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Issue 17, 2015

Queer

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News

  • Defaulters on borrowed time

  • Eye On Exec: Lateness Prevails

  • Students no longer allowed to ignore death traps

  • Cue the quarter-life crisis

  • Te Puni single handedly prevents global warming

  • Totally Polarising Pile of Arse

  • Features

  • trans102

    Trans 102

    – SPONSORED – Disclaimer: this is my experience of being transgender as a Pakeha binary ftm (female-to-male) person. I do not speak for all transgender people, but these are challenges that I have observed and discussed with fellow transgender people. Binary transgender people have a choice when they start to pass. They can be open […]

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  • hair

    On Hair and Gender

    In my second year of high school I had shoulder length hair; some thought I liked metal music, others thought I wanted to be a girl.

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  • 30 years

    30 Years of Pride

    – SPONSORED – It was the late 1940s, and some time after Ian Smith* moved to Wellington as a teenager from Hawera, in the rural and conservative Taranaki, he met the boyfriend he would live with for the next two years. When they met for the first time, they immediately hit it off. “It wasn’t […]

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  • grace

    Saying Grace

    – SPONSORED – Earlier this year I dated this guy for a few weeks. Things were going pretty well and we’d moved through a few early dating stages—hugging and kissing as well some slightly more intimate things. However, we were never going to progress much further than that. When he realised that things had hit […]

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  • kassie

    We Need Community

    – SPONSORED – Interview with Kassie Hartendorp, Youth Worker How do you identify? In the past I’ve used words like queer cis woman, pansexual makes sense as well. At the moment I think of myself as takataapui and a part of that wider history. What was it like for you growing up as queer? My […]

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  • davies

    The lowdown with Alan Davies

    – SPONSORED – (That’s Dav-ISS, not Dav-EES) You might know Alan Davies, comedian extraordinaire and long-time foil to Stephen Fry, from popular shows like QI and Alan Davies: As Yet Untitled. If your parents are anything like mine (older, Anglicised) then you might also know him as the eponymous character in Jonathan Creek (thanks, UKTV). […]

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  • trans102

    Trans 102

    – SPONSORED – Disclaimer: this is my experience of being transgender as a Pakeha binary ftm (female-to-male) person. I do not speak for all transgender people, but these are challenges that I have observed and discussed with fellow transgender people. Binary transgender people have a choice when they start to pass. They can be open […]

    by

  • hair

    On Hair and Gender

    In my second year of high school I had shoulder length hair; some thought I liked metal music, others thought I wanted to be a girl.

    by

  • 30 years

    30 Years of Pride

    – SPONSORED – It was the late 1940s, and some time after Ian Smith* moved to Wellington as a teenager from Hawera, in the rural and conservative Taranaki, he met the boyfriend he would live with for the next two years. When they met for the first time, they immediately hit it off. “It wasn’t […]

    by

  • grace

    Saying Grace

    – SPONSORED – Earlier this year I dated this guy for a few weeks. Things were going pretty well and we’d moved through a few early dating stages—hugging and kissing as well some slightly more intimate things. However, we were never going to progress much further than that. When he realised that things had hit […]

    by

  • kassie

    We Need Community

    – SPONSORED – Interview with Kassie Hartendorp, Youth Worker How do you identify? In the past I’ve used words like queer cis woman, pansexual makes sense as well. At the moment I think of myself as takataapui and a part of that wider history. What was it like for you growing up as queer? My […]

    by

  • davies

    The lowdown with Alan Davies

    – SPONSORED – (That’s Dav-ISS, not Dav-EES) You might know Alan Davies, comedian extraordinaire and long-time foil to Stephen Fry, from popular shows like QI and Alan Davies: As Yet Untitled. If your parents are anything like mine (older, Anglicised) then you might also know him as the eponymous character in Jonathan Creek (thanks, UKTV). […]

    by

  • Arts and Science

  • Beard Culture

    Somebody I recently spoke to hypothesised that as soon as a person acquires a handlebar moustache, their entire being becomes the human receptacle for a handlebar moustache. They are essentially reduced to the live mode of transport for a handlebar moustache. Their hopes, dreams and aspirations subside, rendering them an emotionally-barren, person-shaped viewing platform for a handlebar moustache.

    I feel the same principle can be applied to Beard Culture. Beard Culture perpetuates the idea that possessing the exceptional ability to sprout more facial hair than the average somehow demarcates one’s advanced development as a human being. It is as though the requisite dash of extra testosterone simultaneously creates an insufferable breed of special snowflakes, armed with overinflated egos, unshaven faces and the alarming ability to integrate mention of their beard into any conceivable conversation. Your grandmother died last week? Okay, but I have a beard.

