The Rescue Ships

Brian Campeau is a jumbling mass of contradictions: a writer of experimental folk who is also an avowed metalhead; a sublimely generous soul (Campeau insisted on purchasing this starving writer lunch.  Score.  If you see him, buy the bloke a beer) who genuinely believes in the rightness of the writings of Ayn Rand; a singer of rare levity who enjoys deploying a similarly punchy bluntness of tongue in casual conversation.  Indeed at first sight, it seems he gets off on giving the impression of being a total jerk.

Thank goodness then for the tempering influence of Elana Stone, jazz songstress, lover of slip 'n slide and awful cheese-related jokes ("what did the cheese say to itself when it saw itself in the mirror?  Hallo Me."  Shudder).  Highly respected soloists in their own right, together they are The Rescue Ships, one of the most exciting pop acts to emerge from the warehouses of Sydney's underground in the last ever.

Named after their song of the same name ("like Iron Maiden" Campeau helpfully clarifies), the two halves of The Rescue Ships originally met through Stone's brother Jake (sometime Brag contributor and Blue Juice mastermind), first contact provoking "hot chemistry - musically and otherwise" (although "the otherwise is not so much anymore") and resulting in numerous instances of both sitting in on each other's solo projects before songs slowly began to be written in tandem.

"For ages we just played each other's songs," says Campeau.  "And then we decided to go to New Zealand, as a writing trip specifically ... During the day we'd go sightseeing and do whatever, during the night we'd just write.  We finished with seven or eight songs probably, of which we've kept three or four ... Since then it's been more of an idea like, one of us will have a snippet of an idea and bring it, talk about it, work on it together, rather than bring a finished song ... Elana's been really focussed on getting a good song together, whereas I've been really focussed on getting really good arty production.  I think we have that common interest in making it as arty as it is songwritery."

"It was quite hard," continues Stone, "us both being lead singers - not [that we have] classic lead singer personalit[ies] or anything - but we were both just set in our ways of doing things.  And we both have very clear ideas of what should happen and sometimes they didn't meet up, so it was at times difficult and someone would have to capitulate.  And a lot of the time that would be Brian ... I've never made an album that was consistent before, and this one is consistent.  I mean, we're not like great radio songwriters together.  We don't really write hits.  We just write things that we think are really beautiful and hopefully quite different from everything else."

Cooperation is clearly paying dividends though, the pair's live sound, set to grace ears at this year's Peat's Ridge Festival, being a vivid blend of the catchy and the oddball, Campeau's frenetically precise acoustic playing being gracefully complemented by Stone's accordion, the instrumentals being topped by the luscious harmonies of two of the city's best live vocalists.

In between seeking further avenues for musical employment (including taking on the Musical Directorship of Underbelly) and making ends meet juggling half a dozen side-projects each (engineering gigs for Campeau, work with Tripod, Blue Juice and even the odd wedding for Stone), the process of polishing the final mix of their upcoming self-titled debut has become a somewhat extended one.  With the end in sight however, Stone is keen to move on to the next stage: "I just want to play really, play as much as possible.  And hopefully to see people enjoying that."


First published in The Brag

Don't Think, Just Write - Emma Davis

Emma Davis doesn’t put people in boxes so we should probably return the courtesy, and abstain from labelling when speaking of her music. Categories like ‘Female Singer Songwriter’ for example, while accurate, are singularly unhelpful in describing her style; her clear, sweet voice, her sure instinct for a story, and the way it’s all clothed with deft picking, folksy hooks and gently precise turns of phrase.

Meeting for a leisurely breakfast of avocado on toast ahead of the release of her self-titled debut album, Davis seems like the sort of person who may not always feel the need to offer an opinion – but will deliver it with unerring aim when provoked. “I don’t think of myself as a singer, [but] as a guitarist who sings,” the Sydney-based artist tells me, with trace remnants of a London accent still clinging to her speech.  “I feel like a lot of people use guitar as a way of accompanying singing, so it’s just this thing that’s there for the sake of it. For me, the songs get their character from the guitar.”

Davis began writing songs at a tender age under the influence of the Beatles and Simon & Garfunkel albums slipped her way by her classical guitar teacher. A stint as the “gimmick” lead guitarist in an otherwise all-male, Chili Peppers-idolising high-school rock band allowed her to deal with the “terror of hearing the sound of one’s own voice in a microphone,” before she decided to forgo the Oxbridge future of her peers to pursue music at Boston’s Berklee College of Music – and finally followed her family to Australia.

In between studying Italian (“you might not know this, but to major in something you don’t actually have to be very good at it”), learning to talk Aussie and schlepping in hospitality, songs began to be written. “I always start with the music,” she explains. “I always try to think as little as possible when I do that. If I sit down to write a song, I won’t write a song. If I sit down to play my guitar and am sitting there and not thinking, something will come. Because I have such a non-methodical way of working, writing a song might take a long time…”

As might recording an album. Davis spent the last year working sporadically with Sydney troubadour Brian Campeau in his homemade Newtown studio, placing older songs that were weighing down her pockets alongside newer material written over the last few months. “I think we worked well together, because we both had a similar idea of what should happen,” she says of the production partnership. “Both of us kind of felt like the songs were quite delicate. We tried to add to it really slowly so that we weren’t piling things on for the sake of it. [Campeau] inspires me because he doesn’t give a shit – he wants to do what he wants to do.”

And what does Emma Davis want to do? “If I try to write a song that’s going to relate to everyone, then it’s going to sound like a load of wank, and I’ll start saying things that I don’t really think. [I want my songs to] sound like that’s just how it was, like someone didn’t even write it, it was just there,” she continues. “That’s what I’m trying to do, and that’s why I try not to think when I write.”


First published in The Brag, Iss. 385, September 25th 2010