Cock Rock Explodes!

I was shooting a video the other night in the park for a band called Bug Girl and this messed up thing happened. One of the filmic ideas was to make a cock-rocket (because you know the band's music is great but you might say its a little cock rock). So this dude had a stap-on strapped on, it was made from gaffer tape which was wrapped around a thousand match-heads and molded into the shape of a penis. Anyway...

So the other night i was making a music video for a band called Bug-Girl and this seriously messed up thing happened.



We were shooting in a park the other night (becuase cheap locations are the best, if you keep that under your hat) and as we were filming it all these local bums turned up to watch - guess there wasn't much going on down at the General Gordon (think of the crappest pub in the inner west of Sydney filled with pokies and old men staring at them), so instead they decided to sit around our set (the park) and watch and piss on.

Anyway, one of the filmic ideas was to make a cock-rocket (because you know they're music is good but you could say its a little bit cock rock) so this dude had his stap-on on, made from gaffer tape which was wrapped around a thousand match-heads and molded into the shape of a penis. He had attached this to a silver g-string, very visual. But the cock wasn't too big or anything, because you know, we didn't want it to look ridiculous.

So the guitar solo is cranking, Amber (shes' the lead guitarist) is reaching up with her guitar into the night sky. It's pure music cliche. Girls are lying at her feet holding onto her legs and next to them is Mr cock-rocket.

It's time for lift-off.

He lights up. Sparks fly. The rocket is a jet of fire shooting out of his crotch. And man, you should see the guy's face, he's scared shitless, like his looking down at a Rottweiler dog gnawing at his man-business.

I'm thinking, 'holy fuck - I hope this all doesn't go terribly wrong and I have to rush him to hospital (I could just imagine trying to explain it to the nurse on duty). but God, it looks so damn good on my camera. We gotta keep this rolling.'

The bums are interested too, one of them has come onto the set and looks like he's seen Jesus. One of those totally amazed looks. He gets down on his knees as the fiery cock starts to subside, pulls out a ciggie, takes a light and grins at the camera.

This is filmic art and I've been editing it up on my computer and i'm loving it

I'll post again soon when its up.

Tom Norton (Aka chicken Cheese)

Bob Evans: A Suburban Jedi?

By Tom Norton
(Article I wrote for Fasterlouder)

Today, Perth is grey and cloudy. Kevin Mitchell, the man who calls himself Bob Evans, is getting ready for a cold winter and massive tour, but that’s not a problem. It’s these past couple of weeks that have been trying for him. He’s been fighting a very serious and ongoing problem with penis enlargement spammers. That, and he has recently been crowned *Rolling Stone*’s ‘King of Pop’. A crown he still hasn’t received. Bob’s not impressed!

“All bow before me!” he laughs down the phone.

Photo ABC TV

Recently, readers of Rolling Stone magazine voted him as this year’s best male artist, beating some bloke called Justin Timberlake. He would love to say to it was good thing… “But the crown hasn’t come,” Mitchell says. “I haven’t received anything. Nothing. I’m really quite shocked and appalled by that, actually.” You can hear the mirth in his voice. “I didn’t even know Rolling Stone readers knew who I was. I’m surprised because they never asked me for an interview, but after my manager told me about it I thought they’d at least send me a copy of the magazine in place of a crown.”

He’s not going out of his way to make a big thing of it. “I haven’t mentioned it to [ Jebediah and they haven’t mentioned it to me. There’s some things have to just go unspoken, alright. Me winning the best male artist for Rolling Stone is something I don’t think they know about and, I suspect if they do, they’re not going to mention it. They don’t want my head to get that big.”

What’s big is the amount of penis enlargement spam hitting his Bob Evans’ MySpace site. “It all comes from America. It’s just given me another reason to hate America, like I needed any more, but now there’s these fucking penis enlargement adds. I’m fucking sick of it. Every day I’m deleting these comments and it’s the same ones every single time.”

The rest of his life seems pretty good, with Suburban Songbook being short listed for AMP (Australian Music Prize) and a J Award Nominee, he’s now taking the Songbook on the road. The Sadness and Whiskey tour is literally going all over Australia with so many stops it hurts your head to look at.

“I think there’s only one place I’ve never been too on this tour before, and that’s Bernie in Tasmania. I’ve never been to Bernie, but with Jebediah I’ve pretty much been to every other place.”

