Change is scary. When The Extreme Sprinklers’ drummer Harry Fahey told us in late 2006 (quite abruptly and just as we were about to start rehearsing) he was leaving the band, I was terrified. Harry was the only drummer I’d played with over the preceding seven years – a length of time that bridged two bands, dozens of songs, and hundreds of gigs. We’d developed one of those unspoken musical connections and had become best mates. Our birthdays are on consecutive days, which meant joint birthday parties every year. Not playing in a band with him seemed like a weird and frightening proposition.
Supergroove. Fuck yeah:
I’d written this, incidentally, about the place where Hawk was living at the time. He was sharing a house with three other dudes (one of whom was Jade) in Merrivale, and the place was a regular hangout and after-party spot. There were also three or four girlfriends at any one time who were also calling that sharehouse "home" and it occurred to me that the almost-constant parties, poker games and songwriting sessions going on in the house would have made it pretty hard for any of the guys and their partners to do something as simple as hang out on the couch and watch a movie together (or “Netflix and chill”, if you will).