Latest news with #Nevermind
Perth Now
17-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Perth Now
Billy Brownless shares cheeky naked snap from Broome
AFL legend Billy Brownless is clearly enjoying his Western Australian anniversary trip, with his latest Instagram post showing a whole new side to the star. The Geelong alum, 58, and his partner Crystle Fleur, 52, are currently celebrating their one-year anniversary at Cable Beach Club Resort and Spa in Broome. The duo has been regularly sharing pictures of their time together, however Brownless' last post showed off a little more than just the tourist sights – the photo showed him completely naked inside a pool. If you'd like to view this content, please adjust your . To find out more about how we use cookies, please see our Cookie Guide. Billy wasn't afraid to poke some fun at his risqué share in the post's caption. 'Some call it 'skinny dipping', I like to call it 'fat dipping''. Friends and family of the I'm a Celebrity contestant were quick to comment on the out-of-character post. 'It was nice seeing you yesterday, I'm glad you had some clothes on,' AFL WAG Bec Judd joked. 'The reverse angle is a Nirvana cover,' former AFL star Dale Thomas quipped, referring to the band's 1991 album Nevermind. Even Brownless' daughter Ruby hopped into the comments to playfully roast her dad's overshare. 'Wow it gets worse,' she said about her dad's nude share. Some commenters tagged Brownless' partner Crystle encouraging her to curtail his posts, but she quickly replied that 'he's out of control'. The pair made headlines earlier in the month after marking their first anniversary, with an Instagram post being flooded by trolls sharing their opinions on the couple.
Yahoo
04-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
‘Every Time You Lose Your Mind': '90s Alt-Rockers Failure Talk Their Long-Awaited Documentary and Rewriting Their 'Tumultuous' Legacy
It's rare for a band's second bite of the apple to taste better than the first, but '90s alt-rock outfit Failure continues to be one of the few exceptions. The Los Angeles-based space rockers' decade-in-the-making documentary, Every Time You Lose Your Mind: A Documentary About Failure, chronicles their early '90s origin story, beginning with the fated duo of frontman Ken Andrews and multi-instrumentalist Greg Edwards meeting each other through The Recycler's music classifieds. More from The Hollywood Reporter Universal Music Group, UCLA Launch Berry Gordy Music Industry Scholarship Bob Vylan Lose Visas, Dropped by UTA Following "Death to IDF" Chant at Glastonbury Apple Music Unveils New Culver City Studio Space Andrews, who took over directorial responsibilities for the doc in the middle of the pandemic, then focuses on the band's many ups and downs throughout the production of their first three studio LPs, primarily their third record, Fantastic Planet (1996), which would go on to be widely regarded as a masterwork. Butch Vig, who produced Nirvana's Nevermind, counts it among his top albums of all time. During Fantastic Planet's 1995 recording sessions, heroin invaded the band like it did to so many other groups of that era. Andrews and newly solidified drummer Kellii Scott had formed what could be described as more sociable habits, but the opioid really sunk its teeth into Edwards and refused to release its bite. A watershed moment for the documentary occurred when Andrews discovered chilling footage from 1991 of 20-year-old Edwards expressing interest in trying the drug, while also foretelling just how easy it would be for him to form a heroin addiction. 'When Ken found that first clip that starts the film, I was shocked at just how much insight I had at that age about exactly what ended up happening. It's uncanny to me,' Edwards tells The Hollywood Reporter in support of Every Time You Lose Your Mind's Hulu release. Amid their collective haze in 1995, the band knew that they were crafting the finest work of their young career, but one of several impending death knells happened toward the end of their Fantastic Planet sessions. Their record label, Slash Records, shelved the album's release indefinitely amid an effort to sell itself. This unwelcome news sent the band spiraling further into the throes of depression and addiction, and they spent 18 months questioning whether their magnum opus would ever see the light of day. In August 1996, Slash's then-distribution partner, Warner Bros. Records, finally put the album out themselves, and despite being received with critical acclaim, Fantastic Planet wasn't pushed to the degree that it should have been, resulting in unimpressive chart and sales figures. Meanwhile, Edwards was now a shell of his former self, raising major concerns about whether he'd be able to sustain himself as the band toured in support of their much-delayed record. (Andrews has stated many times since then that Edwards still managed to deliver strong live performances.) In hindsight, Andrews, Edwards and Scott are relieved that Fantastic Planet didn't receive a more robust commercial response. 