Geryon’s music is unique and other dimensional. It’s not an exorcism, just a supernatural understanding of how vocals, samples, keys and beats feedback over each other to create cathartic music that pushes through the darkness by all means necessary. It’s this complexity of instrumentation, performance and composition that allows Geryon to reach out to the other side. Connecting to the spaces deep inside ourselves isn’t easy. It takes meticulous attention to detail, a patience we often can’t sit with, and time to immerse yourself in the shadows. It’s something Geryon has achieved with their debut EP We Don’t Talk About The Ghosts.
This is the first time Geryon has saved, mastered and released their music — in this dimension at least. It’s a chance to sit and just reflect, but this is not your average existential quandary about the journey and the destination. It explores the shifting spaces in which we evolve, separate and connect with ourselves and those around us.
Ahead of their EP launch this week, musician Simona Castricum spoke to Geryon for i-D.
I first saw you perform in 2012 at the Gasometer. Your music has evolved significantly yet how you perform and produce remains as meticulous and complex as ever. How much does that process of refinement mean to you?
I guess that process is in itself what makes up the music: texture, sound and the way those elements interact with each other. That interplay between vocals, beats and synths are what drives the music, even more that the songs themselves. In a way, I have a never-ending process of refinement, as in I’m constantly trying to help the songs evolve.
You never ask yourself, ‘where do I stop?’
In my live sets I’m really interested in the way the tracks keep evolving or changing, that’s why I perform using a loop pedal instead of a computer. I don’t want it to be completely predictable, I want there to be room for a shifting energy. I find it hard to let go and accept the finality of releasing work.
How did you tie these ideas down and complete them to put out a release?
I think I’ve been putting off releasing something for a very long time because I’m a perfectionist. The EP still doesn’t feel finished at all to me — even though I wrote some of those songs years ago. The live songs have changed over time, and I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how I wanted to transfer them to the record, making different versions of each track and just really thinking about the mood I wanted to create. I thought a lot about what each song meant to me – how it felt, its narrative and texture – and then created sound palettes from that concept, using that as a starting point to make the tracks. When you’re doing most of the work yourself it’s really hard to know if what you’re hearing is how the song is meant to be, so there comes a point you need to trust yourself.
So how did you know you were ready to do this EP?
Actually, it was almost a year ago that Kt Spit said something like ‘okay, you’re ready and you have three months to record an EP — you need to release something’. That was a reality check and pushed me to finish it, even if it’s not the best thing I ever release, it was important to complete something.
Your work is at once personal, abstract and secretive. How do you articulate an ever-present emotion or spirituality without directly talking about it?
Words have never made a lot of sense to me and have never been the best way to express myself. The environment that sound and texture create, and the sonic narrative has always made a lot more sense to me. I’m interested in how those elements can convey as much, or even more than words can. That being said, most of my lyrics have at least double meanings and there’s a lot of subtleties within that I like to keep private.
There are these moments where the music just opens up — particularly on the track Sometimes. It’s quite a real moment of hope, of vision, and clarity that blurts from almost desperate cavernous scratchings. To what extent does the emotion and mood you press upon owe to your perspective as a trans/non-binary artist? Is it even relevant?
It’s interesting to think about because I’m not sure how it effects the music, but that’s obviously who I am and I often think about how who people are influences their artistic practice. I do want to create music that is honest and raw in that way — so of course that would come into it. I have subtle references to being trans through the songs. If anything, the way it affects my music is to do with my relationship with my voice and the dysphoria I have around that. I try to see my voice as an instrument and as a separate part of myself, I wouldn’t even say that I’m a singer. I manipulate it a lot and try to figure out what it’s capable of, so that has an impact on the sonic palette of the songs.
This release is so anticipated — it features KT Spit on vocals and Two Steps on the Water violinist Sienna Thornton — there’s a great deal of respect for your music in Melbourne. How have you found the evolution of Melbourne’s queer music scene from how you entered it so many years ago?
I only have my experience and I think it’s very different for everyone. I’d been playing gigs since I was 15 and then I disconnected from all of the connections I made and came into the queer music scene. I’ve been incredibly lucky and supported, and without being connected with these incredible musicians like… you and June from Two Steps, Kt Spit, Wahe and Habits, and so many more people, who constantly inspire and support me in so many ways, I might not have kept making music. There are a lot of people who have worked really hard to build something – that’s still evolving – and I think playing at Transgenre earlier this year was this really exciting point where I was like, ‘wow – this is fucking cool’. Because, of course, all those musicians existed before that moment, it’s just a process of connection.
Geryon launches their EP ‘We Dont Talk About The Ghosts’ at Howler in Melbourne on August 4 with Pillow Pro, June Jones (of Two Steps on the Water), Mira Mira (Brambles), HABITS DJ’s, Brooke Powers and visuals by VJ VAXXX.
Credits
Text Simona Castricum
Photography Avery