Whipped Cream Chargers

I would describe Whipped Cream Chargers’ sound as a cacophony of eager Princes, some more desperate than others, wooing Rapunzel, Zelda and the ghost of Princess Diana down from their share-house/ivory-tower/maxi-pad for spliffs and 2nd base.

We take inspiration from unrequited love (and the subsequent murder that ensues not long after), high/higher states of consciousness, natural tobacco, Iso brand cream cylinders, free meals, free beers and freedom.

It might surprise people to learn that in Japan, it is common folklore that when a cat becomes too fat, it runs the risk of growing an extra tail and transforming into its original being of a Demi-God. Aeons ago, the forces-that-be took the Cat God’s power and enormous size and turned it into a pre-evolved critter. Subsequently, this mythos leads to innumerable euthanasia of fat cats all around japan.

Sydney is said to be worse than it actually is. In Sydney, it is necessary for a band to really put in the miles to survive given a lack of council and arts based endorsement. Rather than depending on that support, underground bands are pushed to solicit and promote themselves with the support of nobody else but each other. For example, Ping! is what one may consider a supergroup, consisting of members of Warhorse, Domeyko/Gonzalez, Danimals, Bridezilla, Whipped Cream Chargers, Dead China Doll and Arkestra. Its an absolute honor to associate and be down with these sick puppies (not the terrible band) in a city that I feel I like more than it likes me. There are then promoters who deserve honorable mentions for supporting and more-or-less carrying the weight of live music on their shoulders: the likes of Jasper Clifford-Smith (Chocolate Jesus), James Shirlaw (Double Dragon), Lucas George (Goodbye Sunshine Festival), Mikey Carr (Musicfeeds) and Mark Gerber (Oxford Art Factory). Nothing however, can or will redeem the shitty excuse for public transport in this city.

I wish Whipped Cream Chargers had written The Prophet by Kahil Gibran. Apparently it is used more frequently than any other book to get laid. Even more than The Game.

In five years time we’ll all ascend to higher astral levels with the help of aliens, say some pseudo-scientists. If that doesn’t eventuate, Sydney will be a bustling scene filled with squids and coral, The Blue Mountains will be a beach destination and the remaining living members of the Whippy C’s will all be able to grow beards… hopefully.

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