'I've always thought that if we had gotten more radio airplay or more success [in '96 and '97], it might not have been a good thing,' Andrews says, with Edwards adding, 'Yeah, I probably wouldn't be here.' In late 1997, Andrews disbanded Failure. The straw that broke the camel's back was when Edwards missed a second consecutive writing session due to falling asleep at the wheel and crashing his car into a series of parked cars at an L.A. Nissan dealership. Each member had their own crosses to bear in the following years, but they all went on to have productive music careers. Scott joined some notable bands before becoming a successful session drummer. Edwards gradually got clean and co-founded the alt-rock band Autolux in 2001. And Andrews launched several musical projects until making a name for himself as one of the industry's most in-demand mixers, engineers and producers. During their absence, the band's legacy quickly began to evolve, especially as the internet and file sharing took off. They soon achieved cult status, underscoring their existing reputation as 'your favorite band's favorite band.' Failure was previously one of the only bands that L.A. alt-metal band Tool championed and took under their wing. Tool and A Perfect Circle frontman Maynard James Keenan reinforced his support when he helped cover Failure's 'The Nurse Who Loved Me' on A Perfect Circle's platinum-selling second album, Thirteenth Step, in 2003. The Hayley Williams-led Paramore would also follow suit with a cover of Failure's 'Stuck on You' in 2006. (Williams and Andrews recently performed Failure's 'Daylight' at a benefit for L.A. wildfire relief.) The tide ultimately turned in 2010 when Andrews and Edwards both became fathers at roughly the same time. Various social engagements involving their families eventually led them to pick up instruments, and by 2013, they knew full well that they could still write music that's worthy of the Failure name. That's when they called Scott with the good news, and the trio first set out to book an L.A. reunion show in 2014. The event sold out in minutes, something their '90s iteration could never boast. In 2015, after 19 years between LP releases, the band released their comeback album, The Heart Is a Monster, to even more critical praise. Currently, they're putting the finishing touches on their seventh studio record and fourth, post-revival, topping their '90s output. Andrews admits that even he's a bit amazed that Failure has been able to pick up where they left off, musically, but above all, he's most grateful for their live audiences consisting of younger generations and varied demographics. 'To walk out on stage and see those young faces is a gift that I was not expecting,' Andrews says. Below, during a recent conversation with THR, each member of Failure offers their unique perspective on the demise and rebirth of the band, before adding context to some key moments from Every Time You Lose Your Mind. *** Every time I talk to David Dastmalchian, I ask him for updates on Failure, and in March of 2024, he told me that he introduced you guys to Hulu's head of scripted content, Jordan Helman. Is David's matchmaking a big reason why we're now talking about a Hulu/Disney+ release of your long-awaited documentary? KEN ANDREWS (Vocals, Multi-instrumentalist, Co-Lyricist) Absolutely. It was a very fortuitous thing. I had David over to help me with the edit, and he was like, 'To be honest, Ken, I don't really have that much time in my schedule right now to help you because I'm shooting all these movies simultaneously. But I want to introduce you to a guy who knows a lot about your band, and he knows a lot about story.' So Jordan and I just hit it off, and he was instrumental in crafting the story of the movie. He helped me get a three-plus-hour cut down to two hours that really flowed. Ken, you took over the director's chair during the pandemic, and whenever an artist is in charge of their own doc or biopic, there's usually a concern that they will sanitize their story. But that's really not an issue here because you guys have always been brutally honest about the gory details of Failure. Did you have a similar rationale when you took the reins? ANDREWS Yeah, and I had seen YouTube videos about our band being tumultuous, so it wasn't that big of a secret that we've had our issues. When I saw the interviews that were already shot [by the previous directors] — including Margaret Cho's interview where she went into detail about her opinions on the connection between addiction and creativity — that's when a lightbulb went off in my head. We've had a lot of problems with addiction, but we've also been creative through those problems. So it's just an interesting, complicated topic, and I basically just wanted to present the situation for people to take it in on their own. Some interviews go all the way back to 2016? ANDREWS Yeah, the first directors picked away at it over the course of five years. They'd grab interviews when they could, but once the pandemic hit, it just became impossible for them to finish the movie. So that's when we first got to see the footage that they had already captured. To be honest, I probably wouldn't have started a documentary on my own, but once I saw some of that footage, I knew that there were a bunch of other interesting people that might have something to say about the band and the topics that course through the band. So that's when I realized, 'Yeah, we probably have a movie here.' But it basically took ten years to shoot all the interviews. We had an album interruption and a concert film, but then we finally started editing the film two years ago. Greg, the opening reel of your 20-year-old self sent a chill down my spine. When you first saw that footage, did you try to reach through the screen to deter your young self from ever considering heroin? GREG EDWARDS (Multi-instrumentalist, Vocals, Co-Lyricist) Yeah, part of me would like to do that, but the larger part of me just accepts that it is my story. It is what happened. When Ken found that first clip that starts the film, I was shocked at just how much insight I had at that age about exactly what ended up happening. It's unreal. It's uncanny to me. ANDREWS I had gone through that footage twice before, but I had not picked up on that conversation. I skimmed it and was maybe writing some emails at the same time or something. But then I went through it again, and I heard [former