do you use gaffer tape when recording? If so, just on the snare drum or also on the toms? What about live?
Lots of the stuff … gaffer tape has been my friend both live and in the studio for 30 years.
What is the depth of your standard snare drum and why?
Just got a lovely 7-inch Bog wood snare from Repercussion Drums … sounds amazing. It is a 5000 year old Bog wood snare.
Standard, mallets, rods or brushes?
Standard. I hate mallets and rods are always breaking after one song. Brushes are the worst …no control.
How many drum kits have you owned? Of those, which is your favourite?
5 … my fave is my DW purple.
How long to you manage without playing? Do you play air drums?
7 years 2003 – 2010 … and never.
Can you still assemble and tune your drum kit?
Assemble, yes …tune no …have never been any good at that.
You dislike digital/electronic drum kits, but used one during the pandemic. Did you become more found of them?
Still hate them … unfortunately, they are a necessary evil.
When you first joined Suede you replaced a drum machine. Would it be fair to say you didn’t mind taking its job?
Fuck him!
Brett [Anderson, Suede’s singer] as described the new album as “nasty, brutish and short”. How does that translates drums wise?
Very nasty brutish and short.
When researching for the interview I come across the statement below on a forum: “If you’re in a band and you’re thinking about how to go about this, get every player to come up with their own track list & have a listening party. I’ve done this, not only is it great fun, it’s also massively insightful when it comes to finding out what actually is going on inside the drummer’s head!”. What actually is going on inside the drummer’s head?
Where’s my fucking lighter!
And what is going on inside the drummer as a documentarist head? How does Simon, the drummer, differs from Simon, the keen observer of his own band, bandmates, fans, himself, etc.?
There is no difference … I’m Simon here there and everywhere…
What would the 16 years old Simon who come to London think of current Simon? What advice would you give to your younger self?
Guilherme Lucas interviewed J.P. Shilo and we couldn’t pass the opportunity of publishing it. It is a very personal interview, a technical talk between two musicians. A little off our usual style, but worthy reading. This is the last part of a three part instalment. This is the last part of a three part instalment. It also includes a couple of questions about Jubjoté, J.P. Shilo’s upcoming album, out June 25, on Heavy Machinery Records, along with a film by L.J. Spruyt Photography.
I’ve just realized that the two times I saw you in concert (both with Mick Harvey, in Portugal), maybe a little more than half of your performance was on keyboards. It is interesting to notice it since my first impression of you as an artist is that of a string musician. However, I consider you a very discreet keyboardist, who correctly fills the spaces of the songs, with enormous efficiency, and without great ramblings, which is, for my parameters, something praiseworthy. How important are keyboards in your music and composition?
For me, efficiency and proficiency go hand in hand. In that regard, having rudimentary skills probably works in my favour! I rarely make flourishes or embellishments because I wouldn’t know how to. In any ensemble/band setting though, serving the song & being “economical” is key; just because you CAN play all of the parts, don’t think the rest of the band is going to thank you! 😊 I do marvel at players who are more dexterous, and I’d like to become more proficient, but I also like the idea that the piano, (or any instrument for that matter), is full of potential beyond my capabilities, that it all remains a mystery somehow. I had some accordion students a few years back who were at beginner level, and they kept getting frustrated at their inadequacies and lack of technique. I remembered feeling like that too when I first started, but through hindsight, I reassured them and reminded them to relish that feeling, inside that is the drive to express. Once you learn something, you can’t unlearn it, and then the risk is once you do advance, boredom can sneak in, and perfecting techniques takes over from the initial wish to express something. The formative years of Hungry Ghosts would be an example of that expression, we played as minimally as possible to divine as much feeling out of a single note. I think we came to have an unspoken understanding that that was what we were aiming to achieve. Hopefully that comes through. All that said, my allegiance is to expression through Sound generally, not to any one particular instrument specifically. Instruments and equipment are the tools. Though I actually really enjoy playing the piano and have been composing much more on it lately. The piano is possibly the most perfect instrument; so complete.
There are moments of yours (on video), where we can see unorthodox instrumental approaches to the piano. Do you use personal piano techniques as you do with the electric guitar?
I can’t help it! I love to explore and play things differently than how they are expected to be played, the piano being both a percussion and string instrument allows for much more scope beyond the piano stool and pressing the keys. I like to have fun with it (though I’d probably be the nemesis of piano tuners). On this track – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CnvpT4MVxkQ the screeching ghostly sound is me playing the strings of the piano internally with a piece of metal.
You have already mentioned, in comments on your Facebook, about the use of the Reuss RSH-03 pedal on your piano accordion. Can you tell a little more about the results you have obtained in terms of sound, using that guitar pedal?
Not really, I still use the RSH-02 during the Pop Crimes shows. I used the RSH-03 on an accordion in the studio once for a session with a very “heavy” band who asked me in to play some traditional sounding accordion, which I did. Then, I said keep the tape rolling on one of their more sludgy numbers, and I sprayed it with some hellishly thick chords running through that pedal which sounded frightening. Haha I’m not sure if that’s what they expected, but it is the Devil’s instrument after all. 😉
You also play the accordion. Did you start playing this instrument before or after learning to play the piano/organ?
