An impending shadow of inevitable mortality is at the forefront of everything that Tropical Fuck Storm does.
It underlines their music, surfaces in their songwriting, follows them around the world like night follows day. But as much as the Naarm-born supergroup takes pleasure in throwing caution to the wind, Gareth Liddiard – one of the country’s greatest lyricists and their lead vocalist and guitarist – tells me, “I don’t wanna die.”
It’s a throwaway comment offered in the context of having spent the morning at the gym prior to us talking, but he means it.
Tropical Fuck Storm
- Friday, June 6
- Forum Melbourne
- Tickets here
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While Gareth is referring to getting fit enough to be running rampant on stage on their upcoming tour – of which they’ll be taking on Naarm’s Forum for RISING on June 6 before heading to Europe and the US – a seething awareness of mortality can be heard across all their discography. Perhaps more so than ever on their latest album, Fairyland Codex.
It’s there in the title track, in its sombre lyrics suggesting that “A village in hell is waiting for you.” Its echoes reverberate throughout the song, the lines repeated from start to finish. Mortality, it suggests, might not be chasing you down. Instead, it’s patiently, knowingly, simply waiting.
If you’re looking for similarities between Tropical Fuck Storm’s debut studio album, A Laughing Death in Meatspace, and their fourth, you’ll find a few.
Montreal-based artist Joe Becker painted the colourfully sinister characters that adorn both album artworks. Apocalyptic stories of a world going to shit are hiding in the poetic lyricism. The vocals convey themes of worldly despair just as powerfully through the emotive strain of singing as through the lyrics.
And yet – as Tropical Fuck Storm are prolific for doing – they’ve created a body of work dissimilar to anything else that’s been made before. It helps that the band consists of some of the best musos we’ve got. Fiona Kitschin (bass guitar, vocals), Erica Dunn (guitar, keyboards, synthesiser, vocals) and Lauren Hammel (drums, programming) play alongside Gareth.
“You’ve got to be having fun”
“It’s the best of times, it’s the worst of times,” Gareth quotes in a sing-song voice, referring to the almost-decade-long whirlwind of making and touring Tropical Fuck Storm’s music, plus playing in The Drones and Springtime.
“That’s it,” he clarifies. “It’s both. The good bits are fucking amazing. But then, it’s just weird. It’s a very weird way to live. And you do get worried. You do.”
“You feel daunted by tours coming up,” he continues. “I just go, ‘fuck, I better not die,’” he laughs, before adding, “that’s what I seriously think. Maybe this will be the one. But I’ve been doing that for 20 years. What can you do?”
Just keep on doing it, seems to be the answer – but only if you’re having fun. “You’ve got to be having fun,” Gareth insists. “You have to want to do it. If you are feeling a bit worn out or a bit sick of it, or like you’re pushing shit uphill, you should just fucking stop. Have a break, rather than force it.”
The Tropical Fuck Storm manifesto
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It reminds me of something Gareth said in an interview from around the time their first album came out. “We’re going to be huge,” he was quoted as joking. “If not huge, we’ll try to have a good time.”
Now, he says, the sentiment still rings true. “I mean, being huge wouldn’t be as fun as it looks like,” he concedes. “But then, you know, I don’t know about it because I’m like a fucking Z-grade celebrity, really.”
Anyone with half a decent taste in music wouldn’t agree with Gareth on that, but that’s beside the point. “We’ve been fortunate enough not to be that big,” he says. “And the whole thing was just to have fun. You know, if we’re travelling somewhere, if we’re touring, we always make sure we actually see the sights.”
“You know? If I’m in Rome, I’m there to see Rome. I want to see the fucking Colosseum, I want to eat some pasta and have a good time. I want to meet the new pope. Pope Leo,” he laughs.
Music for the end of times
What makes the stark imagery and evocative narratives threaded through Tropical Fuck Storm’s music stay with the listener, long after the guitar strings finish vibrating, is the band’s ability to draw on stories from the unbelievable realities that punctuate the world.
Call them protest songs or call them political – Tropical Fuck Storm songs are curious insights into the horrid and hopeful existence we find all ourselves in.
“If you shy away from all that shit and you’re just singing like everything’s good…there’s an elephant in the room that needs to be addressed. But at the same time, we’re not that political, we’re not prescriptive or didactic or anything.”
“It’s weird – we’re a weird band. But it’s honest, so people like it. I don’t want to be the band on the deck of the Titanic, either. You know what I mean? I don’t want to be pretending everything’s fine when it’s going to shit.”
Truthfully, witnessing a Tropical Fuck Storm show – as the entire Earth slow-crashes into an existential iceberg of apocalyptic demise – sounds like a pretty great way to go. Until then, we’ll catch them on the stage.
For tickets to Tropical Fuck Storm at RISING on June 6, head here. New album Fairyland Codex out 20 June via Fire Records. Pre-order here.