Failure drummer] Robert [Gauss] go, 'So what are you thinking about heroin these days?' And I was like … (Andrews mimics how he sat straight up with eyes widened.) That's when I finally decoded everything that was being said, and it became a turning point in the documentary. Was this footage part of a more recent discovery? ANDREWS Yeah, I had a Sony Handycam that I had basically taken from my parents, and I was just randomly shooting stuff during that period [in the early '90s]. I wasn't even thinking about what we were going to use it for, but we thought that it would be fun to just shoot stuff and look at it later. But I never really looked at it later. And then, when we were editing the documentary, I went through some closets and found some old videotapes. Of course, they were in formats that don't really exist anymore, so I had to go on eBay and buy some old tape machines that could play them back. But that's when I started finding all this interesting stuff. Robert actually filmed that shot. EDWARDS He filmed me while he asked me that question? ANDREWS Yeah, he was interviewing you. You can hear my voice as I'm talking to a friend in another part of the room, but I didn't know that your conversation had gone down at all until 30 years later. Greg, when you hear all these stories about yourself in the doc, does it sometimes feel like they're describing a stranger? Or do you still feel connected to that version of yourself? EDWARDS In certain ways, I still feel very connected. It's also really difficult for me to get in touch with how dangerously and carelessly I was living every day for a stretch of time. It just stresses me out to even think about it now. So that part of it I don't understand, but as Ken was saying, when Margaret speaks so eloquently about the connection between being creative and being an addict, I don't reject that at all. There's an obsessiveness to the creative process that is exactly the same energy that goes into an addiction and the lifestyle of keeping up an addiction. Sometimes, they converge in a way that can create beautiful things, and sometimes, they can disentangle where one takes over. Kellii, the upbeat energy you brought to the band on and off your drum kit seems to be incredibly valuable. When things got heavy between Ken and Greg back in the day, did you view yourself as the person who needed to break the tension or mediate? KELLII SCOTT (Drummer) No, not with that type of clarity. That's just my personality, and I act that way in every landscape. It just so happens that that is where I fit in with this group of people. But I don't think I was consciously walking around, going, 'Oh, I've got to do this again.' That's just how my personality fit within the band, and it was definitely very necessary. You don't really even know that you necessarily need both of those things until they're there. All three of you are older and more equipped to handle conflict now. Do you encounter present-day situations where you know they would've been much a bigger ordeal in the '90s? SCOTT We still have arguments. We're people. But as you touched on, we certainly had a lot less tools as individuals back in the day. Some of the things we argued about were probably a bit sillier or really didn't matter all that much. But we've talked about our relationship going forward, and the only thing that's changed is we've all had major experiences in our lives. So, for the most part, we understand how precious it is that we're able to make music again after all these years. Your partner, Priscilla Chavez Scott, is another unsung hero behind this documentary. She captured a lot of the materials throughout the piece? SCOTT Yeah, she did a lot of shooting. There's also a bunch of fan stuff that she captured when we were on the road doing the concert film [in 2022]. As soon as we would finish the shows, she would run outside and interact with the fans. But, yeah, she really stepped up. Before this, she was doing still photography. So she and Ken worked great together, and she learned a lot of new stuff doing this. There's a moment where you deliver a very pointed message to some people, and then you flip off the camera. It was in regard to Ken having to be the band's first line of defense. Are you able to shed a little more light on what you were referencing there? SCOTT Not specifically, but there are definitely moments riddled through our career where he needed to push back on something dumb being said by someone, usually business people or people trying to get a better deal than the band. He was usually just sticking up for the band and making sure we got the best shake possible. Your former guitar player, Troy Van Leeuwen, tells a story involving Stone Temple Pilots that knocked me sideways, to say the least. I won't specify so the readers can have the same experience upon watching, but did that account make some executives pretty nervous? ANDREWS There was a little bit of concern. We had to go through a whole process of vetting the film for legal stuff, and that definitely came up. But we spoke to some people in that world who were like, 'No, you're fine. You're good.' I'm friends with the existing members of Stone Temple Pilots. It didn't really happen for us together in the '90s; they soared ahead of us in terms of crowd size and popularity and whatnot. But there was always this connection between the two bands, and just the other day, [STP guitarist] Dean [DeLeo] sent me a video of him and Scott [Weiland] doing a TV interview before an [STP] show in '93. And they were asked about what bands to listen to, and Scott just went off about Failure for five minutes. So I think [the story] just points to a little bit of the craziness that was going on during those years for both