The Mint Chicks

About the Artist

Since we last communicated, the situation has turned from stagnation to decay.

The Mint Chicks are from Auckland, New Zealand, because that's where they live. Their debut full-lengther 'Fuck The Golden Youth' was recorded in absolute seclusion in an abandoned shed on a Northland beach because that's where NOBODY lives. Keep all your proud Lord Of The Rings nonsense, because here The Mint Chicks created their own Lord Of The Flies...by choice. No outside interference, safety nets, or support network (if you can't move out of your comfort zone, then don't be shocked when it becomes a prison). Cut off from the "adult" world through tidal movements, away from the "music scene (it all before)", eating what could be caught, recognition that the division between man and beast is only pertinent to those who seek monsters: these are the conditions under which this album was created. Necessity can be a mother of an intervention, and cabin fever can be broken by the reality-splash of the cold truth of NOW. As such, Fuck The Golden Youth is not a manifesto for posterity, but the sound of a self-realised present, recorded and produced by Ruban Nielson and Kody Nielson.

You want literature or art? Try writing it in your own blood; because if you want it done, do it yourself, FOR REAL. It cuts deeper, and there can be no mistaking the marks. We've spoken before about the flow of dream logic, and of the absolute purity of negation. Free will, and the urgent, discordant tune of a soul unwilling to be forced into another's world view. Rapid shifts of perspective as the mind's eye rejects all the extraneous stimuli of control. The shrieking of metal on metal as the cogs of the machine grind to the halt of obsolescence. Somewhere in the id's hinterlands, then, is the sound of The Mint Chicks: one individual's psychobabble is another's mantra. The music is a force to be reckoned with in relation to any opposition thrown up by others. Remember, negation is not negativity in any colloquial sense: it can be spelt c-r-e-a-t-i-o-n.

You think we're talking politics here? Forget about it. Open your eyes, friends: there's a REASON The Mint Chicks will play masked and under pseudonyms when there's a need for it. This is not a staged show in any contrived, performing monkey sense. There's no organ-grinder these boys dance to, because fairground simian sideshows only exist in the musty pages of somebody else's history books, after all -- and dancing to the beat of a different drummer is only relevant when it's your own beat. The preceding EPs -- 'Octagon Octagon Octagon' and 'Anti-Tiger' may have set something of a standard, and Fuck The Golden Youth smashes that fucking hole in the wall right open. They thought they had it all worked out, but this is what we are.

Try and view it all from our perspective. Sacred cows are merely cattle to the slaughter. Better a mask than a blindfold. Black is the colour of true love's ire. Chainsaws are to build as well as to destroy. Throw away the blueprints. Fuck The Golden Youth: it's not a game or attention-seeking device, because sometimes there is simply no other option but to wrap your head in duct tape and hang upside-down from the ceiling. If you have to hit the floor, ensure you make a deep fucking impression on it. Otherwise, hang your jacket in the cloakroom and join the soulless machine. We cannot decide for you. You're either with us, or not. Your choice.