Gorillaz Questions for Flaunt
Flaunt, March 2001
What prompted you to get back together with Crosby, Stills, and Nash?
Murdoc: The only good thing those crusty old hippy relics did was at the Big Sur Love-In after Woodstock. They and a few other VIP peaceniks, the hideous warbling Baez, etc., high-tailed it down to the exclusive health spa, high up on the cliffs, to continue the “beautiful vibe, man.” What they didn’t reckon on was that their hopelessly idealistic fans, high on pharmaceutical hallucinogens, would suddenly realize that their idol's endless protestations about love peace, and brotherhood were nothing but rudimentary, simplistic, and hollow marketing scams and that they were in fact capitalistic “bread heads.” Enraged and filled with revolutionary zeal one of the malnourished ner-do-wells confronted Crosby, Stills, and Pat Cash as they performed their opus “Wooden Ships” with the earth-shattering cry “You’re sellouts, man!” With no further ado and not so much as an I ask you, Steven Stills circumnavigated the swimming pool, for paying guests only I might add, that was acting as an actual and metaphorical divide between themselves and the unwashed blissed-out mob and twisted the cheeky bastard. That’s not the best bit though! He then tried to cover his arse in front of the amassed traumatized dropouts by returning to his mic and saying “I lost my head, but you all loved me out of it! You’re beautiful” or some such twaddle, what a fucking genius! Punk rock stillborn eight years early! You see what Steve knew was that you can say or do anything in front of people on psychotropic substances. As long as you end your action with a comforting statement which reaffirms their deeply held, half-baked ideals you can get away with murder because they’re desperately trying to avoid nose-diving into a complete meltdown of their tissue-thin second-hand, third-rate, spoon-fed personalities. When they can suddenly see everything they cling to is nothing but a pile of shit founded on mountains of yet more shit you’re home free to totally abuse them without fear of any comeback.
Russel: You wanna seek some professional help Murdoc, that is some twisted darkness you just laid bare.
Point-blank, does this record condone or glorify killing cops?
Murdoc: I love Point Blank, Lee Marvin puts in the performance of his life, and the non-linear editing only adds to the mise en scene.
How difficult was the first Led Zeppelin album to put together?
Murdoc: Pretty tough I should imagine. Fitting the circus of Page and Plants hair do’s, flares, and egos into the same room, while trying to get John Bonham to knock back his pint of Bitter, down the cheese roll he was having for lunch, and finish his game of darts before attempting to extract him from the local boozer, would be a major logistical feat.
2D: Would John Bohnam have squeezed his lemon into his beer?
How did you choose the stage name Little Richard? Was there a Big Richard?
Murdoc: Richard the Third more like. Why are you wasting my time?
2D: Don’t be nasty Murdoc, this is the first time an interview has made any sense to me.
Noodle: London iki no huraito wa nanji ni shup-pats shi-mass ka?
How do you see yourself? Poet? Rock star? What?
Murdoc: You missed out “Putrid purple bell end of Satan.”
People have put various labels on you over the past several years: "He's a born-again Christian"; "He's an ultra-orthodox Jew." Are any of those labels accurate?
Murdoc: Not interested in your quasi-Seinfeld-style political demographics, darling.
How long have you been off methadone maintenance?
Murdoc: Heroine chic was never my bag, it’s never had the same appeal as irresponsibly promoting an image of rubbing crystal meth into your eye sockets or into a festering open wound as the latest style statement, or was that another funny? Drug dependency what a laugh!
2D: I quite like it here in America. On the one hand, you can get coma-strength tranquilizers over the counter, and on the other, you have this big global-police-army-frenzy paranoia about the illegal narcotics business. Why is that?
Russel: Please excuse my British friends, they are gripped with fear because they’ve discovered that America only bares a passing resemblance to the shit TV we’ve clogged their three channels up with over the past fifty years and they can’t be held responsible for their outbursts.
Do you think you're a much different person than you were twenty years ago?
Russel: I was just out of diapers and hadn’t been possessed by the phantoms of my dead high school friends, and Noodle was still in Bag-Dad if you get me.
2D: I thought she was from Japan!
Murdoc: Even though I know you’re retarded, you still never fail to amaze me with your dazzling feats of stupidity.
2D: Wicked!
When you listen to this record, your debut album, your dream realized, do you get a stiffy?
2D: I used to get a stiffy every morning when my mum used to drive me to school. The vibrations from the engine used to make my bumhole really...
Murdoc: That’s enough of that, I don’t need my head filled with images of your mum coupled with your pre-pubescent quivering anus, alright?
One last question, which of the Pussycats did you think was the hottest?
