Let Them Eat Pies

Rip It Up, Issue 236, 1 April 1997, Page 20

Let Them Eat Pies

Where to begin the strange but true story of the Bressa Greeting Cake? It seemed it would not be an easy cake to get a piece of, one of those cakes that sits quietly behind the desert display glass — no cream, no cherries — safe in the knowledge you will only eat it if you really know what’s good for you. Of course, the flavour is chocolate.

Geoff Bressa and Joel Greeting are not the most willing pair on earth when it comes to interviews (not to mention Ed Cake, who wouldn’t join us at all), but it’s not because they’re surly rock stars with Eddie Vedder complexes. In fact, they’re almost apologetic about their anti attitude towards press. Over a Flying Nun-sponsored lunch at an Auckland cafe, Geoff explains: ‘Tve never been a fan of a band, I suppose. I don’t really care about the people at all. So, consequently, I can’t really understand why anybody would care about my biographical details.” “Partly, it’s unnecessary, it becomes kind of boring,” Joel offers. “There’s only so much we can say, and we’re only leading a relatively normal kind of lifestyle.” However, an introduction to the band via their self-titled debut album tells a very different story — and that’s not to mention the extremely strange videos for its songs ‘Papa People’ (Is crossspecies love actually legal, or advisable?) and ‘Palm Singing’ (Connect Four, anyone?). Take ‘A Chip That Sells Millions’, for example — a tale drawn from the never-as-innocent-as-it-seems realm of the schoolyard. Geoff Bressa: “That was Ed’s song, really. It’s about a guy whose father works in a chip factory and brings home the new flavours, and gives him sample packets which he takes to school, and his friends lick the packets...” Joel Greeting: “And get addicted.” It’s funny how important the contents of one (or usually another’s) lunch box can seem when school has you by the short and frecklies. Everyone had a favourite lunch, and one they’d do any amount of bartering to be rid of. “Big Ben! Mince! Peel the top off and scoop the insides out with your fingers!,” Joel interjects excitedly. You’d do anything for one of those, huh?

JC: “Well, I can get them pretty easily these days, I’ve got lots of pocket money now... but at the time it wasn’t

easy.” Nor was eating them, it seems. JC: “My sister got a bird poo in one of her’s.”

Geoff, wisely it would seem, stuck with his Mum’s sandwiches — whether he liked them, or not. GB: “Sometimes the sandwiches weren’t very good. [Whispers into the tape recorder] Sorry, Mum. Lettuce, cheese and Marmite — I wasn’t really big on that.” JC: “I never ever got one of those Marmite and chip sandwiches, I always wanted one of those. I used to get ham and cheese every day, for about seven years, so I used to swap a lot. But you can’t put that down because my Mum’ll get all insulted.”

While speaking of lunches, Geoff reveals his was more often than not scoffed by Ed. As Ed is absent, this seems the perfect moment for Geoff to execute his revenge upon him. GB: “Ed was in my class, and when we were in third form he bought an electric guitar... that was called Angela Kawolski.” Who was it named for?

GB: “A real estate agent.” Joel has been singing a little tune to

himself built around the words ‘Angela Kawolski’, but breaks it off to add his two cents worth to the ruining of Ed’s reputation: “The first time I played with Ed was playing ‘Every Rose has its Thorn’ at the talent quest.” GB: “No, that was me.”

JC: “Yeah, I know, it was supposed to be Ed though. He didn’t turn up for the performance so it was you.” GB: “You shouldn’t have said that, man.”

JC: “We won. We won. We won.” GB: “This Indian guy was singing...” JC: “Yeah, Bethan.” GB: “And it was pretty easy. It was good to get the cash.” How much cash did you win?

Bressa Creeting Cake

GB: “I can’t remember. Fifty dollars or something.” JC: “I don’t remember getting any cash.”

And what happened to Bethan, your other singer, the one that turned up?

GB: “I wouldn’t have a clue. It wasn’t really [this] band, he’d organised it, and there was a guy called Philip playing guitar.”

JC: “He could really lock the groove and play those licks, eh?”

GB: “It must have sounded so fucked.”

Still, as indeed every rose does have its thorn, every band has its bad days — even proper, grown up bands, signed to hip record labels. JC: “We once got told if we kept on playing, Ed would get his head chopped off.”

GB: “That was in Howick, and a girl came up and bit [Ed] on the back.” JC: “They really hated u 5...” GB: “Yeah, until we did some blooze jams.”

JC: “They were all dressed up in fancy dress, and the guy with the sickle was getting Ed down to chop his head off.” GB: “It was like a wedding reception.” JC: “But it was a sort of metallers’

wedding. That was the strangest gig we’ve ever played, I reckon. [Geoff] smashed into my car and got them lodged together for three hours.” Was that on purpose? GB: “No, no, no, it wasn’t.” JC: “We haven’t got much into band violence yet — we need it though.” What do you do when you disagree on things during recording? JC: “Quite a lot of arguing.” GB: “Stop for a time, I guess.” JC: “Have a cup of tea... possibly a pie, if we had one around.” GB: “I’m not even that into pies.”

JC: “I don’t like them so much as they’re just the most convenient food around.”

Maybe it’s the fact we’re mixing talking with eating, for we can’t seem to keep the conversation off food, even when I change tack to talk about another album track, ‘Superstation’. And while Joel looks happy enough, chowing down on a big bowl of mussels, and occasionally pausing long enough to help me out with even the most pale looking of my olives, I can’t help but get the feeling he’d like to be eating something a little less sophisticated. “‘Just the gas and a Big Ben pie,”’ he sings. Well, yeah, I was going to ask what you can’t resist buying whenever you enter a gas station. JC: “Pie.” You really like pies a lot, don’t you? “I live on pies. This band is fuelled by pies.” Only Big Ben pies? JC: “Oh, no, I think Irvines are very nice.” GB: [lncredulously] “Do you like Irvines?” JC: “Yeah, I like Irvines.” GB: “I don’t think they’re very good, eh.” JC: “Get Fresh are the worst.” GB: “Get Fresh and Tasty — isn’t there one called Fresh and Tasty?” JC: “I thought they were Get Fresh.” GB: “Well, anyway, either way, they’re fucked. But I’m not big on Irvines either, actually.” JC: “Aren’t you? Irvines are sweet.” GB: “I try and get the homemade ones most of the time.” What about Ponsonby Pies? GB: “Yeah, they’re quite good. Yeah, urn, service stations.” JC: “Bottle of Coke, and a pie. Terrible, eh?” Is a lemon cheesecake considered a desert pie?, for that is what we three had for desert. But lest I forget to prove my point about the Bressa Greeting Cake being chocolate, hark Joel, getting a sly gossip in while Geoff is off selecting said cheesecake, in lieu of there being no chocolate cake. “Chocolate’s the thing — it makes Geoff hyperactive. It’s good fun to watch... scary though. We gave him two bars of chocolate and got him really stoned once, and he tried to crawl up the wall and be a fly. He was getting halfway up, then he fell backwards. He’s quite nimble when he gets going.” Boring, relatively normal guys, huh? And I’m a monkey’s uncle.

BRONWYN TRUDGEON