bands. When record producer/engineer Steve Albini passed away last year, did you review his footage again just to make sure you left no stone unturned? (Note: In 1992, Albini produced Failure's debut record, , shortly before he did the same for Nirvana's third LP, .) ANDREWS Yeah, I did. We're doing another version of the film that is more extended, and there's a lot more extended stuff of Steve. Most of his headier stuff about the music business is actually in the [current] film. He was so entertaining to listen to when he'd start waxing on about that stuff, but there's tons of other stuff. His memory was way better than mine about the recording techniques that he offered up during the making of Comfort. But that was a crazy moment because he passed right after we interviewed him. Greg, one of the most tragicomic stories I've ever heard is your 'bread mix' story from 2004'sdocumentary, which I now consider to be a proof of concept for this doc. In 1997, your mailing system failed you at a particular tour stop, and so you sent a crew member out to find opioids of some kind, only he came back with bread mix that you still ingested. EDWARDS Yeah, I don't know what it was exactly, but I'm hoping it was bread mix at this point. (Laughs.) Was that story ever going to be retold for this doc? Or would that have been overkill given all the other related stories? EDWARDS Yeah, it didn't come up, maybe because it had already been told. I haven't thought of that story in a while. I knew a hundred percent that it was not a drug that was going to get me high, and yet it was like Russian roulette. Carson Daly introduced me to you guys via KROQ, and oddly enough, I also heard about the break-up from him when he was brand new to MTV in 1997. Did anyone reach out to him for the sake of the doc? ANDREWS He hung around back then. He was at a lot of our shows, and he introduced us a few times when we played live. But then his career took a different path and we lost touch with him. SCOTT I've tried to reach out to him a couple times and had no luck. I'm still really good friends with Zeke Piestrup from KROQ. We used to hang out with Carson a lot at the old Opium Den, and that's kind of where we first met him. Speaking of KROQ, I also remember hearing your appearance on . (Note: Spanning nearly four decades, was a popular call-in radio program that offered relationship and medical advice.) EDWARDS The Loveline thing is funny. I was home alone at my house in whatever [mental] state I was in, and I was listening to KROQ. All of a sudden, Loveline came on, and it was with Failure. ANDREWS & EDWARDS & SCOTT (Laugh.) EDWARDS It was you guys [and guitarist Troy Van Leeuwen]. You hadn't even told me about it. SCOTT We were in the midst of breaking up. ANDREWS Yeah, it was the peak. EDWARDS Yeah, I had no sense of anything. I was just shocked. I couldn't understand why I hadn't been told about it. I guess you just didn't want to deal with me. ANDREWS Well, it was actually the manager [Warren Entner]. SCOTT We had also just done the 'Enjoy the Silence' cover, and that was a big clusterfuck. So we were meeting our last few obligations. ANDREWS There was discussion of not doing it. SCOTT Yes, there was, and I think we were told, 'You have to do it. It's Loveline.' ANDREWS Yeah, Warren was pretty concerned. EDWARDS I was just so unaware of the state of things, and I was just shocked that you guys would do it. SCOTT It's surprising that we did it, because, in the background, things were already coming off the tracks. EDWARDS But I was completely unaware of that too. You reunited in 2013 after 16 years away, and overall, you guys have now been able to rewrite your legacy in a way that so many of your contemporaries were unable to do because of tragedy. Is it a relief to no longer ask yourselves, 'What could have been?' ANDREWS Yeah, that's part of the reason why we put so much effort into this documentary. It was to clarify our story and maybe get some closure on some of the regrets and mistakes. EDWARDS I've never really asked myself that. SCOTT After the band broke up, I had a pretty thorough descent into hell. And part of what I needed to do to get out of that and become at peace with everything was by reconciling the past. So when Ken called me [in 2013] and was like, 'Greg and I have been hanging out and writing music,' I didn't really have to struggle with that kind of stuff. It almost seemed like it should have happened that way. I had literally just dropped the proverbial rock on having such strong feelings about what could have been or what if and all of that garbage. Those questions do nothing but hold you back. You can't move forward if you're living in those questions. So it was something that I had to deal with long before the band even got back together, and it definitely made getting back together a lot more free and enjoyable, without having to be constantly dragged around in this new relationship by the baggage of the past. ANDREWS I've always thought that if we had gotten more radio airplay or more success [in '96 and '97], it might not have been a good thing. SCOTT Be careful what you wish for. EDWARDS Yeah, I probably wouldn't be here. In terms of the work that we created [in the '90s] and the work we've continued to create and the way it's been received by the fans, there's just no regret there. It's done everything I could ever hope for. There could be more people that are aware of it, but the actual art that we've created has even outperformed what I could ever hope for. Yeah, you're one of the few revivals that isn't resting on laurels and operating as a legacy act. Your new music is a logical next step from where you left off in '96, and I probably listen to the new stuff more than the old stuff