If Suburban Kid, his first release under the Bob Evans name, was quoted as being inspired by the sexual frustration from his misses being away, then Suburban Songbook is about love. If it were a picture he says, as opposed to a landscape, he sees it as a skyscape. “It’s a really light blue sky, that Australian summer washed out blue with a few fluffy white clouds.”

So we’ve got Suburban Kid and Suburban Songbook, what’s next? Anyone could guess that his next album is going to have the word Suburban in its title. Suburban Bible, perhaps? He laughs, “Yeah, it might be called the suburban enlightenment, which will be the final part of the trilogy.” Or possibly a Suburban Jedi.

Songbook was produced in Nashville, USA by Brad Jones (Josh Rouse, Yo La Tengo, Sheryl Crow, Jill Sobule) and Mitchell would love the opportunity to go back. “It’s the first time ever I’ve experienced making a record and I’ve wanted to exactly the same all over again,” he says. “Every time with Jebediah, we’ve had a different producer and worked in a different studio and we’ve always wanted to things differently, but this time I want to repeat the whole process over gain because it was that good.”

The sound is good too and features drums by Ken Coomer (ex Wilco) and there are some parts on the album that have a beautifully layered quality that you could imagine would be quite complicated and difficult to replicate in a live performance. You can’t help wondering if he’s going to be up to this on the tour.

“Live is really a different beast, but I’ve always kind of liked that, you know?” he says. “Because in some ways I’m always disappointed when I’ve gone to see a band sounds exactly like the record. It just gets a bit boring when it sounds too perfect. I’ve always dug bands that when you hear them live, you hear all the songs you know and love from the record, but they’ve either done them in a raw kind of way or they’ve messed with the arrangements.

“So with the band I’m touring with it’s going to be a rock and roll version of the record.”

Suburban Songbook is out now, catch Bob Evans on his Sadness and Whiskey tour at the venues here.

Olvis, a Tale of Icelandic Myths & Bravado

My article published by Fasterlouder

“Reykjavik [the capital] is the most isolated ignorant polluted place on the earth. It’s dark here in the winter time, like England, dark and windy and cold.”



Olvis (pronounced ‘Elvis’) is another musician to come out of Iceland with a unique sound. He’s just released his third album, Bravado which features guest performances from members of Sigur Ros, and it’s getting lots of positive attention in the media with comparisons being made to Boards of Canada, Tortoise, Mogwai, and Mercury Rev. Tom Norton (aka Chicken Cheese) talks to Olvis about his music and the myths.

When Olvis (his real name being Orlygur Thor Orlygsson) comes on the phone, his accent as thick as a Vikings and full of warmth. We get chatting about Iceland, a place that’s given us Bjork and Sigur Ros, and how it seems like an endless source of the unique and beautiful. “That’s a myth!” he states, “Reykjavik [the capital] is the most isolated ignorant polluted place on the earth. It’s dark here in the winter time, like England, dark and windy and cold.”

Despite these environmental factors Bravado is being acclaimed in music mags and newspapers around the world. Everyone is saying things like… ‘Olvis is the future of post-modern music’ and ‘Bravado is a landmark album that opens up a new door of post-rock opportunity to electro-pop.’

Olvis laughs. “I would like to meet that guy [who wrote that] and ask him what the fuck are you talking about?” He describes his music own music as…. ‘You know the movie, 2001: A Space Odyssey? You know the scene where he is going into Jupiter with the weird colours? Just like that.’

Bravado has been self produced, which Olvis is adamant about continuing to do. His previous two records were also self-produced. “If you can’t do it and you’re going to get someone else to do the work for it, it doesn’t happen somehow. It takes a lot longer to get it right. [Each album] takes me about twelve months to write and produce.” He goes on to say, it takes time because it’s like writing a novel or doing a masters at university.

It’s worked. If you like ambient, sound-scape or the flavour of something unique in your ears, have a listen to Bravado. It’s also packed with loads of guests from the Icelandic talent pool, including the members of Sigur Ros.

“I know a lot of musicians. So after I made my first record I thought why not get other people to play on my records and just be crazy?”

The guys from Sigur Ros are old friends and were happy to help out. “I’ve know them since I was like seventeen or something. Orri, the drummer, [and I] recorded together back in ‘97 when I was like 18 or 17 or something. And Jonsi, the singer in Sigur Ros, he recorded the songs. That’s a historical fact, ok?”

