SHEEP in Dunedin

Lamp light and rain washed over George street. Car wheels kicked up water as they sped by. The first signs of winter were welling up in the Dunedin skies, and falling upon the city streets. Pedestrians shied away from the drizzle, walking swiftly beneath the shelters. Tommy and I didn’t mind; we weren’t going far anyway - just to the Attic. Strapped around my shoulder was my Korg R3 Synth, and Tommy carried his guitar case. It was time to make the next move with SHEEP, and take to the practice room once again. 

“Do you think he’s here yet?” I asked Tommy as we crossed the road. “I hope so. He’s got the keys,” he said. We reached the side-door up to the Attic; it was slightly ajar, and the light was on. We exchanged a quick thankful look, and proceeded into the Attic. Up the narrow stairs, through the dusty rooms and over the creaky floorboards, we made it to the practice room and went in. Johnny was indeed there, twirling his hair with one hand and holding drum sticks in the other. “Hey, what’s up!”

The end of the SHEEP tour across New Zealand marked the end of an era as a band - our drummer Toby was moving to Melbourne to live. But Tommy and I lived together in Dunedin now, and we wanted to continue SHEEP. Actually, it was a necessity. We couldn’t just sit around, especially with Tommy’s constant stream of new guitar licks and my itchy fingers. With the Dunedin sound still pumping out ripper shows with bands like Milpool, the Rothmans, Koizilla and the like, we wanted to get in there and join the buzz with our own sound. We just needed to find a new drummer. We didn’t look very far, and ended up adding Johnny - the guitarist for The Rothmans - into the band. This was our first practice with Johnny. 

The room was a cluttered mess. It hosted the accumulation of music gear and rubble: ripped couches on flayed rugs, a broken organ with missing keys, snapped strum sticks, empty chip packets, beer bottles, guitar strings, guitars without strings, old drum gear, cords and leads tangled like spaghetti on the floor, amps and speakers, a desk piled with miscellaneous things…And a drum kit: the centrepiece of a band practice room. That’s where Johnny sat waiting for us. Despite the mess, it was the coolest practice space I’d ever seen. A practice room in the Attic of an old building, where only the coolest shows in town happen? Heck yes. “Lets do this,” I said, stepping my way over the leads to a chair. I began unpacking my synth and plugging it in with eagerness to let it roar once more. 

I plugged into a big rumbler of a bass amp, looking stolid and bold sitting next to a broken speaker. It was exciting to pull out my Korg R3 and amp it up once again. I rarely used it outside of SHEEP. Being my first keyboard, it has a special place in my life. Tommy was fiddling around with his amp as I began laying down a bass rumble. Johnny joined in within the instant, hitting a simple but effective groove. It was mean. He didn’t wait for instruction, and music simply happened. That’s how it should be. Tommy halted us with a hand in the air. “Sweet as. I think we should just jam out some of my new ideas.” Both Johnny and I nodded in agreement, and Tommy began playing a progression I had heard a few times in the flat. I was amazed at how natural it was having Johnny just join us on the drums like that. We didn’t need to say anything. We didn’t need to ask him to play a certain way we wanted. We just jammed, communicating with music instead. It worked.

Johnny’s style was indeed different from Toby’s, which changed up the band dynamic a bit. We jammed some of Tommy’s new ideas, and they were a bit more laid-back than our previous stuff; a bit groovier/jammier. I was entertaining the idea of playing a keyboard tone, and being able to lay some chords in the higher register on top of the bass notes. It was looking like SHEEP was heading in a new direction, and we were excited to flesh out this new set of songs and sign up for some gigs around town. We packed up our instruments. “Alright,” Johnny said, holding the door for us as we left the room. He flicked off the light and shut the door. We navigated back to the entrance of the attic in the dark.

It was still drizzling outside. 

— — — 

As the drizzle outside cascaded into rain, and eventually thunder, Tommy and I were staying warm in our cozy little flat in the city. I sat on the ripped couch as Tommy made pizza for the both of us. 

We had known each other for about 9 years by this stage, but it wasn’t until this year that our lives conjoined like this, to the point where we lived in the same flat. Actually, Tommy was the reason I was now living in Dunedin. In our friendship, he was always in the driver’s seat, and I in the passengers seat. I had no choice but to go where he went; my life spiralling around his. Even when I lived in Queenstown, I was pulled into the flux of Dunedin through Tommy and our band SHEEP. It was a simple fact that that he was my front man, and I was his bassist. Such was our relationship.

Living together, we had this opportunity to both improve in our music capabilities and expression. Actually, this was now the most important thing for us: we had both forsaken a normal day job in the quest of establishing a living wage as musicians and Artists. Between us, we mostly just stayed at home playing music and making Art. While I was in my room practicing the piano, Tommy was probably in the lounge, painting something new or noodling on his guitar. The only difference between us was that Tommy was on the Work and Income Benefit, while I believed whole-heartedly that if I worked hard and fast enough, I could start earning a living from my Art before I had to resort to that means of income. Or get a job...

“Bro it was a mean practice. Johnny fits nicely,” I said as Tommy handed me a slice of his pizza. The best pizza in town. “Yeah I reckon .. a couple more practices .. and we should be good for a show,” he said between munches of his pizza slice. Establishing SHEEP in Dunedin was now of critical importance to us, as playing gigs was a way we could get a bit of extra money in our pockets. If anything, it was our job. “Can’t wait aye. The new stuff is sounding sick.” After finishing the pizza, Tommy climbed the ladder up to the loft and put on a record, then came back down and sunk himself into his new painting. That was my cue to get up and clean the kitchen.

I didn’t mind the mess; I came to like it. I found cleaning to kitchen to be quite therapeutic. And so, I began scrubbing the dishes in the hot soapy water. It was my share of the deal, too. Tommy cooked the food (because I couldn’t cook anything), and I cleaned the kitchen (because Tommy never cleaned the kitchen). It was a good deal, and it worked a charm, keeping us both fed and the flat somewhat tidy. After a final sweep, the task was done. "When are we going to practice next?" I asked before heading to my room. Tommy was already engrossed in his painting, and didn't look up. "Hmmm I don't know. Maybe tomorrow. We'll see what Johnny is up to." I nodded, and made my way from the lounge. 

And so there in our dinky little Dunedin flat, aptly named 'The Pit', Tommy and I sunk ourselves into that which we most enjoyed. And that's how we lived, two sheep trying to find their way in the world, with Art. With Music. Now with Johnny joining us, our band would continue rocking.

And the raw expression that we lived for would not be in vain.