PHOTOS AND STORIES; PARIS HAWKEN
I recently spent a day with Fremantle based band Moana in the lead up to one of their gigs. I was interested to see what the preparation process would be like for a group of artists such as these guys, and so played the roll of "fly on the wall with a camera" for a few hours (one of my favourite past times). Moana are well known on the Perth music scene for their hypnotic and seductive gothic rock music, and to see them perform live is just something else - I don't think I've ever been quite so mesmerised before. Here is a little visual story about a band called Moana.
"The most interesting thing about artists is how they live." - Marcel Duchamp
“Bandits, we are set loose from the prison cell howling to the mountain’s of the other worlds. Silver, gold, colour, chaos, rainbow, rat life is a dress up party surround yourself with beauty they say, but what is beauty? There is beauty in something pretty. Something safe. Something of exquisite taste. But there is beauty in sorrow, in hatred, in rage, in hell, in darkness, in death, in where the angel fell… We are the scream of a banshee. A naughty, dark fairy. Shrieking, feisty, fiery IGNITE ME. The world is asleep and we are the fight. The seductive growl that makes you queasy… A look in the eye that makes you uneasy… It’s more than just music, more than just sounds. It’s the peculiar poetry, from the dreaming underground. The witch of the wilds sits still in the storm with her eyes ablaze in the passing of days. Hypnotizing little heart breakers, with the animal soul. Craving freedom and art, from the pit of the heart. When the wolfmoon is full and the stars are alight, there’s a spell cast over you in the velvet midnight. We are tongues, we are lips – eyes whispers Cleopatra’s hips. It’s seduction, it is sex, in a quivering reptilian quest. TASTE US. Little snake. Not just the physical shape of our scales and hot/cold blood but taste this LIVING BREATHING mess of passion and feeling. My love I long to be complete – to be whole, to be wrapped in the wings of the eternal soul. I am the life, the lust. But remain forever lost. Sleepless celebrations of sadness, dance me to a twisted madness. Adorn me with flowers and a spark of fire, with water and a thread of the witch’s wire. I will be a warrior. I will be a warrior. And immortal, we burn. Waiting for the forgotten worlds to return.” – Moana