I get intense hayfever. I recenty got these things in my eye called meibomian cysts! I had terrifying thoughts of shingles or something equally arcane. Will I go blind?! But my doctor told me they were simply caused by my hayfever and by having a low-immune system due to being run down.

I was telling someone about this, and accidentally said, “Yeah, the Doctor reckons they’re cysts from low self-esteem.”

My friend looked horrified and said, “Dass, I didn’t realise you felt so bad!”

So it stuck, and now we call them my low self-esteem cysts.

Back in my day, it all used to be just ‘rock’ or ‘pop’ music. Now, everybody is calling everything ‘hypnagogic’. It drives me nuts, it’s like a desperation to intellectualise music. And just now I read a piece where someone says, “Eric Copeland’s music is hypnagogic.” What do you think of this?

That’s funny, I don’t know anything about that scene or that word. Maybe all the other terms have already been used up and ‘hypnagogic’ was all that was left? In the big scheme of things, it’s nice to just be written about. But I do tend to agree with you, that the term probably has more to do with the writers of the article than the people making the music. Certainly, in my case.

Black Dice formed in Providence, some good stuff has come from there – Six Finger Satellite, some of Talking Heads went to art school there: More recently it’s been your chums Lightening Bolt – Was there much of an inspiring music community there when you started out?

Providence was a huge inspiration for me at that time – the mid to late nineties. I was only in my teens, so being able to leave my parents’ house and go to a city, rink, got to parties and see music was just a big deal to me. But as much as the music was cool and inspiring, I feel like the little scene there hit me harder. I rarely went to clubs (it was more warehouses), all the people worked towards making these parties rule. Shit was heavy, scary and super creative. I don’t know much about the place now, but for me as a teenager, it was a wild and real inspiring place to be. And I think I’ve taken a lot of that energy with me over the years.

You moved to NYC a couple of years after forming. What creative impact did this have on the group? Were you exposed to new things that excited you?

I moved here when I was real young, so the impact has been hand in hand with me simply growing up. Not sure what the separation is between growing up/being influenced by the city. But yeah, New York City has been good to me. It’s never been real friendly or easy, but I’ve learned almost all my big lessons here. And more so, New York has provided me with most of my good friendships and lasting relationships. And maybe that was just taking what I’d seen earlier and transplanting it here in a way. It’s been 15 or so years here, so I can no longer separate the city from myself that easily. Even in hindsight.

Black Dice has been around for about 14 years. Being in the group with the same members for all this time, what keeps it interesting for you?

With Bjorn and Aaron, we take things as they lay, and try to redirect it all towards where we’d like to be. So between the three of us, we have a long lasting and pretty satisfying working relationship. We know each other well. And what keeps it going is the newness that comes along with each new work. New projects, new goals and new mediums. It’s nice to have stimuli that challenges all the time, but to also feel like we’re capable of tackling whatever comes our way and still improving our skills along the way. And if you always like the end result, it makes you hungry for more.

Black Dice play shows in a variety of contexts – small bars, festivals, galleries: For you, what have been some of the most memorable shows you’ve played as Black Dice or Eric Copeland and why?

Playing with Dice is more memorable for sure, because we share memories with each other so they stay in context longer. But, for myself, I’ve mostly only played in New York. The only times I play out of the city are when I’m touring with someone else (opening) or as a means to an end. But to answer your question, any really big gig I remember more because it’s such a strange thing to get on stage by myself in front of a large crowd. The ATP in May was like that. I got rained out of a huge outdoor Blonde Redhead gig here in the city. Nobody played but I’ll remember the scene with all the people forever. The first gig I did in Albany, New York, I’ll remember because it was such a weird night in the middle of nowhere. I think playing alone, the gig becomes a smaller occasion in the course of a larger day.

With your solo work, is there less critical pressure from your bandmates and audiences – do you find you tend to experiment more?

