The Mummies have supposedly been embalmed for 5000-odd years now, so they’ve had ample time to ruminate on what’s been happening in the music world. According to Ruane there’s only one way to do it right. “Anyone who creates music purely to satisfy themselves without a care for whether anyone else likes it – that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s any good, or that I’d want to listen to it, but that’s the point.
“The problem with popular music is the word popular. Trying to appeal to others? Fail. The Mummies create music to please ourselves. We don’t care if you like it. Billy Childish accomplishes this. Devo did, mostly.”
It’s clear The Mummies have never been concerned with garnering fame and fortune. This is evidenced by the fact they don’t show their faces on stage and are known for hurling abuse at their audience.
The Mummies started doing their thing in the golden DIY era of the late ‘80s. As time progressed they refused to bow-down to the rampant commercialism permeating the music industry, which saw a vast number of musicians cashing in on new technology in the quest for celebrity. One example of this was their vinyl release Fuck CDs. In recent times the band has refused to engage with social media and rejected most elements of the digital age.
“Technology just makes things easier for people, which just makes it easier for everyone to be lazy and feel entitled. The Internet makes it easier to communicate with people all over the world, but I don’t want to communicate with people in my own town, let alone those on the other side of the planet,” says Ruane. “DIY is easier than ever, but it means people don’t have to work as hard at the thing they supposedly care about. What’s wrong with putting more effort into the thing you love doing? Make it easy for me to find a toilet when I’m out in public and have to take a shit, not to make music.”
The Mummies are known for using ancient, less than perfect equipment and yet producing a killer sound. This example drives home their rejection of hyper-professionalism, which shines through in their raw presence on stage. Ruane describes one item in particular which has been with the band since the ‘90s.
“Mid-‘60s 1484 Silvertone Twin Twelve amplifier. Bought it in 1990 at Thrift Town in Redwood City for $35 and came with a Doric electric organ. Both appeared to have been completely unused. The backstory I like to think happened was that somebody bought their kid this gear in 1965 to play in a garage band, then the kid got drafted, went to Vietnam where he got his head blown off and the parents put it in the attic, where it sat until they died and their other kid, who had to live his whole life in the shadow of his older brother who died in the war, finally got to get rid of it along with all the other shit his parents owned when he cleaned out their house to sell.”
Making his first trip over to Australia, Ruane says he’s excited for one thing only: “Cheap Easybeats records.” As for what punters can be excited for, “Expect to be transported to a shitty nightclub in San Francisco during 1990, where the band can barely keep it together, the equipment is on the brink of failure and there are no refunds.”
Obviously a major component contributing to the The Mummies’ notoriety is the fact they always perform in their tattered, gauze ensembles. Unsurprisingly, this has its ups and downs. Echoing the anti-celebrity mentality that’s been tied to The Mummies since day one, Ruane says, “The best part is that you don’t have to deal with anyone after playing, since they have no idea what you look like.”
The flipside, however, is as hilarious as it is disconcerting. “The worst part is that occasionally you end up putting on someone else’s mask and there’s no time to fix the situation. I got a bad case of facial gonorrhoea once – no, twice – in Seattle from performing in our bass player’s mask.”
BY BEL RYAN
