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Long before the revolution, back when everything was relatively quiet, these 3 met on the biggest desert island in the world. Jack Hookey had been the prolific “Small Town Alien”. An experiment in the absurdity of existence, he had piled all his nihilism and all his hope into a musical trojan horse of dicks, balls and farts. He had been ejected from the William Farrer Hotel for his crude honesty. They said the swearing offended the children, but we knew, even all the way back then, it was the honesty they couldn’t handle. Jesse Kidd meanwhile had been holed up by serene Lake Tyers, madly scrawling the things he saw when the lights went out. He celebrated the grotesque, not just with his drawings, but with the ruthless way he thundered deep on kit. Everywhere from Tasmania to Germany he had played with bands so diversely titled, you’d think he had Tourettes; Papercuts, Desert Dogs of Death Jam, Blood Orange Moon, Impotent and our personal favourite, Mud Letter Pie. The 3rd member