Resonant, his European label has said Bravado’s theme is ‘disillusionment with global capitalism and US hegemony.’ He laughs at this. “I know it sounds tragic, but I didn’t write it. [The album] is basically talking of the corrupted evil bastards in America…the Baptists, the Evangelists that believe Armageddon is near and Jesus Christ is coming again. They’re like small little babies and they control the world. That’s just evil and not right. And it’s about time Europe stands up to those fuckers, and Australia and New Zealand and China stands up too. In my opinion, the world should unite against those fuckers because everything that is wrong with the world is because of those guys.”

The lyrics are sung in Icelandic and though it’s certainly not essential to understand them to enjoy the album, you have to wonder what they mean.

“There’s a track called Go Ape. It’s about apes in the forest, and there’s the president… it’s all um… metaphorical. I think that’s the word for it. I’m just piecing together, I write the music, record it and let it roll. I just say anything. You ask me to describe it and I’ve no idea what it is. It’s like poems, you know?”

So how would he describe himself? ‘I’m kind of like a Serge Gainsbourg type.’ (Gainsbourg was known for his varied and individual style which made him difficult to pigeon-hole.)

Listen to him here

The Gypsy Secrets of the Gogol Bordello

My article originally published by Fasterlouder



When Eugene Hutz, frontman of Gogol Bordello comes on the phone, his English thickened by a strong Ukrainian accent – there is no mistaking the vocalist’s excitement about his band’s upcoming trip to Austaralia. ”One of my favourite bands is from [Australia], the Birthday Party.”

The tour will mark the legendary gypsy punk outfits’ first journey to the land downunder where they will hit the road with Flogging Molly as well as playing at Great Escape. Hutz is already a big fan of Oz, apart from the aforementioned affection for the Birthday Party, Hutz has another Australian connection:

“In fact, I have a very good Australian in studio with me now,” states Hutz in his roundabout English. ”He is producing our new album, Victor Van Vugt. You should know him. He is a very important man. He produced Birthday Party and PJ [Harvey]. The album will be out in summer.” or that is, Australia’s winter.

Gogol Bordello’s previous album, Gypsy Punk: Underdog World Strike can be described as an album that’s captured the driving energy of gypsy music and twisted it into punk. It can force its listener to stand and dance, preferably with a strong drink in their hand; it takes tradition Eastern European sounds and makes them punk using fiddle, accordion and the more traditional punk tools of electric guitars and drums. Understandably, that album was well received and part of its success could be attributed to its producer, Steve Albini (Nirvana and Bush).

Eugene explained that while Albini had done an excellent job in reproducing their sound, they weren’t going use him on the new album because Gogol Bordello had already made that album and it was finished. “Now it’s time for a new thing.” The new one being made, he said, has been inspired by therapy for a psychotic state and it would sound and feel “just like that, for the fucking crazy”.

Gogol Bordello’s sound is new, unique and different, a rare thing today, and similarities could be drawn to the Pogues, who mix traditional Irish music with punk, but Eugene is very clear about how he wants his band to be perceived. “I want people to know we are not an art band, or a folkloric band, but a gypsy punk band from New York City playing our own original work- that with all the culture clash we don’t represent anybody but ourselves. It’s our own vision of the socio-political-cultural situation of today.”

The band’s members come from as far apart as Eastern Russia to South America and everybody brings their own sound. Hutz, who comes from the Ukraine, decided he needed to move New York and form a band when he saw Sonic Youth play in Kiev (1988). He knew he needed to be at the source of where that kind of music was coming from. A few years later, when he finally arrived in NYC he immediately formed Gogol Bordello. Only one member of the band is from America. “Because that is what New York is. I do not know anyone who is actually from New York.”

It wasn’t all easy though, Hutz happened to leave Kiev when Chernobyl’s nuclear crisis peaked. It took him seven years to arrive in the US. A positive way he suggested that he might look at this unfortunate situation was that he and his music were lucky enough to come out. He wasn’t aware of the current political debate going on in Australia about nuclear energy, but said nuclear power wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. “Just that is badly used by wrong people”.



According to Hutz you can expect to feel like you’re going to meltdown or explode at the upcoming Great Escape festival though. Gogol Bordello will be doing some new tricks on stage, he said, and have some good secrets in store for their performance. When pressed about what exactly he has planned he answered, “Now what kind of secrets would I have if I was to tell you? Not very good ones, I think.’

