Mick Turner: Part 2

In the second and final installment of his interview with ANDREW MCMILLEN, Mick Turner talks about his art, the industry and what he’s learned from Kim Salmon. Part one here.

[Historical image is withheld pending rights review.]

The good life

I want to ask about your art, Mick. Where do you think your art fits into your career as a musician? Is there a point where they intersect, or are you happy for them to remain as separate entities?
Publically, now I've been doing a lot of showing art where and when I do a music shows, and vice-versa, so I've kind of combined them to some extent in that way. As an artist, as a painter, I've had some gallery shows. That environment is fine but it's limited too. It's been good to combine them and bring artworks to a venue and also bring music to a gallery. Of course, I'm not the first person to do it. That's just what makes sense to me at the moment to do that, on a solo level anyway.

Do you find one more gratifying than the other?
No, I love them both. It's great. I've got a studio space near where I live in Brunswick, that’s separate to my house and I've got it set up so that I can jump from one to the other. I've got a room with my music stuff and then an art space, and I'll often do both the same day … You get a bit tired of one you take a break and then go in and do the other. They're both quite different head spaces you go into.

Had you always had an interest in painting or did you discover that later on?
Since school, yeah I think I always have actually. I used to do a lot of drawing when I was younger, make comic strips. My mum used to do the church newsletter at our local church and used this thing called a gestetner machine, which was this machine where you had a stencil thing where you either typed stuff onto or you could draw onto. Then you put them on this big roller thing. It was a printer and then you print out. I would do these drawings on these stencils and then print, mass produce them. [Laughs] I've always been doing this kind of – I was always drawing and then I did art at school up until year 12. Then I don't know why I didn't go to art school actually, that's one of my regrets in a way. After school I ended up doing a university arts degree (which has nothing to do with fine art) which I dropped out from, my heart just wasn’t in it. I thought, "Why didn't I do that, go to art school?"

[Historical image is withheld pending rights review.] I don’t think it was considered something you'd do. I wish I'd had the people around me who would've said, “Yeah, you should go”, but I didn't. And I guess I didn't have it inside me to think it was a worthy thing to do, or a viable thing maybe, which is funny, but all this time I was still doing painting at home.

Were your parents creative at all? Did they encourage your art or your music?
They never discouraged it, but nobody in my family is particularly creative in that way … Things have worked out great anyway and I've never stopped doing art or music ever since, whatever situation I've been in. It's been a good life like that.

Were there any particular artists that influenced your style of painting?
I'm sure I'm influenced by a lot of stuff. There's a lot of art I really love. A lot of Australian art I really love, like all that classic kind of … like Charles Blackman and Sidney Nolan. I paint in a particular figurative style probably along those lines of those artists a bit, and every other figurative artist in the world. My paintings are often dreamlike subjects. To me they’re a kind of visual diary.

Do you find painting is a solitary pursuit for you? Do you have to be alone to be in that space?
Pretty much so. I've got such a good setup now, no one's ever there … [Although] I'm sure I could be in same room with someone else who was maybe doing something too, like painting as well, it wouldn’t worry me. It can be good to verbalise what you’re trying to do as you do it. It can help you understand what it is your wanting to say.

Does it differ from music? Do you prefer to write with other people or alone?
I find it actually really difficult if people can hear what I'm doing. I find that I'm always thinking about them kind of listening to it…

And judging?
Maybe judging. [Laughs] "What is that crap? He's playing that same chord progression again?" I think maybe if someone was looking over my shoulder while I was painting I probably wouldn't like it. It's a bit distracting, I guess.

[Historical image is withheld pending rights review.]

When you start to paint a new piece, do you have an idea in your head of what it's going to look like or is it some organic process?
I try to have an idea but then I find it rarely turns out the way I thought. The process I've found is that of changing things and I've become really good at. If something isn't working I'll start [again] radically. Sometimes you get to a point in a painting, you work on one little bit of it and you can't seem to get it right, and then I've learned to totally change it from there. I find it a really exciting kind of process, really enjoyable because you come out with things you never would have thought of. It's almost like an improvisation, so in a way that kind of mirrors the way I play music too. I think I'm slowly coming to an understanding between these two processes in my own head and marrying them a bit.

That's cool. At this stage in your life, you're finally getting it together.
Hopefully it will keep going until I drop. [laughs] Or until I can't pick up the paint brush anymore.