I “borrowed” my first accordion off my aunt when I was 19. (She’ll say “stole”, but it was just a loan 😉 ) Anyway, she said if you can play a tune on it, it’s yours. I kept it for the night, when she returned the following day, I played her the Title Theme from The Elephant Man soundtrack. She was impressed, and said “Happy Birthday” 😊 Within 6 months I had written a handful of pieces on it for Hungry Ghosts “Three Sisters” – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c7D8beHGGQs
I think I was actually trying to learn Billie Holiday’s “You’re My Thrill” but this tune came out instead. When I first joined The Blackeyed Susans, I was just filling in on guitar for a couple of shows for Dan Luscombe, while he was “double-booked”. After he returned, Phil Kakulas, The Susans’ chief songwriter, said, “Hmmmm, you play accordion as well don’t you? Maybe you should stick around…” That was 15 years ago! I’ve since dragged it all around the world, with The Blackeyed Susans, Hungry Ghosts, Mick (Harvey) and also with The Triffids. My original squeezebox was put into retirement by unsympathetic baggage throwers after a few world tours. A couple of years ago, the same aunt who gave me my first 48 bass “Baile” accordion, bought me a new one – a 48 bass “Busilacchio” and said that she thought it was time for an update. (I think I have about 6 now, but my wife insists there are more… oops)
Perhaps this next question is a bit outside the scope of this interview, but because I find it relevant, I shall ask it. In your last interview to Mondo Bizarre Magazine (01/2020) you mentioned that your next album would be from a live concert, held in November 2018, commissioned by the City of Melbourne for The Melbourne Town Hall Grand Organ. I know it will be called Jubjoté. It is an interesting and disturbing piece, in an unusual musical way. It uses a dream narrative of yours, which leads us to a possible reflection on Art, with regard to its accommodation to the status quo by most artists, but also to the salvation of a few who seek in it a way to elevate their existence beyond common sense, restlessly and without concessions to vulgarity. How was that experience, say, in a more institutional and business context?
I was approached by The Melbourne City Council to create a piece for The Melbourne Town Hall Grand Organ, the largest in the Southern Hemisphere, and probably the most valuable. It is truly a magnificent Beast! There are about 10,000 pipes in it, that scale 4 storeys, with wiring that would span over 700 kilometres, the distance between Melbourne and Adelaide, (or Faro to Quintanilha), a mind-blowing masterpiece of sound and engineering! I was given complete creative freedom from The City of Melbourne to compose whatever I liked with it. It really was a treat to work in that space and to harness the full scope and potential of an instrument of that magnitude. The music for Jubjoté was composed quite quickly in the Town Hall, “After Hours” – There is obviously very tight security, but once I was inside, the organ was mine! And I naturally relished every moment, pulling out all the stops and discovering the intricacies. What does this button do?! The piece also incorporates a spoken word element. A narrative which was based on a very profound dream that I had had some time prior. I don’t want to give any spoilers, but the nature and mood of the storyline, in hindsight feels strangely pertinent to our current global state – of being in a nightmarish predicament and looking for the solution, or escape. It will be released on June 25th through Heavy Machinery Records, accompanied by a sublime film by L.J. Spruyt Photography. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cvwXNaV3jSw
By the way … I would like to know about your interpretation of Jubjoté, in order to compare it with my interpretation above. I am curious to know if I got close, or if I failed splendidly. It’s a piece that is open to all interpretations, like any dream analysis that can take on a personal or societal reference. (From a solipsistic perspective, perhaps the subconscious is a mirror of society in general.) The term – Jubjoté – is a modern French term (which may or may not exist 😉)- meaning ~ To wake up from a dream, not knowing how it ends; and trying to return, to find out how it does. The piece is all about that.
When it comes to the diversity of musical instruments you play, if some Renaissance artists reincarnated today, you would certainly be one of them. We finally come to your voice. It’s amazing that you also have an impressive gift here. Your voice timbre is able to reach different pitches of vocalizations very close to other artists you play (from Rowland S. Howard to David McComb). In addition to this, you have your own voice, which is very special, reflected in your solo album Invisible You, or in the live performances of The Saddests. I would like to know more about the use of your voice in your music career.
