indra
ONE love, blood, life
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Thought you might enjoy this interview, especially because the poor interviewer didn't have a clue who the hell he was talking to! It's soooo very Steve! I bet he was laughing his ass off!
Actually other than the interviewer not having a clue it's not all that bad of an interview.
beat magazine
Actually other than the interviewer not having a clue it's not all that bad of an interview.
by Patrick Emery
It’s 12.30 and I’m due to receive a call from The Church founding member and bass player Marty Willson-Piper about their forthcoming Australian tour. The phone rings and a voice says “Hi, this is Jack Robinson. Steve Kilbey couldn’t make it today so I’m doing the interview instead.” Slightly thrown, and assuming the well spoken English public school accent does indeed belong to Willson-Piper, I reply that that’s OK, but I was expecting to speak to Marty Willson-Piper. “Oh really? Well I can be anyone you want me to be,” Robinson/Willson-Piper replies. How about the late Arthur Lee, I suggest? “I can be Arthur if you like.” So with slightly odd introduction this particular journey with The Church is away.
The Church seem to have been around for an eternity. They were one of the first bands who championed the visual style of the 1960s – paisley shirts, stove pipe jeans and winkle-picker boots – and the dirty psychedelic sounds that accompanied the stormy clouds of the end of that era. Based around the song-writing talents of Steve Kilbey and Willson-Piper, The Church have carved out a reputation as one of the country’s most consistent bands, with classic songs such as Unguarded Moment, Almost With You, Metropolis and Under The Milky Way betraying a body of work that’s as deep artistically as it is voluminous. The band’s value to the national psyche even led Under The Milky Way to being performed (with orchestral accompaniment) during the opening ceremony at this year’s Commonwealth Games.
The conversation with Willson-Piper continues to evolve in strange ways, focusing on attempts in western society to find meaning and purpose in the face of the permanent white water of change and uncertainty that surrounds our daily existence. When I suggest this uncertainty underpins the rise of outer-suburban evangelical churches, Willson-Piper has a better suggestion. “I don’t they’re going to find it there,” he replies. “They might be turning there in a misguided attempt to find some spiritual answers. Unless I’m mistaken; maybe there are some pastors and priests who actually are dishing the good oil. But I think people should look to space rock bands like The Church, and only there will they find it. And by coming and seeing The Church when we play in Melbourne all spiritual questions will be known. The unknown will be made known – otherwise we will give a money-back guarantee,” Willson-Piper says.
So it’s a ‘no enlightenment, no pay’ policy? “Exactly! People will be enlightened. The trouble with enlightenment, though, is it should be permanent but it only happens for the moment; the band hits that chord, the singer sings that word or the painter paints the stroke – and for a second you go ‘now I fucking understand everything’ and then the second’s gone and then you hunger. But if it’s a really good band they can give you thousands of seconds like that,” Willson-Piper muses with enthusiasm. It’s a case of looking through the fog and seeing the light, I suggest. “Or at least glimpsing the possibility of what could be beyond the mundanity,” Willson-Piper counters. “The band opens a door in a world, and for an hour and a half you step into that world and all the rest of the shit’s fucking meaningless because it’s all making sense inside that music.”
Having debunked the relevance of the Hillsong Church revivalist movement, it’s time to cover some more secular territory. The Church has spent the last two years playing acoustic shows, including a series of sold-out shows in the United States that attracting some of the band’s most lavish reviews. The Church will returns to full electric mode for its forthcoming Australian show to promote the release of its new album, Uninvited, Like the Clouds. Willson-Piper says the band prefers the acoustic format (“it doesn’t hurt my ears,” he says with a tired tone), yet he recognises that the fans yearn for the full electric model.
While the quality of the band’s reputation in the United States and Europe suggests it’s under-appreciated in Australia, Willson-Piper says the percentage is about the same in the band’s major markets. “I think the English, the Americans, the Australians, the Canadians and the New Zealanders all ‘get’ The Church in the same amount.” Despite this, Willson-Piper says the band’s recent American tour has illustrated a different demographic trend. “I think there’s a weird thing afoot in America with us and we’re becoming a bit of a locus, where certain different types of people are getting into it,” Willson-Piper says. “There are a few of the old college radio types but there’s a lot of 30ish hippies who are looking for a Grateful Dead type of band. And then there’s a lot of rich business people who listen to the best music, tertiary educated people, doctors, lawyers, professors. I’m continually shocked in America by the stream of those people who say ‘my favourite band is The Church’,” Kilbey laughs.
The conversation returns briefly to the earlier topic of psychedelia, spiritualism, escapism and space rock. “Psychedelia is the intent to use the music to take people to that other place, to bend their minds, to borrow their brains and – without drugs and just with music – pull off a drug-like experience. It’s about inducing the feeling of lift-off, the weightlessness, the loneliness, the bliss, the infinity and eternity of space. That’s what space rock bands are all about.” But, Willson-Piper recognises that not everyone wants to open the doors of perception. “I have ascertained in my lifetime that there are people for whom getting into that mood has absolutely no fascination for them at all, no appeal. That is why psychedelia and space rock will never be the number one thing that dominates the charts. But there will always be a need for it, there’s always a need for people to put on music that makes them feel like they're belting along on an astral plane.”
Willson-Piper concludes with his own tongue-in-cheek neo-Leary hope for the future. “Wouldn’t it be amazing if just for a couple of years it took over and everybody was doing it – it’d be hilarious!” But he is no superficial hippie; if there is a mass-psychedelia movement in the wings it would be nice if it afforded The Church some tangible reward. “And on a greedy note,” Willson-Piper says, “it’d be great if The Church got dragged along in the wake,” he laughs.
beat magazine
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