now, granted I had 20 years with the '90s material. Are you surprised at all that you've been able to make music that's just as vital? ANDREWS I'm surprised. What I'm the most surprised by and the most inspired by is the whole different generation of kids who discovered Fantastic Planet and the newer albums simultaneously. They didn't really know anything about the band breaking up; they just thought it was a band. So to be older now and see younger versions of ourselves discovering our music is so gratifying. And to walk out on stage and see those young faces is a gift that I was not expecting. I've been reading the tea leaves for the last six or seven months, and it appears you're on the verge of finishing your seventh record. The second era of the band will officially have more output than Failure 1.0. What can you say at this juncture? ANDREWS We're finishing it. That's definitely true. We've got a good solid album worth of songs, and we're mixing. When I'm at this point in the process, I don't have a ton of objectivity on where the album fits in the timeline of the band. I just know it feels good, and I know I like the songs. But it's hard to know how it's going to land for people. Are the segues between songs back? ANDREWS There's some extended intros, but they're not defined as 'segues.' SCOTT We don't actually use that word on the record. EDWARDS When we made our first three records, there was zero concern to the running time because vinyl was gone. Nobody bought vinyl, nobody pressed vinyl, and a CD could handle 74 minutes. But now, vinyl is a real thing again. It's a real thing that we think about when we're making a record. All the classic Beatles records are right around 38 or 40 minutes, and that's what vinyl can handle before you start losing frequency response. So segues can really eat up that time on vinyl. Do you want to have a few nice segues? Or do you want the songs to sound full and big? ANDREWS I like the challenge of making a concise record that fits on one vinyl disc. I guess it's because so many of my favorite albums did that, and while it is an arbitrary technological number, it influenced the creativity and how people thought about records: 'What are you going to start side B with?' That was a big consideration. And because we've had so much success with vinyl in the rebooted version of the band, it's just something that's on our minds. Are you done reinterpreting the b-sides à la 'Petting the Carpet' and 'Pennies'? ANDREWS I don't know if we're done, but I feel like we've maybe picked some of the best ones. So we're not revisiting the past on this record, although we are actually rehearsing some of those older songs right now and reinterpreting them for an acoustic set [at 6/26's documentary premiere]. Lastly, Greg's sister, Julie Edwards, commented in the doc about the one-two punch of 'Heliotropic' and 'Daylight' to conclude (1996). What's your favorite run from the newer material? EDWARDS 'Long Division' into 'Bad Translation' into 'Half Moon,' those three [from Wild Type Droid] transition really nicely. ANDREWS We really spend time on sequence. In fact, we're still haggling over sequence on the new record. It's like songwriting for us. We really listen to the transitions and feel the pacing. It's very important to us. SCOTT In the Future's 'Force Fed Rainbow' and 'The Pineal Electorate' would be mine. 'Force Fed Rainbow' is one of my favorite songs of all the new stuff, and I believed that even more when we played it live for the first time on our last tour. It just crushed me every night. I actually think the last four songs on In the Future … are equal to the last four songs on Fantastic Planet. Besides those two, I also appreciate transition of 'A.M. Amnesia' into 'Snow Angel.' ANDREWS Yeah, I love the intro to 'A.M. Amnesia' and the beginning of that album. Dean from STP was just telling me that every time he gets into his car, it [alphabetically] programs 'A.M. Amnesia' to play first [because it's paired to his phone's library]. And [the loud intro] kills him because he always has his stereo volume set loud from the previous drive. ANDREWS & EDWARDS & SCOTT (Laugh.) EDWARDS The first thing that plays every time I get in the car is the soundtrack from Amélie. ***Every Time You Lose Your Mind: A Documentary About Failure is now streaming on Hulu and Hulu on Disney+. Best of The Hollywood Reporter The 40 Best Films About the Immigrant Experience Wes Anderson's Movies Ranked From Worst to Best 13 of Tom Cruise's Most Jaw-Dropping Stunts
Buzz Feed
03-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Buzz Feed
13 Scenes That Made Older Songs Go Viral Again
Sometimes, all it takes is one unforgettable scene to breathe new life into a song you forgot even existed. Whether it's a '90s banger climbing the charts again, or a deep cut getting the spotlight it rightfully deserves, these 12 songs shot up in popularity thanks to the magic of soundtracks and pop culture. "Murder on the Dancefloor" by Sophie Ellis-Bextor dropped in 2001. Over two decades later, it went viral all over again in 2023 after Saltburn's release! "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" by Wham! was first released in 1984. But it popped off again in 2001, thanks to Zoolander! "Running Up That Hill" by Kate Bush came out in 1985. Nearly 40 years later, it climbed the charts again thanks to Stranger Things's season 4 episode, "Dear Billy" (2022). "Something In The Way" by Nirvana quietly existed on Nevermind since 1991. But when The Batman dropped in 2022, it hit a whole new audience. "Poison" by Bell Bib DeVoe was an early '90s R&B staple. But Turk's dance routine on Scrubs's Season 5 episode "My Half-Acre" made it an instant internet classic in 2006. "A Thousand Miles" by Vanessa Carlton was already a hit in 2002. Then White Chicks came along in 2004 and turned it into comedy gold. "Left Hand Free" by alt-J originally came out in 2014. But it didn't really catch fire until Outer Banks made it a Pogue anthem in 2020. "Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol debuted in 2006. But it's Grey's Anatomy's heartbreaking Season 2 finale "Losing My Religion" that propelled it into stardom in "Tiny Dancer" by Elton John was released in 1971. It found a whole new audience in 2000 after Almost Famous made it an iconic pop culture moment. "Long Long Time" by Linda Ronstadt quietly broke hearts in 1970. But it shattered all of ours again in 2023 in The Last of Us's Season 1 episode, "Long Long Time." "Pony" by Ginuwine was already steamy when it dropped in 1996. Then Magic Mike took it to a whole new level in 2012. "All I Want For Christmas" by Mariah Carey took over the holidays in 1994. But Love Actually helped turn it into a rom-com Christmas special in 2003. It's wild how one perfect song in one perfect scene can flip a switch. Whether it made you cry, dance, or immediately open a music streaming platform, these moments prove that a great track can still make its mark many many years later. What's the one TV or movie moment that brought a forgotten song back into your life? Let us know in the comments! 💿 For more nostalgic content like this, check out BuzzFeed Canada's TikTok and Instagram for more content like this! ✨
The Age
28-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Age
Eight albums and two hip replacements: Shirley Manson shows no sign of slowing down
This story is part of the June 29 edition of Sunday Life. See all 13 stories. I am an outspoken person,' says Shirley Manson on a Zoom call from her home in Los Angeles. 'It comes naturally to me, and it's how I was brought up. I don't get easily frightened. As a result, I get it in the neck, but I don't allow it to shut me up.' It's fair to say the Scottish lead singer of rock band Garbage doesn't suffer fools gladly. You'll often find Manson on social media calling out humanitarian crises and weighing in on cancel-culture debates and world politics. She has firm views on Gaza, Ukraine, Sudan, Haiti and the Congo. 'According to the way I was parented, you need to say something when people can't stand up for themselves,' she explains. 'Sometimes I get frustrated when people don't speak out, but not everybody has a robust psyche like me.' Manson first caught our attention in 1995 when she burst onto the music scene with Garbage's hit single, Only Happy When It Rains, a song penned with founding member and drummer Butch Vig, who famously produced Nirvana's 1991 breakthrough album, Nevermind. The late Michael Gudinski toured Garbage in Australia and New Zealand while the band was still relatively unknown, following a hunch they'd make it big. And they did. Garbage's self-titled 1995 debut peaked at No.4 in the Australian charts and went on to sell four million copies worldwide. Since then, the band's seven albums have sold more than 17 million copies. Manson still gets teary when she talks about Gudinski. 'Michael saw me as a human being,' she says. 'He acknowledged my loyalty and witnessed me as the soft yielding mess that I actually am in real life. And when somebody sees you for how you really are, you are bound to them forever.' The mid-1990s was a pivotal period in music, the release of Garbage coinciding with Alanis Morissette's Jagged Little Pill, Björk's Post, Oasis's (W hat's the Story) Morning Glory? and No Doubt's Tragic Kingdom. Now 58, and with two hip replacements behind her, Manson returns with her band for their eighth studio album, Let All That We Imagine Be the Light. The release feels like a chance for Garbage to finally embrace a sunnier disposition, trading emo anthems for hope in the face of fear. It's music fuelled by a defiance that comes with age, a perspective that's matured, and a self-confidence that's finally been acknowledged. 'I had to put positive thinking into practice and imagine something bigger and better than myself.' SHIRLEY MANSON Manson knows that in 2025, her band is competing with the likes of Chappell Roan, Dua Lipa, Taylor Swift and Gracie Abrams for attention. That hasn't deterred Garbage's ambitions to keep making music for their loyal followers, just tempered the band's expectations. 'You can't have the same cultural impact you had when you were young,' says Manson. 'That is the province of youth, and how it should be.' Manson wrote most of the songs for Let All That We Imagine Be The Light in 2023 and 2024 during two bouts of post-operation rehab in the LA home she shares with husband Billy Bush, Garbage's recording engineer. She had been told she would be walking three days after surgery, but each time took three months, while a diet of painkillers led to brain fog. But rather than feel sorry for herself, the situation inspired positive thinking. 'At first, I thought it was a tragedy that I was so crippled, but it turned out to be a gift,' she says. Loading She elaborates, 'I couldn't bear weight on my legs – it was frightening. I think I was clinically depressed, and I knew that if I didn't change my thinking about my health, about the dark events happening in the world at the same time, I would die of a broken heart. So, I had to put positive thinking into practice and imagine something bigger and better than myself. I employed a positive way of thinking for the first time in 58 years and was astounded by the results.' Sisyphus, the first song she wrote for the new album, points to the recovery process. 'It's about learning how to garner all my powers to recover and walk again,' she says. 