The voice is a very intriguing and possibly the most versatile (and portable) instrument I know. It is obviously the most intimate. You can play it anywhere and you don’t even need to take it out of its case! I have been enjoying exploring how it works lately. The projects I’ve lent my voice to have required different elements to get inside of the songs, and performing my own works naturally opens up and broadens that scope to places I don’t even know yet. For the recent Mick Harvey record “The Fall and Rise of Edgar Bourchier and the Horrors of War.” A “concept album”/ collaboration with English writer Christopher Richard Barker. I was asked to assume certain characters and perform the songs from that place. Here are two examples, where the voice inhabits different moods/personas on the same album. “This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.” “The Darkling Fields of Stowborough” – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o4pl8a5kOHI “Pounding For Peace” – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zkhwj5omrDk
(I also play the accordion on this one 😉) Earlier in the interviews I’ve mentioned how I’d chosen to make instrumental music in my early career because Leonard Cohen had stolen all the best words. I said this half-jokingly in the context of who I was speaking with at the time, but at the heart of that, I had very high expectations of what I would hope to achieve in a literary sense. I am relieved now that I made a concerted effort to spare people the trite clumsiness of my journal contents. I feel like I really had nothing to say that hadn’t already been articulated by poets far superior. Hungry Ghosts maybe said more by saying nothing. The titles of the pieces felt like enough to trigger an image, (for me at least). We took a more “impressionistic” approach. I like poems and lyrics to be like paintings, I prefer to be showed something, rather than told. Maybe a good song allows you to converse with it or walk around inside it somehow. The Saddests was a side project I was working on at the time, with some fellow Blackeyed Susans members. A vehicle I was able to explore my voice, and push myself in terms of being a ‘frontman’. We played a collection of songs we thought were the ‘most’ Sad (hence the band’s name) It served its purpose at the time, I quickly integrated what I learned from the few gigs we played together, which the Invisible You album was born out of. Then, the Pop Crimes shows kicked in. With regard to the dearly departed wordsmiths I have chosen to honour. The fact that they were masters at composing a well-turned phrase, takes a lot of the hard work out of it (for me). As a “sonic-manipulator” I could focus more of my attention on deciphering/analysing/replicating tones and implying their harmonic mannerisms. I’ve always held that my role in these “tributes” is to “serve the song” – and really try to embody the attitude that helped create them. That is what I meant earlier by the statement, “It’s what’s behind the fist that makes a punch…” The notes are just one element of the song. I guess my approach is that of a loving cephalopod. If at some point during one of these shows the audience closes their eyes and gets the impression or feeling that a wisp of the spirit of any of these Artists that we love is hanging in the air in the room, then I’m satisfied with that. Along with Rowland S. Howard – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GcLDwYhDIQk
With my own “songs” – Invisible You probably feels the closest to my “natural” voice.
My approach to the vocal chords is not really that different to other instruments. My ear is naturally tuned to creating and matching tones, and I am an experimentalist. The difference is the literary element to vocals. Having something worthwhile to say, is a whole other dilemma. I greatly admire those that can use words well.
Are there any other instruments that you play that have eluded me? If so, which ones?
The sound of the vibraphone, that numb honey buzz is something I’ve always loved. I’ve been very fortunate enough to play the vibes live throughout Europe with The Triffids. They’ve always been a part of Hungry Ghosts’ sound. Unfortunately, I don’t own a set, hopefully one day some will magically appear. I really dig gamelans and gongs as well. I have an optigan at home that I drag out for its quirky sound from time to time (and inevitably construct soundscapes on tour, just using the contents of my hotel room 😉) I’ve never really had much luck with “wind” instruments. The idea of having to stick a thing inside my mouth to make music through feels somehow disturbingly invasive. I enjoy listening to others doing that though, (except flutes & bag pipes!) All that said though, I am a noise maker at heart, and like to play & extract sounds from anything really. A Cristal-Bachet or an Ondes-Martenot would be fun to mess around with. As much as I love traditional music(s) and techniques, I also get a huge kick out of watching composers like Harry Partch, Iannis Xenakis and Toru Takemitsu, even Silver Apples… I like the idea of kinetic sculptures and reactive music, and spaces that can play themselves. I once saw a Japanese group called Stringraphy that had strings fastened throughout the room that were amplified by polystyrene cups, the strings were played with cotton gloves. I think I might enjoy playing that.
We are approaching the end of this interview. I would like to expose a thought and a final request to you. During this extensive interview, I noticed that several projects and collaborations with other musicians and bands escaped me. I thought I knew you quite well when it comes to all of your projects, but I now realize I only know you reasonably well. I would like this interview to remain a recorded memory and a consultation document for the future, for new generations of fans of your music. Would it be too much to ask you to make a detailed list of all the bands that you played with, or are part of, as well as of all collaborations with other musicians/projects, carried out until October 2020?
Guilherme Lucas interviewed J.P. Shilo and we couldn’t pass the opportunity of publishing it. It is a very personal interview, a technical talk between two musicians. A little off our usual style, but worthy reading. This is the first part of a three part instalment. Part two, coming soon.
For some years now, I have been following the brilliant work of J.P. Shilo, in all his facets as a multi-instrumentalist. My initial contact with him was through the great Rowland S. Howard. J.P. was the bassist who, along with Mick Harvey, accompanied him live. Wanting to know more about him, I discovered his band, Hungry Ghosts. It was unconditional love at first audition … from then on, I have been carefully following his musical career. He’s a musical genius. Period! After having already interviewed him, in a different context, for Mondo Bizarre Magazine, here is a new one, solely focused on his musical gear. From musicians to musicians and to everyone who might be interested in knowing more about technical issues related to J.P.’s music.