I don’t feel much pressure from anybody, really. Bjorn and Aaron are supportive of whatever I do, wherever I go. And I’ve never had much of a give-and-take with the audience to really even know what they think. I think the idea of experimenting comes at weird times. Like, I get inspired and then work out the kinks of an idea for a few months. And then it happens again. But for me, some of my favourite material I’ve made hasn’t always been the most ‘experimental’ at all. On the contrary, it may be the least ‘out there’ shit. But I feel like sometimes the experiment is to take myself somewhere new. And once I’m there, I like to stick around for a bit and check out what’s going on there before I move on.

What are the things you like about making music solo as opposed to being in a group and working with other people? Pros and cons?

I started really pushing working alone because I could work fast and get out a lot of material easily. With Dice, the biggest pain is the time. We all hustle and work a lot outside of the band, so making the band a priority can sometimes be complicated with real life demands. But I spend most of my time playing music, so I just started finishing ideas alone instead of waiting to bring them to the band. The working methods are similar, but I think the material at the end is real dependant on the avenues taken. I couldn’t do my own stuff without Dice, and vice-versa.

How do you differentiate the two projects? – When you come up with ideas, what determines whether it will be for Black Dice or for Eric Copeland? Both have a reasonably similar aesthetic.

Lately, with Black Dice, I’ve been holding back on the sampling aspect of what I do, simply because I don’t want to use the gear anymore. So I’m trying to play more of an ‘instrument’ than an ‘Anything-Goes-Box’. And with my own material, I’m treating it more as a recording project most of the time. I can get it together to play live, but I will never play live a lot of what I write. I think that they can both sound similar aesthetically in some respects, but at some point there’s a fork in the road that I hear clearly…

I read somewhere once that you like to have a relationship with all types of music. What do you mean? Is that what contributes to the intense sound bricolages of your music?

Maybe this goes back to your first question? I don’t really give a shit about what’s happening in music. I just love music, so I try to listen openly and just enjoy. Don’t get me wrong, I mostly listen to regular popular music, radio or Youtube. But by having a relationship, I feel like I mean I’m just open to whatever right now, I’m out of the game.

Do you notice a difference between Black Dice audiences and Eric Copeland audiences?

I don’t feel like I’ve got much of an audience alone. Usually they are more of a fan of something else and then heard about me, too. Maybe here in the City there are a few more rabid fans? I’m not too sure.

Have you been to New Zealand before? Are you familiar with much music from here?

I’ve never been to New Zealand, no. I’m familiar with a little bit of music from your land. Mostly Flying Nun related music. But I also know a little more out-there stuff too, like The Dead C. And I recently saw a pretty cool record of bands from Christchurch in the late 70s… So I don’t know much, but I’m real excited to check it all out and see what’s there, for sure.

It’s my birthday on Sunday, I thought I’d try my hand at making a synth cake. I reckon a Wasp synth would look good.

This is a Wasp

It’s my day off today, and work just rang to say flowers have arrived there for me. I made them check twice to see if it wasn’t a mistake. But no, somebody has sent me flowers. I can’t imagine who. My first thought was my mother, but she just rang and didn’t say anything about it. Then I was thinking maybe my best friend, but they would have sent them to my house. I still think it’s a mistake so I guess I’ll go in and have a look.

I have three days off. And three amazing books to get stuck into.

 - The Map and the Territory – MICHEL HOUELLEBECQ
- Blue Nights – JOAN DIDION
- Tarantula – THIERRY JONQUET

Apparently Tarantula has been made into a film by that twit Pedro Almodovar. I hate his films. They’re so garish and ugly and harranguing and sickly. Not interested. He has also cast that moron Antonio Banderas in his adaptation.

But the book has caught my eye. The premise is strikingly Dass…

While here, I’ve hosted Icelandic cellist Hildur Gudnadóttir (we went to Diamond Harbour, ate baked goods and I got sun poisoned), been to her show in Christchurch, hosted two Ocker sound artist ladies, went to their show, went to Akaroa, been record shopping, been roaming around and taking photographs, and looking after and hanging out with Argenta, the most gorgeous Ocicat.

KD and Miss Argenta

I have also drunk a staggering amount of wine. I am housesitting for a wine writer, and she kindly left me well-stocked. Unless it’s Cognac at breakfast, I would usually find it churlish to imbibe before, say, elevenses: But when I woke up this morning, I found that Lyttelton was out of water. I instantly felt pangs of guilt. Last night I had a big, deep bath with one of those fizzy bath bombs that fill the bath with real rosebuds. I thought I had drained Lyttelton of its water supply. Helpful local Peter Wright put my mind at ease when he emailed me to say that a water pipe had burst somewhere. Phew.

Just now, two university students knocked on the door and asked if they could take photos of me because they’re taking photos of Lyttelton residents for a photography assignment which documents the resilience of the Lyttelton community. I protested that I’m not a Lyttelton resident and that I’m not photogenic anyway. It’s impossible to take a nice photograph of me. They insisted and so I let them, but I felt like a phony. I’ve just experienced a 4.9. I haven’t lived through what the locals have.

The people here are resilient, and there is a staunch community spirit. I’ve made some new friends, who have been helpful and welcoming to this yokel from Wellington. Before Hildur’s show, Bruce Russell, the Kaumatua of New Zealand experimental music showed up at my door and said, “I’m Bruce, I’ve come to give you a lift to the show.”

As we were driving to Christchurch, he randomly pointed out the window and said, “That’s Roy Montgomery’s house over there.” It took all my will to restrain myself from asking if we could pop in for a cup of tea. Montgomery is only my favourite recording artist, you know.

Went record shopping, which has been good. I did have a painful, horrendous experience at Penny Lane records, though. Out of all the bloody records they could have picked to put on the music box, they put on this dreadful Pink Floyd LIVE album. It’s as if record store workers have a default taste in rubbish. I’d hate to work in a record store: I love music too much. Don’t ask me why books are different, they just are.

I mean, all that amazing music at their fingertips and they go for the dullest thing ever. And this live Pink Floyd album really .shows the group at their bloated worst. I mean, I love so many Pink Floyd albums like, Atom Heart Mother, Meddle, A Saucerful of Secrets, Piper at the Gates of Dawn. Heck, I even like parts of Dark Side of the bloody Moon. But this was awful beyond belief. Pussy versions of ‘Another Brick in the Wall’ with trilly, warbly black ladies singing the parts that the schoolkids sang in the original version.

I thought it couldn’t get worse, but then that song ‘Learning to Fly’ came on, and I thought, “Right that’s it. I can’t take this.” I thought, “Now I know why punk rock happened.” I think it has to be one of the worst songs ever written. I moaned to Nick (not Bollinger) and he agreed, saying the guitar “sounds like porridge.”

I had to get out of there. I was ready to buy my pile of records, but Nick was still mucking about in the Library Music section. I could not believe it, when I jumped on the bus back to Lyttelton, and the bloody bus driver was playing the same album. In it’s entirety. What a jerk. Since when have bus drivers been allowed to pick their own music and play entire albums? Let alone boring Pink Floyd live ones. Whatever happened to the soothing, dulcet tones of daytime AOR radio tunes like ‘Baker Street’ and ‘Live it Up’?

And ‘Learning to Fly’ came on again, and I thought I was surely in some kind of hell. What are the odds of being subjected to one of the worst songs of all time, twice in the space of an hour?

It was only when I hopped off the bus that I realised that Tom Petty also has a horrible song called ‘Learning to Fly’. Which song is worse? It was that song that made me think for years that I hated Tom Petty, you know. That was before I discovered the brilliant Damn the Torpedoes, or this song, which is pure power-pop perfection. Neat clip, too:

RECORDS BOUGHT:

- Hard – GANG OF FOUR (1983)
- Kaleidoscope – SIOUXSIE AND THE BANSHEES (1980)
- The Gospel According to Themeninblack – THE STRANGLERS (1981)
- Signing off – UB40 (1980)
- Seventeen Seconds – THE CURE (1980)
- Equinoxe – JEAN MICHEL JARRE (1978)
- The Luxury Gap – HEAVEN 17 (1983)
- Dare – THE HUMAN LEAGUE (1981)

The track that I’ve been bingeing on is ‘Lunar Camel’ from Kaleidoscope. It’s terrific. Apparently it’s about the female orgasm. I also love ‘Paradise Place’ (Sioux’s anti-plastic surgery song. She used that song as evidence to successfully sue a newspaper for reporting she’d had ‘work done’). I have long been used to the version of ‘Paradise Place’ from the live record Nocturne, so it’s nice to hear this slighty more narcotic and slower studio version. I’m also reading an oral history type biography of Siouxsie and the Banshees which is fascinating. The only thing about it that bothers me is that there is a big leap between them “not knowing how to play our instruments” to being really proficient. I don’t quite undertstand the transition and would have liked more insight. I’d prefer more of that than those boring long-winded bits about how someone came to join the group.

Righto, must ram on. I’m interviewing that fruity filmmaker John Waters tomorrow morning, so I have to do my swot. Thankfully the water is back on, so I can make a cup of tea instead of dipping into the winebox.

My (other) favourite recording artist ever. So much so, that when Roy Montgomery played a (rare) show a couple of years ago, I couldn’t bring myself to go. I’ve met too many of my heroes. Whenever I meet them, they become sort of dead to me. Montgomery is too much of a treasure.

I interviewed ANDREW ELDRITCH from THE SISTERS OF MERCY the other day. I thought he’d be a bit of fun. Since I was a teenager, I’ve had it in my head that The Sisters of Mercy cover ‘Sisters are Doin’ it for Themselves’. But I’ve never been able to find any trace of it anywhere even though I am sure I know what it sounds like. They do brilliant covers: ‘Jolene’ by DOLLY PARTON, ‘Gimme Shelter’ by the ROLLING STONES. Not in a daft and ironic way, just wonderful straight up covers of really great songs that they obviously love.

Being a longtime fan, I wasn’t nervous at all until I was gently told that there were certain things I wasn’t allowed to mention. Rules. The magic, unspoken words were:
Goth
Dark
Doom
Patricia Morrison
I wasn’t going to talk about any of those things anyway, but figued the guy must be pretty serious to go out of his way to have a list of rules. How very Spinal Tap.

We were laughing about how we both love THE FALL but hate Fall fans. We talked about how we both adore the group SUICIDE. Eldritch told me he has very strong man-love feelings for ALAN VEGA but then he muttered, “But Vega should never have hooked up with RIC OCASEK.”

I said, “Hang on, no way. Saturn Strip is a terrific record! I love that song ‘Wipeout Beat.” And I pointed out that like The Sisters of Mercy who cover ‘Emma’ by HOT CHOCOLATE, Vega covers ‘Every1′s a Winner’ on Saturn Strip. Eldritch remained unmoved and said that “We’ll just have to agree to disagree on that one, Kiran.”

When I finally got around to asking Eldritch about whether I had imagined their cover of ‘Sisters are Doin’ it for Themselves’ or not, he confirmed that I had. I was most disappointed.

I love how the last song, ‘She’ comes from out of nowhere. It’s not like the rest of the album (which is terrific but in a different way) and I’m not surprised that they’ve used it as a hidden track on other releases. It’s that sort of song.

I’ve just accepted an invitation to write a chapter on one of my most beloved recording artists for a book. I’m sort of bursting with pride. It feels like something I can do.

Sheffield’s I’M SO HOLLOW is one of my favourite “post-punk” groups but jeez, it’s so hard to find out anything about them. The last time I looked they didn’t even have a Wikipedia page. That was a while though, so who knows. Even old numbnuts Reynolds doesn’t mention them in his yellow book but I reckon Emotion/Sound/Motion is one of the best records from the era (1981). Sheffield steel!