    This signifier of superiority evidently excuses one from the pesky necessity of basic conversational skills about topics other than themselves or their beards. The extent to which beard-owners are able to lecture their unwitting audiences upon the topic is utterly uncanny, leading one to question whether perhaps there is a correlation between self-obsession and rate of facial hair growth.

    Between myself and my fellow former* beard-appreciating flatmate, I cannot begin to describe the sheer number of Tinder dates (even the occasional Real Life Date) where one of us has realised all too late that the bearded human in question has been approximately as witty and interesting as the teaspoon with which they’re stirring their double shot soy latte.

    If I’d wanted to be subjected to the conversational equivalent of repeatedly slamming my head against a brick wall, I wouldn’t have quite so brutally rejected the commerce-majoring gym junkie in Apartment Bar’s offer of a round of tequila shots last weekend. Because enduring a monologue about the extensive deep conditioning treatments and grooming routine required to maintain such glorious beardiness is as enjoyable as I imagine cracking one’s skull against a slab of concrete to be.

    Sorry, but they’re itchy, unhygienic, and can often lead to fun face-rash situations. Not to mention the fact that you could well be hiding a weak jawline under that poorly maintained straggle of elongated stubble.

    *My status as a reformed beard enthusiast is direct responsive to a recent emotionally scarring experience involving a beard hair IN MY ACTUAL NOSE whilst snogging a boring graphic design graduate at a boring adult party. It was a mediocre ride from start to finish.

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  • In Review: Demented Architecture

    Architecture tends to lack representation outside of itself. Take, for example, television. Doctors, lawyers, and people stranded on mysterious islands constantly fill the screens, but bar the annoying Ted Mosby there are no architects. So when an exhibition like Demented Architecture offers a dedicated avenue of representation outside of the field itself, it is natural for architects and students to be curious, even wary, of how they are actually being seen.

    In the case of Demented Architecture, Olafur Eliasson provides the image that architecture is creative, fun, hands-on. Contrasting but complementary to this, Henry Coombes provides the image of the frenetic nature of architecture, and perhaps quite simply a sympathetic nod to the lack of sleep architects and architectural students seem to get.

    I made the mistake of visiting City Gallery’s new exhibit on a Sunday. Eliasson’s contribution, a long table of white Lego (very important that the thousands of blocks are all white—this makes it Art) had attracted what seemed like thousands of children and their parents into the gallery. Terrified, I did not set foot inside this part of the exhibit. I didn’t feel like I was missing out on much though—Eliasson’s work often has a “seen one, seen them all” one-note wit. In fact, the Lego had already made an appearance a year ago in the Dunedin Public Art Gallery where, in the absence of children, I had enjoyed the participatory art project. However, I suppose any art that can attract members of the public (even the small, frightening ones) is a good thing, so thank you Mr Eliasson for allowing people to fritter away their attention upon your monochromatic Lego.

    In retrospect, perhaps I felt especially bitter towards the children and the Lego because the image is so far from my own studio where tired students spend hours staring and clicking in front of a screen. The mere presence of the word “architecture” behind the squealing children and their Lego towers appeared as a taunt rather than compliment.

    Scared and bored, I retreated from the children and tried to find the rest of Demented Architecture, but was actually quite confused as to what it consisted of. I was only able to find a video piece in another gallery (perhaps the other pieces were in the same gallery as that of the children and therefore inaccessible). The piece, titled I Am the Architect, This Is Not Happening, This Is Unacceptable by Henry Coombes, plays on loop on a large projected screen and here I found solace away from the nuclear family crowd. Not only did I find peace and quiet, I found a truly great short film. The film follows an older gentleman (the architect), who is eating bread and working on a model. Electronic music starts playing as he wears part of his model as a hat and starts dancing around, only to fall into his iPad where he finds himself inside his model itself, where a strange woman and a rat get very angry that he only has one shoe and proceed to take his teeth out.

    As an architecture student, the piece resonated strongly—eating carbohydrates and frenzied dancing is a common staple of the ubiquitous Te Aro all-nighter, and in those UHU-fumed early hours it often does feel like a strange woman is after your teeth to give to a rat. I was alone in the gallery, but I still had to urge throughout the piece to repetitively point at the screen saying “that’s me”.

    Other than content, I also thoroughly enjoyed the style of the film—if David Lynch and Ingmar Bergman somehow fathered a child together and sent them off to architecture school, it would look something like this. The weirdness never became weird to the point of unsettling; it was a believable weirdness that captured and expressed convincingly the underlying “??!!??” of the architectural process. There was something admirable in this and I felt a weird smug pride that I was part of this strange world, wanting to drag in everyone I knew to the video and tell them “Look! This insanity is what I am part of!”

    Demented Architecture runs at the City Gallery until 8 November 2015.

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  • The Diary of a Teenage Girl

    ★★★★

    The NZIFF, on now, is consistently excellent and I highly recommend seeing as many of the films as you can. The films are often fresh from the European festival circuit, while others go on to become extremely popular, such as last year’s It Follows and The Babadook. The Diary of a Teenage Girl had its debut at Sundance and got a lot of attention for its style and performances. The film is based on the graphic novel of the same name by cartoonist Phoebe Gloeckner, and is the first feature from writer/director Marielle Heller. It is an excellent film in many ways, but has some elements that will be challenging for some viewers—it certainly was for me.

    The teenage girl whose diary we are watching is 15-year-old Minnie Goetz, played with a real depth and frankness by Bel Powley, who lives with her mother and sister in mid-1970s San Francisco. It is a coming-of-age film and deals with the usual topics of the genre—friendship, drugs, family, sex. It is most concerned with sex. What sets The Diary of a Teenage Girl apart from the pack is the way it centralises the female adolescent experience in an open and believable way. Minnie is a budding cartoonist and her drawings are frequently animated and sometimes take over the screen from the photographed images. Minnie also records her thoughts onto a tape recorder in her bedroom allowing her to narrate the film. These two techniques allow Minnie to convey her thoughts and feelings in a comprehensive way, thus living up to the diary in the title. The costumes, production design and cinematography are all fantastic and create a really convincing vision of its 1970s setting.

    In addition to Powley there are strong performances from the wonderful Kristen Wiig as Minnie’s dysfunctional hippie mother, Charlotte. She is not coping well with the fact that she is no longer young and begins to see the teenaged Minnie as competition, which unfortunately becomes true. She still acts like a teenager, always partying with a multitude of friends at the family home. They are the generation of hippies who ten years previously, in the mid-to-late 1960s, had inhabited the acid soaked Haight-Ashbury district. The film nails the feeling of the 60s being well and truly over and the mood of the eighties only just coming into form. There is a treat for fans of television’s Law and Order: SVU with Christopher Meloni playing against type as Minnie’s stuffy academic ex-stepfather, Pascal.

    Alexander Skarsgård plays Monroe, Charlotte’s boyfriend who becomes Minnie’s lover. He is charming and pathetic, handsome enough to be able to get away with anything. The film starts with the story of how they first have sex. The depiction of their relationship is what I found challenging. The film operates as a diary; we see things from Minnie’s perspective, and there are incredibly uncomfortable scenes that depict an illegal and immoral sexual relationship as romantic and fun. The fact that the film does not moralise about its characters will cause some to hate it. It trusts us to know what is acceptable and what isn’t.

    What saves the film from falling off the very precarious perch that its premise creates is the respect and affection it has for Minnie. The camera doesn’t leer at her frequently naked body or judge her for any of her behaviours, as lesser films would. This success is probably because the film is by, about, and for women. It is stylish and funny, but also poignant and bold. It signals bright futures in cinema for Bel Powley and especially writer/director Marielle Heller, who has made an incredibly strong first feature film.

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  • Jurassic World

    ★★★★½

    Life finds a way. And so it was with the third Jurassic Park sequel after a decade of development hell.

    Jurassic World’s big spectacle is the new, fully operational park, and we get to see it right at the beginning. This is the reason to see the direct sequel set 22 years after the original. It feels real, the scale of the park surges past John Hammond’s original vision, and it’s very nostalgic. For a lot of fans, it would be very easy to settle for two hours simply navigating through all the tours, especially given that the plot was fully given away in the trailers and isn’t nearly as imaginative as the first Jurassic Park.

    The park’s attendance slumps 10 years after its opening and a dinosaur spliced with genes of T-Rex, Velociraptor, and Cuttlefish is made to reel tourists back in. Guests new to the park include the nephews of the park manager, Claire Dearing (Bryce Dallas Howard). The two boys, Gray and Zach Mitchell (Ty Simpkins, Nick Robinson), intend on bonding with their aunt, but the visit coincides with disaster as the hybrid dinosaur, coined the Indominus Rex, outsmarts security measures and commences a massacre on the island. Chris Pratt plays Owen Grady, a velociraptor expert and trainer. His unique relationship with the dinos leads to him chasing the Indominus Rex on a motorbike with a pack of raptors. Overall, the plot isn’t inspiring and feels typical of a monster movie, but the setting on Isla Nublar and the resurrection of the park were superior creative decisions than its co-sequels.

