Interviews
Bill Murray, Laxatives and Butter – a Trioxin Cherry Double Feature

By Jordan Mooney.

Cat on the Wall is still reeling from a very busy January. The good side is that it’s resulted in us having features planned out for a fairly long time in the future – the bad side is that we’re having to delay new features.

Thankfully, today’s group are very patient people. They don’t seem violent either, but you wouldn’t trust them if they’re carrying heavy weapons. They’re group of new kids on the block, all the way from the dark centre of Nottingham.

You’ll all remember our review of the Femme Fatale Tour of Terror, wherein we saw Pussycat and the Dirty Johnsons eloping with Coventry group DragSTER and, of course…Trioxin Cherry.

It’d be fair to say that the bands liked our review – or at least – pretended to do so, as much as we enjoyed the evening, and myself and miss Trixion, the diabolical mind at the front of the group, made an agreement only a couple of weeks later than when their debut is released, we’d do a feature.

Today was the day; the album had been sent over, and Miss Trioxin was due. Before she doubtless ruined the upholstery, I decided to listen to the album. Their debut album. Their first full length lovechild…dubbed, quite beautifully, ‘Let’s Take Off And Nuke The Site From Space‘.

 

The album is a piece of suspiciously confident musical maturity. Sludgy, thick, gooey black liquid slowly dribbles through every orifice in device you’re using to play, whether it be a hi-fi, headphones, or a Flintstones-style pelican gramophone.

Starting off with scarily fluent Japanese speech, Baka Manko, which directly translated, simply means ‘Stupid C#nt.’ (We do try to keep things family friendly – honest!) I’ll presume the speech is composed of similar words to this effect. I know ‘Konichiwa’ is a greeting. I’m not sure though. I never even learnt French.1381509_576263149096045_1623378780_n

Anyway, the music that starts us off is an angry foot stomper, good old fashioned shouty punk – and it gives a nice preview to the rest of the album. It’s not massively complex, but it isn’t lacking in speed or prowess – it exists to chant with, shout at – the sort of thing you’d play to pump up an audience at a gig.

…Followed swiftly by perhaps the highlight of the music industry. We’ve got a heavy rock and roll tribute to that Stallion, the god amongst men, that fellow whom we all adore and admire, Bill Murray. We all love a bit of Bill. Distorted guitars, thundering basslines, and screams of FLY, BILL MURRAY! While informing us of how gosh-darned brilliant he is. Bless him.

Not only is a great, spontaneous, unusual and impeccably entertaining song and concept, but I have to say it’s probably my favourite on the album. It’s fun, it’s catchy, and it’s simply top notch. Marvellous!

 

If I were to go track by track you’d see a very similar appraisal, but it seems almost pointless to try. For one, the entire release has a bit of an evil trick up the sleeve – it, in a way, defies the idea of discussion. A touch too anarchic to slow down enough for thought or note taking. It’s the album that defies reviewing. I’m not exaggerating when I say that after the appraisal of Bill Murray, it becomes a blur – a big red-and-black vortex with rubbed down stickers and transfers from god-knows-how-many groups spinning an endless array of fusions within.

The entire goddamn album is a really interesting medley, a sort of thundering horned salute to rock, punk, horror films, and generally everything nasty. And Bill Murray. Who isn’t nasty. He’s Bill Murray. We love him. Do you love Bill Murray? Of course you do.

Miss Rebecca Trioxin – or Campbell if we use ‘proper names’, is a particularly talented vocalist with a deep, nasty tone to her. She sounds intimidating. She’s got a lot of air in those lungs and often seems to be battling the guitars just out of spite. Each song leaves you wondering who the victor is, while picking the bits of brain they just blew out of your head up off of the floor. Couple this with Pete Trioxin – or Grady, if, again, we want to use ‘proper names’, whom you’ll remember we believe to be one of the most talented, enthusiastic and energetic bassists on this tangible plain, and Ryan Murphy, whom left shortly after the release was finished – making this a fine swan song, and you’ll probably be finding brain down the side of the sofa for weeks. From here on the drums are provided by the terrific Nathan Hart.