Can you talk about your Fender Jazzmaster guitar? Is it all original, or does it have any hardware changes made by you? I bought the Jazzmaster in 1997 – brand new, in Melbourne. I guess that makes it 23 now. It is finally “finding its voice”. It is all original. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rUTnWShOsSk) On the first Hungry Ghosts record, I was loaned a nice old one from the 60s by Birdland Studio’s Lindsay Gravina. That’s where I got my first taste and never looked back. By the time we got to NYC we got to play Sonic Youth’s guitars! A Fender smorgasbord. I had a strat copy as a youngster, but soon outgrew it/refined my taste by the time I started writing seriously. I never really felt comfortable with it…
In Pop Crimes: The Songs of Rowland S. Howard, you also play with a Fender Jaguar. What are your impressions of that guitar compared to the sound of your Jazzmaster? I have been fortunate enough over the recent years to have been loaned a lovely selection of vintage Jags to aid me in my mission of honouring RSH in the Pop Crimes shows. The first one (the one I have used mostly used on this project, and also on various recordings) was kindly loaned by Rob Snarski of The Blackeyed Susans. His is the red L Series one from 1963(?) I believe the neck was replaced in the seventies. (Playing through a vintage Jag is “crucial” in trying to emulate or even give a vague “impression” of RSH’s signature tone. )
My Jazzmaster’s “voice” is far too young & mellow… and would require much more reliance on pedals and amp to even come close to achieving the tone. It’s one thing to play the same notes, but the pick-ups and the age of them are what really reveal the true tone. If you can start with that signal from the actual guitar, you’re in the right ballpark. Most recently I used a 1965 shoreline gold, loaned to me by Lewis Boyes, (who plays w/ Adalita, and runs a fantastic boutique store in Melbourne called Found Sound) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IUkvk7qW05A)
As far as the design of a Jag vs Jazzmaster, I’m sure I’m not alone in saying the positioning of the pick-up selector on the Jag is often fraught with the looming dread of the “cut-off” position/combination. I always wondered why I often saw photos of peoples Jags with tape on the switches. Now I know, one has to be conscious not to accidentally kill the signal in ones enthusiasm. That is its only drawback. I love the floating tremolo system, all that behind the bridge option for making noises. Lots of other guitars have behind the bridge strings exposed, but not really enough length to get a quality resonance from.
I was intrigued to see Lee Ranaldo & Thurston Moore’s modifications on a couple, (when Hungry Ghosts used their studio.) They had pick-ups built in behind the bridge, to fully harness it as a working option. I am most comfortable on Jags and Jazzmasters. Everything else feels weird now. My electric parts for Hungry Ghosts are best executed on a Jazzmaster.
I also love playing nylon string guitars though, and love to modify and manipulate them beyond their intended classical purpose. I currently use a sweet “parlour” size model called “Motif” made by “La Patrie” from Quebec. I’ve been writing a lot of new pieces for Hungry Ghosts on it.
Which guitar amplifier do you use the most? What is your favorite? – Which pedal set do you usually use live? Are there any changes to that set, depending on the band, or artists, with whom you are playing?
Again I am a Fender man, and have used a Pro Reverb for many years – (I believe that was Poison Ivy’s preference too.) Of late I have been plugging into (and preferring) Music Man amps. They are essentially a Fender just with a different badge I recently purchased an old 4×10 Music Man, which is great to get that pure amp tone. Interestingly, it was Mick who pointed out to me in our recent rehearsals that the Music Man was RSH’s preferred make, that it was a 210 used on The Friend Catcher! and that it made sense that I was naturally gravitating toward it. (My ears must be becoming refined ) Rowland’s use of the Twin Reverb was more out of convenience. They were/are easier to access/hire around the world.
I’ve said before, in the Hungry Ghosts days, I didn’t use pedals, (not even a tuner!) Apart from the fact I couldn’t afford to buy any, it somehow seemed like it was “cheating” or compromising the pure tone of the guitar. Phasers and flangers, etc. kind of gross me out… they seem tacky, and often end up sounding a bit “Disneyland” in the wrong hands… haha (I’ve loosened up on that idea though over the years – depending on the project I am working on, but quite often they feel like a disguise, or like cosmetics. I can’t hear the guitarist, just their favourite flavour of ice cream! Haha).
I like to experiment with sounds etc. obviously, but I like to hear a pedal, if I click it on, I want it to actually do something. Quite often I see players with a fully loaded display of pedals at their disposal, but nothing that can’t necessarily be achieved by just cranking up the amp and letting the valves sing! I’m not particularly impressed by “bling”.