    Characters are a focus in the Jurassic World story, and Trevorrow takes advantage of the stately pace to introduce the audience to all the leads and their relationships before the action kicks in. It’s clear that Trevorrow wanted to create an arc for every main character, but only Claire and Zach exhibit any development over the story. However, tying Jurassic Park veteran and chief geneticist Henry Wu (B. D. Wong) into the sequel was excellent. He inherited the thematic cavalier attitude to playing God, and I wish he had more responsibility in carrying the main plot. Unfortunately, he drifted into a strange sub-plot where he conspired with head of InGen’s security, Vick Hoskins (Vincent D’Onofrio), to create the Indominus Rex as a catalyst for militarising dinosaurs. Hoskins was laboured, overplayed and, despite being pivotal to the plot, is probably going to agitate the audience more than engage.

    But what does characterisation count for in a dinosaur movie? Jurassic World gives us the best CGI and effects Hollywood offers. Trevorrow was heavy handed with the CGI—most of the dinosaurs and the backdrops use it. It’s what we expect in 2015, and Jurassic World is much more convincing because of it. Trevorrow also serves purists and critics of CGI with close ups of the traditional animatronics used in Jurassic Park, albeit briefly. Overall, the dinos look superb.

    I recommend everyone sees this film. For the segment of film-goers who have no affection for Jurassic Park, you’re still in for a very high quality monster movie, and you will be entertained. For the remaining 99 per cent of filmgoers, you can expect another dose of the excitement you were first served 22 years ago, but you will probably find something wrong with the film. Jurassic World’s burden is the legacy it has to live up to, exacerbated by the hype, and everyone has a different expectation of what the film should be. My advice is to relax your expectations and be simply be excited to be in the Jurassic universe again. If you need another reason to see this film, go for Chris Pratt’s sweet new body, and you’ll probably be in the gym tomorrow.

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  • A Eulogy for Satoru Iwata: 1959–2015

    The gaming world has lost one of its greatest heroes.

    Nintendo’s president and CEO Satoru Iwata tragically passed away on 11 July 2015 after a battle with bile duct cancer, aged just 55. This news has stunned the gaming world, with Iwata leaving behind a legacy that few in the industry can say they have matched. To be the public face of one of the gaming industry’s biggest and most influential companies is no easy feat, and it was one that Iwata took on with endless enthusiasm and a simple philosophy that many other big names seem to have forgotten—games should be, above all, fun.

    Iwata’s legacy began in the 1980s when he was hired by HAL Laboratory as a programmer straight out of his studies at Tokyo Institute of Technology. HAL are responsible for some of Nintendo’s most popular and influential games and franchises, including Balloon Fight, Kirby, Earthbound and Super Smash Bros, with Iwata having a guiding hand in the creation of all of them. His programming skills were considered legendary by his co-workers and peers, working miracles that made games better in every way; a graphics compression system that Iwata wrote for Pokémon Gold and Silver enabled the team at Game Freak to fit the entire Kanto region into the game, when previously they had filled the entire cartridge space halfway through development.

    Iwata’s business sense was just as important as his programming skill; he was installed as president of HAL in 1993 while the company was facing bankruptcy, turning the company’s fortunes around. His success at this role led Nintendo to hire him to lead their corporate planning division in 2000—a time when games were becoming more expensive to develop than ever before. His strategy of focusing on reducing the cost and length of game development while still creating unique game experiences helped see Nintendo’s profits increase by 20 and 41 per cent in his first two years. Upon the retirement of Nintendo’s long serving president Hiroshi Yamauchi, Iwata was promoted to the position in May 2002 on Yamauchi’s recommendation.

    Iwata continued his focus on making unique gameplay experiences that appeal to a wide audience, rather than having top of the line hardware and graphics. The Nintendo DS and the Wii are the embodiment of this philosophy, known as the “blue ocean” strategy; neither of these consoles had the best hardware powering them, but did things no other gaming company was doing, with the DS touchscreen and the Wii’s motion controls making for gaming experiences unlike anything the gaming world had ever seen. Hell, old people started playing video games thanks to the Wii. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Iwata codenamed the Wii “Revolution”, because that’s exactly what it was.

