Hey guys! What are the birds like in Tokyo? We hear they really go for Aussie blokes?
Spark: I’m not sure about that. We’re all pretty rough-looking dudes, so I don’t know if we’d fare that well.
Kenny: I reckon they’d all probably run screaming.

So, are you pumped with the new album? Or was it like giving birth?
Kenny: Slightly more painful, in many ways. There’s some dark shit on this record. The music and melodies might be really pretty, but the lyrics and themes deal with some dark, spiky stuff.

Bands often self-title an album for two reasons: one, they’re so proud of it that it’s meant to stand as their definitive opus; or two, they don’t have enough imagination to come up with a name. Which is it in your case?
Kenny: Definitely both, ha ha!
Spark: We actually thought about it a lot, and bantered about a few ideas, but in the end it seemed a bit wanky, so we went the self-titled route.

The lyrics seem to be about someone in the band having a broken heart. Are you really a bunch of pussies?
Kenny: I am. I’ll cop to that.
Spark: Oh, man — you have no idea. We really, really are.

Hey Kenny, how come we only ever hear about your love life, dude? Give it a rest. Did it occur to you that maybe the fans want to hear your drummer whinge about his missus?
Kenny: Ha ha! Actually, you do not want to go there, believe me.
Spark: Yeah, seriously. Our drummer, Westy, is one funny little dude. He’s an enigma that will one day explode in an emotional whirlpool — a seven-year timebomb that’s ticking, waiting to go off. I shudder to think what’s going to come flooding out.

Back in the 16th century, boys with high voices had their nuts cut off and were forced to join the choir. Bet you’re grateful you weren’t born then, Kenny?
Kenny: True. But then, ever since that unfortunate rock-climbing accident, where my nutbag got caught on a jagged piece of rock, it’s the same thing.
Spark: Kenny’s nuts are still there. I can definitely vouch for that.
Kenny: By all means, I’m quite happy to submit to a medical examination.

So you guys are that close, huh?
Spark: Ha ha! Yes. Yes, we are.

Kenny — recommend castration to any aspiring male singers who don’t have your talent?
Kenny: Definitely, but only if they’re really committed to their craft. I mean, it’s not ideal, and there’s unfortunate side effects, but the pay-off is worth it. Look at me.

Your signature vocal technique is that little intake gasp you do before each line. You asthmatic, Kenny?
Kenny: Ha ha! Well, I am, actually. But yeah, apparently it’s very bad technique. It’s called a “snatch breath”. I was emailed a while back by this chick who’s a singing teacher and she was like, “Love your voice, but you know that thing you do before every line is actually incorrect method.”

Hope you told her to f**k off?
Kenny: Of course. That’s how we treat all our fans. That showed her!

Digging the album cover with the rainbow-coloured feathers — it’s kinda like gay pride with an ornithological bent. Your play for the pink dollar, we’re assuming?
Spark: Ha ha! Why not? I actually think there’s a bit of closet gayness in all of us. We’re raising the flag. It’ll be good for band morale.

Adam, your resplendent Ned Kelly beard has been replaced by a dirty porn mo’ — what the hell happened?
Spark: I formed this weird little nervous habit where I was picking holes in it — this fetish with pulling the hairs out, so there were patches everywhere. I had to shave it off — I was looking mangy.

Kenny, you’re the singer in Karnivool as well as Birds — so, essentially, you’re in a polygamous relationship?
Kenny: That’s correct. I’m a man-slut. I like to share the musical lurve.
Spark: I certainly don’t get jealous — it gives me time to enjoy musical sex on my own. Self-love, it’s called.

Have you extended this open-minded, multi-partnered approach to your real sex-life, Kenny?
Spark: If I can interject right there, let’s just say Kenny has a really big “heart”.
Kenny: You should shut up right there.
Spark: Ha ha!

Some people in Western Australia want the state to secede from the rest of the country and create their own autonomous nation. You know this means civil war?
Spark: Yes, absolutely. There’s actually a guy over in WA who’s set up his own micro-nation on his plot out the back of nowhere and called it the “Principality Of Hutt River” — it’s him, his wife and his kids. We’d like our own principality as a band. So yeah, WA, go for it, I reckon.

Tell us a stupid story...
Kenny: We were in Sweden making this record, having these massive benders...
Spark: ... and there was this frozen river right beside the studio. So our drummer thought he’d see if he could run out and crack the ice. Even though everyone’s telling us, “Don’t go on the ice — fall through, you’re dead in three minutes.”
Kenny: So we did it. Twice.
Spark: The idiocy continues. Jumping up and down, trying to punch through it with his elbow, our brainiac solution is to tether him to us... using a mic lead. That way, if he went through, we could drag him back out. Safety first, y’know.

Nice. Well, even if you guys don’t win an ARIA for this record, taking out the Darwin Awards is a dead cert.

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