'It was good to learn new things about myself, to reacquaint myself with the idea of patience and employ it for the first time in my life.' Earlier this year, a UK tabloid criticised Manson for looking 'unrecognisable' in a new promotional photo, a huge blow for someone who's spent her entire career fighting sexism. Asked about it now, Manson hits back: 'How can anyone expect to look the same as they did in their 20s? I don't even want to try.' Another new song, Chinese Fire Horse, is an ode to that inner feminist fire, calling out those who put women down. 'A few years ago, I had two journalists in different countries, one male and one female, ask me when I was going to retire. I was 54 at the time and completely thrown back on my heels. How did they have the audacity to ask me that question? Nobody would ever ask this question of the men in my band, who are considerably older than me – Butch [Vig] will be 70 this year. 'It was then I realised the experience of an ageing woman in our culture has never really been fully investigated in pop music. Bob Dylan has never written a song about what it's like to be an ageing woman.' She acknowledges that there's now a wave of female rock stars enjoying success in their 70s and even 80s. 'Women like Deborah Harry, Patti Smith, Stevie Nicks, Chaka Khan and Chrissie Hynde are the first wave who have ever done it,' she says. 'It's thrilling, and I can't think of anything more beautiful than pointing younger women to this messaging. 'When society tells you that you're dead at 25, they're lying to you. You have agency into your 80s thanks to these women. I am sick and tired of men being told how beautifully they age and how great they are. Well, how about we start talking about how great, gallus and courageous women are, because we haven't had any doors opened for us?' Away from the spotlight, Manson often turns to her inner circle – including fellow musicians Peaches, Santigold and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs' Karen O – for support. She still travels back to Scotland to visit her 88-year-old father and laughs while observing that, where she grew up, nobody cares that she went to LA and became a rock star. Manson lost her mother to dementia in 2008. While sad, it was another experience that gave the singer a spur to re-evaluate her life. 'I kept waiting for someone to recognise that I was enough,' she says. 'It wasn't until my mother died that I realised, 'Wow, I'm on my own now. I have no Joan of Arc in front of me. It's me versus the world and I have to value myself.'' That, however, doesn't make the sting of public scrutiny any easier, and Manson continues to attract media attention based on what she wears, both on and off the stage. 'I always ask myself, 'How can I be as authentic as possible with the clothing choices I make?'' says the woman who caused a ruckus in the 90s by wearing a T-shirt with the slogan 'Don't touch my tits'. Loading 'I don't want to play dress-up and I'm uninterested in being fashionable,' she continues. 'I don't give a f--- about fashion because I don't want to look like everybody else, nor do I want my identity consumed by the mainstream. Yes, I love beautiful clothes, but I'm not consumed by them.' Keeping it simple is her approach now. 'I feel very concerned about the unbelievable waste the fashion industry is creating. I am trying to be more conscious. I am re-using pieces over and over again. 'Am I perfect? No. Do I make mistakes? Yes. But I will never wear fur. I am eating fewer animal products nowadays, and I'm sure that within a few years I'll be wearing rubber Crocs 100 per cent of the time, not 99.9 per cent.'
Sydney Morning Herald
28-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Sydney Morning Herald
Eight albums and two hip replacements: Shirley Manson shows no sign of slowing down
This story is part of the June 29 edition of Sunday Life. See all 13 stories. I am an outspoken person,' says Shirley Manson on a Zoom call from her home in Los Angeles. 'It comes naturally to me, and it's how I was brought up. I don't get easily frightened. As a result, I get it in the neck, but I don't allow it to shut me up.' It's fair to say the Scottish lead singer of rock band Garbage doesn't suffer fools gladly. You'll often find Manson on social media calling out humanitarian crises and weighing in on cancel-culture debates and world politics. She has firm views on Gaza, Ukraine, Sudan, Haiti and the Congo. 'According to the way I was parented, you need to say something when people can't stand up for themselves,' she explains. 'Sometimes I get frustrated when people don't speak out, but not everybody has a robust psyche like me.' Manson first caught our attention in 1995 when she burst onto the music scene with Garbage's hit single, Only Happy When It Rains, a song penned with founding member and drummer Butch Vig, who famously produced Nirvana's 1991 breakthrough album, Nevermind. The late Michael Gudinski toured Garbage in Australia and New Zealand while the band was still relatively unknown, following a hunch they'd make it big. And they did. Garbage's self-titled 1995 debut peaked at No.4 in the Australian charts and went on to sell four million copies worldwide. Since then, the band's seven albums have sold more than 17 million copies. Manson still gets teary when she talks about Gudinski. 'Michael saw me as a human being,' she says. 'He acknowledged my loyalty and witnessed me as the soft yielding mess that I actually am in real life. And when somebody sees you for how you really are, you are bound to them forever.' The mid-1990s was a pivotal period in music, the release of Garbage coinciding with Alanis Morissette's Jagged Little Pill, Björk's Post, Oasis's (W hat's the Story) Morning Glory? and No Doubt's Tragic Kingdom. Now 58, and with two hip replacements behind her, Manson returns with her band for their eighth studio album, Let All That We Imagine Be the Light. The release feels like a chance for Garbage to finally embrace a sunnier disposition, trading emo anthems for hope in the face of fear. It's music fuelled by a defiance that comes with age, a perspective that's matured, and a self-confidence that's finally been acknowledged. 