    Unlike pretty much every other corporate leader ever, Iwata wasn’t afraid to put himself in the public eye and subject himself and Nintendo to scrutiny. If Nintendo made a mistake, he would own up to it. He constantly asked gamers to “please understand”, a simple phrase that now means so much to the community. Yet, he never shied away from talking about good news or making a complete goof of himself either, with his appearances in Nintendo Direct updates and E3 press conferences becoming legendary among Nintendo’s fans. Who else could make holding a bunch of bananas the most hilarious thing?

    The thing about Satoru Iwata that made everybody love him so much is that he understood what makes us play video games to begin with: fun. If something wasn’t fun, Iwata didn’t want anything to do with it. So many people in the gaming industry are so concerned with making something that looks amazing that they forget this simple fact. Nintendo made games fun again, and it is all thanks to Satoru Iwata. His legacy can be exemplified in this quote from his presentation at the 2005 Game Developers Conference, which I shall leave you with.

    “On my business card, I am a corporate president. In my mind, I am a game developer. But in my heart, I am a gamer.”

    Rest in peace, Iwata-san. May your ride upon the Rainbow Road to heaven be a pleasant one.

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  • Fuck the haters and Give Up Your Dreams

    Interview with Samuel Scott of The Phoenix Foundation

    Contrary to what the album title would have you believe, The Phoenix Foundation’s forthcoming album Give Up Your Dreams is a wildly uplifting and fun compilation of music that will inspire you to get your ass into gear way more than any artificial stimulant ever will. Music editor Kate caught up with co-frontman Samuel Scott at his Newtown studio to find out a little more about the motivations behind this crazy intriguing album.

    Kate: Where did the whole idea for Give Up Your Dreams come from?
    Samuel: We were just on tour and stressing out about all of these career things and whether we were gonna break through to the next level or something, and we kind of forgot that we were actually having a great time doing what we were doing right then and there. It was just about re-establishing that connection with enjoying making music and not being so aspirational. I think society makes us very aspirational these days. Things like Instagram mean that people curate their lives and make it look like everything’s really perfect and that their house is from the set of Mad Men or whatever. So even though we’re all doing that, we look at other people’s Instagram or Facebook feeds and go “wow, that looks so much better than the reality of my life”. And as a result you feel like you need to brew more kombucha and make your own sauerkraut or whatever.

    K: That’s literally one of the things I feel like I need to be doing right now purely because of Instagram—just fermenting things in general.
    S: Yes, it seems very trendy at the moment. I haven’t gotten around to fermenting anything yet.

    K: So would you say that this is The Phoenix Foundation at their most stripped back and authentic?
    S: Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t think there’s any record we’ve ever played that’s inauthentic to ourselves, so I wouldn’t think that this album is anymore authentic. I think there are definitely things about this album that are big shifts for us. We wrote the songs mostly together as a band on this record and we also had a really good time recording live—probably more so than any other record, but then we spent months tinkering with those live recordings and adding a million layers. We were just trying to record really exciting rhythm tracks. We wanted things to feel really exciting and that was the whole purpose of the process this time round—to make it feel exciting and new.

    So I don’t know about authentic, because it’s not a very important thing to me. I don’t really believe that we have to be one type of band. Bands always talk about getting back to their roots and I don’t wanna get back to my roots. I don’t even know what my roots are. I just wanna make whatever music I feel like making today, and that might be completely different to anything I’ve ever done before. Sometimes I wanna make music that I was into when I was 14, and sometimes I wanna make music that’s like things I’ve only just heard which are made by teenagers now. It’s okay to be inspired by anything at any point in your life. You shouldn’t feel like you’re being inauthentic to make a different kind of record.

    K: Title track “Give Up Your Dreams” is super fun and upbeat, but the music totally juxtaposes the lyricswas that always the intention?
    S: Yeah, I think so. The song definitely got more and more fun the more the band worked on it. It sort of sounds like aerobics music.

    K: Maybe that’s why I liked it so much!
    S: Yeah, once we’d hit on that groove, we we’re like “okay, let’s make this like 1980s Jane-Fonda-aerobics-video-music”. So yeah, it’s got kind of this aerobics music feel mixed with this depressing lyric. But by the end of the song there’s something really uplifting about the lyric. It’s not meant to be depressing. I think if you listen to the whole song and listen to the lyrics and that weird voice of God in the middle that’s telling you you’re not special, it’s actually the idea that you can get a release from that.