Why do you prefer to use paint? Have you tried other mediums?
I also make sculptures. I found oil paintings first. I love the longevity of these mediums as well, oil paints are just beautiful colours and they're just so beautiful to work with … I've also made bronzes and things, quite a few sculptures. Bronze is a bit unforgiving: once you've made a bronze you can't really change it very easily.

In terms of those who buy your art, I would imagine the majority would be existing fans of your work – either your solo work or Dirty Three. Do you find there are many external buyers who just like you for your art? Do you come across those?
Yeah, that's happened quite a few times and it's really good. I like that because it means they just bought it for the art itself, which is – I'm sure other people buy for the art too but it's nice to know I can sell art even to people who aren’t necessarily music fans.

Anchor & Hope

[Historical image is withheld pending rights review.] I want to turn to talking about your label [Anchor & Hope]. You've released most of Dirty Three’s stuff through your own label. What attracted you to that idea in the first place?
Very much from that whole period of late '70s in music, the punk rock kind of thing, where all these labels started up. I was inspired by all that and that kind of idea, and seeing – the kind of idea of doing it yourself and being in control, and also the experiences of people who had labels and how they could control your career, especially Kim Salmon, who was a friend of ours around that time … He had this experience where he was signed with a major label in Australia, who hadn't released his records in America on their namesake in the US, but he had Henry Rollins wanting to release his albums on his label. They were demanding exorbitant advances from Henry Rollins to do that, to the point where it didn't happen.

So Kim Salmon, at a period of his career when he could've started to have a bit of an audience in America … it just died in the arse. To see that happen all because he was tied to this stupid contract – that was one of numerous kind of stories of peoples' careers and music lives getting completely rooted by bad companies, like bad decisions. God knows, you don't even see these people who are making these decisions half the time. Partly that, and [partly because] we were in a position financially where we were able to do it. We were in this great position where people really wanted to put our records out. We could just cover the recording costs and then license it, and that's what we've done ever since. We pay for our own recordings and then we license them to Shock or Inertia in Australia, Remote Control for the last one [Cinder], Touch & Go in America, and Bella Union in England and Europe. It's great, and we own it all. We have control and … if they ever stop making it we can just take it to someone else. It's a nice feeling and I think it's really contributed to the longevity of the band. We don't sell a lot of records and I think we would have been dropped a long time ago and been in a bad position. Often you get dropped but you can't get your records back. Things like that happen to people all the time.

[Historical image is withheld pending rights review.] What prompted you to start King Crab Records?
I thought I could do a record label and discovered I couldn't. It's hard work.

You wanted to give other artists that same opportunity that you'd found?
I just liked the idea of it, but I think you've got to have a lot of time to do these things, and I think I was just too busy with other projects. I tried, it's very hard. We put out Joel Silbersher's record [Greasy Lens]. Great record. Got really good press, had videos on Rage, and he was doing shows - couldn't sell enough to make the cost back. We sold maybe 100 copies within the first six months, and then after that a record's dead, to a point … I did everything I thought that you needed to do, and it wasn't enough, so I don’t think I know what to do. I gave up pretty much. The label's still there and I thought about making it a really obscure online label where you can get downloads really cheap. The great thing about this online thing is you've got worldwide distribution immediately and your costs are virtually nothing.

Your solo stuff, and the Tren Brothers recordings are released by Drag City. How did they come across you?
I knew them through living in Chicago. They were connected with Touch and Go. Touch and Go was our label, so we knew them really well. They were connected with them. Touch and Go distributed them. I was a fan of quite a few things on the Drag City label, and I got to meet them personally around town, and I really liked the way they operated and I liked the music they were doing. I approached them and said, "I've got a solo record, would you put it out?" They said, "Yeah, but we want to talk to Touch and Go first." I saw it as my solo stuff fit in better on Drag City better than Touch and Go. I'm kind of glad I did that and I also wanted to separate it a bit from Dirty Three, so I approached them. They've been great. They're such a good label, I really like them.

“My paintings are often dreamlike subjects. To me they’re a kind of visual diary.”

You seem to avoid music industry bullshit, and based on what you said earlier about Kim Salmon, it seems like a conscious decision.
Yeah, it's really good to be in control of your own art. That's something I've realised. Also, Dirty Three is the first time – apart from The Moodists – that I was in a position to actually have any [control]. All the bands I’ve played in up to then – apart from The Moodists, who had a little interest when we went overseas – were very much the kind of band where mostly just friends would come along and see us play, just very low key. I think the early ’80s were a lot different to the way it is now. Now it's much more supported, I think. There's a lot more independent stuff going. To be independent you were really in a small minority. I'm sure you still are now, but to some degree Nirvana changed all that. Back then it was a very small club. I'd never been a person who liked what the mainstream was playing anyway since I was young. Maybe when I was really young I'd listen to commercial radio, but I'd never been a person whose musical taste was shared by many other people. It took me a while to find people who liked what I was getting into.

The industry, I always thought it was crap anyway. I didn't really care about it, it just didn't relate to me. To be a part of it, obviously I am part of it, but it's changed a lot. I think it's a lot better now…

[At this point, we take a bathroom break. When I return, Turner is studying my questions. I let him keep the papers, while I read aloud upside-down to prompt him for the recording.]

Are there any current artists that you admire, Australian or otherwise?
I really like Kid Sam at the moment.

Good choice.
They’re so good. I'm amazed they're not overseas. I love that record. I'm listening a lot to Kid Sam, and I listen a lot to the radio, Triple R in Melbourne. There's a really great DJ, Steve Cross - he's amazing. He has one of the best radio shows I've ever heard [Beat Orgy]. It's so interesting. He’s not encumbered by any sort of era or style, although it is a style on its own, but it's really interesting music all the time. Have you ever heard his radio show? It's really great. Dave Graney's got a really great radio show too, but he plays some really interesting stuff and great talking. It's called The Banana Lounge.

Are there any current-era arts that inspire your playing, or do you try to steer clear from that kind of influence?
No, I think you're influenced by anything you hear, but I've never been a person who's able to work out of some sort of guitar bit, note-for-note. I mean, I probably could. It would take me a long time probably. If I hear something I like, I think it comes out differently when I try and do it, which is probably a good thing.

Do you still enjoy going out to see live music?
Yeah I do. It’s harder now I have young kids though, they’re always up early so there’s no sleeping in.

What keeps you in Melbourne?
It's a great place. I was living in America which was really good. The great thing about being over there was just the world of opportunity for doing art and music. I think there are so many people over there. In Australia you're limited to the major cities, really, when you do a tour. But over there, there's so many cities you can play that are so close and just a lot of people doing things.

That was good about it, and I had a life over there. I was married. My marriage broke up and I didn't want to be in Chicago anymore. I thought it was time to move on, and I went to Los Angeles and thought maybe I'd stay there because I had a couple of friends and I quite liked it there. But I was there a few weeks and thought, "I've got to make new friends." I knew a couple of people, but not many. And then I looked on the internet, and there were these cheap flights back home. I thought, “I'll go home for a holiday”. 9/11 happened the night before I was going to go back to America on the plane and all flights were cancelled. I ended up staying [in Melbourne] for quite a while and I thought I'll stay home … But I regularly travel back over there [the states] two or three times a year. It's good. I like travelling and playing music or having art shows…

Australia's a nice place to live. I really like the countryside too. I like going down the coast. I've bought a little block down at Phillip Island years ago when it was really cheap and go surfing a bit. It's good for your soul. It was hard to get that over there [the States].

How is it that you look exactly the same as you did 20 years ago?
Well, If you look closely I don't. [Laughs] I've just got the same haircut.

Stubborn and lucky

Do you believe that hardship is necessary to create great art?
That's debatable. I don't know how much great hardship I've had, although it doesn't say great hardship does it: it says great art. I changed the words around a bit. It could say, “Do you think great hardship is necessary to create art?” No, I don't think so. I think there's quite a drive to make art that people have. I've certainly got it and I think all my friends who play music have got it, or who make paintings. You just want to do it.

[Historical image is withheld pending rights review.] You have to do it?
I get really sad if I can't do it. It makes me agitated. I just want to do it, whether it was successful or not. I don't think I could ever stop. Whether it was just for myself or to make a new record to be released or to have a new art show, it doesn't matter. I've just got to keep doing it. It kind of keeps you alive. I think that's what you need to make art. Great art, I guess you need to be a great artist. [Laughs] I don't know.

I think it's interesting, you know the Picasso painting Guernica? The one of the war. Do you know that one? It's probably his most famous painting. It's a very big painting, a black and white. It's during the Spanish Civil War I think, the Germans came in and bombed this town. There’s just these figures freaking out. It's fairly amazing, people going through really extreme hardship but Picasso actually wasn't there. He was in Paris. But it was kind of empathetic I guess … It's really powerful and it's great art but he didn't experience that hardship directly. He was reacting empathetically.

Do you read your own press? Do you care what other people think about you? Do you care what your fans think about your stuff?
I do, it does affect me as much as I'd like it not to. But I don't get a whole lot of press so there's not that much to read anyway. [Laughs] Do I pay attention? Yeah, I think I definitely have my own view of what I do that's very strong, my own appreciation of things I've done, my own personal critique which has rarely matched any kind of media critique. If someone writes well about something, that could definitely – we talked about this before, where someone voices an appreciation for something, that can actually show you something you didn't see in your own work…

“If tomorrow I suddenly no longer have my records or [no one would] have me on at a show, I'd still be playing music at home and making pictures.”

Are you a procrastinator when it comes to art or music? Do you put stuff off? Do you find it a chore to write?
No, I'm actually pretty quick and I find procrastination kind of a frustrating quality in people. Although I'm respectful of anyone's process, that it's their own and that's how they do it but I would find it very frustrating to be like that. I guess the downfall of that is maybe sometimes … you make something and you don't give it enough space to be critical of it. Maybe you get it out there too quickly.

Maybe some things aren't as good as they could have been but I think it's hard with art. Like with paintings, if I do a painting and I put it in a show, if someone doesn't buy it and it comes back to my studio, probably eight times out of 10 I'll change the painting and I'll start adding things or paint over it. I think that would be possible with music too, if you did a recording and didn't put it on the record, you start adding things or changing it, or rerecording the song. Sometimes what comes out is when you happen to say “stop”, otherwise things will just eternally change.

Where does the name Tren Phantasma [Mick’s 1997 solo album] come from?
I wanted to call [the album] Rollercoaster* because I had this painting of a rollercoaster that I really liked. Its on the cover, and I kind of like the connotation – I thought it suited the album, but Steve Cummings [of The Sports] put out an album called Rollercoaster the year before. I was sitting at home trying to figure out what I was going to do and my girlfriend at the time – we were living in Chicago, and there are a lot of Mexican/Spanish speaking people – said, "What about Tren Phantasma?" It's “rollercoaster” in Spanish, or Portuguese. The two are probably the same.

I spoke to [All Tomorrow’s Parties founder] Barry Hogan at the 10th anniversary and he said your ATP, the one that you guys curated was his favourite. Do you recall anything from that weekend?
In a lot of ways that was like a high point of my whole musical life. I really felt like it was so much fun and it felt so good. It just gave me kind of a warm glow, that whole thing, that it just felt … like if my career ended there I'd still be happy. It just felt really good. It was a lot of fun.

Finally, Ed Kuepper was interviewed for this series, and he said: "The people who survive the longest in the music industry are either just outright stubborn, or they have very good business advice". Which category do you fall into?
I think I'm stubborn, probably. Stubborn and lucky. But like I said before, if tomorrow I suddenly no longer have my records or [no one would] have me on at a show, I'd still be playing music at home and making pictures. I wouldn't stop. I've kind of been lucky in that I've kind of taken a side step – I've never really tried to have success. I haven't certainly balked at it when it's come my way, but I've been really lucky in that it's kind of just come along. I mean, I spent years playing in bands that no one wanted to see, too. And my solo stuff, I still play small – most of my shows are small venues – but I've made a life out of it which is kind of good. That's been my greatest achievement, I think, is that this is what I do.

Now you're an icon - or so we think.
[Laughs] Yeah, not having to have a parallel career, which is what I think probably every artist really wants. I think this day and age it's probably easier than it was back in the ’80s. Since the internet, things have been really good. There was always distribution problem back then. It was how do you get people to hear what you've got. Now that it's just available anywhere, you've got to let people know it's there but the first step of it actually being available, anyone in outback China who's got the internet can get your stuff. Well, maybe not China. [Laughs]

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Mick Turner plays the Workers Club in Melbourne this Sunday (November 14) as part of its first birthday celebrations.