He said, their live performances can only be described as wild debauchery on stage. As they pump their gypsy punk sound, even the most conservative crowd feels their energy and is forced to dance. Hutz is the Pied Piper, singing in both English and Ukrainian, and leads the crowd into what many have described as a massive frenzied orgasm.

Eugene laughs. ‘Yes, they go absolutely crazy for it.”

Listen to them here

The end of a TV Show - In the RAW

"The most retarded show on earth"

The Show ends here! In the RAW, what we've been making is coming to a close after our 2^nd season and we're proud of the effort we've put in. We're even getting fan mail, I may have told you about that, but the thing is with fan mail is that it's a fifty-fifty thing, because you also get hate-mail. It's some weird ratio that comes down from the cosmos and it says for every bit of praise you receive, you must also get a slap.

Kiss, slap, kiss, slap.

But the slaps are the stuff that really get me going, because, I don't know, maybe I'm a sadist, but I find it amazing that people feel so affected by something we made that they feel the need to let us know about it. I'm completely stoked 'cos I don't reckon I've ever felt that way about anything I seen, read, or even heard. Don't get me wrong though, there has been loads of shit that I have thought was just that, shit, and still do (and then I probably do think 'that's total crap' all too frequently about new things I am exposed to) but I'd only give my mates a blast about it over a beer or something. To be motivated enough to write to the makers of it would take some serious change to my spiritual self, because I reckon I (and most of the folks I know) clearly fall into the category of, 'Could not be fucked!'

Fan mail is the same, yet another breed altogether.

So as you can see, I am fascinated by these people, but it's also making me completely narcissistic. My ego is going on rampages renovating my mind with arrogance. It's insane. I have this addiction to checking our website stats every morning. It gives you a breakdown of each day, (with bar graphs!) and then level of detail goes more indepth with an hour by hour breakdown. I love it! You can tell if more people checked out the site after the show has run on TV pr not. Sandy sees me doing this, rolls her eyes and hands me a coffee, and says, 'You're a loser.'

So I guess she has kept me partially in touch with reality.

But thank Christ the ride is nearing an end, because the amount of work and effort that is required by me and Sandy to put into it is insane. We have to schedule the interviews, set up the set, film, direct, do lights, sound and edit and deliver the show to the station and then put it all up on the Net. It's bloody exhausting, because then we have to go to work our day jobs as well because there's no financial return on it.

It does crazy things to your head as well, like you know how when one of your mates has a baby, and every conversation you have with them becomes a discussion about the baby, because its understandably the biggest it's the biggest thing going on in their world and they say things to you like, 'He's doing solid poos now.'

How can you react? 'Umm....Yeah nice, me too.'

Well its just like that because its all me and Sandy talk about. Not that our baby is doing solid number twos, not yet, but it's doing better than crawling.

And in a way, there's going to be a lot sadness and grief when we have to put our baby in the coffin and bury it, because we have really built it up, but in the same way I'm going to be glad to rid of the little attention absorbing bastard. I want my life back! I wanna get back into other stuff, like writing.

So merry Christmas, happy new year and all the bessings and trimmings that go with the jolly season.

End of ''In The RAW'' and sick!

So Merry Xmas and hope you've had sorted new years too. So the jolly season over here is time to be out in the sun, on the beach soaking it up, swimming, and generally running amok. But the weather is crap at the moment, it's averaging at around 23 degrees. We're almost having a European white xmas. And to top it off, the weather's caused Sandy and I to be as sick as dogs on a diet of snot, flem, and mucus these last couple of days. You know, how you feel when you swallow too much snot when you're sick and it all sits in your stomach waiting to come out the other end?

So me and Sandy have been lying next each other in bed, with snot filled faces that feel like they are going to slide right off with the next blow, saying to each other, 'Zerry Zismas, zaby. Pass me another tissue?'

Apart from being sick though, things are pretty cool. The show we're making is coming to a close after our 2nd season and we're proud of the effort we've put in. We're even getting fan mail, I may have told you about that, but the thing is with fan mail is that it's a fifty-fifty thing, because you also get hate-mail. It's some weird ratio that comes down from the cosmos and it says for every bit of praise you receive, you must also get a slap.

Kiss, slap, kiss, slap.