When I was playing in a short-lived side project called The Saddests (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bi01sd0OmtI), I had a beautiful old vintage Colorsound Overdriver with the creamiest fuzz, and hugest boost… that I only clicked on for one solo in the whole set. It was always a “surprise”! I often scared the daylights out of the unsuspecting mixer, who would spill their drinks and frantically spread their fingers out over all the faders, wondering where the hell that sound just exploded from! They would spent the whole set, finding their ideal balance of the mix, etc. then Bam! By the time they located the source, the solo was over! Haha… It is an effect, and should do that. As far as other pedals go, I am actually quite sparse and always try to actually modify the guitar physically. That said, the RSH pedal by Reuss Musical Instruments was a Godsend in being able to articulate the sounds of the MXR blue box & distortion + in the one unit for the Pop Crimes shows (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XxWndzKDPEs). I still use the RSH 2 model, even though my suggestion of adding an extra knob to vary how much blue box effect could be dialled in led to updated models. I’ve just managed to find the sweet spot on it for the sets that we’ve played. I’ve used the RSH 3 on a piano accordion (haha) but not guitar (yet) Hopefully I get around to it. My pet peeve/bug-bear on tour is the Fender Twin without a Master Volume. The fact that one can barely push them on stage past 1 without deafening everyone else is a right pain, and the valves rarely get a chance to find that really rich crackling sweet spot tone, that the ones with master volumes can. Also so many times I turn up for soundcheck, have stipulated that I need a Fender Valve amp with working spring reverb, and then the footswitch is missing, or the reverb doesn’t work. Aaargh. A neat little tool, I’ll have to invest in, is one of those “Glow-Baby” volume controls (that plugs in through the effects loop – between the pre-amp and power amp stages to be able to get that warm tube sound) that would have gotten me out of a pickle on the road. I did have my Pro Reverb tweaked to achieve something similar. Giving me enough head room to push the gain up to “hot”.
We spoke with Mick Harvey about his new album Waves of ANZAC/The Journey. Waves of Anzac is the soundtrack of Sam Neills’ documentary Why Anzac With Sam Neill. The Journey is a four piece work in support of #KidsOffNauru a campaign for child refugees and people seeking asylum in Australia who, under Australia’s offshore processing regime, will be put on offshore detention. The conversation approached the ANZACs (Australian and New Zealand Army Corps), war, especially Word War I, refugees, Australia detention centres and more.
by Raquel Pinheiro
Waves of ANZAC
ANZAC Day is April 25th. The record came out April 17. Is there a reason why it was not released on ANZAC Day?
Because April 25th. was a Saturday? Actually I doubt Mute even thought of it as they are English and wouldn’t know when Anzac Day is. I did notice the release date was set for near to Anzac Day but really, it was not important to make the release coincide.
Waves of ANZAC is the soundtrack for New Zealander actor/director/producer Sam Neill’s Why Anzac With Sam Neill documentary. What made you accept to write the score for the documentary?
Because I’m interested in the subject matter and I like working on films when I know I am going to be allowed to develop my own ideas.
Currently how much meaning does ANZAC Day hold in Australia and New Zealand? How does its commemoration differ from Remembrance Day, November 11 (Armistice Day)? Is remembering ANZAC Day still relevant for Australians and New Zealanders?
It’s probably the most important day of remembrance. More important than Armistice Day for Australians and New Zealanders.
How was ANZAC Day celebrated this year, under lockdown?
It was commemorated at home, yes.
Anzac, the landing 1915 by George Washington Lambert, 1920-1922 (oil with pencil on wood panel). Art photo courtesy of the Australian War Memorial.
April 25 is the day of the ANZACs’ first landing at ANZAC Cove, Gallipoli, Turkey in 1915, during World War I. The landing was the beginning of an arduous, if not disastrous, path that would culminate in the evacuation of the Allied forces by December 1915. On ANZAC COVE alone, things got terribly confusing from the star with ANZAC suffering thousands of casualties. Isn’t it somehow odd that ANZAC Day is the day the ANZACs suffered such misfortune?
No, I don’t think so. It is rather more odd that it was an invasion of another sovereign country’s territory, which is hardly something to be proud of but that is not really considered. It is more concerned with the personal sacrifices and I must say you seem to be mixing up notions of commemoration with celebration. It is not a celebration.
The first theme from Waves of ANZAC/The Journey I listened to was The Somme, in the day Mute uploaded to YouTube. I found it striking. A couple of days later, I listened to the whole album. It took me more than two and a half hours to do so. I kept going back and forward on the tracks. Afterwards, I had to go for a very long walk to process the feelings, emotions and images brought by the music.
Seldom does a record affect me in such a way. Were, or are you, aware of the sheer magnitude of the music contained in the album? Of how it can so deeply affect the listener? Are you in some way touched by its music and, or themes, or, as its musical creator, you’re emotionally detached from it?
Well, it’s difficult to know or anticipate the effect one’s own music will have on someone else. Certainly, during the process of writing and arranging one is searching for powerful or effective solutions and in that process one is also hoping affected by what is happening as that is an indicator you have hit on something that might be working but generally you have to move on from that condition and just keep working. Obviously it is hoped that the final result will be impactful. Ultimately I guess I have to be very happy you were affected in this way as it indicates some level of success in my endeavour to provide an emotional soul for what is a very moving and powerful subject matter.
