Problem: It's 1973. You're 17. You live in West Wollongong. You don't care for surfie chicks.
You care for Hugo Ball and FT Marinetti.
Solution: Poison the minds of a few peers and form a band.
Beginning as The Nothing in definite reference to the Fugs (who looked far too old to be doing this sort of thing), we sharpened our skills by rolling organic and inorganic objects across the floor of Paul Groch's bedroom floor. Logically progressing to Country Music (John Denver was a major, if pernicious, influence.) with the aid of Terry Rudkin's mum's Thomas Colour Key organ and a homemade theremin, we finally settled on a 7-piece rock band format. I.e. Fuelled by Coopers and too loud for
its own good. Gosh I miss that theremin. Anyway, the gear wouldn't fit into the Ford Escort. A far cry from Ball or Marinetti. Or was it?
Those intonarumori must have been a bastard to lug.
1979. Re-disorganized as the N-let's, a cracking power trio named after the N-let's. Goodbye Wollongong. Hello Darlinghurst. Our good friends Voigt/465 Acid Radiators and The Slugfuckers let us play in their sandpits: Garibaldi's; Tin Sheds; Sussex Hotel. Next stoop Melbourne, home of the black skivvy.
Good food though.
We developed a reputation for anarcho-comedic comedo-anarchic confrontational performances.
That's what it said in the paper. I prefer "self-unconscious".
1982. A time of change. Had a haircut. Packed away the tracksuit. Goodbye Haven't-Rock. Welcome back, Marinetti. Invented the Guitarumori, a structurally reinforced acoustic guitar with a whammy bar and a hatch for loading the sound box with objects. The guitar objected back. Next came the Totally Unprepared accordion. Then, the Redistributed Drumkit. As an acoustic duo, we played the art café circuit. Actually it was a thin short line, but a good 'un.
By 1984 it was all over. I was overcome by the siren song of Debating. It was much easier to carry a thesaurus on a bicycle than a double bass. Funny how such practical considerations intrude.