Murdoc: The one with the banger up its arsehole.
Murdoc: The only good thing those crusty old hippy relics did was at the Big Sur Love-In after Woodstock. They and a few other VIP peaceniks, the hideous warbling Baez, etc., high-tailed it down to the exclusive health spa, high up on the cliffs, to continue the “beautiful vibe, man.” What they didn’t reckon on was that their hopelessly idealistic fans, high on pharmaceutical hallucinogens, would suddenly realize that their idol's endless protestations about love peace, and brotherhood were nothing but rudimentary, simplistic, and hollow marketing scams and that they were in fact capitalistic “bread heads.” Enraged and filled with revolutionary zeal one of the malnourished ner-do-wells confronted Crosby, Stills, and Pat Cash as they performed their opus “Wooden Ships” with the earth-shattering cry “You’re sellouts, man!” With no further ado and not so much as an I ask you, Steven Stills circumnavigated the swimming pool, for paying guests only I might add, that was acting as an actual and metaphorical divide between themselves and the unwashed blissed-out mob and twisted the cheeky bastard. That’s not the best bit though! He then tried to cover his arse in front of the amassed traumatized dropouts by returning to his mic and saying “I lost my head, but you all loved me out of it! You’re beautiful” or some such twaddle, what a fucking genius! Punk rock stillborn eight years early! You see what Steve knew was that you can say or do anything in front of people on psychotropic substances. As long as you end your action with a comforting statement which reaffirms their deeply held, half-baked ideals you can get away with murder because they’re desperately trying to avoid nose-diving into a complete meltdown of their tissue-thin second-hand, third-rate, spoon-fed personalities. When they can suddenly see everything they cling to is nothing but a pile of shit founded on mountains of yet more shit you’re home free to totally abuse them without fear of any comeback.
Russel: You wanna seek some professional help Murdoc, that is some twisted darkness you just laid bare.
Point-blank, does this record condone or glorify killing cops?
Murdoc: I love Point Blank, Lee Marvin puts in the performance of his life, and the non-linear editing only adds to the mise en scene.
How difficult was the first Led Zeppelin album to put together?
Murdoc: Pretty tough I should imagine. Fitting the circus of Page and Plants hair do’s, flares, and egos into the same room, while trying to get John Bonham to knock back his pint of Bitter, down the cheese roll he was having for lunch, and finish his game of darts before attempting to extract him from the local boozer, would be a major logistical feat.
2D: Would John Bohnam have squeezed his lemon into his beer?
How did you choose the stage name Little Richard? Was there a Big Richard?
Murdoc: Richard the Third more like. Why are you wasting my time?
2D: Don’t be nasty Murdoc, this is the first time an interview has made any sense to me.
Noodle: London iki no huraito wa nanji ni shup-pats shi-mass ka?
How do you see yourself? Poet? Rock star? What?
Murdoc: You missed out “Putrid purple bell end of Satan.”
People have put various labels on you over the past several years: "He's a born-again Christian"; "He's an ultra-orthodox Jew." Are any of those labels accurate?
Murdoc: Not interested in your quasi-Seinfeld-style political demographics, darling.
How long have you been off methadone maintenance?
Murdoc: Heroine chic was never my bag, it’s never had the same appeal as irresponsibly promoting an image of rubbing crystal meth into your eye sockets or into a festering open wound as the latest style statement, or was that another funny? Drug dependency what a laugh!
2D: I quite like it here in America. On the one hand, you can get coma-strength tranquilizers over the counter, and on the other, you have this big global-police-army-frenzy paranoia about the illegal narcotics business. Why is that?
Russel: Please excuse my British friends, they are gripped with fear because they’ve discovered that America only bares a passing resemblance to the shit TV we’ve clogged their three channels up with over the past fifty years and they can’t be held responsible for their outbursts.
Do you think you're a much different person than you were twenty years ago?
Russel: I was just out of diapers and hadn’t been possessed by the phantoms of my dead high school friends, and Noodle was still in Bag-Dad if you get me.
2D: I thought she was from Japan!
Murdoc: Even though I know you’re retarded, you still never fail to amaze me with your dazzling feats of stupidity.
2D: Wicked!
When you listen to this record, your debut album, your dream realized, do you get a stiffy?
2D: I used to get a stiffy every morning when my mum used to drive me to school. The vibrations from the engine used to make my bumhole really...
Murdoc: That’s enough of that, I don’t need my head filled with images of your mum coupled with your pre-pubescent quivering anus, alright?
One last question, which of the Pussycats did you think was the hottest?
Murdoc: The one with the banger up its arsehole.