Listening to the soundtrack separated from the documentary – that I only deliberately watched a month or so afterwards – makes it stand out and have an emotional depth that is diluted in the documentary under the narration, the sound of the waves, etc. Had I only seen the documentary I would have most likely forgot the soundtrack. Yet, on its own, it lives, breathes, overwhelms, amazes. Do you relate to it, to how different it sounds and feels, within the documentary and outside of it?
The nature of any soundtrack music is to support or embellish the film it is made for. Morricone does not subscribe to the notion that you should not notice the soundtrack and believes it should be really loud. I don’t disagree with that idea, but it’s not the function I like most of my music to have. I prefer the traditional, conservative position on the function of film music. At the same time, I am sometimes aware that pieces I have produced stand up well in their own right. When I come to put together a compilation of film music works they are the ones that are chosen to be included. It has a certain inevitable logic.
In the documentary, Sam Neill speaks of how unlucky the ANZACs were in France/The Somme. The big losses, Australia not being keen on conscription, etc. Do you think the complications the ANZACs faced were connected to their countries being so far away, or was it due to poor and confusing leadership, ideas and tactics, and a not so good strategy?
The complications or difficulties the ANZACs faced were much the same as troops from any other country faced during WW1.
The ANZACs come to fight many thousands of kilometers from home because their countries were part of the British Empire. Sailing from so far away in ships packed with men must have been daunting. Arriving at Gallipoli and being met with all the difficulties must have had a tremendous psychological effect on the troops. Do you know what was the mood like in Australia and New Zealand 105 years ago? Did news of what was really happening reached back home? That you know of, are there reports from soldiers telling of their real feelings?
News of the casualties at Gallipoli did not reach Australia for some time. No doubt there was some news imparted by telegram messages but a combination of the war information machine and the difficulty of collating all the details meant that the full casualty lists were not published for, I believe, a couple of weeks. My grandmother told us that on the day the papers published those lists people were crying in the streets, so yes, the impact was devastating. As for soldiers telling their real feelings….this happened on occasion but for the most part what I can work out is that it was much later, in the 50s and 60s. For the most part I am consistently given to understand that soldiers did not like to talk about their experiences from WW1.
Waves of ANZAC goes through World War I, World War II and the Vietnam War. Music wise, some of the most intense, disruptive even, themes are In The Archives and The Aftermath. Are war archives and the aftermath of a war more disturbing than war itself?
They can be for those who remain because they are the reminder of those things and are tinged with melancholy and the memory of loss and the ongoing disbelief at what happened. At the time I suspect people are being more pragmatic and aware of the need to survive. Though I doubt the aftermath could be more disturbing in itself than being in
the thick of the action.
Wounded troops on the beach at Anzac Cove on 25 April 1915. Men of the AAMC are treating some of the wounded. Photo courtesy of the Australian War Memorial.
Reading the track list, I was reminded that Australia and New Zealand took part in the Vietnam War. At the time, both countries’ involvement in Vietnam caused controversy at home. Does that persist? Are Australian and New Zealander, Vietnam War veterans seen and treated differently than other veterans?
These days they are mostly respected and understood as having taken part in a misunderstood and unfortunate conflict. They are mostly quite old now so they are also generally respected as war veterans without other negative associations.
Vietnam is a terrifying, harrowing track. One can feel napalm falling, the jungle, the shattering of things and people, the despair, death. It goes up, explodes, then, ends with utmost sadness. Was that, the description of the thunder of war and its devastating effects, followed by a death’s silence what you envisioned when you wrote it?
Umm, I think in my mind’s eye I keep seeing film taken by US troops from planes of them carpet bombing forests.
When we interview you in November 2019, when asked about your interest in World War I you told us “I’m not sure why it holds such a fascination for me, but it’s something I keep coming back to. I had already read quite a bit about WW1 before I even learnt about my Grandfather’s generation’s involvement in it. That just made it that little, but more personal”.
Since, have you become more aware of why World War I holds such a fascination for you? Have you learned more about your Grandfather’s generation involvement in it?
No, my understanding of what interests me about it in particular remains something I can’t define. I always understood the involvement of that generation in WW1 but I do now know a lot more about my ancestors specific stories. But that is just a personal view into specific events – it doesn’t make me more or less interested in WW1 in general.
A while ago, on ANZAC Day, you posted a photo of your great uncle (Rev. Fred Harvey) and grandfather (Ted Harvey). The caption said your grandfather had landed at Anzac Cove with the 2nd Battalion AIF on ANZAC Day 1915. Do you know how your grandfather’s campaign went? Do you know how much he changed between that photo, taken in 1914, and his return to Australia?
Well, the outcome of the campaign is clear. You have described it in an earlier question. My Grandfather lost half a leg after being injured at the Somme and was sent back to Australia in 1917. He looks different in the photos when he is returning home, but that’s not so surprising as he is 22 by then and was only 19 in the photo with his brother.
Rev. Fred Harvey and Pt. E.T.A. (Ted) Harvey photographed in late 1914 in Sydney. Photo courtesy of Mick Harvey.
Do you still read about World War I ? If so, what have you been reading about it?
Sometimes, yes. I have a novel I will be reading soon called ‘The Middle Parts of Fortune’ by Frederic Manning and not long ago I finally watched ‘All Quiet on the Western Front’, the movie from 1930 which, apart from some corny acting by the lead, was amazing. The
interest persists.
While reading a feature about T.E. Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia) I came across an Australian Camel Corps (The Imperial Camel Corps Brigade – ICCB) in Palestine, during World War I – The ICCB served elsewhere in the Middle East as well. Have you ever heard of them? There is a small propaganda film, directed by Lowell Thomas, called With Allenby in Palestine where they can be seen: https://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/1060000120
Sounds interesting, I might check it out. I’m aware the Australians were in Palestine but I’ve not heard of the Camel Corps.
After two albums of yours about war/World War I – Waves Of ANZAC and The Fall and Rise of Edgar Bourchier And The Horrors of War (2018) and being part of P.J. Harvey’s Let England Shake (2011), another record about war and World War I, do you think that, music wise, you will still be working on the subject? If so, would you consider doing a record for which you would write the lyrics?
Not in the near future, but you never know. If something interesting comes up…..
Others wars, namely World War II and the Vietnam War, both featured on Waves of ANZAC seem to hold less interest to you. If so, why? What about more recent wars, like the Iraqi or Afghanistan ones?
I don’t know why not. It’s something about the human scale of WW1. The fact that it was not really on a human scale anymore but the people involved were still being used as if it was – the people involved were simply overwhelmed. In later wars the role of the humans has evolved. I am interested in WW2 and have read some things about it, in
particular the one volume history by Max Hastings, and in some ways it is a totally different type of event.
On P.J. Harvey’s Let England Shake (2011), a record about war, you sing the male vocals on The Colour Of The Earth, that tells the story of an ANZAC’s soldier called Louis that runs from the line and disappears. Were you already interested in the stories of the ANZACs and war, especially WWI, by then? Did being part of that album somehow influenced you on, or for, Waves of Anzac and, later, for when you teamed up with Christopher Richard Barker for The Fall and Rise of Edgar Bourchier And The Horrors of War (2018)?
My interest in WW1 goes back to my early 20s. Being involved in Let England Shake had no bearing whatsoever on the Edgar Bourchier album or Waves of Anzac.
Men of the 53rd Battalion in a trench in their front line a few minutes before the launching of the attack in the battle of Fromelles by Charles Henry Lorking, 19 July 1916. Photo courtesy of the Australian War Memorial.
Have you ever attended a dawn commemorative ANZAC service at ANZAC Cove? Or elsewhere? If so, can you describe the experience?
No, I’m not interested in that kind of thing. I’m not into public commemorations which all too often spill over into nationalistic sentiments and related thinking. Not that ANZAC Day is designed or intended to do that. It just has aspects which make me feel uncomfortable.
Artificial poppy : Lest We Forget 1949 (cooper badge). Image courtesy of the Australian War Memorial.
In War, a song written by Norman Whitfield and Barry Strong for Motown in 1969, made famous the next year by Edwin Starr, the lyrics read “War, uhu, yeah/What is it good for/Absolutely nothing…” Do you share the sentiment that war is good for nothing?
Pretty much.
The Journey
Do you, somehow, equate the journey of the refugees and asylum seekers to the one of the ANZACs? I’m thinking about the sea journey, but the thought can be extended to any other commonalities. Also, the first track of The Journey is called Conflict. A war is, of course, a conflict. In that alone, there is already similarity.
I think to conflate the two issues is problematic. It was a common theme in terms of what artwork I could use. The plight of refugees is fundamentally different to the experience of soldiers, especially volunteer soldiers, in that they are trying to escape conflict. The point I am making by using that title is that nearly 100% of refugees attempting to enter Australia as “illegal immigrants” by the definition of the Australian Government are actually genuine refugees who are fleeing civil wars and other similar events – the conflict – who should be given asylum under international law, regardless of how they arrive in the country.
The second track is named Capture (Not Real Refugees). Again, capture happens to soldiers, in the context of refugees, what does capture (being captured?) means to you? Why (Not Real Refugees), what does it mean?
Well, these people are basically detained and put in detention facilities which are really just offshore, open jails in places like Nauru and Manus Island. So they are, quite specifically, captured. The current Australian Government took to calling these asylum seekers from conflict zones “not real refugees” when they referred to them in some attempt to stigmatise them and keep public opinion on the side of the government’s policy. It was clearly and demonstrably a propaganda exercise in simple disinformation as these people are almost exclusively “real refugees” which Australia should be taking care of. That’s why I gave that movement that title.
Since you wrote The Journey how has the situation for those in Nauru, Manus Island and Christmas Island changed, if at all?
Not really, many of them, maybe a bit over half of those there in 2018, have been relocated to the United States under a bizarre deal which was made with Obama but many of them – nearly 50% as I can best work out – remain in the detention centres.