1005788_541259592596401_1266554507_nChock-a-block with exotic and unusual subjects, ranging from chewing rodents, the ever-inconclusive struggle of trying to be rebellious and the continuous sexual domination that it seems every female-fronted punk band in the world gets off on (Seriously, have you noticed that?! I’m told to bring lubricant to practically every show now. It’s not right.), the album simply can’t not thrill you.

It’s like a series of motors, a series of big dirty engines spitting out massive clouds of thick smog into an irritatingly flowery atmosphere. It’s like the coming of the industrial revolution on the stupidly quiet, tranquil farms of the countryside. Flatten it and cover it with thick layers of black and green gunk. Why not? Someone else can worry about it later…

It’s, simply, another of the releases we can’t help but categorise as a ‘horrifically good debut.’ Whenever we get one of these we normally have to perform an exorcism.

 

In order to cater for Miss Trioxin’s arrival at our ever-metaphorically fictional COTW towers, we set up a house built from custard creams, got some Vincent Price films playing…and we expected a truly artistic discussion about the changing world of music and media.

Instead she arrived dressed as Godzilla, pulling a cardboard cut out of Bill Murray, complete with hand soap dispenser strapped to its rear, on a spiked leather collar and leash. She refused to speak until we’d got Bill a cup of chicken noodle soup. After ‘feeding him’ she sat down on the sofa and agreed to answer our questions.

By the end of it she’d only thrown one intern out of the window. That’s a sign of a successful interview!

—–

Cat On The Wall: Hello there, and welcome to Cat on the Wall! You’ve sprung up on here in the past…for those unacquainted however, who are you, what’s the band called, who’s in it and why on Earth have you brought a life-size cardboard cut out of Bill Murray with you?!

Rebecca Trioxin: Hi Jordan! I’m Rebecca – singer, guitarist and overfiend of Nottingham punk band Trioxin Cherry, along with bassist Pete (who will only answer to Wonder Pete Awesome) and drummer Nathan (aka Two-Bums). We’re evil, diabolical, lemon scented and hell bent on giving gig-goers a sugar rush via laxative laced Haribos. Bill is accompanying me this evening because he supplies the laxatives. Out of his little puckered cardboard bumhole. It’s a sparkly liquid that looks sort of like Gloy, but don’t touch it! It burns.

 

COTW: Your new album is imminent. Describe it for our readers!

RT: It’s a bubblegum schnapps fueled collection of tunes about fighting, The Last Man On Earth, nuclear bombs, feminism, swearing in foreign languages, stalkers, rats, serial killers and the mighty, magnanimous saviour of the universe – Bill Murray. Slow tunes, show tunes, none of this is on the album! It’ll make you feel like you’re riding backwards down Lombard Street on a trike that’s missing a wheel.

(How’s that for a sales pitch?! – Ed.)

 

COTW: It is, in my opinion, a really confident, enthusiastic release. Did the recording process follow this view?

RT: But of course! We marched into the recording palace and told our producer (Andreas ‘Gozer’ Frank of Casket Garden Studios, Cologne) exactly what we wanted and by when, otherwise we’d have his bratwurst. Once we had his bratwurst the enthusiasm REALLY started to show…

 

COTW: Anything particularly memorable about the making of this album? Fires in the studio? Ghostbusters marathons?

RT: Halting recording to make way for marauding capoeira students and subsiding on coffee and Toffee Crisps became normality, however the biggest highlight was seeing the jaw-dropping and crotch-grinding music video for ‘Rock Your Body‘ by unsung 1980s pop hero John Sex. It’s burned into my retinae. Every night I can see him humping his guitar. Maybe I should untie him from the bedpost….

                                        

COTW: Go on, you can tell us – what’s your favourite song on the album?

