“It’s sort of a beg, borrow and steal philosophy,” Angus explains of the sounds he creates with fellow bandmembers Felix Riebl, Will Hull-Brown, Jamshid Khadiwhala, Ollie McGill and Ryan Monro. “We’re not serious Brazilian samba masters or Cuban masters or anything like that. Those traditions are pretty complicated. It’s kind of taking bits of a culture but not necessarily getting them right or doing them better than anyone else. We just take a little spice or flavour of it and everyone recognises it. It’s like Nando’s – you know how Nando’s only play Latin music? As a teenager I just assumed that Portugal was in South America somewhere. But, it’s not,” he says drily.
Angus believes that the band once considered themselves purveyors of that nebulous genre ‘World Music’: “I think at one point we did, more than we do now,” he says. “I think that music from around the world, certainly for me … that’s a lot of the music that I like to listen to. In a way, it’s like ‘World Music’ is just trying to create an industry for all the music of all the cultures of the world. Because music that is really strongly connected to a culture usually isn’t part of the music industry, as such. You always see Aboriginal music, Indigenous music in the World Music category at the ARIAs. It’s like,” and he whispers in pretend confusion, “well that’s not the world, that’s right here.”
A recent show in Rio – which is documented in a photo diary online, featuring some of the best looking fans you’ve ever seen – proves The Cat Empire remain entirely capable of enticing hordes of people to dance; but Angus has definite opinions about where that verve comes from. “I always think about that: how much credit we get for the energy that everyone brought with them to the show,” he says. “I think a myth has kind of grown around the band – not as myth as in it’s not true, but just a story that people tell – that that’s what our live shows are like; that crowds go crazy and that you dance and spontaneous things happen. So people come to our shows with that expectation now. [The audience] create a lot of that vibe. It’s just them; they brought it with them and they take it home afterwards.” You might at first dismiss this as completely outrageous humility, but if you think back to a live performance you’ve seen or look at footage, the boys truly do not rely on antics to pump up their audience. “We go and pass out sweating on the couch backstage. It’s not like we walk off stage and go out to a samba nightclub or anything,” he laughs.
Angus furthers his point by describing how he experiences things on stage. “The best shows are always the shows where I feel like I can look out into the audience and I’m catching people’s eyes and having a genuine connection with people out there. And I feel like a crowd is totally a part of it.” Can you truly catch eyes when you’re up there? Angus makes a noise of frustration at not knowing exactly how to word his view. “I’m not shy as in, I’m not shy to be on stage. But at a party I’m not necessarily the person who’s keeping the whole room entertained either,” he says. “So sometimes I find it very intimidating on stage to meet people’s eyes, you know, to do that thing: Hey, I’m going to rock the shit out of you. I’d rather just play with my eyes [closed] and concentrate on the music and what’s happening on stage. That’s what I mean though: when it feels so comfortable it’s not about me having to pump them up or get them excited; they’re just there.”
When he speaks of returning to McKinnon High School to partake in a farewell concert for his trumpet teacher Ian Orr, Angus to reflect on the way in which his schoolmates are making their way. “If you look at all the musicians who’ve come out of that school… in my year level it was the guys that went on to become Husky, and Clairy Browne and the Bangin’ Rackettes … there was this whole group of us, we’re all still friends,” he says. “Musicians fucking slog it out and struggle to get things happening and [there are] so many disappointments sometimes, especially if you’re trying to do something original.” There’s a real spirit of camaraderie in the dude’s voice when he says, “It’s been really rewarding the last couple of years to see all these old friends from high school who’ve been trying for 15 years to get something happening, kind of getting there, you know? Because they always had the talent. But it just happened so quickly for me, because… I don’t know. Random factors. It was definitely a special time [when The Cat Empire formed], but everyone’s talented. There are so many musicians in Melbourne who do gigs for other musicians. And then they go back to their day job and don’t do another gig for three months because they lost a thousand dollars on their last show,” he laments.
As for the more sporting side of Angus’ recent projects, the man has an interesting take on what it means to write a club song for our nation’s game. With other high profile Aussie artists also winning bids to create club chants – such as Eskimo Joe’s recent tune for the Fremantle Dockers – it’s a wonder how a particular musician might be attracted to the task. “I certainly didn’t feel like I was writing it ironically, but I can see how it’s kind of funny to do it that way in this day and age,” Angus says when I question whether the traditionally big brassy sound of club themes was something he embraced sincerely. “What I kind of thought about was that all these club songs were written mainly by the players; they weren’t written by, you know, Ryan Adams. Not some amazing lyricist who crossed words out and tried to get the perfect poetry,” he says. “It was a bunch of dudes who got together, wrote their team song, and probably didn’t get too precious about it. And I tried to do it with the same attitude. Just keep it simple.” You really can’t argue when you hear the spirit within Greater Western Sydney’s fresh new mantra: ‘Well there’s a big, big sound / from the west of the town / It’s the sound of the mighty giants.’
The Cat Empire’s Steal the Light tour was going to see support from Haitus Kaiyote, the Melbourne soul band brimming with original licks and a sasspot of a lead singer. However their recent elevation into big star territory meant the slot changed – Angus loves Kaiyote and wishes them well, but isn’t terribly upset about the replacement. “It’s good for me, because Tinpan Orange is my wife’s band so we’re happy that we can travel as a family again,” he says. “[Haitus Kaiyote] are on a wild ride at the moment and they just needed some time off. They’re both great bands.” Whether or not Angus’ little boy will accompany the forthcoming dates is yet to be discussed. “Might leave him with the grandparents, mix it up,” he says. “He’s seen the world already. He’s going to be one of those kids whose parents show him all these photos of all the places he went when he was two years old, and he can’t remember any of it.”
BY ZOË RADAS
