Artist bio

This is the bio bit

Where I tell you all about me and my music. With words so exacting, insightful and glorious that you will find yourself suddenly dancing about the den, your office cubicle or the local library at the mere suggestion of the impossible aural wonder on offer.

Could this be THE BEST THING you've ever discovered? Well, it certainly sounds like it when words like that are thrown around


There. I did it again.

Ah! I see you wiping away a tear, simply beholding the power of these extravagant words and phrases to express the totality of my music; its passion, its invention, its sheer life-altering brilliance.

Judging by what's here on paper, you think, this could be the absolute vanguard of musical expression at this moment

And so you should. Just read those opening paragraphs again


Listen...just quietly. You haven't actually listened to any of this music have y...NO!


This is a great day for (i) you, and (ii) cultural discovery.

Everything you need to know is right here in my bio.

Further, plenty of things you thought you would never know are here as well (for instance, did you know that there is no whole-number square root of some prime numbers? Goodness me...I'm shaking a little. Might need a sherry)

Lastly, maybe leastly, but probably not- The End.

Um, oh dear. No. Can't stop there. We're on a roll. You're excited. I'm excited...

Perhaps I will move onto a little biographical information yes?

(Since I'm writing this myself I shouldn't use too many superlatives I suppose. That would be a bit suss. Mental note: words that are good- good...ummmm, maybe great. If called for)

Incidentally, I was just thinking- it miiiight have been better to pay someone else to do this- y'know, say nice things, draw dubious but impressive comparisons to great artists, generally concoct a lot of flim-flam for the cut-and-pasteables.

Anyway, About Me. Erm...Okay. Information!- 30, Belgium, music. And stuff


A history maybe? (and I'll be [slightly] more serious for a moment here)-

A few years ago I made some music in my bedroom using mattresses and a 386. I called it an "album" (which was the style at the time), put a picture named Boardface on the front, and it went quite well. Some people even bought it on Compact Disc.

I bought a new jumper (with a bear on the front) with the proceeds and everything was quite good

Some years later I made some more music, this time using better mattresses and an Apple G4. I called this collection of songs Like Drawing Blood, because of an injury I suffered while licking an envelope. This record found more success than the one before, and then found more success even than that. Success kind of heaped on top of success, and then on top of itself, like a pyramid of genetically modified frogs. Overall, it was really all about success, this record. And lots of it (success, that is). So much success did I find, in fact, that I had to buy up some storage company's warehouses in West Oakleigh just to kind of stockpile it all.

Yep, them's were high-livin times. The success and whatnot. I bought another new jumper (this time with a wolf on it, which was the style at the time) and also a large gold tooth. I use this gold tooth to seal letters these days

And so, having found success in Australia, Oz music industry parlance dictates that I should now be poised to "conquer the world".

But that all sounds a bit tediously colonial, doesn't it. And perhaps reflective of Australia's general obsession with measuring up to the rest of the West's heightened level of self-importance

It also sounds a bit cruel. I mean, who wants to be attacked, enslaved and put to work in a rubber mill by a relatively unknown Australian alt-pop musician?

No-one, that's right. And their grandmother

Perhaps I could just "con the world". Even for a little while, that would already be pretty massive.
Lots of media savvy and conniving necessary there I'll bet.

But no, I think I'll just continue to launch random and whimsical musical nuggets into the netosphere from the comfort of my secret studio lair, inside the belly of a dormant volcano, out back of Frankston shoppo.

There's so much space junk out there these days- maybe one of my tunes will be lucky enough to find its way into the orbit of the International Space Station's Hot 30 countdown. And I will laugh maniacally while tap-tap-tapping my fingers together