Original photo: Jhonny Russell / handmade collage by B
Following the release of their debut LP Judgement Day in November 2023, Melbourne/Naarm five-piece The Judges have kept the momentum rolling with their Guns 7”—a two-track release that captures the band’s sharp rock‘n’roll. Gimmie caught up with frontman Sam Hill to talk about skate vids, cooking, the crazy world we live in, and of new music on the horizon.
Who or what made you fall in love with music?
SAM: Skate video soundtracks, I guess. That’s where I first heard The Stooges and Bowie and the Velvets and all that. And then “punk rock” – probably largely because of the fashion and the incredibly naive attitude, which is quite appealing when you’re young. But even before that I would tape songs off the radio and stuff, so I guess there was always music around!
Photo: Jhonny Russell
Are you working on new songs or ideas that you’re excited about?
SAM: Yeah! Always working on stuff to some degree. Tinkering. With The Judges, with other groups, solo. The second Judges LP has been recorded for a minute now, we just gotta tweak it and polish it up and everything.
Photo: Jhonny Russell
What’s something you care about deeply that might not necessarily show up in your songs?
SAM: Food. I don’t think any of the songs are about food? I like cooking and you gotta eat. Good meals are important. Especially eating them with friends. Celebrate all occasions. Oh and we gotta save our oceans.
Photo: Jhonny Russell
Which song do you like playing live the most and why?
SAM: I like playing them all. They usually all sound great, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes I forget the words and mumble. But it’s not really even about the music. It’s just fun to make noise. It’s a spectacle.
What’s your biggest non-musical obsession right now?
SAM: Aw man, I don’t know. I follow a lot of total psychos on Instagram that are pretty entertaining to keep up with. World War Three is pretty interesting so far. That and the convergence of “artificial intelligence” and religion and all the UFO bullshit. Things are getting weirder every day. Buckle up!
Original photo: Larisa Papamanos / handmade collage by B
Melbourne/Naarm outfit Krakatau are playing this year’s JERKFEST. They have spent the past decade carving out a distinct space where jazz fusion, progressive rock and left-field experimentation collide. Formed by James Tom and Dylan Lieberman, the band’s sound has evolved from psychedelic roots into long-form, exploratory compositions that feel both deeply referential and unmistakably modern. With a new LP Terra Ignota on the horizon, Gimmie caught up with Tom to talk, instrumental storytelling, film obsessions and the challenge of making sense of an always-on world.
Who or what made you fall in love with music?
JAMES: The first song I fell in love with at a young age was ‘Hit the Road Jack’ by Ray Charles. I can’t recall why exactly, my guess is the immediacy of good songwriting!
Are you working on new songs or ideas that you’re excited about?
JAMES: We have a forthcoming full length LP Terra Ignota coming out in May 2026 (which captures the long period between releases) and a few tunes that are in different stages of completion we have not yet recorded.
What’s something you care about deeply that might not necessarily show up in your songs?
JAMES: I don’t necessarily think any of what we care about as social issues really show up in direct ways in our music. These can be harder themes to express directly with instrumental music, but I would say the main thing I have been thinking about the past few years is the fractured experience of being connected to a mass of decentralised information and how I do not think humans are meant to be connected in this way at all times.
Which song do you like playing live the most and why?
JAMES: We are playing some fun material written by artists we look up to and interchange this material between our own compositions. For example ‘Madagascar’ written by Richie Beirach (RIP 26.01.2026) for the John Abercrombie Quartet and their 1980 LP originally released on ECM Records has been a lot of fun.
What’s your biggest non-musical obsession right now?
JAMES: I mean my second most consuming hobby has always been watching films. Some note worthy watches the last three months include: The Ice Storm (1997), The Long Good Friday (1980), Let It Ride (1989), The 4th Man (1983), Spetters (1980), Short Eyes (1977), Dreams (1990) & Shoot the Moon (1982).
Original photo: Jenna Beasley / handmade collage by B
Whether he’s fronting Institute, drumming in Glue or recording solo as Peace de Résistance, Moses Brown is always chasing the next creative idea. In this conversation the New York-based musician talks to Gimmie about skateboarding, Dada art, the Austin punk scene, writing songs under pressure, the new Institute’s 7-inch release on Anti Fade Records, his solo works, and of another project that’s so new it doesn’t have a name yet.
MOSES BROWN: I just got home from work. It snowed 18 inches two days ago. So it’s been kind of nasty here. I like being outside. Even if you’re in the city, you want to go hang out at the parks and do fun stuff.
Is that your bicycle behind you?
MB: Yeah. I usually ride to work because it’s so much faster, and it’s nice.
What do you do for work?
MB: I work at a gallery, I’m an art handler.
Cool. You do all the art for your band, Institute. Has art always been a big part of your life?
MB: Not really. I’ve never really done visual art, except for bands. I used to do scenic painting and set design stuff in college. Then got into working in galleries through that.
I know your inspired by the Dada movement.
MB: Totally. You go back and look at some of that stuff and it’s obvious when you see the Sex Pistols and early punk culture pulling from it; their attitude on the world. Dada and Fluxus—it’s a very punk attitude. It looks so good too.
For Institute stuff, I would pull from this guy, Kurt Schwitters. Go look at old Kurt Schwitters stuff, it looks like a punk tape, it’s crazy.
We’re big fans of Dada too!
MB: I need to dive back in. Now that I’ve lived here in New York, I’ve been more into Fluxus stuff, which I would argue, is the continuation of Dada.
The anti-authoritarian stance, the challenging of traditional values, the humour and absurdity. And the commentary on what was going on in the world at the time.
MB: Yeah. I’m sure they were kind of going through similar things, right? Fascism.
You’re originally from Texas. What was it like growing up there for you?
MB: All three of us in Institute grew up in Austin. Especially when we were kids, it was much more of a liberal bubble, like a small college town. It kind of insulated us from a lot of the stereotypical Texas. You definitely still had people who were super into football and competitive sports. It definitely had an air of toxic masculine and patriarchy. But Austin was pretty sick, so I can’t complain too much.
What were you into?
MB: Me and Arak [Avakian], and I think everybody in the band, were big into skateboarding. I was probably eight or nine, playing soccer, and then figured out that I could ride a skateboard. I slowly got more skilled at it and would watch all these skate videos.
The Flip Sorry video, was a big one for me. At that time all those guys were rock stars, they were punk. You’d watch and be like, dude, this is I want to do! But I was not good at skateboarding then. But the skateboarding culture that I was exposed to really had a big effect.
One of my favourite skaters was a Flip skater, Geoff Rowley. He co-owned it too.
MB: Yeah. I would like all the music they would skate to. Through skate videos, you would hear The Stooges and Velvet Underground and Sex Pistols and Devo. It was all like a blueprint. This is great.
My dad, he’s a huge music nerd, and I would watch a skate video and be like, Dad, what, what is this? Like, what’s, what is this song? Oh, that’s on the first Stooges record. Okay, can we go get it?
Can you remember one of the first songs you really obsessed over?
MB: As a kid I was obsessed with The Beatles, until I was seven. It was the only thing I listened to. I remember thinking that so many of their songs were about love. I was like, can you write a song that’s not about love? [laughs]. I had a huge poster in my room and would watch the Yellow Submarine movie all the time.
Do you have any brothers or sisters?
MB: I’m an only child. But my dad and my mom were big music heads. So just absorb things from them.
Your dad really loved PiL, right?
MB: Oh yeah. I remember being in fourth grade and bringing a CD player out to my backyard where I had some skate ramps and just blasting Second Edition. I still love it.
But to me now, it’s more adult appreciation of it, and seeing the dub and Can influences in there. Something that I now aspire to do. I’m like, wow, these guys were really doing something.
It’s so funny to think about me being nine and being obsessed with them. Like, what was I getting out of this? [laughs].
I’ve always loved the groove they have, it goes on forever and becomes kind of hypnotic.
MB: Yeah. Obviously with Can, it’s a result of jamming for hours and editing after the fact, which is something that I’ve been trying to do with a new project that I’m working on. It’s been pretty fruitful. You play something for at least 20 to 45 minutes, maybe use three minutes of it.
But you find things after that 20-minute mark that you weren’t expecting to find. I feel like I would grow up and people would be like, “Do you want to jam?” It’s like, no, I don’t want to. I don’t want to just play music to play music. I want to write songs, I want to have something coherent to put forward. And now I’m finding, oh yeah, jamming is extremely productive. You figure out a lot of things.
It’s cool that after being more regimented with song writing you’re now more open to jamming and enjoying it. There’s a lot of different ways to make stuff and it’s good to try new ones, it keeps things interesting.
MB: Yeah, it’s been nice. If I kept trying to write songs the other way, like I have been forever, you start to hit a brick wall and it’s not fun and you’re just going to get angry.
Totally. The new project you’re talking about, is it something other than Peace de Résistance or the Moses Brown stuff?
MB: Yeah, something totally new. My friend has a studio. He’s recording a new Peace… record. But then on top of that, me and a handful of friends have been going in there and jamming. Just pressing record and seeing what happens. Nobody’s in a rush. We know we won’t play a show so it’s like, dude, we can take as much time as we want to.
Does it have a name yet?
MB: No, we haven’t figured that out. We’re slowly getting artwork figured out. We don’t know exactly what we’re going to do. It’s too amorphous to really give a solid answer right now.
Photo: courtesy of Anti Fade
I was reading an interview with Arak and he mentioned that when you guys were young, your dad had a little studio and with sick gear that you could use.
MB: He was a songwriter and made a handful of tapes in the ’90s. The house we lived in originally had a laundry room that he used as his studio. I remember being four or five and him closing the laundry room door while I heard him playing music in there.
Eventually, he wanted to build a kind of shed out the back in our backyard. He set it up as a studio for himself, but then he got too busy and developed carpal tunnel in his hands, so he had to stop playing guitar.
I’m sure that, in the back of his mind, he was thinking, If I leave this here, the kids are going to use it. And we certainly did. So many of those Austin bands wouldn’t have started if it wasn’t for him building that.
Wow. Your dad sounds like he’s pretty cool.
MB: Yeah. If you were in a band with me, you had a place that you could practice and didn’t have to worry about paying or having gear. So it was huge.
It’s nice that you a Arak have known each other since you were 10.
MB: We’ve been friends for probably 21 years now, 22 maybe.
Do you remember your first impression of him?
MB: Totally. We were at a skateboard camp and he was trying really hard. I thought he was super cool. I felt like he was a skater, but I could also tell he was a rocker, and I remember thinking, this guy seems very cool.
I had other friends who skated, but they didn’t take it that seriously. He was in a similar skill range to me and took it as seriously as I did. I remember thinking, I want to get to know this guy.
We met at skate camp and then, about a year later, found out we were going to the same middle school. That’s when we really became friends.
I don’t know many people who have friends with decades long history together. That’s really lovely.
MB: Yeah. I got a couple of them. It’s awesome. Dude, so many people I went to school with, from elementary through high school, also ended up moving here and getting involved in music and the arts. It feels like our little corner of Austin produced a lot of like-minded people who stayed in touch.
Arak said that he’d like to go out late and break into abandon buildings and things like that. But then you’d be more of a good kid and be like, I’m going home to get up early tomorrow. You guys seem a bit opposite.
MB: Yeah. He’s a boundary pusher and I’m a respect-the-line guy. He’s more whimsical and careless and I have so much crippling fear. Like, no, we can’t do that. I’ve been working on it and trying to cut myself more slack and being open to not having so much control. That’s a lot of what’s happening there with the fear.
Previously, you’ve talked about not letting yourself have much fun when you were younger. But I noticed that when we started the conversation, you were bummed out because of all the snow and not being able to go outside to have fun. I thought, that’s nice that you’re open to fun now.
MB: Yeah, I am. When I was younger, I used to impose these imaginary rules on myself. I’d do things in such a structured way that, looking back now, I’m like, what was I doing?
I was about thirteen and would wake up at eight in the morning on a Saturday, ride my bike to the skate park, and skate by myself for as long as I could until someone else showed up. Then I’d go back home. Why did I feel like I needed to do that? I could have been doing what everyone else was doing — smoking weed, sleeping over at friends’ houses — and honestly, that probably would have been sick.
The first band you had was called Lemonade Sten Syndicate, and your influences were The Hives and Dead Kennedys. That’s a pretty fun combo.
MB: Yeah, the band was actually pretty good for a middle school band.
In the old photo you used for the cover of your solo Stone Upon Stone album where you’re working on the house you grew up in, I saw that you’re wearing a Distillers shirt!
MB: That’s what I was all about. Skateboarding and Distillers shirts [laughs]. I was like—this is my shit.
Stone Upon Stone was an interesting record. The idea was sparked from a novel [Wiesław Myśliwski’s novel of the same name] that you read? You wanted to soundtrack it?
MB: That was the initial idea. I was working on these songs, and they were quite repetitive but carried a lot of emotional weight. I started thinking that this style of music is often presented as a soundtrack to something (not always, but frequently) and it felt like a good way to frame the project.
Before the writing was finished, I decided to try making more songs and turn it into a soundtrack for something like a book or a movie. That idea was mostly inspired by talking to Owen from Straw Man Army, since they’d done their own score.
At first, I tried doing it for the book, but it didn’t really work. It was too hard to reread a book with the mindset of scoring it. You end up reading while constantly making notes like, oh, this could be a song… this could be a song, and I realised that’s not how I want to read. It felt frustrating.
So I decided it needed to be something from my own life, something more personal. That’s when I came up with the idea of making it a soundtrack to the construction of the house I grew up in, and that ended up fitting really well.
Do each of the musical projects you do fit a different function for you?
MB: Yeah, totally it’s all different parts of my musical brain.
What about Glue?
MB: I don’t know how to write a Glue song. I know how to write a Glue drum part. Glue is just fun. I’m just me, playing. Drumming is a whole other section that definitely is an identity that is doing something for me. It satisfies the drummer thing.
They often say the drummer is the heartbeat of the band, right?
MB: I think so. Bass and drums hold it down.
The engine that drives things. What about Institute?
MB: Institute is great because I grew up doing so much punk music. Institute is the band where I get to create, sing and write music that probably has the most relevance to my 18-year-old self. I don’t think my 18-year-old self would really care about Peace de Résistance or the more recent Moses Brown records. So it’s cool to do something for that guy.
When you started Institute, you were recording on a 4-track. Were you writing all the songs initially?
MB: Me and Adam [Cahoon] wrote all of the songs on the Demo. I was using a 4-track to demo the songs. But then what’s on the Demo, our friend Hans recorded it on quarter-inch or half-inch tape. I never liked using the 4-track, it was hard to use.
The lyrics that you write move between, social critique and more inward-looking stuff. Is songwriting ever a challenge for you?
MB: Totally. I have to write lyrics for this new Peace… record. It’s taking a long time. It’s a little like pulling teeth. I’m not somebody who naturally writes a bunch of stuff. I’m writing words down on paper because I have to.
Institute was the first time I started a band and thought, this is it. I’m going to sing and write the lyrics. For years I was like, I don’t want to do that. That’s crazy. It sounds hard and scary.
What helped you overcome the scariness?
MB: I was not very excited to record and sing, I just did it.
Your live shows, I’ve seen in online vids, look pretty exciting!
MB: Oh, totally. Institute was a punk, kind of post-punk, anarcho rock band, but we were playing in Austin, which at that time was really dominated by hardcore. There were all these hardcore bands from North Texas coming through, so we ended up playing with a lot of hardcore bands. It was really funny.
All these kids in tall tees and Jordans were coming to the shows, and they were totally into it. When you look back now at some of those line-ups, it’s wild. It’d be Institute with Power Trip, Wiccans, Glue. It’s funny that we were so well accepted by that crowd.
Obviously a lot of us had played in hardcore bands before, so people were like, “Oh, those guys are doing this preachy band now.” But when Giddy Boys started happening, people were kind of like, “Okay… this is interesting.” And honestly, I’m here for it.
Cody and Harris from Glue, are more well-versed in hardcore. I feel like I absorbed some things about it from playing in Glue. But I did not grow up going to hardcore shows. I didn’t know who integrity or SSD or Antidote or anybody was until meeting those guys. I was doing my own thing.
Institute have an Australian only release on Anti Fade for your tour here. What inspired that collection of songs? The songs seems connected in a way.
MB: We were coming over and planning to just bring copies of the last record with us. Christina, who is helping book the shows, and Billy from Anti Fade were like, “It would be sick if you guys had a physical release to coincide with the tour.”
And I was like, okay… you’re kind of asking me to move mountains here [laughs]. Getting even one song out of this band is hard because everyone’s in different places. We can’t practice together and writing music from a distance is difficult. So I was like, I don’t know.
But that weekend I thought, okay, let me try to write a song. I wrote ‘The Shooter’ and texted it to Adam. Me and him are kind of the two guys who bring in the skeletons of songs, so I asked him, “Do you have any skeletons lying around?”
He sent me what became ‘Privilege’, and I was like, dude, this is great. Suddenly we had two songs and I liked them. Then I remembered this other funky jam I’d done in a practice space with Owen [D4MT Labs], and I thought, I’m pretty sure this could be an Institute song too. So we just smashed that in there.
We basically had these skeletons of songs, and then we showed up to record them. Nobody knew any parts. We had to learn them and record them on the same day, and write a bunch of parts as we went.
It was this burst of madness. The guys flew in, we had one day to write and record a 7-inch, and we also had to practice the set we were playing the next day.
Lyrically it was the same thing. Total pressure cooker. I was like, dude, I need to write some lyrics right now. I needed them yesterday.
And honestly, we’re just so consumed with political madness here that I thought, you know what, I’m sorry if everyone’s already bombarded with this stuff every day, but that’s what I’ve got. That’s what I’m thinking about. That’s what’s on my mind.
When you write lyrics, do you hand write them or do you type them on your phone or computer?
MB: I’m doing it in a Word document on my computer. I’ve handwritten other ones.
You mentioned you were working on a new Peace record right now; what themes are you exploring lyrically?
MB: I’m trying to get more okay with things being a bit vague, with them making sense to me but maybe not to other people. I feel like the past couple of records have been all about very clear, concise message delivery. Right now I’m just like, dude, I don’t have it in me.
Peace de Résistance started during the pandemic.
MB: It started because I had this idea to do a band that was a combo of Templars and Chrissy Zebby Tembo. I felt like there was some crossover there that needed to be explored. That was the first idea.
But then people were like, “This kind of sounds like The Velvet Underground.” And I thought, okay, I want to try that now. That’s basically what led to the first LP.
For Peace you usually play all the instruments on the recording…
MB: On the new one that I’m working on that’s not the case but traditionally, yeah.
Is there an instrument that you feel particularly at home with?
MB: Playing bass is pretty comfortable. Guitar is fun, but my hands just… I don’t know. They don’t really know how to do things the right way, and I run into a lot of problems because of that.
With bass, you don’t have to worry about what your hands are doing as much. You’re mostly just using a finger or two.
And then drums were the first instrument I learned how to play, so I feel pretty at home with that. But I need to work on expanding my boundaries with the drums because, at this point, it’s become a pretty mundane instrument for me to play.
I’m like, dude, I don’t even know how long I’ve been doing this for. Maybe I need to make some kind of avant-jazz drum album or something just to get excited about it again.
That’d be cool. I read that Madonna’s ‘Ray Of Light’ was an inspiration.
MB: Oh god, I love that song, yeah.
I love it too. It’s one of my fav Madonna records. Have you heard the original song from where ‘Ray Of Light’ comes from?
MB: No.
Curtiss Maldoon, an English folk duo released the song ‘Sepheryn’ in, maybe, 1971.
MB: Interesting. I’ll check it out.
Why doesn’t Peace do shows?
MB: Being in Institute and Glue is enough for me. That scratches the itch of playing live. And honestly, half the fun of doing Peace songs is that I don’t have to figure out how to play them live.
The madness of trying to translate them into a live band just doesn’t sound like fun. I feel like I’d be pulling my hair out, and who knows if they’d even sound good with a full band.
I imagine it would just be me in a room with five people who’ve dedicated a lot of time to it, trying things out. We’d spend two hours learning a song, and at the end I’d be like, “You know what? Sorry, we’re not going to play this one. It doesn’t sound good.”
It’s just not a record that was written with live performance in mind. I mean, maybe at some point it could be fun to try, but I don’t really need that to happen right now.
What are the things that matter to you creatively?
MB: Doing new things. There’s a song on the new Peace thing I’m working on that sounds exactly like what you’d expect a Peace song to sound like. And I’m like, dude, I should probably cut this one. Why do another song that just sounds like the band already sounds? Let me try something new. Otherwise it’s boring. I’m always trying to push the boundaries.
Is there anything that you haven’t done yet that you would just love to try?
MB: Musically or anything?
Anything, it doesn’t have to be music-related.
MB: Oh my god, so much stuff. I like to play this game where I ask people: if you had to work 40 hours a week, but you could spend those 40 hours doing anything you wanted, what would it be?
People usually say things like gardening, or something quiet like that. But for me, I just want to try new activities. I want to go mountain biking. I want to do oil painting. I want to jump off a skyscraper with a parachute.
Honestly, I think everything is valid.
Photo: courtesy of Anti Fade
Yep. Have you been reading anything interesting lately?
MB: Right now I’m reading Sergio De La Pava. The book’s called A Naked Singularity. It’s good. It’s this kind of weird postmodern novel.
De La Pava was a public defender in New York City, and the book really throws you into that world. Sometimes it’s conversations between characters, but a lot of it reads almost like raw court transcripts. You’re just dropped straight into the madness of being a public defender in New York City.
That sounds fascinating. What’s a book that’s had a real big impact on you?
MB: My partner wanted to read a fiction book because she’d mostly been reading nonfiction. She asked me, “What should I read?”
And I was like, you have to read The Melancholy of Resistance by László Krasznahorkai. When I read that book I just thought, this is it. This is what I want a novel to do.
People in the literary world always call him the master of the apocalypse, and honestly I kind of agree. His books always feel like something terrible is about to happen, and everyone is scrambling to take stock of their lives. They’re interacting with each other in the middle of this vague crisis, and nobody really knows what’s going on.
In that book, a travelling circus brings a giant taxidermied whale into town, and somehow that triggers what feels like the end of the world. It sounds crazy, but it’s incredible.
You’ve totally sold me. I’m gonna go find a copy of it.
MB: You should definitely read it. It’s awesome.
What pushed you towards living in New York?
MB: I’d visited here when I was a teenager and thought it was cool. Then I came back again as more of an adult and started meeting people. I realised, oh, I could actually live here.
From a work perspective it made sense too. In Austin I was working at galleries and museums, but there were maybe three places you could really work. Here there are hundreds.
So I thought, I could move here and actually make a living doing the same kind of work. It suddenly felt feasible.
If I’d been like, “I’m going to move to Portland and figure it out,” I probably wouldn’t have done it, because I’d have no idea what I’d do there. But here it felt like, okay, boom, you’re good to go.
Do you like your work that you do?
MB: I do like it, yeah. A lot of music people I know do it too. It’s actually great for creative people who need something semi-interesting to do that isn’t, coding or something. You’re working with your hands, you have to do a bit of math, and you’re constantly figuring things out.
A lot of the job is like, “Okay, how do we build a box for this sculpture that’s a giant snail?” You’re just solving problems like that all day.
That sounds so fun. Last question. What’s something lately that’s made you genuinely really happy?
MB: We had two snowstorms back-to-back, about three weeks apart. The first one happened while my partner was out of town, so I had to deal with it by myself. I was basically stuck in the house for a day.
But when the second storm came through she was back, and I was like, “Oh my God, you’re going to be my snow buddy.” We were going to play Overcooked!, read books and take baths. I was really excited to have her home to hunker down in the snow with.
Original photo: Jhonny Russell / handmade collage by B
We first saw Melbourne/Naarm band The Blinds live a few years ago at Nag Nag Nag Fest. Since releasing their self-titled cassette on Alex Macfarlane’s Hobbies Galore in 2017, and 7-inch Endless Fascination in 2022, the band have been building towards their long-awaited debut LP. Gimmie caught up with them ahead of their appearance at JERKFEST this weekend, to talk formative music memories, favourite songs to play live and a few unexpected obsessions.
Who or what made you fall in love with music?
LACH: ‘Getting the band back together’, which was jumping around playing a toy tambo in the loungeroom listening to the Beatles and Stones etc., with my dad after he’d no doubt had a few beers. I was 34.
CAL: Due to my dad being a fan, I loved Cream and idolised Jack Bruce. Other than that, I had a pretty loose grasp on music until Blinds band friend and recorder Alex loaned me 3 CDs every day for the best part of a year and blew my little world right open at the tender age of 16.
RORY: My mum used to buy me the newest So Fresh CDs, and it was then I knew I wanted to play rock and roll.
FUJ: Some definitive memories include listening to solo career Ozzy Osbourne and Dio tapes that belonged to my stepdad and some RATM and TOOL* CDs that Blinds band friend and recorder Alex lent to me in Year 7.
*REDACTED
Original photo: Jhonny Russell / handmade collage by B
Are you working on new songs or ideas that you’re excited about?
LACH: Yes. It’s taken us a long time, but we are like the turtle from The Tortoise and the Hare.
CAL: We’re finally getting ready for the elusive and coveted debut LP, which we’re very excited about!
RORY: I think we’re the most productive we’ve ever been right now, in our own way and by our own definition of productive.
FUJ: Ya! In our 10th year we have started working on a record ;()
Original photo: Jhonny Russell / handmade collage by B
What’s something you care about deeply that might not necessarily show up in your songs?
LACH: Fam & friends and the power of song.
CAL: Dolphins and the number 8.
RORY: A perfectly made tabouli.
FUJ: We are yet to utilise a crumhorn.
Which song do you like playing live the most and why?
LACH: One from our tape ‘Passenger Seat’ because it’s burnt into my skull and good to ease nerves early in a set. Also ‘Hat’.
CAL: ‘Separation Street’ always feels good to play. It’s got a really fun bass line in the chorus that I often use for sound check because it kind of doubles as a nice little warm up.
RORY: I agree with Cal. ‘Separation Street’ has been a long time fave. Especially after introducing the intro on live performances.
FUJ: I like a newer one called ‘Hat’ mostly because it’s called ‘Hat’.
Original photo: Jhonny Russell / handmade collage by B
What’s your biggest non-musical obsession right now?
LACH: This congee I ate in Thailand recently.
CAL: Nasiah Wanganeen-Milera.
RORY: Throwing back oysters at Queen Victoria Market.
FUJ: I’m pretty into the rice cooker that Rory convinced me to purchase.
For Seiji of Guitar Wolf, rock’n’roll isn’t just music—it’s a way of life powered by pure “jet” energy. Since the late ’80s the iconic Japanese band has blasted audiences with their raw sound and wild mythology of motorcycles, leather jackets, wolves and cosmic-inspired rock’n’roll. We caught up with Seiji to talk haunted houses, night skies, beer, and movies.
You were born in Nagasaki. Do you have any memories of growing up there?
SEIJI: Memories? I started the engine of my memory, but my gas tank was filled up in Shimane. Nagasaki is where I was born, but it was the winds of Shimane that forged my soul. That’s where my jet-setting life began.
Previously, you’ve mentioned that if you weren’t a musician, you wanted to be a “haunted house builder”. Why are you drawn to haunted houses?
S: They’re full of surprises that make people say, “Wow!” They’re the best! The thrill of surprising people is the same as rock’n’roll. The basis of entertainment is getting your heart pumping.
Photo: Jhonny Russell
Why is music important to you?
S: Everyone’s trying to achieve the best life possible, right? Everyone wants to present themselves in the coolest light. For me, rock’n’roll is the path that makes me shine the brightest; the path that makes me look the coolest. That’s all there is to it!
When did you decide that rock’n’roll would be your life?
S: It wasn’t a matter of logic, it was the moment my soul screamed, “This is it!” When I found the place where I felt the coolest, my path was set.
How has music supported you through difficult times?
S: Difficulties? Not in my life! There are many people in the world who have it much tougher. My worries are a blessing. I’m sorry, but the word “difficult” is too good for me.
Photo: Jhonny Russell
What have you learned about yourself through years of touring?
S: I can drink a lot of beer! Hahaha! And also… I love cute girls, after all. Isn’t that a universal truth?
Guitar Wolf has a unique world and imagination; where did this creative spirit start for you?
S: It’s the night sky. I love looking up at it and letting all kinds of images flow. Also, the thrill of riding a motorcycle, and the bittersweet memories of my youth. All of those things fuel my imagination.
What themes or emotions were most important while writing your new album More Jet!?
S: Humans are going to die soon anyway. So I just use music that I think is cool and add my own lyrics. There is no fear whatsoever. That is the jet energy of this time.
How do you feel you’ve grown as a songwriter over the years?
S: I think I have acquired the best guitar techniques. Even if I cover a famous song, I’m so bad I can’t hear the song. This is my “ultimate original”!
Photo: Jhonny Russell
We enjoyed Wild Zero. What films do you like most?
S: Back to the Future, Burn Dragon, Grease!—all of them are the best!
Is there anything that people would be surprised about about you?
S: I have wolves in my ancestry! Everyone in Australia, look up at the night sky and wait. Jet! rock’n’roll!
Check out the new album More Jet! Out now via Sorcerer Records (AUS) & Goner (US).
Annabel Blackman, the musical shapeshifter behind weirdo pop project Solo Career and member of Body Type, brings the same curiosity and coolness that defines her debut album Interior Delirium to this eclectic Crafty Cuts selection. Moving between oceanic calm, nostalgic pop reverence and hypnotic ambient drift, her picks reveal a listening world driven by feeling, humour and quiet obsession.
You’ll find a track that channels the cleansing power of a peaceful ocean swim; a song you just may have heard a gazillion times watching Gilmore Girls ; a confidence-boosting pop classic; a spontaneous, funky DIY gem from a friend whose brilliance feels effortless; a soaring spiritual love song from a hook-writing master; an iconic dance-floor hit that sparked a thrift-store pop deep dive; a jam from her favourite LA witch; smooth yacht-rock comfort with an outro built for kitchen bopping + more.
But first, check out the ultra-cool, Solo Career:
Jordan Ireland – Swimming
I live on the South Coast of NSW and often rely heavily on the therapeutic powers of jumping in the ocean. If the conditions are right, and the water’s peaceful and clear, it can really strip you of any ick. This is off Jordan’s ‘Spirit Walking’ album, which is very dear to me on the whole but this track in particular hits me because it somehow summons that power of the mysterious big blue.
2. Carole King – Feeling Sad Tonight
I never intended to get into Carole King, I don’t really know how it happened. I heard that one song on Gilmore Girls too many times and was never interested in listening to any more of her music but something flipped and I found myself listening to her album ‘Rhymes & Reasons’ on repeat. It’s groovy and there might even be bongos in the mix but it’s balanced with darker concerns / Carole wrestling with her troubles. This track has a resigned sense of drama – perfect for driving home from work. Or sitting in your car in the driveway before you go inside.
3. T-Pain – I’m Sprung
I came across T-Pain’s NPR tiny desk performance and it was unexpectedly gut-wrenching. It got me hooked and now I listen to his music cos it pumps me up. The way he got torn down for his pioneering use of auto-tune was brutal (“You ruined music” – Usher) but when I listen to I’m Sprung, Bartender, Buy U a Drank, I smile because no one can deny nor destroy that talent. At work I’m the office DJ and I play a lot of ambient music / Severance vibraphone soundtrack stuff so when that’s over I need to strike out on a firm tangent and T-Pain is the answer.
4. Boba Lego – I Might Dissolve
Rumour has it that Boba Lego aka Occy writes his lyrics on the spot. Whatever he’s channeling speaks to me through its simplicity and sweetness. And I’m kinda obsessed with his guitar manoeuvres but we’re friends so I try not to let the depth of my fandom show. Don’t read this Occy. Anyways this song and this album are hella funky but I recommend listening to Memorys of Newnes too.
5. Todd Rundgren – Healing Pt. 1
Been on a Todd tear for a while now and have yet to listen to everything he’s made cos there’s a lot, but have been particularly enjoying the Hermit of Mink Hollow and Healing, which this song is from. Todd is a pro at writing hooky love and heartbreak songs – it’s almost too easy for him so I think he likes busting out of the conventional hit box and writing soaring songs about spirituality and socioeconomics. He’s coming to Australia for the second year in a row this March so I’m making it my public internet wish that he play this one at the Sydney show.
6. Madonna – Into the Groove
This came on the radio a couple years ago when I was driving and it dawned on me how cool Madonna is, spawning an op shop CD collect-a-thon. At one point I had all Madonna CDs in my car’s 6 stack CD player, a high point in my life. You can’t go past the Immaculate Collection comp if you want a good time on a road trip, or in general. I love Madonna cos she’s outspoken and a self-proclaimed bitch and isn’t a perfect singer.
7. Jessica Pratt – Life Is
When I heard the opening drums to this it blew my mind. They’re a reference to Glen Campbell’s ‘Guess I’m Dumb’ (I’m assuming) which I used to do a silly Solo Career cover of using a ripped youtube instrumental that’s exactly the same as what you hear in the O.G. song. It framed her whole new album ‘Here In the Pitch’ for me as a subtle Hollywood glamour affair. I love how her sound has changed over the last couple of records to accentuate her style without losing the magic of her earlier simple acoustic recordings. She’s my favourite LA witch.
8. SWV – Rain
Just when I thought I’d heard the coolest rain sample on Erika De Casier’s song ‘Little Bit’, I came across this one by SWV which is far more drippy. I used to be scarred by the 90s R’n’B my sister pumped when I was a kid but now I’ve done a 180 flip and can’t get enough. SWV is my fave to cook dinner to and there’s a really good NTS compilation of their hits I like to rinse.
9. Ned Doheny – If You Should Fall
As I’ve said I like groovy stuff and am probably some kind of blue eyed soul yacht rock tragic. I wholeheartedly love the Hard Candy album this song is from so the choice is almost irrelevant cos I just like listening to the whole thing, however the outro on this song deserves an honourable mention for high quality bopping value. Was very excited that Numero Group reissued this record and even more excited to come across it at Northside Records in Melb. Another fave to cook to, good chopping tempos.
10. Blue Divers – Part Way
Bookending this selection with another local coastal, Alec aka the Blue Divers cult leader revels in the powers of ambient guitar loop de loop, and this track is particularly hypnotic. I was lucky enough to be an imposter bean bag shaker on a short Blue Divers tour across New Zealand last year and it was super cool having a break from rock and roll rigmarole. The calmness of the music somehow imbued the whole tour with a sense of calm but maybe it was actually because a certain energetic Joe was running around TMing everything seamlessly.
Original photo: Michael Tyrone Delaney / handmade collage art by B.
Atlanta punk band Upchuck occupy a space where fury meets vulnerability. Known for their explosive live sets and genre-blurring sound, the group have carved out a distinct voice within contemporary punk. Their latest album I’m Nice Now pushes that voice further, exploring grief, identity and unity with biting wit and emotional honesty. Ahead of their first Australian tour and new music, frontperson KT reflects on creative growth and community.
KT: We been busy writing the next album. Trying to spit out what we can and have it done before we go to Australia.
That’s exciting! Your latest album I’m Nice Now was one of my favourite punk records of 2025. What things have you been gravitating towards writing about lately?
KT: I like write to write about whatever I’m feeling at the time. I’m growing as a person, as I should be, it’s shifting along that. Last year was a lot!
The album that came out last year was me in 2024. The one that’s about to come out this time, is even more vulnerable and more emotional.
It seems like everyone I know had a rough year last year.
KT: Exactly. Yeah. It was a lot for me in general. I was busy, we were touring a lot. And then with work and stuff, it’s hard to find a job that will keep me financially ok. Not to mention Trump America is not helping in any way. And just worldwide chaos. It was a lot to soak in, and try to maintain. I feel like it was a lot of chaos in every aspect of my life. I didn’t have it contained, but trying to do better on that this year. This year, I’m locking in.
Why is music important for you?
KT: It’s an expression. It has always been a means of communication in a way. Even before I started making music, it was kind of an escape at times. Depending on what I was listening to, it could also be a source of motivation. It’s shaped who I am today, for sure.
Everything that I’ve absorbed in my lifetime — my mum’s Trini and my dad’s Jamaican. So I grew up listening to soca, reggae and all that other stuff. I think that even shapes what I write about today, because reggae has a lot to do with the punk mentality. But yeah, it’s shaped my character, that’s for sure.
What was your coming of age soundtrack?
KT: Oh geez [laughs]. A mixture — from Chief Keef to The Drums. I was listening to The Drums a lot. What else? I was into Fleet Foxes at one point, Florence and the Machine, and Santigold was up there for me. I was listening to a lot.
Same! I know that you used to play cello. What made you choose that instrument?
KT: Honestly, I didn’t have a choice. My parents definitely just put me in there [laughs]. I feel like they literally heard on NPR one morning, “Kids in orchestra end up smarter and more successful in life.” So they were like, “Oh, shit, yeah, let’s put our kids in orchestra.” Shout out Miss O’Shea, though — she did teach me a lot when it comes to music and discipline and all that other stuff. It definitely helped in its own way, but it was a little too constricting for me at the time. So I had to wean off all the classical shit.
Photo: Ebru Yildiz
Before you were a vocalist, did you ever think of fronting a band one day?
KT: Nah, that definitely wasn’t in my cards. But a lot of shit in my life wasn’t in my cards. Especially at the time, I’d just dropped out of Georgia State because I couldn’t afford my classes and shit. So I was just working and trying to pay rent. I didn’t expect to be where I am today, but I’m not complaining either. Now that I’m here, it feels right.
What were you studying?
KT: I started in public health and then switched to biology, but I was like, I can’t do all that shit [laughs]. So I switched to social entrepreneurship and was like, yeah, I think I could do a nice little nonprofit that could help the community in some ways and give back to the people.
Totally. I feel that. Working in community is important to me too. I work with fellow First Nations and POC writers as a book editor. Being able to help my communities tell our stories in our ways means a lot.
KT: Yeah, that’s nice.
You mentioned that when you write songs they’re about what’s happening for you in real time. Do you ever surprise yourself when you look back at your songs and see your growth is mapped out across Upchuck’s records?
KT: That actually is funny. I definitely surprise myself every time. Even when we write an album, it’s kind of crazy. It’s almost backwards because we just go into it writing songs and then look back over all the songs we put into one record. It’s like, oh wait, there’s a theme — damn. I didn’t even realise there was a theme happening, but there is a theme within each one. So yeah, it’s always surprising.
That’s the fun part of the writing process, figuring yourself out while writing. It’s crazy to go back to that first album and be like, damn, I really was just mad. I really was just edgy all the time.
Previously you’ve mentioned that Upchuck’s first album was a lot about taking up space. After being out there for a minute and touring and having a bunch of record’s out; has that changed for you?
KT: I think there are bigger problems at hand. The focus for me now is more on unity and spreading that unity. But it’s always been about unity. I feel like that’s the one common thread that’s existed across every Upchuck album. That’s the main thing.
Whenever I read anything about Upchuck, people always mention that you’re a really political band and they mention you’re angry and there’s a rage. But I also think there’s a lot of humour and a sarcasm as well that never gets talked about.
KT: I was actually just talking about that the other day about how we’re portrayed. How I’m supposedly this political, serious person. I’m like, I’m no politician, bro. At the end of the day, I’m just this punk motherfucker, you know? Shit’s too crazy not to have a laugh. It’s all very serious, but even with I’m Nice Now, that whole concept was like, bro, it’s almost so crazy that you have to smile to be sane. Take time to make yourself smile today, bro [laughs]. That’s really what that shit’s about.
I love the album cover, it’s so visually striking and really cheeky.
KT: [Laughs] Yeah, for sure.
As a POC, I related to a lot of what you’re saying on song ‘Forgotten Token’. That feeling of being invisible or of being visible but being disposable.
KT: Exactly!
As women of colour we’re expected to carry history and grief and explain things to everybody. Those themes tie into the song ‘Tired’ as well. What sparked it?
KT: With ‘Forgotten Token’ I had just lost my sister earlier that year. She was really a G.O.A.T. to me, literally a textbook older sister. On her shit. Don’t give no bullshit. Don’t take shit from nobody. Did it all by herself. Truly a role model for me.
She worked for this big fashion company, but she would always call me like, “Damn, they literally stole my shit and didn’t give me credit for it.” And all this other stuff. And not seeing one of those coworkers at her funeral, I was like, damn, y’all really just didn’t give a fuck. She just slaved for y’all for the past decade of her fucking life, and y’all really don’t give a fuck, but you want all of her creativity.
I feel like they kind of sucked the soul out of her, and that really resonated with me. I know it resonates with a lot of other women of colour. It rocked me and hit close.
I’m so sorry. It’s so crazy how the world treats people like products, a commodity, and not as people. That’s where shit goes wrong.
KT: Exactly. That’s why it’s going wrong right now, literally.
I really love the video for ‘Forgotten Token’. It also talks to gentrification, the dark side of it. And I thought it was cool that there’s cameos with your mum and your grandma and brothers in there.
KT: We filmed it at my mom’s house, so it was really just chilling at the crib. If anything, it was strange to film the white family in the house I grew up in, so it felt trippy in those moments. I was like, damn, this is actually dark. Even my mom was like, I don’t know, that shit’s weird [laughs].
You totally captured that feeling. When I was watching it, it gave me that ick feeling too.
KT: [Laughs]. Yeah, like, what are you doing here, bro? You’re not supposed to be here. Get out. But yeah, it seemed like we were just chilling at the crib. You know, mom’s always gonna do the most. She was being funny during the shoot, like, “So what do you want me to do?” She’s just extra. She’s a certified Aries mom, like, “Oh, is the camera on me, right now?” And I was like, “Okay, mom, you’re doing too much, bro. Just chill.”
I really love the song ‘New Case’ and live the claymation clip for that too!
KT: Oh, yeah, Cissi [Efraimsson]. Yeah, she snapped, she went crazy, nah [laughs]. I think it took her a minute too.
That song reminds me of Santigold!
KT: That means a lot because literally that was my influence growing up.
Same!
KT: Her and MIA, literally G.O.A.T’s.
We’ve only got a few minutes left. We’ve spoken about anger and rage but I wanted to ask you; what are the moments where you feel soft?
KT: Honestly, nine times out of 10, I’m really goo goo gaga as fuck [laughs]. That’s the craziest part. I was talking about it with someone the other day, and it’s almost kind of conflicting to feel like I’m being portrayed as, oh, I’m just this angry Black woman with rage. And I’m like, I’m really not.
Like, yeah, of course, every person of colour has a right to be upset, and it’s valid to feel that way given how everything has been going on for the past century and more. You know what I’m saying? So it’s like, I’m not out here just yelling at random people on the street and shit. I’m just, I don’t know… I have my qualms.
However, I find my peace. I have my friends, and I surround myself with good times and good energy. I am soft most times. I really am goofy as fuck. I feel like most people would be like, “Oh, that girl wasn’t even angry for real. She just be joking around half the time.” But yeah, most of the time I’m normally chilling.
What’s something that you’ve seen or experienced lately that’s been really beautiful or really joyous?
KT: Honestly, I guess it’s the growth I’m seeing within myself and all my closest homies. We’re all kind of on this lock-in growth journey rather than the usual debauchery we used to get into, and I think that’s really beautiful. It’s just us maturing and growing up. We’re getting older now. It’s sick that we’re all taking our time and appreciating the little things in life.
Original photo by Jhonny Russell // Handmade collage by B
Frenzee frontwoman Apollonia moves between worlds. Raised between Greece and Australia, and shaped by a deeply traditional musical family, her relationship to music has always carried weight, expectation, and history. In Frenzee, that history collides with hardcore punk, feminism, and a need for release that feels both personal and political, with Apollonia fronting the band formed alongside her brothers, Nick and Adonis.
In this yarn, Gimmie talks to Apollonia about growing up in a village on the Greek island of Crete, navigating gendered expectations, and finding freedom in loud music. We discuss activism, creative survival, and why making art matters even when the world feels overwhelming. From family legacy and cultural duality to capitalism, anger, and joy, this is a conversation about finding your voice and holding onto it.
This chat took place during their Australian tour in 2025. Since then, they’ve returned to Crete and are now back in Melbourne, gearing up for a February/March Australian tour.
It’s nice to be speaking with you Apollonia! We caught Frenzee’s set at Vinnie’s Dive the other night, which totally ruled!
APOLLONIA: Thank you! That was a lot of fun!
It was your birthday recently too—so Happy Birthday!
A: Yeah, on the 11th, We went camping because we’re on the road. We woke up on a really nice beach and I had a swim. Then spent about six hours in the car to get to the next place and went out for some pool and beers.
Perfect. Is there anything you guys do to pass the time while traveling long distances when touring?
A: There was a lot of “I spy with my little eye” going on [laughs]. And a lot of napping and listening to music.
Is there anything awesome you’ve been listening to lately?
A: I’ve been listening to a lot of Gut Health, I’ve been obsessed with them.
A: Yeah, I fuckin’ love Gut Health! A lot of Don’t Spank Me, Thank Me! too. Also, Where’s Jimmy, who we played with in New Castle. A lot of Split System too.
Photo: Jhonny Russell
They’re rad! Mawson and the fellas are such good dudes. How’s things been lately for you?
A: Life’s been surreal, in a way. I’ve been dying to be back in Australia since we were here last year (2024) in March. We wanted to play as many shows as we could, and we’ve pretty much done that. But going up the East Coast for the first time, and leaving Victoria to play outside the state for the first time, was so fun. It’s been really nice, because we hadn’t actually travelled to those places before. So we’ve been a bit touristy as well. For us, it’s been a really exciting time.
It seems like a lot of people are really excited about Frenzee! There’s been a buzz around you and there’s a momentum happening.
A: That’s good to know. I’m sad we’re leaving soon to go back to Greece. It’s hard to believe I’ve been here for nearly three months now.
You grew up in both Crete in Greece and Australia; how has the duality shaped you?
A: You always tend to say, oh, you’re half from there and you’re half… you’re half Greek, half Australian, or whatever. But it’s kind of more like you feel completely Australian and completely Greek, you know what I mean? [laughs].
And both of those things seem to be the case, especially in the most recent year, just being able to go back and forth more and get back in touch with here again.
It can be pretty full-on, because the cultures are so different. We grew up with really different cultures.
Crete’s the biggest island in Greece, and is pretty rural, right?
A: Yeah, a village on an island. Pretty traditional culture, from a pretty well-known traditional family. So there are a lot of unwritten rules—like every tradition, it’s you don’t do that because… whatever.
There’s a bit of a lack of private life, in a way. And even though the traditional music scene in Crete is really, really strong—everybody froths it, everybody supports it, gigs go off, and there’s not really anything else—the contemporary scene is tiny. On the island, there are a few bands, but it’s very scattered, very limited, and a really small underground scene. There aren’t really venues to play at.
So it’s the complete opposite to Melbourne. We came here and it felt like we did a mini tour of Collingwood in the first week [laughs].
But yeah, that’s kind of a constant between the two cultures. Especially as a teenager, you’re just like, what the hell?
You’ve spoken about feeling like an outsider, being a girl growing up in Crete. My friend Christina from hardcore band Swab, she’s from a traditional Greek family too—one day we were talking about how she felt there were always these different expectations placed on girls and woman. Like, everyone marries, everyone does all these things. Are there any expectations you’ve felt?
A: Yeah. Crete seems to be a culture where, like a lot of places, the men are raised to not really do anything. The army is compulsory.
Your brothers had to do that?
A: Yeah, both my brothers did that for about nine months. They managed to be in the marching band. Nick got a bit of snare practice in there [laughs].
But the expectations of women are definitely about cleaning up and taking care of everyone. It’s not really trained into boys, but from a young age, as a girl, you’re taught that when there are visitors, you’re the one who needs to serve everyone.All this stuff you’re raised with kind of teaches you that you always need to be taking care of other people.
And in Crete, for example, if you’re seen with a boy—I mean, it’s more hectic with girls, obviously, but it’s definitely a thing for boys as well—if you’re seen on a date or something like that, it can mean you’re officially probably going to get engaged or something. Everyone gets involved. It’s hectic.
I was lucky enough to be raised by a very feminist mother from Melbourne. So I was really lucky to have that at home. It was definitely very different to a lot of my girlfriends there.
There’s also a big expectation in Greece for girls at school. Girls are expected to be smart and do well. Boys will be boys—they’ll bash each other in the schoolyard or whatever—and there isn’t the same pressure on them to do well at school. But with girls, it’s like, no, they can’t go out after school, they’ve got to go study. And again, I was really lucky to have my mum always fighting that for me.
Photo: Jhonny Russell
Your mum’s heritage is Irish and she was musical like you, in a band, The Troubles.
A: Yeah!
You were exposed to a lot music through your mum’s records. Stuff like AC/DC. What other bands were you listening to?
A: One of the first bands that was really clear in my head that she showed us was the Blues Explosion—John Spencer’s Blues Explosion. I love them. So cool.
She had all these CDs: The White Stripes, Hole, Nirvana, Bikini Kill, Dirty Three, Dinosaur Jr. All sorts of bands. And then, on top of that, she was also getting me pop CDs that wouldn’t really be found easily in Crete. She’d get me heaps of Destiny’s Child, which was awesome.
I love Destiny’s child! And pop in general. It’s funny, doing Gimmie and all the music writing I’ve done over the last 30 years, people often think I only love punk—I’m the punk girl, lol. While I did grow up with that, along with hip-hop, I still have always loved pop. Who doesn’t love a good banger?
A: LOVE pop! I love my girl pop.
That shit’s popular because it’s catchy! It’s got the hooks, the melodies. I don’t know how people can hate on it.
A: [Laughs] Yeah. Oh, me neither. Me neither. There are so many strong women in pop. So that’s another thing, you look at as a little girl and you’re like, hell yeah, that’s what I want to do!
Totally. Was there any artist or an album that made you go, wow! I want to do that too?
A: Yeah, what’s the name of that Destiny’s Child album that’s white they’re all wearing white and it’s a white background? Beyonce’s lying down in front.
Survivor.
A: Yeah, I’d play that every day.
Same! I’d go running around my neighbourhood listening to it heaps.
A: Nice. Then I’d listen to a lot of hip-hop as well. Mum would get us, you know, 50 Cent and Eminem—anything she could get her hands on that felt like, this is what people are listening to, this is what’s going on in the music scene. The early ’90s and all that, I love it.
Earlier, you mentioned that your family is well-known in Crete, and I know there’s a huge musical legacy; do you ever feel pressure to live up to that?
A: Well, when I was a teenager, I felt a little bit of pressure. That was because I didn’t really have my own music thing going on. The only music performance I was doing was sometimes playing with my dad and my brothers. So maybe back then, a little bit.
But personally, no—not much pressure.
There’s a legacy in the patriarchy. I’m not named after any grandfather or great uncle. Both my brothers would definitely feel that pressure more. They play traditional band music and live off that in Greece. I didn’t play with them, and they definitely cop a lot of that.
I watched the documentary about your family and found it fascinating. Music seems like, a really serious thing for your family. You can see it sometimes in the looks that you or your brothers give. It’s like you’re focusing and concentrating so hard, and it feels like there’s a lot of pressure there. When I watched the part where your family was all going to play together for the first time ever, I was like, wow, this is such a magical, special moment. And then you had that one rehearsal beforehand. My heart kind of broke when your granddad was like, you messed up the lyrics, or something like that. I was teary watching it. I thought he could have been gentler with you. How did you feel in that moment?
A: To be honest, I felt pressure. I was sixteen! I’m the only granddaughter in the family. I’m the only female, apart from my aunty. My aunty’s been singing with my grandfather for ages. But in that performance, I was the only female voice, so it was all very, very stressful, to be honest [laughs], and pretty tense.
Was that the first time that your sang in public?
A: Nah, I’ve been doing that since I was really little, when I was five or six with my dad, getting up on stage.
With my grandfather it was a pretty full-on time, he’s from a different era. He’s been famous for so long in Greece. He’s a pretty full-on character. So my dad tries to balance all the stuff out. It’s a lot of family tension going around [laughs]. Yeah, so it was pretty stressful.
There’s a little clip of you talking about it, and you were like, oh my god, I was so embarrassed, because you wanted to get it right. You wanted to impress your family and your granddad. And you ended up going on to do the performance, and you totally killed it! There’s this cute moment where you were singing and your brother looks at you and he winks at you. A little reassurance, like, you’re doing good sis! I thought that was really beautiful. That part at the end of the song where you’re singing by yourself, and the whole crowd is transfixed. There’s silence in that room, every one in awe. I totally cheered at my TV screen for you! How did you feel once you’d faced the challenge and did it?
A: It always feels good once it’s done. Once it’s over, a lot of the pressure leaves. Because, as you say, the music is so serious and so formal. Growing up with that music, it’s always like, oh my god, a performance. It’s a huge room, a huge crowd, a concert environment, and it’s so quiet. They can hear everything. You know, even when you breathe. It’s very serious. So as soon as it’s over, I’m just like, oh, alright, cool. I do like doing it. I love singing. But when the time comes, it’s stressful, how serious it all is. It’s funny, though, because it’s so serious but then people are dancing and having such a great, like, non-serious time [laughs]. It’s also traditional and there’s rules but then it’s also improvised a fair bit. It’s very trance-y really.
Another thing I noticed in the documentary is that it seems like, with Cretan music, it’s really important that when people are playing, they’re looking at each other.
A: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Because there’s no real finish to a song. A lot of the music doesn’t have a clear ending—kind of like Irish tunes. They can go on and on and on [laughs].
And it depends on the dance. If people are dancing, you’ve got to play with the steps and finish a cycle when you can. So you all really have to follow each other.
And because our grandfather—actually, my brother Nick plays too—they both play the lyra. They do a lot of improvising, and you’ve got to stay on the beat and follow them.
So all the musos have to follow the lyra player. The lyra player is the boss. That’s why everyone’s staring at each other, to stay tight.
In the doco your father talks about music coming from the gut and of how it’s this real deep instinctual force. Then I noticed on Frenzee’s first EP, you have that song ‘Fire in My Gut’ and lyrically you’re basically talking about the same thing!
A: Yeah, no way!
Yes way! Your lyrics are: Ever since I can remember I’ve had this fire burning in my gut / It’s been my life source, my force / It’s been my electricity / Always been there for me /Always fuels my energy / Sparks my body and my mind / And it makes me feel alive / And it feeds me / The fire in my gut.
A: That’s pretty cool. I didn’t realise that to be honest. That’s pretty wild. I didn’t really know dad said that too!
Did it feel weird being filmed all the time for the doco?
A: Yeah. They were filming us for three years! That was pretty weird because at that age, it’s the worst version of yourself, probably [laughs]. I cringe when I think about it. But back then, I wasn’t lovin’ it. It was pretty full on.
Your family have taught you a lot about music, your dad, especially. You’ve said he kind of pressured you to learn all the great songs; how does your parents and extended family feel about you playing punk rock?
A: Everyone’s really supportive. Some of them might not totally get it, but they support it, which is great. They’ve always kind of seen us do that as little kids — we’d pretend we had a rock band, miming along to Nirvana and Green Day [laughs]. We didn’t know what to expect, people’s reaction in Crete; we were like, oh, we’re going to cop it now [laughs] …but whatever.
A lot of people that we really didn’t expect to get it were just loving it. A lot of our cousins, up in the mountains — shepherds, only listening to traditional music, hardly ever going to the city, went and played the village, and they were like, wow, this is what you guys need to be doing. This really suits you!
I feel like, starting with traditional music being so formal and serious, Frenzee is definitely a release from all that. That’s why I think it’s so kind of cleansing every time we — cleansing, letting it all out. I’ve been so formal for so many years, you know? I need to take a breath.
I get that. Your album’s called What’s Wrong With Me, there’s a song with that title on the album too; what does that mean to you? What were you feeling when you wrote that?
A: When you’re here, you kind of feel like sometimes you’ve got your creed and culture holding your mind back in a few things. So you feel like an outsider, like we were saying before. Being in Crete, you’re like the crazy, you know, Aussie, the rock band, or feminist craziness, or whatever. So you’re kind of like, what’s wrong with me, here and there, if you know what I mean? A lot of things come into that title, but I reckon that’s a big part of it. Here you’re like, what’s wrong with me because I’ve got all that, and over there, what’s wrong with me? too.
It’s a question but also a statement: this is what’s wrong with me. And I guess it can be sarcastic as well. You know, nothing’s wrong with anyone—it’s just life.
I noticed that on the album there seems to be a theme of frustration at external forces, and then your internal struggle with dealing with that, or processing those things. You’re talking about capitalism, gender inequality, class struggle and frustration with societal systems.
A: Living in Greece, it’s very hard not to be political. There’s a lot that’s constantly in your face, all this stuff all the time. I mean, we’re lucky that we don’t have to be right in the middle of it. We’re a little bit removed, being in Crete. But it’s so corrupt, you know? You have no choice but to be very vocal about it there.
The good thing is that everyone’s really politically onto it in Greece as well. I’m mostly talking about there because that’s where I live and that’s what I know best. I’d say we’re a pretty political band. All the lyrics are political, and social, and psychological too. You know, it’s venting.
Did you set out to write an album that?
A: I just kind of automatically started writing about that in the lyrics. My brothers lived together just up the road in the village, and I lived with my mum down the road. They have the rehearsal space there, so they jam heaps. Even if we’re not all together, they’ll come up with a riff or something and send it to me as a demo, you know, whatever. I’ll go and record it, and then I sit on my own and write the lyrics.
It just depends on what I’ve been listening to or reading at that time, you know. Something might have pissed me off that morning, so I’ll write about that. It wasn’t really like, oh, this is going to be a political album. It just automatically happened, with all the shit going on globally.
Photo: Jhonny Russell
The world seems like such a rough place a lot more on the regular these days, everyone I speak to seems to be doing it tough. Many of my friends just feel mentally and emotionally drained just trying to exist. A lot of your songs are about being overwhelmed; is there anything you do to help deal with that?
A: II talk about these things a lot with my mum, and that helps a lot. She’s very switched on with all this stuff and tends to take it very philosophically as well. You know, it can go a bit full-on. Rather than just talking about events, it gets bigger than that and becomes more philosophical, and that kind of helps deal with things, I guess.
Exercise helps too. Staying active, and also trying to enjoy some things. It can be so frustrating, so if you can just appreciate and enjoy even just small things, and keep talking about it with people, you can sort of balance that stuff out. It’s important not to stope talking about those things.
Yeah, it is really important, and like you just mentioned, to remember to enjoy things and to know that it’s okay to enjoy them. Most of my friends are activists and have been very vocal about everything that’s happening in the world. They’re always going to protests and trying to change things in whatever ways they can.
Some of my friends stopped making art because they’re like, how can I make art when all this horrible stuff is happening? When there’s genocide and war and all these other full-on things are happening in the world.
I’ve always thought of it like this: when times are really terrible, music and books and films, and all those things, are what I turn to. Those things helps me be okay in the world. It gives you connection or understanding or belonging or even escape. It can help you see things from other people’s perspectives too.
A: Yeah, yeah, reading and music have definitely done a lot of that for me too. I got really sucked into that kind of idea. It just overtook my whole brain energy. I can go for so long and then you’re like, oh my God, it’s going to kill me! It’s going to kill me without some sort of release. The band has helped a lot with that. This was before the band, all that frustration. I feel like a lot of that energy was held back for so long. Not specifically having a band, just needing that kind of release. Just being able to yell. And it’s accepted [laughs].
Your performance style has a confrontational style. It’s the opposite of anything traditional I’ve seen you do. You seem really comfortable and confident up there.
A: Definitely. I’ve had a lot of strong emotions pushed down for so long. And then, finally, you have this outlet where it can all come out.
Coming from such a musical family, did you ever think of not doing music?
A: Aw yeah!
You do animation and art; was there anything else you wanted to do?
A: Nah. I knew I wanted to animate for years. I wasn’t really thinking smart financially, but my mum doesn’t think about that much either. She was just like, ‘Yeah, do animation! That’s great.’ I was thinking maybe I could do music videos for bands, and then that could be my thing. I didn’t really plan it out too much [laughs]. I remember going through a phase where I was just like, nah, I don’t want to… fuck musos, they’re all a bunch of wankers. Because a lot of them are, I grew up with a lot of musos around me.
There can be some big egos!
A: Yeah. You feel sorry for a lot of them because they actually just live in a little bubble that’s not reality. They just hear about how great they are all the time.
Since I was a teen, going to shows, making zines etc., I’ve been surrounded by musos too. I’ve met a lot of great people but also many really terrible people too, especially in the punk and hardcore scene. I’ve dealt with a lot of sexism and misogyny. Racism too. It boggles my mind how people can be so shit sometimes.
A: Yeah, and aggressive and up themselves. Not what you would think they’d stand for. The whole Greek rock scene is all men, pretty much. There are maybe four or five women in Athens spread across different bands. It can be a pretty sexist culture. They might like watching you perform but they don’t really listen when you speak.
Obviously, it’s like that everywhere, but it’s very full-on there because it feels like we’re a bit back in time. It’s like 20 years ago. Like how hard people copped it here in the 90s, is kind of what we’re dealing with now in Greece, at a certain level. And always being compared to other female singers.
Yes! You never hear about or read about guys being compared to other guys.
A: Fully! I cop a lot of that! If I was a guy, I wouldn’t be compared to anyone. People would not even go there.
Photo: Jhonny Russell
Yep! I know people compare you to Amy Taylor, and Frenzee to Amyl and the Sniffers. But you’re obviously both your own thing.
A: Yeah, she’s amazing, one of my biggest idols!
I wish people would stop with the comparison culture with women. It’s fucking harmful.
A: Yeah. You kind of get used to it, though. It’s frustrating!
Your song ‘Pink Tax’ is about gender inequality; what sparked that?
A: I was watching a lot of Adam Curtis documentaries at the time. He’s this really cool journalist who makes his own documentaries. He grabs all this old footage from the BBC and turns it into these really cool collages. Anyway, I watched some really interesting documentaries on capitalism, and I was obsessed with them. I went through a bit of a study period on capitalism.
A lot of chats with my mum end up becoming songs, to be honest, because we’re just bang on all day. We were talking one day about how I needed to buy some razors, and she was like, ‘You know the pink razors are more expensive than the men’s ones.’ And I was like, oh my God, really? So I went and looked, and I was like, fuck! That’s when the name Pink Tax came up. It sounded good as a title, ‘Pink Tax’.
A lot of people don’t even know it’s an actual thing, so it was like, oh, sick, some people are actually learning what it is. That’s good!
Do you still buy the pink ones? [Laughter].
A: [Laughs] Actually…. I bought these uni-sex ones.
Obviously, the song ‘Sales’ on your record, is about consumer culture and aggressive marketing…
A: Yeah! That one, my brother Nick, who plays drums, thought of that tune. He’s really good with lyrics as well. Sometimes he’ll just have one phrase and be like, ‘Oh, take that, for inspiration and do whatever you want.’ We all fucking hate these salespeople. It’s not their fault, but what are you going to do? [laughs]. And then it was just really easy to fill in the gaps with that song.
‘Rats in Here’ feels like a more introspective song.
A: So ‘Rats in Here’ lyrics were written by Nick. Because we were talking about, writing a song about the army. We thought that’d be pretty hectic, with everything going on in the world. Nick got really sick in the army and was on this desperate bed with like bed bugs everywhere. Greece can be very third-world with a lot of shit. He said it was the desperate couple of says ever. The songs has desperate lyrics but the tune is kind of uplifting.
In the middle of the album, there’s song, ‘Fear No Fear’. It feels like a moment of hope and overcoming self-doubt?
A: Yeah. It sums up so much of starting the band and how it all felt. It’s an empowering song, for me.
What made you want to start a punk band?
A: When we were little, we went through a phase where a family friend got some drums for Nick, and we already had a guitar and a bass around. During that time, we were listening to all those CDs and records Mum got us. We’d let our hair grow long. I’m singing along and playing all this music.
We always thought that having a rock band was the best thing you could do. All that tour stuff was just an amazing image to us, like a fantasy. But I hadn’t really thought about actually doing it, if you know what I mean. It was more like, oh, that’s cool, that’s amazing!
Then the Cretan music took over. The boys were playing a lot of that, and I started working in that as well. We were all living separately. Nick was here when I was young, then Adonis moved over, then they moved back, and I moved here. So we weren’t together for many years. That’s when we were all listening to our own kinds of stuff. I went through an electronic phase, hip-hop and pop, listening to more of that kind of music.
Then finally, when lockdown started, I had just finished uni here, so I was living here when the pandemic hit. As soon as I moved back to Crete for lockdown, that was pretty much the first time we were all together and didn’t know when we’d be leaving again. I was like, sick, we’re in the same country and you guys aren’t playing 17-hour days! So let’s start a band.
And that’s when it all started, when we were finally all together in the same country and all listening to a lot of rock and roll at the time. I’d heard Amyl and the Sniffers come on the radio when I was living and working in Melbourne, when they were still a really small band. I was like, what the hell, that’s the best shit I’ve heard in so long! It was like a woman with Bon Scott energy. I loved that. The vocals were really dreamy, and the riffs were simple. That’s when I started listening to rock and roll again, pretty much. Hearing a great female frontwoman just hyped me up so much.
When you were recording the album, you guys spent your days going for a swim and hanging out with your dogs. It’s funny ‘cause the album’s aggressive and hard, but then you recorded it in a very chill state.
A: Yeah, I could finally really have a chill in lockdown; in the village with the doggies and family and eating well.
Photo: Jhonny Russell
Is there anything you do to put yourself in the mindset to sing like you do?
A: I definitely need a bit of time alone before the gig. It used to stress me out before a gig; wondering if I could do it, if I could actually get through the gig. I’d get really stressed about whether it was going to be good enough, whether my voice was going to hold up, and whether I was going to give enough energy.
But we’ve played so many gigs now that it feels like you’ve got more of a system lined up. You go, you chill out for a bit on your own, you do a bit of this and that, you don’t socialise too much. You blow bubbles in a straw—Amy Taylor taught me how to warm up. Thanks Amy!
She’s THE best! By the way, it makes me so happy to see so many girls at that front of your gigs.
A: Yeah, it makes me so happy too. It’s just the whole point to me. I love seeing that. It feels like a revolutionary time in the rock and roll scene for women. All these amazing bands everywhere and all so supportive of each other. There’s no bitchy competition.
Everyone’s been so supportive. When we arrived in Melbourne people were reaching out to us, that we don’t even know from other bands being like, ‘Hey! Let’s grab a beer! Let’s hang out. There’s this amazing community. Women supporting women—it’s very very inspiring and moving.
Trans adlay, Sidney Phillips, “the unofficial Queen of Australian Underground Rap” is incredibly likeable, hilarious and very, very real. Along with rap collective stealthyn00b, she’s part of the new vanguard in hip-hop. On Penance, her 2024 album, the Brisbane-based rapper sharpens both her sound and her sense of self. The beats hit harder, the writing feels more settled, and the themes come straight from her lived experience.
Across the record, Phillips reflects on identity, addiction, responsibility, and growing up on the internet. She’s candid about the consequences of drug use, the strange pressure that comes with having an audience, and the balance between honesty and influence. ‘You can do what you want,’ she says, ‘but there are always real-world consequences.’
In this interview, Sidney traces her path from early experiments with guitar and laptop beats to finding her voice in rap, talks about faith and community, and explains why staying true to herself—without glamorising or hiding the hard parts—has become central to her work.
Penance isn’t framed as redemption or reinvention. It captures change as it’s happening, with all its messiness intact.
This in-depth chat with Sidney took place just after Valentine’s Day last year. Since then, she has released album, Northside Dream.
Why is music important to you?
SIDNEY PHILLIPS: It’s my favourite thing in the whole world. I love art in general. My favourite thing to do is consuming art and making art. Music as a medium is the one that really speaks to me the most.
I love TV, and I love movies. I can watch one of my favourite movies, but I won’t want to watch it again for like a year, right? But with music, I’ll listen to my favourite artist every single day and I’ll never get sick of it.
Music is my way to relax, my way to have some fun, my way to express myself. Music’s given me so many great things in my life. All my closest mates I’ve probably met through music, and doing music stuff. It’s everything.
I totally get that. It’s the same for me too! I’m the kind of person who listens to a song and I’ll hear a part I like and I rewind straight away and I’ll listen to that part 10 times or something before I let the song progress. I just get so caught up on a sound, a melody, a lyric or something.
SP: Yeah, totally! It just sticks with me and sticks in my head.
Or sometimes I’ll be listening to a playlist and I’m loving the song I’m listening to but then I’m so excited to see what’s next on the playlist so I’ll skip through to the next song because I’m excited by the possibility of what’s next.
SP: Yeah, it’s always exciting. Love it. Seriously.
Your lyrics for song ‘2 Fucked Up’ mention that you were born in Carseldine not Morayfield; what were things like growing up for you?
SP: It was pretty chill. At least, Carseldine days. I was probably there until 2010, until I was seven. Memories of just chilling in the house and chilling with the neighbours—the neighbours’ kids—going to the shops with Mum and Dad. It’s all pretty good.
Both my parents are really switched-on individuals. Their childhood was probably a little bit different from mine, so they were thinking about, we’ll try and give the best go for our kids, sort of thing. So we had a really nice house, really nice area.
I went to a pretty nice school in the area. Things just got a bit expensive, so we had to move. But growing up was chill.
I think about it sometimes and how I got into the things that I got into. ’Cause it’s not like I had a super rough upbringing or anything, I’ll be dead set. But I still ended up getting into drugs and stuff.
The “I was born in Carseldine, I wasn’t born in Morayfield” line is funny to me. I was keen to put that in the song; it just came to my head, though, because I was thinking specifically about that. Are you guys from Brisbane or Sydney?
We’re actually based on the Gold Coast. But I grew up in Brisbane on the Southside. It always seemed like everyone on the Northside were weird and different to us Southsiders. It felt like a whole other world over where you are.
SP: [Laughs] Yeah, that’s that’s what Northside is thinking about the Southside too!
Carseldine it’s out of the city, probably about 20 minutes. But it’s still in a city and it’s not a not a super dero area. But ended up moving on to the more dero area of Morayfield. Not to hate on Morayfield, I love it here. I thought it’d be fun to just drop an honesty bomb. Like I wasn’t born here guys. I was born in Carseldine, which is a bit of a nicer suburb.
That’s one of the things I really love about your raps, you’re really honest.
SP: That’s what you gotta do. That’s what I love in my rap music, so I think it’s really important for me to try and cram as much personality and as much information about my life as I can. Give the listeners something to grab onto and be like, ‘Oh, that’s a bit interesting.’
Also, people can really relate to stuff. The amount of times I hear a song lyric and I’m like, ‘oh my God, that’s what I went through. That’s exactly how I feel.’
SP: Mmm-hmm totally. It’s good to hear you say that. That’s what I’m trying to do.
Photo: Jhonny Russell
Before you got into music—’cause you weren’t really into music that much as a kid—you were more into video games. Then, around Grade 5, you got into Daft Punk and Skrillex—like, maybe when you were 10 or 11. And from there, it was Fall Out Boy and My Chemical Romance.
SP: Yeah [laughs]. Wow. I’ve never had anyone lay this all back to me! Makes me feel shy.
I think it’s always fascinating to know someone’s music journey. Then 13 to 15, you were getting into Bjork, Joy Division, Weezer, Radiohead, Godspeed You Black Emperor, which is pretty cool stuff for someone that age to be into. I know you have a really big love of the Beatles.
SP: Oh come on, we love the Beatles! LOVE the Beatles.
Totally! When did you start playing guitar? Was it before you started making beats?
SP: It was before. That’s a great question. Yeah, yeah, yeah—it was a guitar fest. Well, this is a bit embarrassing. Before the guitar, it was fucking ukulele. Because I always had one around the house since I was a kid. It’s like the kid guitar, right? I just picked it up. I wanted to start playing something, I guess.
I read a funny story on the internet about a guy learning a Metallica song on ukulele, and then there was a YouTube tutorial on how to play ‘Master of Puppets’ on ukulele. So I tried to learn that. And that was cool, because I was like, oh, this is fun—I’m playing an instrument and it sounds like something.
Then I started learning chords. And once you know ukulele—once you know one string instrument—you can go to another one pretty easily. I got ukulele lessons when I was in Grade 6.
That was my first musical expression. I’d learned some of my favourite songs on ukulele, and then from that, I started playing guitar—my mum’s guitar. It was a bit big for me at the time; I was twelve. So I’d be stretching out, trying to play it. I never got guitar lessons. It would be learning Nirvana riffs and shit like that. Totally dope.
I’ve always loved guitar music, but I’ve only ever had an acoustic guitar, so I wasn’t learning any Fall Out Boy songs or anything on it. It was more—shit, what did I even play back then? I got into Neutral Milk Hotel and play a lot of their stuff on guitar, ’cause it’s easy to play. But yeah—it was ukulele, guitar, and then making beats on the laptop.
When you started playing guitar, did you ever think, I want to have a band?
SP: Yeah, especially when I was really into Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, and all of that. Since I was a kid, if I’m interested in something, I’ll be like, oh, I’d love to do this as a job.
As a kid, I thought, I’d love to do something in video games as a job. But like—definitely not these days.
When I was like, oh, I’d love to be in a pop-punk band, I’d think, this would be the name, and I’d be the rhythm guitarist, or I’d be the lead singer. Stuff like that.
I never really tried to put it into action. I didn’t really know anybody who played instruments—or anyone who was really into the same sort of music at the time.
And even when I did think, oh, I’d love to be in a band, never in a million years would I have thought I’d end up doing something like stealthyn00b, and what we’re doing now!
You mentioned that you went from guitar to making laptop music and when you first started doing that, you were making instrumentals. What was it that got you into doing that style of music?
SP: Before it was the rap beat, I was trying to make vaporwave—which was the first thing I ever tried to make. I found vaporwave on the internet, and I was like, there’s something about it gripped me. I was like, this is so cool, so interesting. I loved the world-building in it.
For people who don’t know vaporwave, how would you describe it?
It’s an internet genre. It came out around the early 2010s. The basic idea is that its mostly samples—mostly ’80s—and it’s slowed down, chopped up, and screwed up. If you know about chopped and screwed music, like DJ Screw and that—it’s kind of similar to it.
It’s a lot about consumerist culture and ’80s nostalgia. I thought it was really cool because it’s a total sort of world—almost a digital world that you’re going into. And I love that in music, when there’s world-building.
I was trying to do that when I was eleven, and I was like, this has gotta be pretty easy—it’s just slowing down shit [laughs]. So I was doing that in Audacity, and I’d upload stuff to Bandcamp.
None of it was great—but it was something. I liked being able to make track titles and the album cover, make a project, and be like, oh, this is my EP.
With the beats, though—I decided to get into Kanye [West] and stuff like that. Kendrick [Lamar]. That was kind of my introduction to rap music, I guess.
They’re some of my fav rappers. I don’t like the stuff Kanye does to shock people and the massive ego etc. but especially his earlier albums I love. He’s good at telling stories and making beats. I LOVE Kendrick! The new album slaps.
SP: I still haven’t checked it out. I’ve been slow on Kendrick these days.
There’s a track on it ‘Man at the Garden’ that I’m obsessed with. And ‘Wacced Out Murals’ and ‘Squabble Up’. I love how he’s always so direct and honest in his rhymes.
SP: Yeah, I like that about Kendrick—he’s not gonna mince his words, and he does the whole rap game, I’m trying to be the best sort of thing. I fuck with that hard. I was late to his Mr. Morale & the Big Steppers album too.
Yeah, I didn’t get into that one so much either. I have all his other records but not that one.
SP: Yeah, that was the first one where I was like, I don’t know, Kendrick, I don’t know. Like, I usually love you, man, but I don’t know about this one.
Kanye and Kendrick were the first rappers I really LOVED loved. Before that, it was Eminem, N.W.A.—that was my first actual introduction to rap music.
I watched this guy on YouTube who’d make FL Studio tutorials, but they were also funny. He did: how to make vaporwave, how to make chillwave, how to make trap beats, and he did a how to make J Dilla / Nujabes-type beats. I watched that video and was like, oh, this sounds so good—the piano with the breakbeats, with the rain sound effect.
I was like, that’s it. I just realised how easy those sorts of beats were to make. At the time, I was just really keen on making something—being able to release something that was good—and being like, this is my music.
So I made a bunch of those beats, chucked them up on SoundCloud, chucked them up on Bandcamp—and that was my thing. My rap beat era [laughs].
Speaking of piano, I creeped on your SoundCloud and went back to the very first song that you uploaded. It was posted eight years ago and called ‘Last Night Changed It All’ and its got piano.
SP: [Laughs] That was the first rap beat I ever made!
Why did you call it ‘Last Night Changed It All’? Did something big happen?
SP: That was the name of the break—the sample. It’s from this 50s or 60s song called ‘Last Night Changed It All’. And that was what the breakbeat was called when I downloaded it. I was like, that’s pretty emo—I might just call the beat that. I thought that was cool. I still like that song I did. It’s got a pretty piano segment.
Did you rap on anything else before you created your own beats?
SP: In Year 7, I’d go over to my friend’s house and we’d get Audacity up and I’d chuck on some beats and we’d freestyle, not serious though. I was into rap but he wasn’t but we thought it was just fun to do. And it was! I still like making joke songs. I like rapping some silly stuff [laughs].
The first serious rap verse I ever did was in this internet collective when I was 13. A bunch of cunts I met on SoundCloud. We were a rap group called Immortal Diamonds [laughs]. It wasn’t me that chose the name, but I was one of the producers. I’d send beats but then I also hopped on a couple tracks for that tape. It’s still up on Bandcamp.
The first Sidney Phillips song I made was when I was 15. It’s on the first Sidney Phillips tape—it’s called ‘I’m Going Back to Sleep’. I made the beat, I rapped on it, and put it on SoundCloud.
When it came time to release the first Sidney Phillips album, I was like, I don’t like this vocal take anymore, so I re-recorded it. But that’s still on Bandcamp—and that’s the first Sidney Phillips song.
It sounds so different to what I make these days. It’s still fun to go back and hear the evolution. But yeah, it’s not really fun listening, though [laughs]. I don’t think it’s that good. Like, I was 15 making that.
Let’s chat about your evolution and releases.
SP: At the end of 2021—in September or October—I released the first Sidney Phillips tape. That was fun. It was all my beats and all my raps. I think there’s one feature on it.
It took me so long to finish—it’s only ten songs, and there are raps on eight of them. It’s stupid how long it took me to finish that album—like two years or something. And it wasn’t even that dope, either [laughs]. That’s the rough thing.
I was like, I want to make another album, but I don’t want it to just be the exact same. When I’m making a new tape, I’m always trying to think, what’s going to be different about this one compared to the last one? So it’s not just a rehash.
I decided, I’ll get other people’s beats on it. I made the first song, ‘Who’s Sidney?’ – I made the beat and then people started sending me beats. I was like, lad, I can make an album so much quicker if it’s just raps.
I can write the rap quick—it’s the beat that’s hard to make. You’ve got to find the right sample, find the right drums, it’s a little fucking annoying. I do like making beats, but that’s not the super fun part for me. The fun part’s writing.
I was in Year 12 writing that album, it was interesting. I went through some life changes. At the start of the year, I’d been dating this one girl for about three years; I also had my mates at school. Then, at the start of Year 12, me and my girlfriend broke up, and then my mates—“the leader” of my mates—decided I wasn’t cool anymore. So the rest of my mates didn’t want to be cool with me, besides maybe one or two of them.
Suddenly, I was pretty alone. I started going online a lot more because of that, and that led me to becoming close friends with twinlite and Love Lockdown. That ended up starting Stealthy Noobs. That’s a good ending to the story.
Dart’s got the original stealthyn00b members. It’s funny, because the three features that are on Dart were all members of stealthyn00b who aren’t in the group anymore.
I took it down off Spotify because, well, I’m not cool with everybody that worked on the album anymore. And also, there are a few songs that are a bit like… eh.
I even get that with Northside, the album that came out after Dart—six months later. There are still some lines where I’m like, oh, that’s really cringe, why did I say that? I wish I didn’t say that.
In what way are they cringe?
SP: I could have wrote it in a better way, in a cleverer way. I listened to ‘Doom’ off Northside, right? It’s like: I won’t go out like Doom / Sidney dies, unloved in their own room. That’s a bit cringe.
Photo: Jhonny Russell
Was that how you were feeling that at the time?
SP: That was my raw emotion. I was trying to write what I thought a cool rap song should sound like, instead of just writing properly from the heart. There are some word choices I chucked in there because I thought they sounded cool at the time—not because it was really what I wanted to say.
What was the first song that you felt like you wrote from your heart?
SP: From the first album, I was writing from the heart. But some of it’s cringe because it’s like I’m reading a sixteen-year-old’s diary poetry, right? It’s a bit like, oh… this is pretty how-you’re-expressing-yourself [laughs].
Everyone starts somewhere. It’s so cool that you found an outlet to express yourself at that age. A lot of people go through their whole life and never find that. I love that you’re just really honest. ‘Cause a lot of people are posers. I remember reading an interview once with rapper 360 and he said the first album he ever got was Wu Tang, and I feel ilke he said it for cool posts and cred.
SP: Yeah, come on, man, you can you can be dead set! [laughs]. You can tell us that it was some cringe shit. It’s was probably the Spice Girls album lad! Yeah, nah, yeah, fucking 360 man. He’s a funny guy.
With the first album, I wasn’t really thinking about who was going to listen to it. So I was really writing it for myself. There’s some really like, are you okay, Sidney songs on the first album [laughs].
There’s songs like that on all your albums!
SP: Yeah, I guess so. Now I’m like, yeah, that was great that I wrote that. But maybe in five years, I’ll be like, oh, it was so cringe when I was 21! [laughs]. I was so emo. I was like, ugh. That’s my music, we like getting a bit emotional and a bit over emotional sometimes.
I really love the album title, To Live and Die on the Northside.
SP: Thank you. I was so proud of it. I was sitting around for ages, trying to think of a name. And then I was like, To Live and Die on the North Side. That’s it.
The same thing happened with Penance. Sometimes the album name comes straight away, and sometimes it’s like, fuck—what am I gonna call this album?
It reminded me of one of my friend’s bands, a punk band from New Jersey, Nightbirds. They had an album called Born to Die in Suburbia.
I know when I was a teen and living on Brisbane’s Southside in the suburbs it felt like that was hat life was like, like, it’s so boring here and I’m just gonna die here. It was a bleak feeling.
SP: Yeah. It does get pretty boring in suburbia. That’s a nice thing about being an adult. I can leave when I want to. Like, let’s go! I can stay up! But it’s cool to keep a kid vibe too. I’m gonna be like a kid forever. I’ll always be excited about stuff like that.
Another great album title of yours is, I’m so Tired of Being Staunchly.
SP: Thank you. So, I’m still in high school, and I’ve got all my friend issues. It’s about being lonely, a lot—a bit of, like, fuck everybody! [laughs].
And then Northside is a bit more of the same. For a bit of background context, I met another girl. We started dating, and then while I start writing staunchly—me and that girl break up, and then…
I’m getting a bit of a pattern here…
SP: [Laughs] Yeah, it’s always breakup albums. High emotions, really. When your emotions are high, you can write really well.
What else was going on?
SP: There were dramas with the group. We had to kick a member out and that was really tough, because we still really loved them. But, they couldn’t be in the group anymore.
Back to 2022, I met this guy from Sydney through Instagram who works in the music business and he was helping me out—trying to sort the group out and trying to get our shit out there. There was me and the guy we kicked out—we were gonna do an EP together. And my manager guy was really keen on pushing it to everybody. It felt like we were going up, and then… it was really fucking frustrating… it was a defeated time in the history of Stealthy. I felt pretty down.
Was that when you started getting into benzos? Because you were feeling depressed. Maybe you were trying to numb yourself to cope? I know eventually you got to a point where the benzos weren’t helping anymore.
SP: Yeah, that’s it. It’s just bad. They make it all worse. Like I said, I had so much friend drama and girl drama and fucking shit for two years straight. It seemed that it just kept happening over and over and over again. Like, I’d make some mates—
Oh my fucking family group chat is buzzing. Oh, shut up. Sorry. I’ll try and figure out how to turn that off. Oh my gosh.
It’s nice you have a family group chat! That’s really sweet.
SP: [Laughs] …But anyways, I’d make some great mates and then something happens and we can’t be friends anymore. It felt like a lot of people were just fucking me off. I felt discarded by a lot of people.
Before I got into benzos, I’d already had some friends who did Xanax. And growing up, you hear about Xanax—you’re like, oh, Lil Peep died from Xanax, you know, and so-and-so died from Xanax. I’m like, wow, Xanax is a bad drug.
But I’d go to my mate’s place, and he’s just on Xanax. And he’s rapping like crazy. He’s so sociable. And I’m like, well, why is this guy on Xanax and functioning great? I’m like, Xanax can’t be that bad.
My girlfriend at the time was like, ‘You’re not doing pills!’ I was like, okay, I won’t do pills. But then we broke up, and I was like, man, fuck everything—I’m gonna do some pills, bro. I don’t care anymore. That’s kind of where it got to.
Writing Staunchly—it was a sad time, but it was also an empowering time too. Because when stuff goes bad, bouncing back can be a really powerful feeling.
I started being really close friends with my mate Skratcha from stealthyn00b. And he put me onto so much cool Chicago music, drill, and Aussie rap as well. We’d hang out, do drugs, listen to Aussie rap, and be like, bro, fucking Australian music is so good! [laughs]. Like, it is the best.
Xanax made me feel tough. It made me feel cool at the time. But then getting off the Xanax—it was hard, obviously.
Staunchly, is one of your releases that has the most attitude. It was like you were trying to tell the world that you’re tough. It’s like you had something to prove.
SP: Yeah. It’s the first album where I was talking about gender stuff too, and where I’m speeding up, and singing. It’s funny because on the other albums, I’m trying to sound tough too but the thing is, I’m not that tough really [laughs].
If you’re listening to rap music because you want to hear a tough guy, Sidney Phillips isn’t the person to listen to, man, right? You’re better off listening to Flowz or Kerser.
Why was it important to you to rap about gender?
SP: It was really important! I was always too scared to. Then one of our friends told us they were trans as well. And she’d rap about being non-binary and shit and keep it staunch. Old mate was so, adlay—like, low-key, just like me—and so gay at the same time. And I was like, I’m never rapping about gender stuff, ’cause that’s cringe. Like, when you’re listening to rap music, you don’t want to hear about gender stuff.
But then I hear that, and I’m like, what the fuck—this is so cool. Because you’re getting to know who they are as a person and what they believe in. And, that’s cool.
I was like, I fuck with this so hard. It doesn’t have to be one or the other. You can infuse your rap with who you are, even if it’s a bit scary, even if you think it’s a bit embarrassing.
Sometimes being trans—especially someone that looks like me—can feel embarrassing, you know? But you’ve got to be honest. You’ve got to be honest with the world. I am trans. So there’s no point, being embarrassed about it. Might as well rap about it, you know?
And it gives trans people listening something to connect to. And that was what it was like for me, hearing my friend rap about being trans. I was like, this is so empowering. This makes me feel cool for being trans, but also loving my gangster shit.
’Cause it’s pretty niche. I don’t know a lot of people like me—but there are people like me. I’ve gotten DMs from fans being like: I love my adlay shit, but I feel embarrassed to tell my friends I’m non-binary, or whatever.
I want to help people be themselves and not feel embarrassed.
I love that! In my experience, the hip-hop space I grew up in was very a homophobic and misogynist world. Do you feel things are changing?
SP: Totally. I think so. A social change.
The music we make—the music people make in general—is getting more and more progressive. There’ll always be some misogynistic rap, and there’ll always be homophobic rappers. But I think socially, as we get less and less okay with those bad things, it slowly—but not surely—goes away.
Twenty years ago, there wouldn’t have been a Sidney Phillips. There wouldn’t have been a trans rapper rapping about doing adlay shit.
The fact that stealthyn00b exists, the fact that there are trans rappers out—it just shows progress. It shows where we’re moving forward as a society: being more and more okay with things that aren’t traditional.
Like, fifty years ago, shit was so much different. So in fifty years from now, I hope everything will be a lot more accepting and progressive.
Your latest album is, Penance, obviously the word penance has religious connotations: repenting for your sins. The album’s themes revolve around addition and coming out the other side. You’ve been to rehab a couple of times; can we talk about that?
SP: Yeah. It was like an outpatient detox thing, so it wasn’t technically rehab—it was a detox thing.
Just before Staunchly came out, I went to detox for the first time ’cause I wanted to quit Xanax and all that, but I was having trouble quitting on my own. I’d be off it, and then I’d relapse.
Detox was helpful for me—talking to the drug counsellors. I had so many one-hour sessions, chatting it out with the counsellor, about everything to do with my drug use. Having those ideas drilled into my head was probably really important.
Drugs really change the way your brain is wired. Your thought processes aren’t working properly, and they’re making you do stupid things [laughs]. I needed that to be sorted out.
After detox, I was back into making music. I still had a bit of trouble quitting after that—there were a few relapses here and there—but they get fewer and further between, as time goes on.
Where you still feeling lonely at that time?
SP: Sometimes I was by myself and sometimes with friends. One of the things that I needed to change for me was, hanging out with people when I know that they have pills. I know me and I know if I’m with someone and they have pills, I’m going to want to do it, as much as I know that doing it is bad. So if I knew my friends had pills, I knew not to hang out. It was rough, but I had to do what I had to do. I was sad because some of those people were really good mates.
On the album, in song ‘2 Fucked Up’ you talk about all that.
SP: Fuckin’ oath!
There’s a line in the song where you say: There’s nobody’s helping me.
SP: Yeah. [Raps] I feel like nobody’s helping me, please somebody help me / I been taking all my meds but ain’t nothing helping.
A bit of context about ‘2 Fucked Up’… I went to detox the second time, right? About a year after the first time because I wasn’t taking pills anymore, but I was just, broke but still buying weed every week, still smoking every day, and drinking every night. I was spending any money I had on substances—which isn’t good.So I needed to go to detox again to get off everything, at least for a while, so I could get my money back, right?
I probably took a good six weeks off weed and drinking. And wrote ‘2 Fucked Up’ during that period. I wrote ‘Get Rich…’ during that period too.
I got my money sorted out now, so I drink and smoke sometimes. But I’m not in debt to anybody and I’m not a broke cunt anymore [laughs]. I know that I can smoke weed and still go to work and still like live a normal life. I stay away from the pills these days though—it’s bad news.
I’m stoked for you. A lot of people don’t really see prescription drugs as drugs, or being that harmful but they’re a lot worse than weed or mushrooms, you know, natural shit.
SP: Yeah, the doctor can prescribe people a benzo for anything. It’s not as big of a problem here as it is in America. In America, you tell the doctor you have anxiety and you get a prescription for Xanax twice a day. It’s so fucked up. I could talk about benzos all day. I have so many thoughts on them. I did have my fun on them but I wouldn’t recommend it to anybody.
On song ‘Get Rich or Die Tryin’ there’s a line you spit about not wanting to encourage your fans to do pills. When did you first realise that your words can have power to other people?
SP: It was the weirdest, weirdest thing. I’d been making music for a long time at that point, and I’d never really had an audience until Staunchly.
Around the time Haunted Mound had come to Australia, they were on Twitter being like, bring us Rikodeine to the shows. And I thought that was kind of rough, right? Because a lot of their fans are teenagers—all-ages kids. So a lot of these fifteen-year-olds are probably looking up “what is Rikodeine?” for the first time.
I rap about Rikodeine—or at least my older stuff did. Not really anymore. I don’t rap about it anymore because I don’t do it anymore. And in the stealthyn00b Discord, there was this kid… he’d bought the same Nautica jacket I had. He got his haircut the same way. And then he posted, like, I just bought some Riko—there was a photo of the bottle of Rikodeine he bought from the pharmacy.
He was, sixteen!
I was like, bro… I was like, that’s not cool. You shouldn’t have got that.
And he would’ve only really known about it through either Haunted Mound or me. And I felt so guilty in that moment. I was like, oh, this is fucked up. I was just like, bro, don’t do that shit. Chuck it out. And he was like, I just took one sip. I already feel something.
And I was like, bro—don’t do that shit. Chuck that shit out, man! You’re stressing me out.
When I started rapping about Xanax, doing a song called ‘5 A4’s in My Nikes’, I put that out, and then I put on my stories: just letting you know, we don’t support drugs, and we don’t want anybody taking pills. And someone replied to me: yeah, it’s all good to say you don’t support it but you’re still supporting it if you’re rapping about it. You’ve gotta stop talking about it. And I was like… man. Maybe I should stop talking about it. Maybe I do have a duty to my fans to not be promoting these negative ways of living. On the other hand, I shouldn’t be censoring myself. I’m an artist. I should be able to write about what I want to write about. You can do what you want but there are always real-world consequences.
First track on Penance ‘Lead Horse to Water’ is about seeing your friends in the midst of addiction and you want to help them but you can’t really help people that don’t want to be helped.
SP: Yeah, it’s real. I wanted to change what I’m rapping about, but it kind of just happened naturally, as my opinions on things changed and as I lived a bit of life, and I saw the effects of what living that sort of way does to people.
Instead of rapping about, pouring Riko in my lemonade on the train, I’m talking about trying to help out my homie but he won’t fucking listen. It’s rough because that’s real.
There are two sides to the coin. Drug use is really fun [laughs] when you’re doing it but it’s really painful as well, for the person and for the people around them.
I find drugs really interesting. I consume a lot of media related to drugs, It’s sort of poetic and heartbreaking and shit. I don’t want to just show the fun part.
You don’t want to glamorise it?
SP: Yeah, I’m just dead set in that, This is the life that my friends live, and that I live to an extent, but I’m not gonna sugarcoat it and say that it’s all mad fun.
As someone who’s been through addiction and seen friends struggle with it too, is there anything you think someone going through it now could do to help themselves? Or something you wish someone had done to help you?
SP: The advice I’d give to someone that’s in that situation, trying to help a friend out, is you want to try and be patient. You’ve got to be as patient as you can be. Because, drugs just fuck with a person’s brain. Most drug users want to quit, right? Most bad drug users want to quit, but they feel like they can’t.
You can talk to someone and they’ll be like, yeah, I’m so keen on quitting. I’m fucking sick of it all. And they can pinpoint exactly why the drug is so bad for their life and be like, yeah, fuck it, I’m not doing that shit anymore. And then, like, two days later, you see them and they’re back on it. It can get so frustrating. So that’s why it’s important to have a lot of patience and to try and put yourself in their shoes as much as you can.
That’s the most difficult thing for someone that’s never used. Someone that hasn’t been there can be like, it’s so stupid. Don’t they see how destructive they’re being? Don’t they see how they’re fucking up everything? They do see it. Of course they see it. But the drugs have such a fucking grip on them. They feel like they can’t let go. Like they can’t get out of it. It’s too scary, it’s too hard.
Patience and kindness is the best thing you can do when someone is in a bad place and hurting. Try not to give up, too. It can get really frustrating but don’t give up!
When I was doing Xannies, I probably had someone give me the Xannie talk, like, ten times before it really sunk in. Remind your friends that what they’re doing is fucking stupid! [laughs].
The other part of it too is, that people forget when you take pills, your body becomes addicted to it. And when you’re ready to stop, you physically can’t, because your body craves it. And you’ll do anything that will take that pain away, that detox, and that really uneasy, gross feeling you get when you finally want to stop.
SP: Yeah, yeah. Exactly. Because that’s the easier thing to do. And that’s why it’s called an addiction. You can be ready to quit, but your body isn’t ready.
I remember it was the worst. I thought having another Xanax would cure me. I’ve never been dope sick or anything but that’s probably the closest thing I could compare it to.
I could be with my friends. I could have weed. I could have alcohol. I could have my girlfriend. But I could still just be wanting to kill myself, you know. Just being like, fuck, more than anything I just want to go out and get Xannies. That’s so ill, right? It’s such a mentally ill way of thinking but that’s just what the drugs do to you.
Photo: Jhonny Russell
You have a song called ‘Cuts On My Wrists’; how close to home is that song:?
SP: Yeah, a little. Self-harm was never the thing that I dealt with when I was a younger teenager. It happened around the benzo-years, I started getting into that. I was in a dark space and feeling like I needed control.
Sometimes, I guess, it’s a way to feel, though, too, because you’re so numbed out from all the benzos. Like, I just want to feel something again. It’s like, can I still even feel something?
SP: It’s kind of TMI but I did it on the benzos because they make you so impulsive. I have a song ‘I Want To Hurt Myself’…I’d be at my mate Skratcha’s place and I’d want to hurt myself. We’d be chilling in the kitchen and just cut myself. Why? I don’t know, I wanted to. It’s pretty random. That’s not something I struggle with anymore.
Thank fuck! I’m proud of you.
SP: Thank you.
You’ve done a lot in a short period of time. In my opinion it’s the best thing you’ve ever done.
SP: Oh, that means a lot! I reckon it is probably the best thing I’ve done.
The production’s gotten real pretty.
SP: Thank you! Making it, I was so worried. Like, oh, I hope people like this as much as the last one. I hope people like this more than the last one. Because the last one was so obviously my best work at that point. It was easy to make an album better than Dart. It’s easy to make an album better than Northside. But it’s not easy to make an album better than Staunchly for me, at this point.
I love the variation and the different emotions. And the way your flow has evolved.
SP: I like to think so. Thank you.
Your laptop died while making Penance, right? You were like 70% finished when it happened?
SP: Yeah. More then half of it was from 2023. My laptop died around Christmas and I didn’t have the money to buy a new one because I was so broke. I didn’t get a new laptop until I went to detox again, four months later.
Did you remake the songs you lost?
SP: No, I’d saved the files. We got all the files off my laptop. The laptop itself died, the CPU completely fucked it, but we managed to recover everything, so I didn’t have to remake the album, thank goodness.
I actually made this album on two laptops. One was the laptop I made Staunchly on, and that one’s dead now. I couldn’t get into the project files on it, though.I had the finished songs, but I couldn’t go back and edit them.
When I was working on ‘Make It Back’ – the original version was from mid-2023, but I needed to extend it so I could get Ricky’s verse on it. That meant finding the beat again and re-recording the whole song. That’s one track that’s re-recorded.
When my laptop was broken, I was making songs on my phone using BandLab. There were also one or two BandLab songs that I later recorded on the laptop as well. So there were a couple of re-records, but they didn’t end up on the album. I think they’ll go on the deluxe edition.
Is there a song on the album that you’re really proud of?
SP: I’m really proud of all of them [laughs]. I’m really proud of ‘2 Fucked Up’ because it’s so catchy and emo and ridiculous and funny. It’s all my favourite parts of my music in one song.
‘All My Friends Are Leaving Brisbane’ is another song I’m really proud of, that stuff had been on my mind. It’s good to be able to sum up my feelings in a song.
Do you feel kind of lonely or isolated sometimes because a lot of your crew left for Melbourne or Sydney and you’re still here?
SP: Yeah, yeah. I had two close friends move from Brisbane to Melbourne and one of my other friends that lived in Adelaide moved to Melbourne too. They were all kicking back. And suddenly, people don’t have as much time to like talk on the phone and shit like that,’cause they’re living their fun life and I’m living the boring life here in Brisbane.
I like your line where you’re talking about your friends being in Sydney, but you hope they don’t forget Sidney. That’s kind of a real Kanye like line.
SP: Yeah, I love putting your own name in the lyrics. I’ve always loved that. I feel like it’s a specifically rap thing, talking about yourself. In other genres, they’re not really doing that. They might be singing about themselves but it’s usually in a more poetic way. I love how raw rap is, just being dead set. Saying what you really feel.
Do you know how many times you say the word cunt on your new album?
SP: Oh-no, did you count?
Sure did!
SP: [Laughs].
88 times.
SP: What!? 88 times? I’m going to do 100 next time!
[Laughter] On ‘2 fucked Up’ you say it 15 times.
SP: [Laughs] Of course! There’s a few clean songs on Penance, which were an accident. I noticed when I was going through a looking at what songs were explicit and which songs weren’t.
Yeah, there’s seven songs that you don’t swear in.
SP: [Laughs] That’s gag. It’s crazy. Ridiculous. It’s awesome. There’ll be 100 c-words on the deluxe.
[Laughter] You grew up Christian; is the album title Penance inspired by that? Also, you eventually did your own exploration of Christianity and decided you kind of didn’t believe in God for a few years, when you’re around 13. And eventually you went back on the path.
SP: Yeah. I thought about it all for a while, like, oh nah, this shit doesn’t sound right. I did my own research into it. I get such a strong feeling in like my heart when I hear gospel music. It makes me cry sometimes, l feel overwhelmed with emotion. The religious stuff is pretty real for me these days.
You thanked God in your album liner notes.
SP: All praise be. I’ve done a physical release for every album I’ve made, and every one has a note thanking God. I always thank my friends, my family, and God, you got to, he’s number one, he’s making it happen [laughs]. I always thank God. On ‘Act Famous’ it says: [raps] Coming up quick but it wasn’t up to me / All the thanks is to my God that’s right above of me.
I’m not really interested in making gospel music but I’ll chuck a lyric or two about God in there, just because that’s me.
I remember when I first heard Kanye West’s song ‘Jesus Walks’ and thinking that’s a really powerful song. It moves you, whether you believe in God or not.
SP: Mmm-hmm, yeah. For me, that’s why it’s so amazing. It’s like, wow! That’s heavy. [Raps] God, show me the way because the Devil’s tryna break me down… I wanna talk to God but I’m afraid ’cause we ain’t spoke in so long. Ohhhhhhhh! That’s hard. That gives me goosebumps.
I got into Kanye when I wasn’t really Christian anymore and then I heard ‘Jesus Walks’. Fuck, those lyrics really hit: I’m just tryna say the way school need teachers / The way Kathie Lee needed Regis, that’s the way I need Jesus. Ahhhhh! I LOVE that!
What are the things that are important to you about creativity?
SP: It’s important to be yourself, always, to be unique. Everybody’s art exists because of everybody else’s art, right? You can’t ignore your influences but you don’t want to lean too hard into your influences either, because then it’s just not cool, right? The thing with clone artists, there’s lots of clones of each other, right? With rap especially but it’s like, why would you want to listen to a clone?
I’ve noticed there’s a bunch of artists out their now that try to emulate and bite your style.
SP: [Laughs] There is bro! [laughs]. It’s fucked up, it’s very weird. The first time I heard someone sounding like me, I was like, fuck off cunt! This is not right. Why would you want to listen to the clone when you can listen to the original? Why would you want to get the Aldi-brand when you could get the real Coke.
It’s not only the hip-hip scene, it happens in the punk scene too, one day everyone started sounding like Blink-182 or Bad Religion or Ramones or whatever. I never understood artists that straight rip off someone else’s sound. Push things forward, put your own spin on it. I can hear some of your influences in earlier stuff but I think you’ve found your own thing now.
SP: Yeah. That’s what you need to do when you’re making art, you need to take your influences, put your own spin on it. If I’m out at a show and I hear a band that sounds like Blink-182. That’s pretty disappointing. But its different when you hear a band sounds a little like Blink-182 but they’re doing their own thing. I fuck with that. You have to do it your way.
Did you see that guy on Instagram reels the other day? This guy blowing up doing a Sidney Phillips type thing and everybody was flaming him in the comments [laughs]. It’s so funny, man.
[Laughter]. One of your clips ‘Effy’ has around 20,000 views, which is really cool. And on Spotify, it had 128K+ streams.
SP: Yeah, it’s so good!
Totally! Gimmie has a YouTube where we’ve posted 100s of live vids we shoot. Recently one got 2.2 million views [it’s now at 3.6 million!] of a local band, Guppy. It’s funny how we had that vid go viral and we get crazy numbers in views on our interviews, yet all the other media and publicity people in Australia don’t think our little publication matters.
SP: Wow! I haven’t had a I haven’t had a video go crazy like that.
Why do you think people latched onto ‘Effy’?
SP: I post a TikTok of a snippet of every video that I do. The TikTok gfor ‘Effy’ got some decent views, like 14,000. Suddenly, we got a bunch of comments. That was the first big one. It all kind of happened from there, when it did well I started getting booked for shows. I’m pretty happy with where I am now. But I’d love to not have to do my day job anymore.
Where do you work?
SP: Woolies [laughs]. In the deli, mostly. Its’ not terrible. I like the actual job. It’s annoying being understaffed, though.
I saw footage of a recent show you played in Melbourne and it looked crazy! So much fun! It was a packed house and everyone was just losing it. It must be a bit of a head fuck to go from from playing awesome shows then going back to Woolworths?
SP: A little bit. Definitely, after doing the show. The recent ones in Sydney and this one in Melbourne, blew everything else out of the water. I’d never done a show with more than 150 people. The Sydney show was 300+. The Melbourne show was even more; packed with everyone singing along.
It looked like you were having the time of your life! Your vibe, the crowds vibe, it was pretty special. Watching that, you get the feeling that you won’t be playing in small rooms for much longer.
SP: Sometimes I’ll tell my coworkers about stuff. They’ve known me for three years now, and they know I’ve been doing music the whole time. It’s nice to be able to be like, oh, guess how much I made off this show, or guess how many people came to this one.
But yeah, for the most recent one, I had to be like, bro, I’ll show you my bank account, right? I promise I’m not lying. And they’re like, no, no, I believe you, I believe you [laughs]. It doesn’t sound real sometimes, though.
But IT IS real. You’re living it! And people are really responding positively to your latest album. I am so excited to see what you do next, Sidney! I’ve secretly been hoping you’ll incorporate more of the emo and post-punk influences.
SP: Yeah, come on, come on—we’ll get all Joy Division-y with it.
Gimmie Gimmie Gimmie Zine 