'I had to put positive thinking into practice and imagine something bigger and better than myself.' SHIRLEY MANSON Manson knows that in 2025, her band is competing with the likes of Chappell Roan, Dua Lipa, Taylor Swift and Gracie Abrams for attention. That hasn't deterred Garbage's ambitions to keep making music for their loyal followers, just tempered the band's expectations. 'You can't have the same cultural impact you had when you were young,' says Manson. 'That is the province of youth, and how it should be.' Manson wrote most of the songs for Let All That We Imagine Be The Light in 2023 and 2024 during two bouts of post-operation rehab in the LA home she shares with husband Billy Bush, Garbage's recording engineer. She had been told she would be walking three days after surgery, but each time took three months, while a diet of painkillers led to brain fog. But rather than feel sorry for herself, the situation inspired positive thinking. 'At first, I thought it was a tragedy that I was so crippled, but it turned out to be a gift,' she says. Loading She elaborates, 'I couldn't bear weight on my legs – it was frightening. I think I was clinically depressed, and I knew that if I didn't change my thinking about my health, about the dark events happening in the world at the same time, I would die of a broken heart. So, I had to put positive thinking into practice and imagine something bigger and better than myself. I employed a positive way of thinking for the first time in 58 years and was astounded by the results.' Sisyphus, the first song she wrote for the new album, points to the recovery process. 'It's about learning how to garner all my powers to recover and walk again,' she says. 'It was good to learn new things about myself, to reacquaint myself with the idea of patience and employ it for the first time in my life.' Earlier this year, a UK tabloid criticised Manson for looking 'unrecognisable' in a new promotional photo, a huge blow for someone who's spent her entire career fighting sexism. Asked about it now, Manson hits back: 'How can anyone expect to look the same as they did in their 20s? I don't even want to try.' Another new song, Chinese Fire Horse, is an ode to that inner feminist fire, calling out those who put women down. 'A few years ago, I had two journalists in different countries, one male and one female, ask me when I was going to retire. I was 54 at the time and completely thrown back on my heels. How did they have the audacity to ask me that question? Nobody would ever ask this question of the men in my band, who are considerably older than me – Butch [Vig] will be 70 this year. 'It was then I realised the experience of an ageing woman in our culture has never really been fully investigated in pop music. Bob Dylan has never written a song about what it's like to be an ageing woman.' She acknowledges that there's now a wave of female rock stars enjoying success in their 70s and even 80s. 'Women like Deborah Harry, Patti Smith, Stevie Nicks, Chaka Khan and Chrissie Hynde are the first wave who have ever done it,' she says. 'It's thrilling, and I can't think of anything more beautiful than pointing younger women to this messaging. 'When society tells you that you're dead at 25, they're lying to you. You have agency into your 80s thanks to these women. I am sick and tired of men being told how beautifully they age and how great they are. Well, how about we start talking about how great, gallus and courageous women are, because we haven't had any doors opened for us?' Away from the spotlight, Manson often turns to her inner circle – including fellow musicians Peaches, Santigold and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs' Karen O – for support. She still travels back to Scotland to visit her 88-year-old father and laughs while observing that, where she grew up, nobody cares that she went to LA and became a rock star. Manson lost her mother to dementia in 2008. While sad, it was another experience that gave the singer a spur to re-evaluate her life. 'I kept waiting for someone to recognise that I was enough,' she says. 'It wasn't until my mother died that I realised, 'Wow, I'm on my own now. I have no Joan of Arc in front of me. It's me versus the world and I have to value myself.'' That, however, doesn't make the sting of public scrutiny any easier, and Manson continues to attract media attention based on what she wears, both on and off the stage. 'I always ask myself, 'How can I be as authentic as possible with the clothing choices I make?'' says the woman who caused a ruckus in the 90s by wearing a T-shirt with the slogan 'Don't touch my tits'. Loading 'I don't want to play dress-up and I'm uninterested in being fashionable,' she continues. 'I don't give a f--- about fashion because I don't want to look like everybody else, nor do I want my identity consumed by the mainstream. Yes, I love beautiful clothes, but I'm not consumed by them.' Keeping it simple is her approach now. 'I feel very concerned about the unbelievable waste the fashion industry is creating. I am trying to be more conscious. I am re-using pieces over and over again. 'Am I perfect? No. Do I make mistakes? Yes. But I will never wear fur. I am eating fewer animal products nowadays, and I'm sure that within a few years I'll be wearing rubber Crocs 100 per cent of the time, not 99.9 per cent.'