    K: Yeah totally, it’s kind of liberating.
    S: Like, you don’t need to be striving to be the most successful person in your craft—you should just do it. Do what you wanna do and don’t worry about the consequences.

    K: Was the recording process different this time around compared to previous albums?
    S: Yeah, we did it mostly just in our own studio. Last time round we did some recording at Roundhead and we did recording in the Wairarapa in an old barn, like a field type situation. So we spent quite a lot of money on the last record before we’d even mixed it. It was a very long and difficult process.

    We recorded GUYD in our own studio and we set up for a really long time. There were very few time constraints and very little pressure on us. We didn’t necessarily have a goal of how many songs we wanted to get out of it or anything, so there was never any panic during the making of it and I don’t know if I’ve ever felt that on a record before—there’s always some sense of panic, so that was really cool. I mean, parts of the process were quite difficult because we were doing it in a different way, but in general it was a pretty low-stress recording.

    K: With regard to the songs themselves, there are some pretty interesting themes exploredhow did they come about?
    S: Yeah, I mean for some of it we were trying to tap into a bit of reality writing in the way that Sun Kil Moon did on that record Benji. It’s really, really confessional—unbelievably so. We’ve gotten nowhere near that, but we quite often just write about weird cosmic shit that makes no sense. There’s some of that kind of cosmic stuff on the album, but we tried to infuse that with some real-world things that were relevant. So Luke wrote a song about health problems, which was actually mostly about his partner and me both having back problems. So he was writing about his life partner at home and his life partner in the band both having these terrible back problems, and I guess his personal reaction to being in the middle of that. So that’s quite real, and it’s either boring or refreshing, depending on how you want to approach it.

    K: I guess if you can make something that’s very much “going through the motions” interesting and cool, then why not?
    S: Well yeah, every song I wrote when I was in my early twenties was about breaking up with girls and feeling terrible, and it seemed so relevant back then. Now when I have to go back and sing those songs at gigs I think, “wow, I don’t actually understand who this person was”. ‘Cause then in your mid-thirties it’s sort of like, I don’t really feel those things as strongly. Instead, I feel a whole bunch of other things stronger than I did back then. Things like paranoia about house prices, back problems or raising children.

    I think it’s kind of dumb to write about things that are no longer relevant to where you’re at in your life. We could try and pretend to be a younger band than we are, but y’know, I’m 36 and I’m going to write about whether or not I should find a better set up to pay for my mortgage, which is kind of what Give Up Your Dreams is about. But people just need to take it with a grain of salt and know that my tongue is firmly in my cheek. I’m not trying to bore people. I’m trying to create a bit of subtle entertainment. It’s all supposed to be fun.

    K: So in light of GUYD, what would you say to all of the downtrodden students out there who live as though they’ve got the world on their shoulders?
    S: I’d say don’t worry about how things are going to turn out because they’re going to turn out how they’re going to turn out regardless. But do put effort into them turning out well. If you put the effort in without the worry you’ll do a better job, you’ll enjoy it, and you’ll get somewhere. I think that’s what it’s all about. Having the confidence to fail means you can enjoy trying things.

    Confidence in failure is really something that we don’t teach people enough in this world. The best musicians, the best scientists and the best storytellers, they’re not afraid of doing something that’s going to turn out completely shit. If you’re trying to come up with a new theory to understand the history of the universe but you’re worried about whether or not it’s going to be wrong, you’re never going to actually come up with anything new. It’s the same with music. It’s also so fucking hard to sell anything these days. We live in a culture where you can’t sell anything. The biggest selling point you can have is how interesting you are.
    Give Up Your Dreams will be available online and in-store from Friday 7 August. Get it in you.

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  • About the Author ()

    Salient is a magazine. Salient is a website. Salient is an institution founded in 1938 to cater to the whim and fancy of students of Victoria University. We are partly funded by VUWSA and partly by gold bullion that was discovered under a pile of old Salients from the 40's. Salient welcomes your participation in debate on all the issues that we present to you, and if you're a student of Victoria University then you're more than welcome to drop in and have tea and scones with the contributors of this little rag in our little hideaway that overlooks Wellington.

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    Editor's Pick

    Summertime Sadness: An Ode to a Short-Lasting Summer

    : - SPONSORED - As the Wellington’s annual premature cold kicks in, the hashtag tbt increases sevenfold and we all begin to get moody at the thought of the imminent mould sure to resurface in the coming months. I was fortunate enough to grab at least a week of sunshine and happin