But the slaps are the stuff that really get me going, because, I don't know, maybe I'm a sadist, but I find it amazing that people feel so affected by something we made that they feel the need to let us know about it. I'm completely stoked 'cos I don't reckon I've ever felt that way about anything I seen, read, or even heard. Don't get me wrong though, there has been loads of shit that I have thought was just that, shit, and still do (and then I probably do think 'that's total crap' all too frequently about new things I am exposed to) but I'd only give my mates a blast about it over a beer or something. To be motivated enough to write to the makers of it would take some serious change to my spiritual self, because I reckon I (and most of the folks I know) clearly fall into the category of, 'Could not be fucked!'

Fan mail is the same, yet another breed altogether.

So as you can see, I am fascinated by these people, but it's also making me completely narcissistic. My ego is going on rampages renovating my mind with arrogance. It's insane. I have this addiction to checking our website stats every morning. It gives you a breakdown of each day, (with bar graphs!) and then level of detail goes more indepth with an hour by hour breakdown. I love it! You can tell if more people checked out the site after the show has run on TV pr not. Sandy sees me doing this, rolls her eyes and hands me a coffee, and says, 'You're a loser.'

So I guess she has kept me partially in touch with reality.

But thank Christ the ride is nearing an end, because the amount of work and effort that is required by me and Sandy to put into it is insane. We have to schedule the interviews, set up the set, film, direct, do lights, sound and edit and deliver the show to the station and then put it all up on the Net. It's bloody exhausting, because then we have to go to work our day jobs as well because there's no financial return on it.

It does crazy things to your head as well, like you know how when one of your mates has a baby, and every conversation you have with them becomes a discussion about the baby, because its understandably the biggest it's the biggest thing going on in their world and they say things to you like, 'He's doing solid poos now.'

How can you react? 'Umm....Yeah nice, me too.'

Well its just like that because its all me and Sandy talk about. Not that our baby is doing solid number twos, not yet, but it's doing better than crawling.

And in a way, there's going to be a lot sadness and grief when we have to put our baby in the coffin and bury it, because we have really built it up, but in the same way I'm going to be glad to rid of the little attention absorbing bastard. I want my life back! I wanna get back into other stuff, like writing.
So merry Christmas, happy new year and all the bessings and trimmings that go with the jolly season. I hope Santa's been good to you this year and I know i have been pretty crap on the email and the contact last year, but i'm hoping that is all going to change soon. The only project i have for myself next year is Spanish lessons for when we head back to Europe mid-year. That is, after a big stop over in Cambodia to sit on the beach for a few weeks on the way.

Was God a suicide bomber?

I was thinking about the way of the world, you know, the usual questions of why we are here? How did it all begin? etc...

Well, you have too, everybody does sometimes.

But let me try to explain my thoughts. In the beginning the creator did some creating. Well, there's many theories on what happened after this, both in science and religion, but there's basically two on how it all came about. You know, the big bang and the creationist theory that it took the big guy a couple of days.

What is the difference really between a big bang and an Old Bearded One clicking his fingers?

Bang!
Click!

You see that. They're pretty similar.

Bang!
Click!

Is everybody missing something? Does it matter if it's bang or click. For Christ's sake, they're the same.

And old Nietzsche, the philosopher with his idea that God is dead. The guy that the band Nine Inch Nails ripped off. Well, he was right too. Everybody's right.

Here's my reason.

One day in the nothingness before space existed, God decided he's had enough of this nothingness shit and thinks he's gonna do himself a favour and end it all. For fuck sake, who's can he talk to about his problems, his loneliness. He'd be going mental in the silence. He can't very well call life line. And can you imagine if he did.

[GOD'S DESPERATE VOICE]
'Hi, my name's God and I'm having thoughts of harming myself. Things are just getting too big for me, I can't take it anymore.'

The guy, on the other end of the phone, scratches his head and refers to his notes. 'Yeah man, I've been there. But I can tell you, I know what you're going through. You're thinking, no one knows what it's like to be God. But friend, I do. You can talk to me, we're brothers.'

'Horse shit!' God slams down the phone and goes back to his brooding, because ultimately he's omniscient and knows that bloke's feeding him a load of crap before he's even said it.

So in the emptiness of nothing He decides to do himself in and straps a bunch of explosives to his chest and pushes the detonator.

God was a suicide bomber. Bing Bang! Nietzsche was right, God is dead, and he went with a one hell of big bang.