TEAR TRACKS ~ Banoffee
LEADING UP TO THE release OF new album ‘TEAR TRACKS’ WE ASKED BANOFFEE TO PARTICIPATE IN OUR ON GOING SEIRES ‘WHAT IT MEANS TO FEEL’
EXPLORING THE ULTIMATE EMOTIONAL INTIMACY OF THE ARTISTS’ PRACTICE AS A MEANS OF PERSONAL EXPRESSION, SELF-ACCEPTANCE AND VULNERABILITY. WE ASKED WHAT THE KEY FACETS HAVE BEEN IN DEVELOPING STYLE THROUGH UNIQUE INFLUENCES IN MUSIC PRODUCTION, AND WHAT EMOTIONS ARE PARAMOUNT TO THE JOURNEY.
What initially prompted you to experiment with music as a means of exploring and validating your emotions? How was it special and alluring in comparison to other forms of creative expression, and what role did it play in your development of self-concept?
At the beginning I liked music more than other forms of expression because it was already my vice for exploring emotion. I was that kid who cried miming love songs in the mirror singing into a hairbrush. Mariah and Boy II Men would be blaring from the bathroom and I'd be sobbing and making out with the mirror, a very embarrassing and very vivid memory.
Nowadays, music helps me sort out what I'm going through in a way that doesn't bear as much responsibility as a conversation, yet has as much verbal expression as if I was getting to write a monologue. For me, words have always been a big part of my life, I wanted to be a writer when I was younger and I'm someone who always has to talk through any conflict no matter how uncomfortable I seem to make everyone around me.
Did your initial experience as a musician centre around a specific genre? Has this remained static, as in you always knew what sound best represented you, or if not, how did your initial interest in a genre traverse to what you create now?
I have definitely played with many genres. I started off making folk music, then when I got into Arthur Russel I realised all the ways you could stretch and twist a genre. I grew up listening to so many different things, I was desperate to be in Silverchair, I was also listening to a lot of Fiona Apple, Beth Orton, Erykah Badu, Texas, Destiny's child - it went all over the place so when I heard A.R doing so much all the time, I started to play more. I found my sound this way which to be honest I'm not sure really is a sound. I think I am still just flipping things around and hoping something sticks, there is no purpose or system to the way I make music, it's much messier than that and driven by narrative more than anything else.
Whether extroverted or introverted, vulnerability is the core of human connection; do you seek to instigate conversations about the subject matter you express, or is your work an intimate catharsis that has connected you with others as a secondary effect? Has music enabled you to enhance your practice of vulnerability? How has this influenced your life in other aspects positively?
A bit of both happens for me, I generally write my verses for myself and my chorus' are where I concentrate on reaching out to others. I don't like music that is written purely to capture people's hearts because then it's not real and thus it rarely fulfils its purpose. In my eyes, if you write about something true and real then someone will hear you, feel you and be there with you. My music has definitely enhanced my capacity to be honest and vulnerable more publicly. In my everyday life I am very honest but I am passive - I make jokes about my suffering, I avoid showing my pain through humour or callousness, in music I am much softer and show something a little truer to how I'm feeling. I see the growth of my vulnerability as a strength, I know being vulnerable can make people nervous or uncomfortable, but I think it’s the fastest way to connection and gaining trust. All of my relationships are close ones, I don’t do periphery friends I find it boring. I think songwriting has helped me connect in this way.
What has been the most difficult experience in your practice as a musician? Whether this is related to outward performance, production, or even your personal life. How did you leverage uncomfortable experiences into a positive direction that led you to where you are now?
I think endurance can be hard. Playing music the way I do is like being your own boss so it really is a business. I am my own product and that is so challenging sometimes. Sometimes I don’t want to be on social media or I don’t want to fly to a new city every day but being my boss means constantly cracking the whip or feeling the guilt of not doing my best. This sort of discipline takes times and it’s something I struggle with a lot. Knowing when to follow my instincts, when to give myself a rest, when to go hard. Making all the decisions can be daunting and exhausting. The flip side of this is that I feel so capable and independent compared to others in different workforces or artists with big teams. I know how to understand a contract, I can book my own tours or produce and direct my own videos - I don’t need anyone, I like the help but I feel confident to steer my own ship and always know the ins and outs of what’s goings on.
I think this makes me easy to work with and has secured touring opportunities.
Do you believe there are both enriching and detrimental aspects to being an artist in regards to your self-concept? What are they in particular, and what parameters do you use to measure your success? What are your goals for the future?
My sense of self and self esteem are definitely challenged by being an artist, I think most creatives have very strong inner critics and I'm no different. In terms of what is detrimental, I think mostly it's about the amount of comparison that is available at all times. Music like many forms of art is full of rejection and when you miss out on something you watch as someone else enjoys the opportunity you lost - this can feel both very defeating and very motivating at once. It's also difficult when you exist in a community of non-creatives. Right now I'm in Melbourne living with three very successful (and wonderful) public servants, it can feel hard sometimes watching their 9-5 jobs and seeing their very clear cut achievements when I am in my room working on one line or one snare drum for 5 hours. The feeling of being an outcast grows each day as I converse with people all working in fields that have higher success rates, less risk and societal approval. I find myself self-conscious about my lifestyle, how my job doesn't allow for weekends but also doesn't really have week days - every day is a mix of hard work and hard play. These things weigh down on me and some days I feel that I am lesser than my peers.
The flip side to this is that all these things can also feel wonderful - to be a part of an artistic community is to be a part of a special and constantly changing and growing club of sorts. It's thrilling and I've become addicted to the rush of uncertainty. I feel so lucky that I have an outlet that allows me to not only express myself fully, but also to travel the world, make a living, make new friends and constantly evolve. I feel so lucky that my job allows me to hold onto my youth, like I will be in a state of play for my entire adulthood if I can just remember to enjoy the process of my work.
My idea of success changes daily depending on how depresso I feel. I think at the moment success is getting back into the current, releasing new music and being able to work again. If you ask me tomorrow it might be that I have to have a radio hit, or that I get praise from a certain establishment. Depending on the day, my reliance on external approval changes. Most days I am happy where I am, doing what I love and pushing myself to conquer personal limits, other days I feel the weight of the industry's discerning brow on my shoulders and those days feel much heavier. Today success is releasing this record and writing the next one, reaching someone with a lyric and going to sleep with some stems bounced for mixing tomorrow.
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