Miss June’s new single Twitch stays true to the four piece’s stripped back DIY nature while offering flecks of pop tendencies that the band previously avoided with onus. In their upcoming album, frontwoman Annabel Liddell processes her own med school experiences, like her first time cutting open a living breathing bod.

I called Annabel days after she finished her studies. She graciously stepped away from the Hamilton Bay sunshine to chat about life, music, and skate tricks.

T: Per your Instagram, I see that you’ve just finished med school.

A: Yea it is cool. It’s been a long time. 6 years.

T: To be in a band and also finishing med school – that’s incredible. How was the band-school-work-life balance for you?

A: I guess music is something that’s been present in my life since I was about eight. And so it’s always been something that I’ve done, and I guess it’s the same for education. I sort of come from a family that really prioritised taking educational opportunities if you can get them and so I sort – yea I got into med school when I was 18 and at that point, I had already played in a few bands and Miss June was just sort of starting up. And so we released an EP sort of in my 1^st year of med school and then we tour it my 2^nd year and really the last few years have just been writing recording and mixing our album. Which has kind of been a tactical move on my behalf because uni has been, by year, increasingly more and more time strenuous, and I guess writing this album and doing all of that has sort of been my oasis away from studying and working. In a way, it’s worked really great, but it definitely has gotten to a crunch point this year where we gotta release this album and I’ve gotta take some time away from it.

T: How would you say that the sound in Twitch differs from your previous album?

A: I think “Matriarchy EP” was a very fundamentally fast punk album a lot of the songs I had written when I was a bit younger maybe 17. Whereas Twitch is getting back to a lot more of my influences musically. A lot of the guitar tones are inspired by a lot of early New Zealand musicians but a lot of the songwriting is sort of based off of, sort of Breeders, Sonic Youth, and actually Wheezer’s new alum was a huge influence on this album I don’t know I guess returning to poppier song structure. Which I’ve really come to accept because I use to reject pop hugely but I realise there’s actually a lot of fun to be had.

T: I especially loved your lyrics. It seems like your passing on bits of wisdom from your own experiences.

A: Yea I write quite honestly through all our songs. And I think, in some tracks on the album, it’s been a good opportunity for me to explore some of the things I’ve done in my degree which I don’t really get the chance to talk about that often.

T: Could you speak to some of those experiences?

A: That song [Twitch] was about the first time I operated on a living person, which for me was a really existential crisis sort of moment. So that single definitely came from that experience.

T: And they twitched?

A: Yea they put the anesthetic on but it wasn’t really working and so when we cut into them they actually twitched. And I got such a fright because I was so use to working on cadavers who are obviously people who have passed and don’t have any muscle-twitch what-so-ever. And so it was sort of this moment: “Oh my god this person’s life, and their body is actually in my hands.”

T: What’s your favourite thing to look at at the aquarium?

A: Probably sharks I think they are really cool and they’re really misunderstood. But actually, the name aquarium comes from an interview […] about the internet being an aquarium where all you have to do really is pull your head out of it and see the actual world.

T: Speaking of the world, you were recently in Australia. What was the most memorable moment from that tour?

A: We got this amazing Airbnb in Brisbane because we couldn’t find any accommodation so we had to just hack it and buy a really great room at this hotel with a pool and a spa and stuff. It was fun playing these really packed out rock shows and then coming back to our spa as a band.

T: So nice! You’ve gotta treat yoself sometimes, right.

A: Yea!

T: You play with Tom, Chris and Jun, how do your personalities work together?

A: Chris is very chill. He’s a very chill personality…

Tom is quite similar to me. He plays drums in the band Wax Chattels who are currently on tour in America. And Jun is just like our wild card. He’s just so crazy. They’re all my best friends and they keep me grounded and they keep the music fun.

With all the seriousness that comes with releasing a new album, we’ve just stayed really close and we’re still having so much fun with it.

T: So you’ve finished med school, and you’re about to release another single and the full album in early 2019, what comes next?

A: I’ve taken some time off uni, I’m going to have some downtime. I’m really bad at having downtime. I just really want to harness that self-care.

T: Last question. Word on the street is that you’re a skater. What’s your favourite skate trick?

A: To be honest I’m still learning a lot about it. And my favourite trick is the one that I can do the best which would be a Backside Pop Shove.

T: Sick.

A: But that’s a bad answer because skaters will read that and be like “that’s not even a trick.”

T: Humility is good!

A: No… I’m just realistic.

Twitch is the first single from ‘Bad Luck Party’, set for release in early 2019. You can catch Miss June in their home turf at Laneway in Auckland the 29 of Jan.

~~~~~~

JEROME LANEWAY FESTIVAL 2019– 10^thAnniversary concert!

Monday 28 January

Albert Park, Auckland

For more info and tickets: http://auckland.lanewayfestival.com/

It is hard living in these times. From infrastructure to scheduling to dropping lecturers like stones, it is a time of change in the world of Victoria, and I’m not so sure if I like it.
I might just be the soul living in the depths of Hunter, but I feel the years rush past me like water over stones, watch students grow wan, get old and die, and I wonder — what am I aside from a remnant of a colonial past? Am I too long-established for an uncertain future?
“Vic,” They call me. “Victoria.” Sometimes even “#VicUniWgtn,” but I am less sure about what that one means.
There is a disturbance these days. A rumbling. An anger.
From within my walls — which have seen so much debate, and salacity, and inebriation — I sense a change coming. Someone familiar. Not new, exactly, but different.
He visits me one day, dressed in the trappings of the overworld — from the beard, to the glasses, to the strawberry milkshake-flavoured cloud of smoke around him — but he has the eyes of an elder, and the ideals of one too.
“You should change your name.” He says, dark gaze locked on mine. “You have no idea how often I try to think of you and get confused by all the other Vics I’ve had.”
“How… romantic.” I reply. “But I think that’s a you problem.”
He growls, deep in his throat, and as much as I try to resist, I’m reminded of that one night, sat in that tree at the top of the Cable Car many years ago, where he’d brushed a thumb along my cheek and said, “God, I can’t wait until I get rid of your Gender Studies degrees.”
Though it hadn’t made much sense at the time, the thought is sobering, yet somehow arousing. That night had been electric, despite the slight asbestosy feeling clogging my pores ever since.
“Oh fuck,” I cry, “Strip away my low-cost lunch options!”
And he lays me out bare in front of him. I’m drawn in by his eyebrows and his laxidasical acquiring and spending of wealth. I’d call him a sugar daddy, but he really doesn’t give me that much in return.

“You know how much I love spending money on you.”

He purrs, and it’s a powerful aphrodisiac, going straight to my core (located in an abandoned copy of Salient somewhere in the Hub).
I tremble under the heat of his gaze, my soul undulating around me — though that might just be an earthquake, I can never really tell. “Mmm, take me. Make me yours!”
“Oh, Victoria —” He says, sliding home, “You want me to raise uni fees, don’t you?”
It’s painful and pleasurable, like it always is. Maybe I’m a masochist, but I can never stop myself asking for more. “Yes! Raise them! The boost to our local economy — that’s so fucking hot!”
“Don’t you want wait times at Mauri Ora to be longer? And appointments to be harder to get?”
I do. Really and truly. “Harder! Yes, so much harder. Oh fuck, get inside me. Change vital parts of my infrastructure. Make me feel so good.”
I’m a creature possessed, I’m agreeing to things I don’t even really believe in. Maybe it’s the look in his deep, dark British Racing Green eyes. Or maybe it’s the promise of changes to come. I need this. I always need this. He promises so much — one day it’ll all surely come.
But then he stiffens, grunts, and leaves me covered, like the Tim Beaglehole Courtyard after the pigeons have had at it.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’m not even sure if that was spiritually fulfilling. Talk about being fucked over.
“Fantastic.” He says, and stands up. “Same time next week?”
“What about all of your promises? There’s people in need, right now. Don’t you care about them?”
“Ha.” He laughs. “Should have gotten them in writing.”
He leaves, presumably to terrorise the tuataras, and I’m left wanting. As usual.
But I don’t think I can stop. He’s a poison in my veins, my corridors, my heart, but I keep coming back. Promises are better than nothing at all.

“The community said loud and clear that we want a physical space, a community centre, we wanna bring back the times when Carmen and her friends had a cafe and those kinds of things, a space where we can meet that isn’t just fuelled around alcohol.”
The opening of the crossing comes ahead of the 40th International Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Trans and Intersex Association (ILGA) World Conference, which will be held in Wellington in March next year.

Ross said that he believes the exchange was being characterised as “racist and hurtful to a student” because it had been “taken out of context”. He said he was simply “flaming” Te Rangi, because he believed Te Rangi was “laying down what appeared to be flamebait”.
Te Rangi believes that nothing he said gave anyone license to repeatedly insult him.
At the end of August, Salient reporter Christina (pseudonym used for privacy purposes) messaged Ross on Facebook to talk about the “Stick with Vic” movement.
In the messages, Ross said “you know what us old retired geezers are like — plenty of time on our hands and love chatting politics with attractive young women. ;)”
Christina responded, saying “I’d prefer to keep personal remarks like that out of the conversation”.
Ross then apologised, saying that the comment was meant “as a light-hearted joke”.

Christina said the comment “upset” her.

“I felt undermined and creeped out, to be frank,” she said.
“One moment you think you’re being taken seriously as a journalist. The next your dignity is ripped from you with a ‘minor’ comment.”

Ross believes this comment was also “taken out of context”.
He said that it was not intended to offend.
At the end of August, the “Stick with Vic” facebook page contacted VUWSA asking them to share content. VUWSA denied that request.
Matt Tucker, VUWSA CEO, said that they had been contacted by some students about concerns they had with the discussions being had on the Stick with Vic page.
He said VUWSA chose not to work with Stick with Vic because they didn’t believe Stick With Vic “lived up to [VUWSA] values”.
He added that VUWSA will be doing a submission to Chris Hipkins opposing the name change, based on feedback from students.
Ross has given us permission to publish his statements on the condition that it will be published in its entirety. We have printed his statement below.

Ross McComish – Statement

Thank you for giving me the opportunity to reply to the matters concerning me that will be discussed in an article you intend to publish in Salient. My response to the points raised in your message to me is below. I am sending it to you on the understanding that you will publish it in its entirety or not at all.
Please note that I reserve my rights in the event that your article breaches any of my legal rights.
“I established the Facebook page and have throughout controlled its content and contributed some of it. I was not acting as a representative of anyone else. Both I and the Facebook page should be judged for the entirety of the content.
Te Rangi Waaka, who is also known on the social media as Zane Te Waaka Mita, appeared on Stick With Vic after it had been going for four days and had gained just 200 followers, most of whom were friends of mine. He started commenting on posts in a derisory and disrespectful way, which, coupled with what appeared to be his use of an assumed name (Te Rangi Waaka literally means Skywalker) led me to believe that he was trolling. As he was laying down what appeared to be flamebait, I flamed him. It didn’t seem to bother him at the time and I thought no more about it. When it was drawn to my attention much later that this exchange, taken out of context, was being characterised as racist and hurtful to a student I immediately emailed the VUWSA officer who had made those claims, seeking to resolve the matter. That was six weeks ago. I still haven’t had a reply, or even an acknowledgement, of that email.
The Christina Carter comment was just one phrase in a much wider discussion. The words are taken out of context. She expressed an interest in interviewing Clive Thorp about his submission that had just been made public. I offered to put her in touch with him and, by way of encouraging her, I told her that I didn’t think he’d mind talking to her “because us old retired geezers . . .” It was an off the cuff comment, intended to encourage her to approach Clive, and I assure you that it was not in any way intended to offend. When she reacted negatively to it, I immediately withdrew the remark, apologised for it, and explained what I meant by it. I understood her to accept both the explanation and the apology. She assured me that it wouldn’t affect her attitude to the interview and we spent about an hour in constructive discussion. Until your message I have believed that my misjudgement had been cleared up and that was the end of the matter. If she is still offended, please convey my apology again.
There has for some time been a sustained campaign, both intimidatory and at times defamatory, conducted against students, alumni, and staff who have taken a stand against the university management. Are you also looking into those much more serious matters?”

Thanks to the whole Springs whānau for keeping me grounded. Thanks to the fantastic University staff that I’ve worked with this year, there are far too many of you to mention but you know who you are! Thanks to Nikky and Aidan from NT, and Andre from PSC.

Thank you to AVC Dame Winnie Laban and Gerard for guiding me throughout the year. Thanks Fletch and Harrison and VUWLSS. Thank you to my amazing staff. You don’t get nearly enough credit as you deserve. Thank you to Salient for not roasting me too hard. Thanks Jono and Caity from NZUSA. You kept me sane. Thank you to my amazing exec. We’ve had a hectic year, and we’ve achieved a lot. Though there have been ups and downs, you are still my exec and I have only love for all of you! Leading such an awesome team has been a blessing and we have made some significant changes this year.

Finally, a big thanks to you the students. I’ve spent this year being constantly inspired by all of you. We have dealt with massive issues as a community, and we’ve also had a lot of fun. My philosophy has always been that when students speak for themselves, it’s more powerful than anything I or any other exec member can say. I have always believed VUWSA to be a platform for that and nothing more, all the power is in our community, in the hands of our students.

It’s been a blast. Good luck to next year’s exec and the big boss Tam. You’re gonna kill it.
I’ve got two more years of study here, so I’ll still be round getting amongst the activism. If you want to stay in touch then I got social media everywhere. You know the name (@marlondrake). And remember when you see the giant with glasses, you can always come and say hello.

Also, I’m not an expert in comedy. To be honest, I’m not really much of an expert in anything.
I first graduated in 2013 with a BA majoring in International Relations and Political Science. I’d dropped out of lLaw after 3 years (one more year than the expected norm of two). I then proceeded to work for the Earthquake Commission for almost five years. You can fill in the necessary gaps of a life that has been lived like that as you please. My point is that I haven’t always sought my own opportunities. In my first year at what was then (and I am unsure if it still called this at the time of writing this) Victoria University of Wellington, I missed my opportunity to write for a student magazine. I had always liked writing at high school but was too afraid to put anything out there once I was at University. Now I’m older, I don’t care as much, even if I’m shit at it. I like doing it, and everybody needs to be able to do at least one thing that they like doing. Whatever your passion is, it isn’t always stumbled upon; you sometimes have to seek it out. This is a lesson that pays better dividends the earlier you learn it.
So, I have reviewed three comedy shows (two live and one Netflix special), for Salient this year. I tried to be honest about the shows that I reviewed. I think that I was, but as it turns out, it’s difficult to review the things you like. You need to think about what it is that you enjoyed about them, why you think you enjoyed them, and you then need to convince yourself that the reasons for this enjoyment are compelling enough to share with others (a difficult step for many of us). Finally you put pen to paper (the impossible step for almost all of of us).
I felt this sense of impossibility more than ever when originally trying to write this piece. The gaps in my knowledge of all things comedy become very apparent to me, and trying to write about “humor” in any way that I could actually stomach seemed totally beyond me. Encircled by dirty mugs filled with teabags in varying states of decay, my despair had reached its nightly high. I’d reached a point writing this thing about farting in a boy’s face when I was at school and just thought; this is “utter, actual shit”. Not “actually utter shit”, no, “utter, actual shit”. As in the thoughts that were beginning in my head, then flying down the digestive tract of my nervous system, to be pinched from the tips of my fingers into the keyboard, were really, really bad.
I tried to change tack. “The oldest known joke told (un)surprisingly is a Sumerian joke, dating between 1900-1600 BC.” Nope. I started to write about “Aotearoa’s special relationship with comedy”, how laconic and deadpan we all are when we’re overseas, and how Flight of the Conchords and Taika Waititi have “enshrined New Zealand comedy as a hotly demanded creative export”. It was at this point that I realised A) a lot of great comedy and stand-ups have come out in New Zealand before, during and (I’m optimistic) after Flight of the Conchords and Taika Waititi and, as a follow on from A), B) I didn’t know what the fuck I was talking about. I didn’t have the artistic pedigree of someone who’s lived and breathed comedy throughout their adult life, to be able to think beyond the “Flight of the Conchords and Taika Waititi” box. I think if I want to be a reliable reviewer then that may be problematic.
However, it’s more problematic if I just give up. I do like comedy and I do want to get better at writing. This may not necessarily make my reviews compelling or interesting, but I’m writing for myself as much as I am for any audience. If you ever thought about writing or doing anything creative where a leap of faith is required, for me at least, learning you have the ability to jump is infinitely more valuable than where you end up landing.
Insofar as comedy is concerned, the only real credential I could offer is what I find funny. If you agree with me, then maybe I’m on the right track with reviewing things.
When I was in my first week in my Year 9 English class, a boy bent over and farted in to another boys face in such a profoundly penetrative way, that I was sure there was going to be a fight. The boy who was farted on quietly put down his work, stared into the eyes of the farter, and as if talking about the weather, calmly asked, “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know. . . Sorry?” the first boy replied.

They both laughed.
I remember that story so vividly, primarily because it was my face that got farted into, and in a lot of ways my sense of humor hasn’t changed much.

*Disclaimer: This is shit news*