According to the links below, last year, there was a suicide spike among asylum seekers in Manus Island and Australia’s Offshore Detention was considered unlawful by a International Criminal Court Prosecutor. Conditions there must be quite grim. What is the sentiment in Australia regarding the conditions refugees and asylum seekers are met with? What is yours?
Most Australians have been drawn into pretty simplistic protectionist ideas about these unfortunate people and through a campaign of basic disinformation they have been misled into thinking these people pose a threat to our sovereignty. It’s all tied up with a complex piece of nonsense regarding people smugglers and that this is, ultimately, the
humanitarian option. But the whole thing began with misinformation – there was never really a problem in the first place with the numbers of refugees coming to Australia but once the conservative elements in the Australian Government realised the issue had traction they kept using it as a fear policy to help them shore up votes and stay in power.
I fully agree that people smugglers should be discouraged and that that activity should be shut down if possible and indeed, the actions the Australian Government has been taking has seen people-smuggling pretty much disappear in relation to Australia. But in the end effect it’s all a lie. They say they are trying to stop “moneyed-up-queue-jumpers” who just want to come to Australia for a better quality of life but in fact THOSE people have been arriving illegally at airports in huge numbers for years. The people risking their lives on boats after escaping conflict zones are genuine refugees who do not have access to apply for a visa to Australia under the normal processes in their country of origin and are forced to tale extreme action to protect themselves and their families. Huge numbers
of these people have spent years, or are still in, detention camps in shocking conditions. To punish innocent and desperate people is just not the right method to deal with people smugglers. Two wrongs don’t make a right as the saying goes. But it does seem to be a vote winner so it remains what they call a “political football”.
Christmas Island, Manus Island and Nauru where the detention centres are located at.
With the pandemic, have conditions for refugees and asylum seekers in Australia improved or worsened? In Portugal, immigrants with pending request were temporarily legalized so that they could benefit from our National Health Service and other Social Security benefits. It was considered safer for everyone to do so.
They are relatively safe as thus far the islands where the detention centres are virus free. Papua New Guinea had some cases, but they have all recovered.
If refugees and asylum seekers are allowed to stay/live in Australia do they integrate in the community? Overhaul, how do Australians treat refugees and asylum seekers/former refugees and asylum seekers?
For the most part they settle in quite well. I suspect, as with all people who have arrived here over the last 200 years, the generation which first arrives retains many of their connections with their homeland but even the first generation born here is more interested in the prospects of the new world. Geographically it simply feels like a world apart here and there is. o sense of needing to hang on to old prejudices and divisions. Australians in general, however, can be as racist as anyone else AND as welcoming. It all depends.
The last track of The Journey, that is also the album’s closing one, is called Hope. You wrote it hoping the plight of refugees and asylum seekers had an humane outcome. Now, hope seems to be what many think the whole world needs and others seem to have completely run out of it, diving into depression and pessimism. Where do you currently stand on hope, be it for those detained in Australia Offshore Detention centers or for the world as a whole?
Mostly I just think if the world became fairer and there was more economic equality most of these problems would disappear.
In All Art is Propaganda, George Orwell said that “In our age there is no such thing as “keeping out of politics.” All issues are political issues, and politics itself is a mass of lies, evasions, folly, hatred and schizophrenia.” Do you think artists have the duty, especially in times like these, or at least should, bring up social issues and, in their art, make political commentary and, or statements? And that politics is a “mass of lies, evasions, folly, hatred and schizophrenia”?
I have not read “All Art is Propaganda” so I may be speaking out of turn about things which he covers in his book but George Orwell does have a tendency to make sweeping statements. To begin with if he actually argues the idea in the title, that all art is propaganda, then this is a highly selective starting point in that it refers only
to the artist’s connection to art when it is released or made public.
It does not account for the “receivers” of art and the impact it has on people in their lives nor does it show any care for the many people who make art or, indeed, creative crafts, for their own enjoyment.
One can well argue that all issues are political issues but to assert that it is “a mass of lies…etc” is to limit politics to the institutional as well as to misunderstand many politicians genuine commitment to public service blah, blah, blah. Orwell wrote some good books and is an interesting thinker but seems to spend far too much time wrapped up in his own narcissistic, personal totalitarianism – in the perceived greatness of his own thinking or experience. People are also capable of great kindness and generosity, in my opinion.
Artists only have the responsibility to keep doing what they are driven to do not what outside influences or influencers might expect of them. All art has a political aspect even when not in the least political – that in itself is a position.
Do you have, or had (since now everything changed) plans to play Waves of ANZAC/The Journey live?
No, I have no plans for that. Perhaps it could form part of a program of my film music in some future outing, but an arts council or festival would have to back such a show as it would be expensive, complicated and risky to attempt using only my own resources.
* Hope and At Sea were not painted based on The Journey. Hope pre-dates it an and the pandemic. At Sea come afterwards, but it was not until I was editing the interview it come to me it actually reminded being at sea. Hence, the name.
and never looked back. By the time we got to NYC we got to play Sonic Youth’s guitars! A Fender smorgasbord.
Mondo Bizarre Magazine 