RT: It’s got to be ‘Fly, Bill Murray!‘, partially because it’s the most spontaneous song I’ve ever written. I’d been talking about writing a song about the mighty Bill for weeks but never got around to it, when suddenly it erupted one evening in just a few minutes. The blistering guitar solo took a little longer to develop but we feel it’s the perfect amount of polish to bring out the gleam on Bill’s big old laser gun.

 

COTW: I’d quite agree..not many albums can claim their highlight is a song about the stallion known as Bill Murray; But are there any other people you’d like to write songs about in the future? Actors, musicians, politicians, that old bloke who talks to people he’s never met on the bus, and doesn’t mean any harm, but at the same time everybody’s a little bit scared of?

RT: Godzilla, the elderly woman who paused at a bus stop to pass on the terrifying news that Jesus believes in us and King Monkey – great sage, equal of heaven and master of the 72 divine transformations. You can’t beat those sideburns…

 

COTW: Somebody can’t put together a punk record this admirable first time and not have an impressive list of inspirations. What was it that first started the spark, what first got you into music?

RT: My mother would play Swan Lake to me before I was born so I blame Tchaikovsky. I actually blame Tchaikovsky for everything – wasps, stepping in dog poo. Goddamn you Pyotr!

 

COTW: Any inspirations our readers might be a little surprised by?

RT: The biggest J-pop star of the moment – Kyary Pamyu Pamyu. I happened across her video for ‘Pon Pon Pon‘ in November 2012 and spent a considerable amount of time marvelling at her vomiting out eyeballs. She’s cute in a very kawaii style but juxtaposes that with elements that are a bit darker – for example killing a giant, flying, talking onion with an MK-18 or being showered in vomit. I’ve got tickets for her next London show and CANNOT WAIT for the vomit shower.

 

COTW: Any particularly massive plans for the future? Slavery? World domination? Takeaway for tea?

RT: I’d really like to challenge Juliette Lewis to a butter eating contest. I’d forfeit strategically at the last moment as I’m lactose intolerant, but I’d love to see her little buttery face, gleaming away.

 

COTW: We first mentioned your name here at the Femme Fatale Tour of Terror, in Manchester, wherein you performed with COTW Stalwarts Pussycat and the Dirty Johnsons and DragSTER. Do you see yourselves working together with these bands again in the future?

RT: No. I hate them all. I was only in it for the Cadbury’s Mini Rolls.

(Actually, we love them dearly and are very much looking forwards to gigging with them the Basingstoke Festival on 12 July.)

 

COTW: I think that’s about it. You’re free to go. Thank you very much for taking the time to chat with us, Rebecca. I wish you all the best for the future…and we’ll be seeing you at the album launch party!

RT: We can’t wait! Wear your best fez and bring some sparklers and intimate lubricant!

(For those wondering, Jordan will indeed be wearing a tasselled smoking cap with his usual attire of waistcoat and bow tie for the Trioxin Cherry album release.)

—–

With that, Rebecca Trioxin pressed down on the soap dispenser on Bill Murray’s cardboard rear end, spreading acidic lubricant all over the carpet. She spanked the cut out and apologised for his bad behaviour as she led him out of door.

I watched.

And considered how on Earth these people keep getting past security…

—–

‘Let’s Take Off And Nuke The Site From Space’, the Debut Album of Trioxin Cherry, will be officially released on the STP Records label on April the 18th. As previously mentioned, Cat on the Wall shall be attending the release party in Nottingham. We will report on all hedonistic activities involving the laxative laced teddy bears.

We heartily recommend Trioxin Cherry to basically everyone. However, established media ratings imply that it is probably not suitable for kiddies. Wait until they’re about eight. It’s a good age…

http://trioxincherry.com/

https://www.facebook.com/trioxincherry

Photographs by Holly Monroe Photography

About the author

Compulsive hat wearer, eccentric, fan of all things audio-visual, part time Goth, historian, and railway enthusiast, Jordan is the closest you can get to everybody's weird uncle. Except he's less than 60 years old.

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *