SAT

It was almost 23 years ago that Jebediah first shambled on stage in their shorts, sneakers, blue hair, dimples, grins and smirks and started bouncing off the walls with their roaring riffs and soaring pop hooks, tearing the lid off the Big Day Out and the Hottest 100 overnight.  It’s impossible for an Australian of a certain vintage to imagine those late ’90s summers without those delirious early Jebs singles — ‘Jerks of Attention’, ‘Leaving Home’, ‘Teflon’, ‘Harpoon’, ‘Animal’ — blasting out of every car radio and festival PA from Summersault to the Falls to Homebake.
Kevin Mitchell, Chris Daymond, Vanessa Thornton and Brett Mitchell were mostly teenagers when they set out: brothers and best mates from some far-flung Perth high school who’d accidentally stumbled into the first division of the global rock’n’roll perpetual and given it a cheeky kick up the arse while running rings around it with guitars in the air. 23 years later, of course… um, actually, nothing much has changed.  “We’d easily been going for ten years,” says Vanessa, “before the thought even occurred to me that we weren’t the new kids anymore. For so long, I just felt like we were the young kids from the other side of the country who were allowed to play with the grown-ups. And I was happy with that.”
Who wasn’t? The spontaneous arrival of Jebediah on the alt. airwaves was an act of contagious glee perpetrated by four young’uns who simply knew no better than to crank up the volume and rock. A Jebediah gig was like an injection of youth in all its naïve, joyful, mischievous, uncluttered glory.  In time, naturally, came sneaky indications of real craft, even glimmers of sophistication, in the orchestral intensity of ‘Run of the Company’, the rear-view wisdom of ‘It’s Over’, the  philosophical clarity of ‘More Alone’ and the coolly swaggering power pop of ‘Lost My Nerve’.  But with some bands, the things that change are far outweighed by the stuff that stays thesame.
“I think our music and our inspirations have evolved,” says Chris, “but the process hasn’t. It’s all hands on deck when song writing is happening. Everybody takes responsibility for everything they put in.”  The secret to their longevity, he says, “is nothing more complicated than friendship. It’s just always been such a pleasure being with those dudes. And the chemistry hasn’t changed. It was good fun then and it’s good fun now.”
The story of then has been oft told. Jebediah won the National Campus Band Competition on their 13th gig, in October ’95. Soon after they signed to Murmur, Australia’s coolest new label (Silverchair, Something For Kate), they were catapulted out of the mosh pits and onto the main stage of the exploding ’90 festival scene.  Bands they’d idolised yesterday — You Am I, Soundgarden, Smashing Pumpkins, Foo Fighters, Weezer, Magic Dirt —became peers faster than you could say Of Someday Shambles.  “Pretty much every gig we played between ’96 and ’99 was a highlight,” says Kevin, “because things happened so quickly for us.  “Even now, we always have a good time together and I think people get that. I think people see it. It doesn’t matter if we’re playing to a sea of people at a festival or 200 people at a country pub. We just have a great time.”
So much so that the reality of their success was easy to overlook from the inside. “I remember watching some footage of our performance at the 2000 Big Day Out,” says Brett.  “It was a moment. I was so struck by a scale of it. It was hard to believe I was us up there, evoking this response from so many people. I suddenly thought, ‘Oh, we’re quite good’.”  Showbiz happened to Jebediah too, of course. They were dropped by Sony Music around the time of their third album — distinguished by the barrelling bagpipe rush of ‘Fall Down’ and the cunningly loaded reflection of ‘Yesterday When I was Brave’. At the time, they barely
skipped a beat.  “We didn’t go into this with any kind of career motivation whatsoever and I think that’s the difference,” Kevin says. “Observing other bands over the years, I’ve noticed a lot of them break up very soon after they have a lot of success. But we felt the same motivation to keep
playing together.” Even in their hiatus years, between the self-produced triumph of Braxton Hicks and reenergised comeback with Kosciuszko in 2011, Jebediah never stopped grinning at each other over flailing instruments and sweaty t-shirts, either in front of a full house or in the eternal rosy glow of the band room.

It’s been twenty years since Hooper Siblings Killing Heidi released their disarming folk pop song, ‘Kettle’ on triple j unearthed. The band soon expanded into colourful teenage power pop and burst onto the national and international stage with their breakthrough debut album Reflector, released in March 2000. 

Anthemic singles ‘Mascara’ and ‘Weir’ made Reflector a blow-out success and cemented the work as one of Australia’s most loved pop albums. 

The early naughties belonged to Killing Heidi with Weir placing #2 and Mascara #14 in triple j’s Hottest 100. Reflector went onto to take out four ARIA awards and reach 4 x platinum status. The Hooper siblings also won the critically-acclaimed APRA songwriters of the year award.  A seminal part of the Aus indie music story. Reflector has now been released digitally . 

Ella and Jesse Hooper reignited the flame re-banding for the 20th anniversary of Queenscliff Music Festival in November 2016, a perfect fit as it marked 20 years since the siblings first started performing as ‘Killing Heidi’. Inspired by the electric energy and capacity crowd their reunion performance drew, they then went on to wow fans at the Zoo Twilight concert series in February at Taronga and Melbourne Zoos. Ella, Jesse and the band are full of their trademark enthusiasm and can’t wait to get back on the road again. 

In 2017 Killing Heidi completed a National Tour with “ Live Nation” displaying that none of the old spark has gone from their stadium show. The success of this Capital city tour has led to a demand for a Regional Tour, which is commencing late 2017. 

“What Killing Heidi’s music meant and still means to the people that shared that amazing time with us really blows me away. I meet so many people, especially young women, who tell me how Killing Heidi inspired them to be themselves, back themselves or even start a band, and I’m completely honoured that it had that effect on people.” – Ella Hooper 

“Ella’s performance is as alive as ever. Vibrant and rockin’, it was clearly evident she was enjoying being back on stage fronting Killing Heidi, especially during the harder hitting songs, such as “Superman/Supergirl”, “Mascara” and set-closing crowd favourite, “Weir” – Rolling Stone 

To finish a batch of tunes that may or may not demand an LP, written when in the throes of stage fright behind real actors,when he should have been paying attention, old Bull Rogers needs the bitumen under his heels and some hasty, Faustian deals.

Old songs, new songs, freshly constructed truths and libidinous lies.

What could POSSIBLY go wrong.

The Endless Cycle Of Maitenance has begun.

””

Authenticity is the element that defines the darkly beautiful and wrenching debut record of William Crighton.  

For the deep-voiced songwriter and intense live performer, there were no short cuts taken to arrive at this self-titled album. Beneath each track are thousands of kilometres, and within are stories wrought of trees and roads and dust, soaked in the essence of our ancient continent. 

“I love traveling our Earth and will be forever thankful to her for letting me become such a part of her that I feel as long as I look after her I’m welcome wherever I choose to roam,” Crighton says. 

Recorded in a house on the rugged banks of Burrinjuck Dam, near the South West Slopes region of NSW, the record paints a vivid picture of its protagonist: philosopher, romantic and a “pacifist who sometimes fantasises of killing”. The eleven tracks, which feature Crighton’s wife Jules on backing vocals and brother Luke on bass guitar, are produced by Matt Sherrod and shift between whimsical ballads and full-blooded, expansive rock sojourns.  

“Amongst other things I’m a father, husband and son,” Crighton says, “and like all of us I’m a lover, hater, fighter, victim, perpetrator, grower and harvestor.” 

Woven into Crighton’s classic folk-rock sensibility is vivid prose. These tales are alive with visceral imagery and the echoes of a spiritual upbringing. In ‘Riverina Kid’ a snake winds up the riverbank, a boy’s found hanging; In ‘2000 Clicks’, the adult Crighton stares into the reflection of his childhood; In the thundering tale of retribution ‘Priest’, a pedophilic man of the cloth meets his demise. ‘Jesus Blues’ and ‘Dig Your Mind’ exemplify the ragged, sweltering rock that Crighton can command, while ‘Smile’ is the songwriter’s gentle reminder to do just that.  

“I have good memories of paddling down the Goobragandra River with my brother Luke avoiding tiger snakes and catching fish,” Crighton says. “We’d cast into where the water wraps around one particular river gum, the deeper water slows the current down and fish wait for insects and other things to wash into view. Witnessing a rainbow trout strike a lure under reflections of golden wattle through ripples of muddy water told me more than the TV ever will.” 

Crighton’s religious upbringing was, in its own way, as formative as his young years spent on the land. “I got real comfort as a kid praying with Nan and I still believe in the universal message of peace that Jesus echoed but I don’t identify myself as a religious person these days,” he says.  

The record’s centerpiece, the gripping and heartfelt ‘Woman Like You’, proves equally potent with two separate treatments. The song appears midway as a sparse, slow-building ballad and returns as a loud finale, a reprise that feels both natural and essential. But such is the diverse and timeless quality of Crighton’s songwriting. Such is its sincerity. Such is its authenticity. 

“I believe music is an essential part of our current experience and I am truly grateful to be able to share mine with you,” Crighton says.  

“Life is beautiful, torturous and short.” 

“Hailing from Albury, NSW and now based in Melbourne, The Northern Folk are a collective of ten musical ambitionists spreading their unique brand of folk/pop/stomp/rock into the roots of small towns and big cities alike. Combining two powerful vocalists, roaring horns, bashful bass and addictive percussion, their big, diverse sound proves flexible both on stage and on record, and is continuing to earn them a following wherever they travel.”