Artwork for our record store dreamt up whilst riding the bus listening to Grimes and looking at photographs of 1940s sorority girls. Watching The Craft too frequently as teenagers was also a factor. Eternal gratitude to William Daw for conjuring it into being.www.facebook.com/worththewaxx
A song for travelling fast by train.
’7.13.84 HOLLYWOOD CA: At this house that Nick Cave is living in right now. Not much going on, just hanging out. We had some fun today though. We all went to the Australian consulate. Since Nick Cave and the Film crew that were staying with him to do his video were all Australian, we called and asked if we could check out this party that they were having, celebrating Australian filmmakers. They said we could attend, so we went right over. The place was intense. Security all over the place. All these people dressed up… and then there was us. Nick had his bright green, skin tight Elvis outfit on. Looked like he hadn’t slept for a few days. The rest of us just kind of stepped in behind him and went with it.
We were in the backyard, and Nick had this big glass of whiskey. I was eating all this free food. People were coming up to us, asking what film we were in. Nick went up to one woman and put his index fingers and thumbs together, so they looked like a triangle. He looked through them at her and told her he was looking to set up a shot, could she please stand still. He told her that the reason he had his fingers like this was because he was the only director in the world to use triangular film. She asked where he was from. He said, “Nazi Germany.” She just kind of stared and walked away to a group of people and pointed at us from afar.
We talked to others, meanwhile we stuff our faces on all this free food. Nick is drinking, eating grapes by the handful. I talked to some old man who knows me. A few minutes later I look over, and Nick is on his hands and knees, crawling around on the grass. He crawls up to a large woman and bites her on the ankle. She bails. It looks like it’s time to go. Nick takes a big handful of bleu cheese, that was in a large mound and stuffs it into his mouth. He takes a napkin and wraps it around a big hunk of cheddar cheese, grabs it and some grapes, and we are out of there, escorted by men with wires coming out of their ears. They walked us all the way to our car. On the way back to the house Nick whipped out the piece of cheese and said, “This is a symbol of my discontent.” I grabbed it from him and bit it in half. He threw it out the window at the car in the next lane.’